Demons Are a Girl's Best Friend (Good Girls & Demons)

by Allyson J. Myers

  “Hi,” he said. His voice still had that gravely quality, but he sounded calm.

  I returned his smile as I rested my chin on his chest. “Hi.”

  His scent wasn’t quite as strong as it had been after our intimacy, but it was still there enough to remind me of what we’d done. Any other time, my desire would have awakened from that memory. Right now, I was still satisfied and worn out. It was a great feeling.

  He brushed my hair back out of my face. The gesture was so tender it closed my eyes again. It was tempting to fall back asleep, or at least into a mild snooze, but I reopened them instead of drifting back into a world where no one was out to kill me, I wasn’t listed as a person of interest in a jewel heist, and I wasn’t squatting in someone’s hunting cabin.

  Reality reared its ugly head and dragged me with it. Besides, I thought it would be the best time to ask March some of those burning questions I had been sitting on. Like when and why did he start hunting demons? How old was he? What was he? And where did he get that brand on his shoulder, and what did it mean? But, once again, they were going to have to wait.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Hmm?” For some reason, I hadn’t been expecting him to ask that. I laughed. “Like a cat in a sunbeam.”

  I squirmed a little closer to him, as if that were possible. That was when I realized that I was fine. Perfectly fine. No soreness. No tearing, but more importantly, my ankle didn’t hurt. I lifted up a little more as a puzzled expression settled on my face.

  But before I could say or ask anything, March pulled his arm out from under me.

  “Why don’t you get a shower and I’ll make us something to eat.” He punctuated the suggestion with an affectionate kiss to my hair then got out of the bed.

  I only vaguely remembered him carrying me to the bedroom, but that was less confusing than my miraculous healing.

  I sat up on the bed with the quilt pooled in my lap and watched as March pulled his jeans on. For a moment all I could do was stare at his beautiful back in admiration. I remembered what it felt like under my hands, how the muscles bunched whenever he had thrust into me. That was a pleasant distraction, but I hauled my senses back where they belonged.

  “Okay, but…”

  “Don’t use up all the cold water.” March smirked over his shoulder before he left the room, the door pulled shut behind him.

  My brows came down. “Funny,” I said to myself.

  With a sigh, I flipped the blankets off me then swung my legs over the edge of the bed. For a moment, I was nervous that I had imagined things about my ankle not hurting, but a tentative touch of my foot to the floor proved that it didn’t hurt one bit. I filed that away as yet one more thing to ask March about, then went to take that shower.

  The cold water woke me up the rest of the way. It killed the afterglow unfortunately, but it allowed me to reflect on earlier. I still couldn’t decide when March gave in.

  Was it the initial kiss, or before that? Maybe it was when he carried me. Maybe it was even earlier than that.

  He had given me odd looks when he thought I wasn’t watching. Plus, I’d caught him in the bedroom when I was sleeping more than once. There was no reason for that. He said he had been on his way to the bathroom, but once I thought about it, the only time I ever saw him use the bathroom was for showers. He ate, so he should have the normal needs that came with that, but not once had that happened.

  What is he?

  He definitely wasn’t human. He had admitted that much. Maybe not directly, but he’d made it clear when he said he’d been the one to hide The Ingress. I knew from the research and tests on the dirt how long it had been there. He’d mentioned King Solomon as if he’d known him. He talked about the fall of the rebel angels as if he’d been there. There were other things he’d let slip that pointed to him being more than ancient, but I had no idea what he was.

  All of that could have been tossed up to coincidence, March inserting himself into a narrative, but he would have had to have known so many details ahead of time. No one was that good at improv. He would have given himself away somehow. Combine that impossible knowledge with how he fought off the fallen that had attacked me in the parking garage, then activated The Ingress to get us here, and then how he fought off the wolves with just a sword and his bare hands. There were the wings, too.

  I saw wings.

  I hadn’t imagined that, even though I hadn’t gotten a solid look at them before they disappeared again.

  I. Saw. Wings.

  Is he an angel?

  With how he talked about them and heaven I doubted it. Family could hate each other, talk crap, but not like how March did. That was personal. He had absolutely no respect for them or those who lived in what he called The Golden City.

  He hunted the fallen so he couldn’t be one of them. Right? They were evil. March was rough around the edges, but he wasn’t evil. For that matter, they were out to kill me. March fought against them and has for who knew how long. If he were one of them, they would have gotten to him before now.

  Also, he could have taken The Ingress at any time and stranded me on this island. He could have let the wolves have me. He hadn’t done either of those things. Instead, he protected me. Took care of me. He cared about me. He could be an asshole at times, but how he looked at me after I woke up…I would bet good money I meant more to him now than I had.

  I turned off the shower without any more answers than I had when I went in. In fact, I had more questions, and more that formed off of the originals. My clothes were on the bed when I came back into the bedroom with my hair wrapped in a towel. He’d brought them in for me.

  Definitely not the actions of an evil person.

  An evil person would have hidden my bra at the very least or hid my clothes so I had to walk around naked. That thought put a smirk of amusement on my face as I got dressed.

  I could smell breakfast when I stepped out of the bedroom. It reminded me of something we would have eaten on the ranch. I smiled at the memory as I joined March in the kitchen.

  “Hey. Smells great. Maybe I’ll make you do the cooking from now on.” I grinned at him as I sat down at the small kitchen table.

  March chuckled as he set a bowl in front of me. It contained a grain meal with chunks of caribou meat and some beans. For as unappetizing as it sounded, it really did smell fantastic. I was hungrier than I thought. One sniff of what he’d prepared made my stomach growl.

  “You still do a better job than I would,” he said.

  He paused beside me to run his hand over my hair. I liked those little gestures. The small touches, the stolen glances. I had missed them, and I hadn’t realized it until this moment. My heart warmed. I let him see it in the smile I turned up to him.

  Before I could say anything, March kissed my hair.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” he said then left the kitchen.

  I turned in my chair to call out to him, ask him to hold off for a little bit to talk with me, but he could be quick when he wanted. Before I could even form a word in my head the bedroom door was shut. I let out a heavy sigh as I turned back to my breakfast. As if my frustration were its fault, I stabbed at my meal with the spoon. My eyes then turned to my laptop and notebook.

  “Fine,” I muttered.

  If I couldn’t get answers from March, I’d return to my research.

  The internet connection was always more reliable in the mornings than any other time. It didn’t make any sense to me why a DSL connection had better access at one time of day over any other, but that was how it was. I plugged into the ethernet, opened my laptop, then found in my notes where I had left off.

  According to my most recent entry I had been studying demons from a PDF copy of a book called The Ars Goetia: The Lesser Key of Solomon. It was an anonymous grimoire that had been compiled in the mid-17th century and drew on materials from other books that were older than that. I hadn’t gotten further than that as far as the reference information was
concerned. I had been focusing on the names and sigils of the demons it listed, what they could do, what they were the master of, and their ranks in Hell.

  There were a number of spells that could be done if you had their proper name and seals from containment to making them do your bidding. Not that I wanted to try any of them, but I had felt that the knowledge could be helpful.

  According to the document, there were seventy-two of the fallen of various ranks. Each one had a certain number of demons they ruled over, sometimes they were even rulers of other Fallen. They even had their own specialty. Some of them represented one of the seven deadly sins. Some were actually supposed to be helpful. They could teach you things or perform a task. Some were thoroughly malevolent while others were actually benign. But all of them were dangerous. Screw something up, make the wrong deal or leave out an important detail, and they’d own your soul. They wanted humanity enthralled or gone.

  I had gotten into the thirties on the list of fallen when I had left off. Between bites of my breakfast, I scrolled the PDF and made more notes. When I got into my research, I tended to get hyper focused. Some of the time what I was writing down didn’t register until I went over my notes later.

  This time I had just taken another spoonful when something caught and held my attention. I felt my brows come down as I scrolled back to the beginning of the section I had just read. Then the spoon fell from fingers that had gone limp. My eyes widened as they took in the words on the laptop screen.

  * * *

  MARCHOSIAS.—The Thirty-fifth Spirit is Marchosias. He is a Great and Mighty Marquis, appearing at first in the form of a Wolf having Gryphon’s Wings, and a Serpent’s Tail, and Vomiting Fire out of his mouth. But after a time, at the command of the Exorcist he putteth on the Shape of a Man. And he is a strong fighter. He was of the Order of Dominations. He governeth 30 Legions of Spirits. He told his Chief, who was Solomon, that after 1,200 years he had hopes to return unto the Seventh Throne. And his Seal is this, to be made and worn as a Lamen, etc.

  * * *

  Beneath the description was an image I had become familiar with. I had felt it with my fingers. The Seal of Marchosias matched the brand scar on March’s shoulder. The implication…to Hell with that, literally…the truth was right there in front of me.

  Inside a circle was a horizontal line with circles on either end. Over this was what looked like a stylized cross with two K’s on either side, mirroring each other. Two lines extended down vertically from the horizontal line with some kind of squiggle on the ends.

  March was Marchosias, one of the Fallen.

  My hand covered my mouth as I stared at the screen in shock. I felt sick. March was a Demon. Capital D. A fallen angel.

  And I…oh, God. Yeah, I don’t think I would be allowed to call on that name anymore. Not after I had sex with a…nope. I was not going to complete that sentence, not even in my mind or I would be sick.

  My attention snapped to the closed bedroom door when I heard the water shut off.

  “Shit.”

  I had to get out of there. Now. I scrambled to the living room where I found my bag and shoved things into it, including The Ingress. What I would do with it I had no idea. I was running on panic, so it didn’t even occur to me that I was on an island with no way to the mainland. All I could think to do was get out of the cabin and away from—

  “March!” I snapped. He startled me when the bedroom door flew open. No doubt I looked like a deer caught in headlights as I stared at him. He only had a towel wrapped around his waist and he dripped water onto the floor.

  God, he’s hot.

  I shook my head.

  Stop that.

  “Brenna?” March looked both worried and confused as he stood in the bedroom doorway. “Is everything alright? I sensed your distress.” He looked around, no doubt searching for the source of my panic.

  “You lied to me.” I shouted. I remained where I was but kept the couch between us.

  He blinked at me. “What?”

  “You’re one of them.” My voice cracked a little, and I hated it. I didn’t want to show how hurt I was, or how scared. “One of the Fallen. Baron Marchowsen or whatever it is.” I made a grand dismissive gesture that mocked his damned highness.

  Realization washed over March’s face, mixed with disappointment.

  “Marquis,” he sighed out.

  “Whatever,” I yelled and he flinched. It was childishly satisfying to see that kind of reaction out of him. “You’ve been playing me from the very beginning. You probably put me under some kind of spell, or tried to lure me—or…” I broke off as something else occurred to me. “Oh, God you aren’t an incubus or something, are you? Because why would I…” I had to swallow hard.

  “Brenna,” he said in a calm voice that pissed me off even more. “Please, just sit down and I’ll explain.” He held out a hand in a pacifying gesture then motioned toward the couch. “Please?”

  I had never heard him so passive before, but I was too frightened to trust it. It could’ve been a ploy to keep me under his control. I clutched the straps of my bag in a tight grip, as if it were the only thing keeping me alive and sane at the moment.

  “Why should I?” I asked.

  “Because you owe it to me to let me explain.”

  He grimaced when I glared at him for that. I didn’t owe him shit. Maybe a thank you for saving my life, but that was all.

  He tried again. “Honestly, where are you going to go? You’re on an isla—”

  I stopped him by putting out my hand and then shook my head. I turned for the door to the cabin. I’d rather stay with the caribou at this point.

  “Brenna, wait,” he called after me. I paused then glanced over my shoulder. March took a step toward me with his hand still outstretched as if he were begging. “I haven’t tried to kill you or hurt you in any way. Have I?” He lifted his brows at me.

  The smile he offered was the most human expression I had seen from him yet. It hit me in the heart and pulled a resigned sigh from me. Finally, I moved to the couch then perched on the edge of the cushions as if I were ready to bolt at the first thing I heard that I didn’t like.

  I had to give March credit. He didn’t try to sit with me on the couch. Instead, he took a seat in the nearby chair. I was so upset that it didn’t seem strange that he was still only wearing a towel. I just wanted answers.

  “Yes,” he began. “I am one of the Fallen.” He looked at me as he spoke.

  I could tell he was ashamed by what he admitted, but it seemed it was a guilt that he’d carried for a long time. Not just because he’d hidden it from me. I could always tell when someone carried a burden a while, or when their shame was fresh. Long term guilt always settled in the eyes. I had seen it in my father about his drinking. I saw it now in March. He was ashamed of what he was.

  “I was cast down after the war along with the rest of my brothers that had fought on the side of Lucifer. I was one of the Dominion.” He turned enough to show me the brand scar on his deltoid. “This used to be gold. A tattoo from The Golden City. It was burned away when we lost.”

  A look of confusion came to my face. My knowledge of Judea mythology was limited. He saw that and continued.

  “The Dominion deliver God’s will.” He lifted his brows, but I still didn’t understand. “Sodom and Gomorrah? Egypt’s plagues?” March sighed as he shook his head. “Those were after my time, but the Dominion still exists. I’ve been working to earn my way back.”

  This time my confusion held more curiosity as I tilted my head. “Is that even possible?”

  What little I knew about the theology, damned was damned. There was Purgatory, but that was for human souls. None of the fallen had earned their way out of Hell. At least, none had been recorded. That would have gotten a whole lot of attention.

  March shrugged. “In the beginning, I used to think so. After a while it didn’t matter. I got suckered into a war that we lost. I was given power and a rank in Hell, but I didn’
t want it. I don’t think I’ve spent more than a handful of years there, and I definitely never used the authority I’d been given. But if I wouldn’t stay in Hell where I belonged and couldn’t be forgiven then I decided to do what I could against the Fallen to protect humanity.”

  His eyes lowered from my face to the bag I held close to my chest.

  “The fallen strive to rule Earth and humans,” he said. “They hate the creations that got them evicted from The Golden City, even though it had been their own choice to side against the others. That diamond, The Ingress, it was created by the damned soul of a necromancer to open doorways to and from Hell. When I learned of it, I knew what they wanted to do. They would open doorways to Earth, lead legions from Damnation to take over and eliminate or enslave humanity. I knew no one in The Golden City would intervene.” March scoffed and his expression went dark and disapproving. “Free will. It wouldn’t matter that the mortals didn’t stand a chance. So long as they died martyrs, stayed solid in their faith, they’d have a place in Paradise. Who cared that they suffered? Bastards.”

  I got the impression that was one of the reasons March had chosen the side he had. He didn’t approve of humans being left unprotected. It wasn’t that he envied our free will like some of the theologists speculated. We are vulnerable creatures compared to him, the fallen and the angels. But now I was the one who was speculating. His motivation was an important point.

  “You put yourself between us and the fallen. Maybe even the angels. Didn’t you?”

  March nodded. “Someone had to. I don’t know how I’ve lasted this long, to be honest. Maybe I’m smart. Maybe I’m better. Don’t know. Don’t care. So long as I can keep killing as many demons and fallen as possible, I will.”

  For the first time since I learned what he was I actually smiled again. My grip on my bag eased, and I scooted back on the couch. March looked relieved. He visibly relaxed and smiled in return. The threat of me leaving had really affected him.

  Me.