I Married a Demon

by Beverly Rae

  Suddenly, I knew the reason. The idea seemed impossible but, then again, I’d already seen the impossible happen in this house. “Oh, I get it. You’re hiding these objects right under the noses, in relatively plain sight, of anyone looking for them. Am I right?” I hoped to see an expression of satisfaction on Reslind’s face and I got what I’d expected. Goodie for me.

  “You are correct.” He took a step toward me to take me by the arms. “Earth was chosen because of our commitment to the safety of all intelligent life forms. Ms. Randall, no other Protector knows of this mission and you must keep our secret. The Society, with its mandate to protect others from evil supernatural beings, is only one small subsidiary of a much larger organization.”

  “A larger organization? Holy shit.” First I’d learned about aliens and now I’d found out the Society was a one cog in a big cosmic wheel. The whole idea boggled my mind which was why I chose to refocus my attention on my own mission. “Oh, hell. You’re telling me you had the Bracelet of Invincibility hidden in one of these rooms, aren’t you? Under an ottoman, perhaps?”

  He shook his head, but gave a measured response. “Yes…and no. The Bracelet was hidden in the one of the rooms—but not under an ottoman.”

  I studied every monitor one by one until the answer came to me. “The Bracelet was in Room Five.”

  “Why do you think we kept it in Room Five?”

  “Because Room Five is the only room without a TV.”

  “You’re an observant person.” He looked at the fifth monitor and his somber appearance returned. “The thieves took the television set which, of course, means they took the Bracelet.”

  My gaze dropped to the controls on the machines below each monitor. “But how? You’ve got better than state-of-the-art security. How could anyone break in and steal anything?”

  “Unfortunately, we suffered a disastrous power outage when an individual from planet TY-2w3d2, a member of the race called Tyskians, dropped in unexpectedly. You see, the Tyskians are electromagnetic in nature. When she showed up, she overloaded our massive generators and blew out our power, including our backup power supply. The thieves choosing that precise moment to stumble into the cottage and happen upon Room Five is a coincidence of infinitesimal odds.”

  “Are you certain it was a coincidence? Maybe the Tyskian was in on the heist.”

  Reslind scoffed at my ignorance of the off-world race. “Not possible. The Tyskians are known for their honesty. In fact, they are mentally and physically unable to lie. If they try to lie, their faces turn a bright pink.”

  Not having a clue what a Tyskian was, I had to take his word for it. “Okay, okay. Don’t get all snotty about it. I needed to ask, is all.”

  “Of course.”

  Could his agreement sound any less sincere? But I knew when to let an argument go.

  “Of course, being petty thieves, they stole the only object in the room they considered to have any value.” Reslind tapped on the monitor for emphasis.

  “The television.” I puffed out a breath and tried to imagine the odds of all those events happening at the same time. Highly unlikely was a gross understatement. “You believe these were ordinary mortal thieves.”

  “Ordinary, yes, until they stole the Bracelet.” Reslind met my eyes and held me with their invisible grip. “Now, however, they are unwitting players in a war between the Society and the Otherworld.”

  “Oh, crap.” My job just got a lot harder. “Then I guess I’d better get going.”

  Reslind crossed the room to another row of buttons. “I agree, Ms. Randall. You’d do well not to dilly-dally.” With a farewell nod, he punched one of the buttons.

  Dilly-dally? How old is this guy, anyway? “Actually, the name’s Randall-Barringt─”

  Without warning, the floor beneath me fell away and I shouted for help. I dropped, feet first, hair streaming upward arms flailing out, hoping for a handhold. Instead, the dark tunnel swallowed me.

  Do You Need New Batteries?

  I like roller coasters, fun houses, and all kinds of amusement park thrills, but my trip through the dark tunnel put all of those other rides to shame. Freefalling in total darkness gives a person a rush like no other. Even the few times I’d parachuted from an airplane didn’t compare. Trust me, when you can’t see where you’re going, the ride takes on a whole new level of anxiety.

  I dropped through the darkness for several minutes—how big is this cottage anyway?—until, suddenly, I changed direction. Switching from falling downward to flying upward, I burst through a door hatch much like a large pet door and landed with a hard thump on my rear. Skidding a few feet with the momentum, I narrowly missed ramming into the tall oak tree shading the side of the main office.

  “Ow!” I twisted around and yelled, hoping someone inside the house would hear me. “I guess leaving through the front door would be too easy?” Perhaps this was the Society’s way of sneaking people out of the house without prying neighbors noticing. “You could at least warn a person, ya know. Maybe put some cushions on the landing pad?” Sure, I had plenty of my own padding, but that wasn’t the point. I rose and wiped off as much of the grass stain from my pants as I could. “Dammit. My new pants are ruined.”

  As if reminding me of the more important problems of the world than my stained wardrobe, a metal object burst from a different escape hatch and landed near my feet. Once the object was through, the hatch disappeared. “What’s this? I guess you’re giving me this for the mission? Or is it a party gift? Ha-ha.” I waited to see if I’d get an answer to my sarcastic question, but none came.

  I bent over and retrieved the strange device. They wanted me to have a cell phone? Or was it supposed to be a PDA? Either way, I couldn’t see what was so special about this thing. Besides, due to my love of gadgets, I already had a smart phone with a personal organizer, digital camera, text messaging, wifi Internet and every other bell and whistle known to the prolific communications industry. But the main question repeated in my head. Why did the Society want me to have this device?

  I gave it a quick examination. If it was a new and improved version of my smart phone, I’d happily trade up. I studied it closer. Yup, it had a phone, a camera, an organizer and more. I spent a few more minutes trying to unravel the intricacies of the machine, then shoved it into the back pocket of my pants and headed for my car.

  I started talking out loud. Yeah, I know it looks strange, but I talk things over with myself whenever I start a new mission. Since I never work with a partner, talking out loud is my way of running through all the facts about a case.

  “Okay, here’s what I know so far. Mortal thieves lucked onto the house and into Room Five. Being your average run-of-the-mill robbers, they took what they thought was the only object of value.” I neared my Jag and reached for my keys to punch in the security code. “I’m thinking the best places to start searching for these losers are the pawn shops.” I slid into the driver’s seat, started the ignition and revved the engine. “Let’s see. Marvin’s Pawn Shop takes hot televisions. If only I could remember the address.”

  A beeping sound coming from my rear pocket interrupted my train of thought. Pulling out the new device, I saw the address for Marvin’s Pawn Shop on the screen. “Well, I’ve gotta admit it. A built-in GPS is cool. Not exactly mind-blowing technology, but cool nonetheless.”

  The words were barely out of my mouth, when the device scrolled more information across its screen. A list of pawn shops showed which shop had received a television set in the past few days. “Now how do we know for sure? Did we tap into their inventory somehow?”

  A red light at the top right corner of the instrument blinked at me. The bright red glow flicked on and off faster and faster as if working overtime to draw my attention. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear this thing is angry at me.” I pressed the button next to the red light.

  “I am not angry at you, Ms. Randall. My function is to help you in your search for the Bracelet of Invincibility.”
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br />   The sexy manly-man voice emanating from the device startled me and I dropped the talking thing in my lap. “Is that you, Reslind?” I doubted the wonderfully sensual timbre could have come from Reslind, but who else could it be? The screen, however, remained blank. “Are you calling me?” Gingerly, I picked it up and held it out in front of me as if the mechanism might explode at any moment. In my line of business, you just never knew for sure. Playing it safe is always the best option.

  “No, Ms. Randall. I am not Reslind. Let me introduce myself. I am your Personal Partner and I have been programmed to help you on this mission. Please call me P.P.”

  I almost laughed at the thought of associating the melt-my-knees voice with such an absurd name. “Are you shitting me? Who am I really talking to? Are you calling from the main office or from headquarters?” I debated calling Mac, then decided to see what “P.P.” would say next. “And no. I’m not going to call anyone by such a ridiculous name.” Who knew? This could be some sicko who got off on women talking about urination.

  The screen darkened as if the instrument meant to scowl at me. I mentally chastised myself for attributing human characteristics to an inanimate object.

  “As I said, you are talking to P—um, your Personal Partner. I am not a mortal being like you. However, I am a sentient being and I would appreciate you treating me with the respect you would give a human partner. If you like, you can call me Partner instead.”

  I glanced at the cottage and thought about going back inside to get the straight scoop. However, with the possibility of running into Harry churning my stomach, I figured I’d rather take on the techno-partner. “Okay, Partner. Since you volunteered, I’ll let you do the choosing. Where to first? And the name’s Randall-Barrington now.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Randall, for the respect.” Why couldn’t anyone associated with the Society get my new name right? “First, I’ll sort the names geographically, then alphabetically within each region. Then I’ll combine the lists to determine most efficient use of our time. Hold, please, while I perform these functions.”

  I held. Various colored lights flashed across the screen until, at last, one long beep signaled the end of the process.

  “I believe the best choice is to begin in the eastern part of the city with Ace Pawn Shop. Shall we proceed?”

  Did this guy have a stick up his butt or what? I frowned and wondered how any mechanical object could ever get a stick up the butt. Placing my new “partner” in the bucket seat next to me, I gunned the Jag down the quiet suburban street.

  “We’re here.”

  “I realized as much when you slammed on the brakes, Ms. Randall. Did you take the Society’s Defensive Driver course? I would highly recommend you sign up at your earliest convenience.”

  I stuck out my tongue at Partner. Who was he to talk? Could he even drive a car? I doubted it, but didn’t think I wanted to challenge him. Instead, I snatched him up and headed for the store. “Do you always sound like a British butler? With a voice like yours, I would’ve thought you’d speak more like James Bond with a country attitude. You know, suave, yet familiar.”

  “I am sorry, Ms. Randall. Do you wish me to speak less formally?” Partner made a couple of clicking noises. “Is this better? Do I sound more like a friend? Or how’d ya like a Texas twang, darlin’?”

  Laughing, I stared at Partner’s new cool blue screen saver featuring a shirtless, very buff cowboy grinning up at me. “Well, yee-haw, cowboy. Now you’re talking. Woo-wee, talk about an improvement from a blank screen. So this is what you’d look like if you were human?”

  “Darlin’, I can look any way you want me to look. Does the wrangler in me tickle your fancy? I pulled the image from one of those romance books you like to read. Do you like my new accent?”

  I froze, gripping the metal case until my hand hurt. “How did you know…? And keep your mouth sealed about those books. Or whatever you use for a mouth. Got it?” Only Blake knew about my passion for romance novels and I wasn’t telling anyone else. I certainly didn’t want my fellow Protectors to find out. I’d never put an end to the jokes.

  “I don’t know what all the fuss is about. I scanned one of them and found the story intriguing, as well as being quite well written. In fact”—he returned to his deep twang—“I’d hafta say it was dang excitin’.”

  It seemed Partner had a problem sticking to his new character, but I let the momentary lapse pass. “Really? Most people think romance novels are stupid and trashy.”

  Again, he slipped out of character. “Then they lack the necessary intelligence to understand the deep emotions involved in those stories.” He coughed and dropped into cowboy character. “I’d say those folks are plumb stupid.”

  I laughed at the sincerity in his voice. Who knew I’d find a fellow romance lover in a rectangular piece of metal and batteries? “I agree, but since our mission isn’t to set up a book club, we’ve got better things to do with our time than to discuss romance novels. And, yeah, I like your accent.”

  “Are you sure? Would you prefer something more on the edge of the latest culture like this?” The cowboy image disappeared, replaced by the stereotypical image of a rapper.

  “Very nice, Partner. I like rap as well as the next girl, but I’ll stick with the cowboy.”

  “Whatever you want, darlin’.”

  I pushed through the door and strolled into the pawn shop. Instead of an entrance bell, a loud teeth-gritting squeak announced my arrival, changing my nonchalant stroll into a jerky walk. An unshaven older man dragged his attention away from a small black-and-white television to glare at me. He rubbed the stubble on his jaw and I felt an overwhelming urge to scratch my own face, as if whatever this guy had hidden in his scraggly beard had jumped over to me. Who knew what kind of vermin lived in his unwashed hairs? Lice, roaches, and other disgusting creatures would shout “soup’s on!” at the stains on his filthy undershirt.

  “Yeah? What can I do you for?” He checked the area around me, looking for someone else. “Didn’t I hear two voices?”

  I held up Partner. “Phone.” I continued my way to the counter and hoped the man wouldn’t notice how different Partner was to other phones. Glancing around, I noticed several televisions grouped together in one corner. None of them, however, matched the type of set snatched from the main office.

  “Yeah? You itchin’ to sell or buy?” The stub of a cigar he popped into his mouth completed his image of a pawn shop owner.

  “Buy.” Although what anyone would want with this junk escaped me. Still, I had a job to do and I’d do the job to the best of my ability—no matter who or what got in my way. “I’m hunting for a TV.”

  The old guy’s eyes lit up with interest. “I’ve got a few nice ones right there. One of them is even cable-ready.”

  In a world obsessed with big screens and home theatre systems, the term “cable-ready” was a dinosaur, yet I pretended to act interested. “Yeah, those are good.” I swiveled to the sets and pretended to give them serious consideration. “But I’m actually interested in a specific kind of television.”

  Partner beeped, alerting me to his presence. I checked him and saw a photo of the stolen television set on his screen. My partner was nothing if not helpful. I held the photo up to the shopkeeper and hoped Partner would keep his mouth shut. “This is what I want to find. Did you have anyone come in and sell you this type of unit?”

  From his reaction, the old man had experienced his share of police interrogations. He literally growled at me, irritated when he realized I wasn’t really a potential buyer. “Shit. You a cop? If you are, you’re wasting your time because I don’t deal with crooks. I told another cop the same thing the last time you guys harassed me. What’s an honest businessman supposed to do to get you cops off his back?”

  Uh-huh, I’d thought so. He was definitely dealing in stolen goods. “I’m asking you a simple question. And no, I’m not a cop. But I could offer you a substantial reward for information leading to my findin
g this.” Substantial being whatever amount I had in my pocket at the time. Unfortunately, the amount of cash on me at the moment wouldn’t buy him dinner at McDonald’s.

  “Hey, lady, what you see is what I’ve got. Still, how much of a reward are we talking about?” He tapped the ashes from the end of his cigar into a coffee mug. “In case I run across it.”

  “We’ll talk about how much when and if we need to talk.” I figured I’d leave him salivating over the idea of the “substantial reward” and hope the incentive would get him interested. Taking one last glimpse at the televisions he had on the table, I decided I’d better play both ends of the game. “How about a bracelet? Anyone hock a piece of jewelry in the past twenty-four hours?” If the thieves had discovered the Bracelet hidden inside the television, they would’ve tried to pawn it. Jewelry made for a quick grab of cash at a pawn store.

  “Nope. No jewelry at all for about a week. Besides, I thought you were looking for a television set.” He squinted at me, making his already beady eyes appear even sneakier.

  “Both.” I scribbled my name and cell phone number on a post-it pad and turned to go, wanting to get on to the next shop. The only business cards I had contained my real estate information. Working undercover, Protectors didn’t carry cards. “Give me a call if you get either one.”

  His grunt was his way of not committing, but I knew the greedy old fart would call if something showed up. Pushing through the squeaky door, I slid my sunglasses off my head and onto my nose, pausing to get used to the glare of the sunny day. Another pawn shop on the other side of the street beckoned to me until I froze at what—or who—sauntered out of its front door.

  Instinct kicked in and I quickly squatted in front of my car. Taking a deep breath and holding it, I peeked over the hood. Fortunately, Blake didn’t look around. Instead, he strode over to his Mercedes and slid into the front seat. I grimaced and prayed he wouldn’t notice my Jag. If he did and came over, what would I say? I’d started working on a plausible excuse when I heard him rev up his car and peel down the road. And then it hit me. I wouldn’t be the only one needing an explanation. He’d have some explaining to do too, right?