I Married a Demon

by Beverly Rae

  “Where are we?”

  “Shh!” I slouched down in my seat and peeked over the side of my door. Blake left his car and approached the metal door of the building. “He stopped outside a warehouse.”

  “Hurry. Let’s go after him.”

  Without thinking of his possible interference, I agreed. “Okay, but keep quiet until I tell you it’s safe.”

  “Of course. This isn’t my first mission, you know.”

  “It isn’t?” I knew even whispering was dangerous—demons have great hearing—but I couldn’t help myself. “Who did you work for before me?”

  At least Partner answered in a similar quiet manner. “Lots of people including the best of the best at Interpol, the CIA, and Scotland Yard.”

  “Scotland Yard?” Blake waved his hand over the door, opening the large metal obstruction without touching it. “Oh. My. God.” If I’d wanted more evidence, I’d just gotten it with a single gesture. Blake was definitely not the normal mortal man I’d hoped he was.

  “I can tell you’re impressed. Yes, I have had a rather illustrious career.”

  Blake entered the warehouse, wiping the retort out of my mind. Instead, I snatched up Partner, shoved him into my pocket, and raced down the alley.

  “I’m getting squished in here. Couldn’t you have worn looser pants?”

  “Partner, shut the hell up. Right now.”

  “Look, Jenn, I’m getting pretty fed up with being told to shut up. I don’t like it one bit.” By the time I’d reached the door, Partner had gone through a series of complaints. In the end, however, he went silent.

  I stepped into the dimly lit warehouse, knowing I might have to make a tough decision. Would I stop Blake from doing evil? And if so, how far would I go to stop him? Could I exterminate the man I loved to save countless lives? Would my feelings for him get in the way of doing my job?

  The lump in my throat refused to budge, but thankfully, didn’t transmit that same refusal to my feet. I moved forward, taking care not to bump into the many boxes stacked toward the ceiling. None of the boxes had any markings, giving me more concern. The boxes could contain almost anything from cotton balls to nitroglycerin, and I didn’t want to find out the hard way what was inside. Carefully, I skirted around them.

  “Oh, lord and master. Oh, Great One. I beseech you. Come.”

  I stopped, frozen in my tracks. I knew the summoning of a demon and, from the sound of it, the demon Blake called was a powerful one.

  “Ah, Shytuman, my faithful servant. Have you news for me?”

  The deep voice echoed through the building, sending a shiver through me. Shytuman? Was Shytuman Blake’s demon name? Would using his demon name make my duty to rid the world of him any easier? I bit my lip and forced my feet to keep moving toward the sound of their voices.

  “Oh, my word, Jenn. You are married to a demon! Dammit, why couldn’t the stupid gargoyle have lied?”

  I slapped my hand over my pocket and hissed at Partner. “Quiet before you get us killed. Or worse.”

  Blake’s sultry tone, the same tone he used to seduce me, rang out loud and clear. “Yes, Master Demogorgon, I have news.”

  I held my breath, preparing for what I would see, and peeked around the corner of stacked boxes. Demogorgon? I stared at the vile being standing with my husband in the center of the room and felt the blood drain from my face. Demogorgon was a High Demon. His power was undeniable. Many Protectors had fought Demogorgon, yet none had survived.

  “Tell me. Have you found the Bracelet?”

  I bent over, crawled to another row of boxes closer to Blake, and peered over the top. Struggling not to cry, I pulled a knife from my boot. Why hadn’t I thought to bring a gun?

  A giant of a demon, towering four feet over Blake’s six foot, two inch height, stood in front of him, engulfed in a strange murky mist. Long writhing tentacles covered the demon’s obese body and rolls of fat hung from him, glowing a sickly green. Three red eyes protruded from his face, oozing a milky substance down his wart-covered cheeks amd over his three chins to fall in loud splats on the floor. A tail much like an enormous rat’s tail swished back and forth.

  I’d seen my share of demons but this guy made the rest of them look like cover models. I took in his mounds of lard before noting the evil on his face. I couldn’t help it. I had to lower my gaze so I could choke down the bile bursting into my mouth. Below his rolls of fat, sticking out hard and long, his wart-encrusted penis extended a solid three feet beyond his belly. Worse, the demon’s huge dick moved with every word his spoke.

  Blake, however, didn’t seem to notice. Bowing his head in submission, he answered his master’s question. “No, my master. I have not.”

  The roar from the demon lord reverberated around the room for several seconds. Blake raised his head to look straight at the creature and held his ground. I smiled, taking a strange sort of pride in seeing my husband stand firm and strong against the hideous creature.

  “You displease me, Shytuman.” The monster shuffled forward, opening his mouth wider to reveal sharp, stained teeth. “Do you offer an excuse before I tear your heart from your chest? Why have you failed me?”

  “I’m doing my best, master. I can, however, tell you that my brother, Michael, and his subordinates are close on the trail. We’ll find it, I promise you.”

  “Ha! Your brother, the lowly ghoul, shows more promise than you. Mark my words, Shytuman. Find the Bracelet and bring it to me, or both you and your brother will pay dearly for your failure.” A low growl shook Demogorgon’s body. “What about the Protector? Have you eliminated her?”

  Me? Demogorgon knows about me? His words sunk in and I inhaled sharply. Blake was supposed to eliminate me?

  “I promise you, Demogorgon, my wife is no Protector.”

  A cruel laugh rumbled in his massive chest. “I’ve heard otherwise. No matter. Kill her and be done with it.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. Demogorgon wanted me dead. Worse, he wanted my husband to kill me. Would Blake follow his orders?

  “Master Demogorgon, please trust me. If my wife is a Protector, she could prove useful.”

  “How?”

  “If the Society finds the Bracelet first, I can torture her to find out where they took it.”

  Demogorgon considered Blake’s argument. “Very well. But once the Bracelet is in my hands, you will dispose of her.” With a wave of his hand, the mist started to grow thicker, hiding his monstrous body from view.

  “Yes, master.” Blake bowed before the demon lord. I decided now was a good time to get the hell out of there. Hey, I was good, but I knew my limits. I couldn’t fight a High Demon Lord alone.

  “Please wait. There is the other matter, my lord.”

  The mist dissipated, exposing—in the worst possible way—Demogorgon playing with his shaft. “What now? You bore me with your questions.”

  “Once I’ve brought you the Bracelet, will you keep your end of our bargain?”

  The gigantic demon moved so quickly I wasn’t prepared for the shock of seeing one of his tentacles surrounding Blake’s neck. “You dare question me?” He roared again and his foul breath drifted over to me.

  Instinct kicked in and I gripped my knife tighter. I knew a knife was no protection against such evil, but I would’ve tried anyway. Blake may have orders to kill me, but I still loved him. I loved him enough to die for him at his master’s hand. Fortunately, I didn’t have to.

  Blake, however, remained unmoving and calm. Again, I couldn’t help but admire his strength. “Of course not, master. I know you will reward me when I’ve fulfilled my mission. Yes?”

  Demogorgon’s fat pink tongue raked over Blake’s cheek. “I like you, Shytuman.” Another tentacle reached between Blake’s legs and clutched his crotch. “You’ve got balls. Real balls. Yes, I’ll give you what you want. If you bring me the Bracelet.” He squeezed Blake’s crotch and Blake clenched his fists. “If you don’t, I’ll have your balls for a snack.”

 
; I couldn’t see Blake’s face but, judging from the strain in his voice, Demogorgon had a hard hold on him. “Thank you, m-master.”

  Once Demogorgon released Blake, I whipped around, retracing my steps quietly and quickly. Not only was my husband a demon, but a demon planning on killing his wife.

  I pushed out of the warehouse with my eyes stinging─and not from the bright sunshine. Running like a bat out of hell, I still couldn’t get away from the images flipping through my mind’s eye. Blake standing before the High Demon Lord, Demogorgon. Blake bowing before the monster. Blake promising to kill me.

  The mind is a strange thing because, even though those horrific images pounded me, other images fought to find their place in my memory. Blake kneeling before me asking for my hand in marriage. Blake kissing me and fondling my breasts. Blake telling me he loved me.

  “Jenn, are you all right?” Partner gave a loud beep. “Jenn, do you hear me?” His beeping grew louder. “I’ve been calling for you since I noticed we were outside again. Did I hear correctly? Is Blake supposed to kill you?”

  Pulling Partner from my hip pocket, I tossed him on the passenger’s seat and started the car. “Hey! Careful. I’m valuable and easily broken.” After a few more squeaks and beeps, he continued his questioning. “What are you going to do? Jenn? Jenn? You know what you have to do, don’t you?”

  Yeah, I knew what Partner thought I should do. According to the vows I’d taken when I’d entered the Society, I had to destroy my husband and his demon lord. Could I keep those vows? Or would I keep the ones I’d made to Blake?

  I didn’t bother looking at Partner. Instead, I wiped away the tear rolling down my cheek. I’d cried a lot lately and I didn’t like it one bit. “I’m fine. Now—”

  “I know, I know. Shut the hell up.”

  Forcing the visions of Blake away, I fought against my own personal demons. I needed help. More help than Partner or Myra could give me.

  I needed help from another Protector.

  Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend…But Gold Makes a Great Sidekick.

  “Mrs. Wipp, I need your advice.”

  Mrs. Wippingpoof placed the tray of cinnamon rolls on the display rack, keeping her gaze on them instead of looking at me. At first, I wasn’t sure she’d heard me. Mrs. Wipp, as the younger Protectors liked to call her, was of an indeterminate age, refusing to let anyone know when she was born. However, I knew she’d been with the Society for many decades and had recently retired. Retirement for Mrs. Wipp, however, did not include a rocking chair and watching daytime talk shows. Instead, she’d gone straight out of active duty and into owning her own bakery shop.

  “Mrs. Wipp, did you hear me?”

  Partner beeped a series of short blasts, catching the attention of the two customers sitting at a small bistro table. “Did she hear me?”

  I pulled my front pocket open to hiss at Partner. “You! No talking or beeping.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I said so.”

  “Oh, I see. Now you’re my mommy?”

  “Partner, either you stuff it or I stuff you. Take your pick.”

  The two people at the table, obviously a romantic couple with their fingers entwined, watched me with curious expressions. I rolled my eyes at them and punted. “Oh, uh, new cell phone. I haven’t figured out all the bells and whistles yet.”

  By the look they gave each other, they didn’t buy my story. Yet, obviously deciding I might be crazy but not the dangerous kind of crazy, they left me alone and returned to gazing into each other’s eyes.

  At last Mrs. Wipp pivoted to face me. “Of course I heard you, Jenny.” She pointed at my pocket. “Both of you. My hearing is as good as it was when I was your age.”

  Why did older women always call me Jenny? “Which was how many years ago?” I couldn’t resist an opportunity to find out her age.

  She laughed one of those warm, comforting grandmotherly-type laughs. “Oh, Jenny, sweetie. Are you trying to trick me into telling my age? Shame on you.”

  No one could ever accuse Mrs. Wipp of diminished mental faculties. She was one sharp lady. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

  Partner, however, had no qualms about taking up where I’d left off. “Since Jenn won’t ask, I will. How old are you, old girl? Are we talking Barbara Walter’s, Eleanor Roosevelt’s, or Helen of Troy’s time period?” I slammed my hand over my pocket, but I was too late to silence him.

  “Tell your new glorified walkie-talkie to mind his beeswax. A true gentleman never asks a lady her age.”

  “Beeswax? Talk about dating yourself.” Partner executed a series of happy-sounding beeps.

  “Knock it off, Partner, or I’ll dump you in water and let you rust.”

  “Never mind him.” Mrs. Wipp waved me around the counter and nodded to her assistant. “Take over for me, Lucy. I’m taking a break.”

  “Okay, Mrs. W.” Lucy, a cute blonde cheerleader-type noted Mrs. Wipp’s order before returning to flirt with a boy sitting across the room.

  Mrs. Wipp motioned for me to follow her into the back room. “The poor girl doesn’t have a brain cell in her body, but she’s good eye candy. Since I hired her, I’ve had the entire high school football team in here buying donuts and cakes every day. Makes for good business since those boys eat like horses.”

  She rounded an old desk and took the big leather chair behind it. “I always did want one of these executive chairs and now I’ve got one.” Settling into the smooth leather with a sigh, she offered me the plastic chair beside her desk.

  “Shoot fire, Jenn. Where are we? Take me out of your pocket and let me see what the dang-all is going on. How can I be a good partner if I can’t see what’s happening?”

  “Here. Give him to me.”

  I handed Partner to her and waited for the fun. This ought to be good.

  She held him up, studied the cowboy on the screen, and laughed. “Those geeks at the main office keep coming up with better and better tools, don’t they?”

  “Look woman, I ain’t no gall-darn tool. I’m this here lady’s partner.”

  She laughed, full and throaty. “If you’re not a tool, cowboy, I’d bet your boots you have a good tool. My God, Jenny, I think he’s blushing.”

  “No, I’m not. I have a swarthy complexion from all the cattle drives I’ve ridden on. Real men don’t blush.”

  Yet I could hear the embarrassment in his tone. “Partner, I believe you’ve met your wisecracking match.”

  “Humph.” Partner whistled, long and low. “Mrs. Wipp, I’d be obliged if you’d hand me over to Jenn.”

  “Sure, pretty boy. In a sec. I wish we’d have these gizmos when I was on the books. We had to improvise a lot and supply our own, uh, tools.” She handed him back to me.

  “And you walked ten miles in the snow, right?”

  “Partner!” I punched a button in warning. “Watch your mouth or I’m turning you off.”

  “Never mind, sweetie. He doesn’t bother me. And, by the way, it was eleven miles in a blizzard, uphill, with no shoes and fighting demons the whole way.”

  I waited for the two to continue their quarrel. Instead, Partner and Mrs. Wipp started chuckling.

  “Do you think we should tell her?” Mrs. Wipp thumbed in my direction.

  “I reckon we ought-ta. Seeings how you’ve already said something, we have to. Otherwise, she’s gonna bug me like a varmit watching a hen house.”

  “Hey, what’s going on? Do you two know each other?” I felt like the odd man out in their verbal game of Keep Away.

  “Mrs. Wipp was one of my creators. She, along with Reslind, invented the first Partner several years ago.”

  “Really?” I gazed at Mrs. Wipp with even greater respect.

  “Guilty as charged and proud of it. Partner’s some of my best work.”

  “Ah, you old sweet talker, you.” Partner swirled bright colors across his screen.

  “I’m sure Jenny’s not here to gab about my inventions, are you? What
are you here for?”

  I started to answer, but she stopped me with the palm of her hand. “Hang on. We can’t get down to serious discussion until we have a little something to wet the throat and loosen the tongue.” She withdrew a bottle of Jack Daniels from the bottom drawer along with two shot glasses. “How serious is this?”

  I squirmed in my hard chair. “Serious. The worst kind of serious.”

  “Oh, my.” The wrinkles in her forehead deepened. She took a second to study my face, then poured an inch of booze into each glass. Taking hers, she chugged the shot. “Ahhh. I always said there’s nothing better than Old Jack to put the heat in a woman.” With a twinkle in her eye, she added, “Unless Jack’s a man with a six-inch pole.”

  Partner whistled. “The woman is obsessed with dicks. And I ain’t talking about the Dick with Tom and Harry.”

  “Again. Guilty as charged.”

  I saluted her with my drink and followed her example. “I’ll take Old Blake over Old Jack any day.” Yet an image of my husband standing before Demogorgon made me blow out a hard breath. “At least, I would’ve before I found out.”

  Mrs. Wipp poured another round and leaned back in her chair to mull over her glass. “Oh, I see. Is this advice you’re asking for about your personal life? Have you two had a falling out?”

  “I think the situation is much worse than a lover’s spat. It involves Society business, too.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “Partner, stay out of this conversation or I’ll call you the new Gameboy, and give you to the biggest brat I can find.”

  She ignored our banter, pursed her lips, and swirled the liquid in her glass. “Does this problem involve the Bracelet?”

  Mrs. Wipp was full of surprises. “You know about the Bracelet?”

  “Of course I do. I may be retired, but I still keep an ear to the ground. Once a Protector, always a Protector.”