by Beverly Rae
Dying flowers and broken vases didn’t concern me. My brain noted and quickly dismissed George’s collision. Looking like something out of a martial arts movie, Michael jumped, twisted his body in midair and threw the knives at Blake.
“Blake, watch out!”
“Look out!”
Partner’s and my warning came too late. Blake tried to dodge the weapons. One knife zipped harmlessly past him to lodge in my freshly painted walls. Yeah, I know it’s weird to think of my walls at a time like this, but that’s how my mind works. The other knife, however, found its mark. I stared in horror at the hilt of the knife protruding from my husband’s chest. Blood spurted from the wound, making a red irregular oval. Blake groaned and slumped to the floor.
“Blake!”
Michael whirled away and bounded over George, who sat, legs spread wide, glancing around him in confusion and holding one hand to his forehead.
I hesitated, torn between my duty as a Protector to race after the Bracelet and the ghoul, and my duty as Blake’s wife to come to his aid. I chose my husband and hurried to his side. “Blake? Oh, hell, Blake.”
He lifted his head from examining his wound and gave me a weak grin. “Hell? Let’s not bring up Demogorgon’s home, okay?”
I echoed his humor with a shaky laugh and yelled for help. “Myra, get some towels. Anything to stem the flow of his blood. George, are you all right?”
“George is okay.” He grumbled under his breath before adding his signature line. “Sure-sure. George is okay.”
Although I didn’t turn away from Blake, I could tell George was okay by the sound of his voice. At least physically okay. Ego-wise, however, he was in a big hurt.
Myra stepped past us and shoved open the kitchen door. “I’ll get some cloths. Oh, and some water. We’ll need lots of boiling water.”
Blake clasped my hand and brought it away from his wound. “What do I need with water? I’m not giving birth, for cripe’s sake.”
“Good to know this hasn’t spoiled your sense of humor, but I think she’s thinking of sterilizing the wound or something.”
“Tell her not to bother. I’ll be all right in a few minutes.”
I gasped, however, and he gripped the shaft of the knife. “No. Leave it in. Let the doctors take it out.” But Blake, being Blake, didn’t follow my order. Instead, he pulled the knife out and dropped it onto the floor. I picked up a cloth napkin and held it to his chest.
“Jenn, I’m okay.”
I pressed the cloth to his chest and was startled to find myself getting a little lightheaded. As a Protector I’d seen—hell, I’d caused—my fair share of bloodletting, but the sight of Blake’s blood, the blood of the man I loved, put all those prior experiences to shame. “Yeah, I know. You’re tough. I know.” But I didn’t want to take any chances. Not with my man. “George, call nine-one-one.”
George mumbled something resembling a reply and fumbled to his feet. Slipping once on the water, he managed to make it to the nearest phone in the living room.
“George! Stop! Don’t call.” Blake took my hand to, once again, remove it from his wound. “Jenn, aren’t you forgetting something?”
I couldn’t fathom what he meant. I stared into his eyes and waited for him to clue me in. “What?” Maybe he wanted painkillers? I racked my brain trying to remember what kind of pain meds we had in the medicine cabinet upstairs.
“Aren’t you forgetting what I am?”
At last, his words soaked into my fogged brain. “Oh. Uh, yeah.”
“Yeah? And?” Myra dropped to our side with an armful of cloths and a kettle of water. “Demons do die, right? I mean, Jenn’s exterminated plenty of—oops. Sorry, Blake.”
“A kettle? Did you plan on making him some tea?” I grinned at my perplexed friend. “Tell me. Is chamomile tea better than green tea for puncture wounds?”
“Huh? No, of course not. What? I brought towels and water for the wound.”
“Blake? Does George call now?”
George stood in the doorway, phone in hand.
I let out a relieved breath. At least until I noticed the cord of the phone dangling from the earpiece. “Uh, George, that’s not a cordless phone.” George held up the phone and fingered the broken cord. “Didn’t you notice how the other end of the cord was connected to the other part of the phone, big guy?”
George’s face scrunched together and he turned to look into the living room where the base of our retro-style phone rested on the coffee table. “George didn’t notice. George is sorry.”
“It’s okay. I have my cell phone.” Myra reached into her pants pocket.
“There’s no need to call anyone, Myra.” Blake placed his hand over hers to make her lower her phone. “I’m fine. See?”
Proving his words, he lifted the blood-covered cloth away from his chest. Our gazes met and he unbuttoned his shirt. “Have you ever known a demon to die from a shallow knife wound, Jenn?”
Blake wiped away the blood to show his chest. Although he did have a wound, I could see that it wasn’t a very deep one. Relieved, I felt the knot of tension lodged in my neck starting to unwind. He really was okay.
I knew demons couldn’t die easily─you really have to jab a knife deep into them to kill them─but I guess the trauma of seeing Blake hurt had wiped everything I knew about demons out of my mind. When I’d seen the knife in him, I’d known how much I loved Blake. Whether he remained a demon or not was irrelevant to me. I loved him and nothing would change the way I felt. Yet now that the danger had past, I couldn’t seem to stop shaking.
Allowing Myra to place a large bandage over his wound, Blake took my hand, ridding me of the shakes. “Don’t you see? Michael didn’t want to kill me. He didn’t throw the knife hard enough to kill a demon. But he probably figured all the fuss would slow us down.”
“A demon?” George dropped the phone, shattering it against the hardwood floor, and shuffled closer to our little group. “Blake is a demon? Are you sure-sure?”
A series of very loud and extremely annoying beeps broke into our conversation. “Excuse me! I realize no one actually cares, but I’m fine, too.”
I stood up to peer at Partner. “Well, of course you are. You’re a machine.”
Partner’s screen changed from bright white to a dark blue. “Machines have feelings, too, you know. Once, just once, I’d like someone to worry about me.”
I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. “I’m very happy to know you’re not, uh, damaged.”
“Thank you. I was beginning to think—”
“Now get over yourself.” I dropped to Blake’s side again.
“—no one cared about me.”
Even though he didn’t want us to, Myra and I helped Blake off the floor, Partner’s pitiful play for attention forgotten. Blake gave me a look which I countered with a promise to explain the mysterious voice later. We knew we needed to track down Michael as soon as possible, but first we had to fill George in on Blake’s alter-identity.
Amazingly, George had bought into the whole “demons and ghouls in the world around us” fairly easily. “Blake is a demon? For sure-sure? But demons are bad and Blake isn’t bad.” It seemed he wasn’t dismayed that demons actually existed; more that Blake was one of them.
After quickly regaining his strength, Blake left the rest of us to race upstairs and put on another shirt. Myra took George’s arm and led him to sit on the couch. I sat on the edge of the armchair across from them and tried to find the right words to explain everything.
“Here’s the deal.” I stopped, hoping Blake would return and take over this chore. “Blake is, well, he’s, uh, that is, he’s not quite—”
“Oh, damn, Jenn, don’t make it a big deal.” Myra turned to George and spoke as though she couldn’t get the words out of her mouth fast enough. “It’s true, Georgie. Blake is a real live demon.”
“Strictly speaking, I’m undead, not alive.” Blake hurried down the rest of the stairs, buttoning his shirt and shooting
her a grin. “Although it’s actually a bit more complicated than that.”
Myra shot Blake an irritated expression, effectively shutting up my husband faster than I’d ever seen anyone do it, including me.
George glanced from Myra to Blake to me, and back to Myra. “Blake’s a demon? Really? Like the devil-made, come-from-hell kind of demon? Like the ones on television?”
“Well, sort—”
Myra’s glare sliced into Blake, making him relent, holding up his palms toward her in surrender. He joined me and sat on the arm of the chair.
“Right, Georgie. Except Blake is a good demon, not an evil one.” Myra’s firm expression softened and she looked to me for support. “Right, Jenn?”
“Oh. Uh, yeah. Definitely a good one.” I patted Blake’s leg, hoping the gesture would prove his good heart to George. After all, would I pat a bad demon?
“Is Michael a demon, too? A good one, too?”
“No, George. Michael’s a ghoul.” Could George handle learning about the Otherworld and the creatures lurking there?
“Michael’s a bad ghoul,” added Myra.
“No, he’s not!”
Myra and I jumped at Blake’s forceful and very loud declaration. “You’re kidding, right?” I gawked at Blake, trying to understand him. “I don’t care if he didn’t kill you. He’s not exactly campaigning for Brother-of-the-Year, ya know.” Blake lifted an eyebrow at me. “Oh, hell, you know what I mean. I don’t care if you think he didn’t want to kill you. He stabbed you in the chest and you’re saying he’s not a bad ghoul? If he’s not bad, what the hell does a bad ghoul do? Rip out your still-beating heart for an afternoon snack?”
Blake matched his glare to my gawk. “Actually…yes. Now do you get my point? An evil ghoul would do exactly that. Michael wanted to get away with the Bracelet, nothing more.”
George narrowed his eyes and leaned forward so far he almost toppled off the couch. “Show George.”
“What?”
“Show George. I want to see Blake the demon.”
I couldn’t blame him. When faced with an incredible story like the one we’d told him, I’d want proof, too. Lifting my head to Blake, I seconded the idea. “Yeah, Blake. Show him. What better way to prove it?”
“I guess you’re right.” He glanced at Myra, then George. “Are you sure you want to see me? In my demon form, I mean? Some people can’t handle the sight.”
The odd couple nodded in unison.
“Okay. Here goes.” Blake moved a few feet away. He faced us, took a deep breath, and began the transformation. The smell of sulfur struck me in the same instant Blake’s eyes changed from a beautiful gray into a deep fiery red. I gritted my teeth, trying to keep the image of the man I loved firmly in my mind as that man disappeared. Deciding I’d seen enough of my hubby in his grossed-out form, I turned my head away from the sight. Instead, I watched horrified expressions cover my friends’ faces. Yet, after a few moments of studying their reactions, I decided their looks of disgust were harder to bear than watching Blake morph into a vile demon.
Myra’s quick intake of air signaled Blake’s change and I felt her fear. Toned muscle melted into scaly, oily skin. His ears lengthened, growing more pointed at the end, and his facial features altered, losing the tight square jaw for the crusty, crag-filled, wart-covered face of a monster. A low rumble came from the bottom of his throat and his tongue elongated and forked. Acting in true demon style, he flicked it out like a gigantic lizard.
Blake bared his fangs and moved toward the couple. His move didn’t frighten me since I knew he’d never harm my friends, but Myra didn’t know what I knew. She gave a frightened yelp, pulling her body onto the couch in a futile effort to protect herself.
“Myra, don’t worry. It’s still Blake. He won’t hurt you.”
George, however, didn’t take my word for it. In an alarmingly quick move, he picked up Myra and settled her on the other side of the couch, right behind him. I stood, calling for both of them to calm down. Placing myself between George and Blake, I put my back to George, flattened my hands against my husband’s chest, and forced him to stop. “Stay back. Can’t you see you’re scaring them?”
Blake stayed put, but I knew in an instant it wasn’t because he’d obeyed me. Something else had stopped him cold. His mouth fell open to gape at whatever was behind me. An enormous, spine-tingling growl rumbled from somewhere over my shoulder and a foul odor—worse than a demon’s or ghoul’s—drifted over me. I fought the automatic reaction to gag. Slowly, I turned on my heel to see what had made the ominous sound and terrible smell.
I’d seen a variety of creatures during my time protecting the world. Some of them were beautiful, like the faeries living in the woods surrounding our city. Some of them were so vile in their appearance anyone gazing upon them wanted to scratch out their own eyes. I knew of demons, ghouls, gargoyles, dragons and even aliens. But I had never seen one of these creatures. Never…until now.
Behind me, standing guard over a cowering Myra, was a Sasquatch. The beast held up paws at least ten inches wide with long, razor-like claws. His growl made the air around us seem to waver, and he opened a mouth filled with viciously sharp teeth. I felt my jaw drop. Gawking at the sight before me, I lifted my head to stare at the animal whose head touched my ten-foot tall ceiling.
Blake and I echoed each other’s words. “Holy shit.”
Monster, May I?
“Oh. My. God.”
Blake and I recovered from our initial shock in under a minute. After checking out Myra’s stunned expression, however, I wasn’t sure if she’d ever recover.
“Georgie?” Myra whimpered his name and tucked her body into a tighter ball. In fact, the evening had given us all opportunities to gawk.
Big Foot George stopped growling at Blake and dropped his huge arms to his side. His enormous brown eyes fell on Myra and his face, a mask of untamed animal fury, went slack. If I hadn’t seen the fierceness in him mere seconds earlier, I wouldn’t have believed the two creatures existed in the same body. Now he reminded me more of a big hairy teddy bear than a cross between mankind and the Missing Link.
With a moan, he went down on all fours and laid his head against Myra’s leg. She flinched, started to edge away, then stayed where she was. Tentatively, she relaxed her body, reached out and placed her palm on George’s head. A sigh rolled from him and she rested her other hand on his cheek.
I had to admire my friend’s nerve. “And I thought we were the Beauty and the Beast of Suburbia.”
“Yeah. Thankfully, it looks like this Beauty has tamed her Beast.” Blake, returned to his sexy human body, pulled me into him for a comforting snuggle. “I can understand now why the guy has a never-ending appetite.”
“Georgie?” Myra took his face in her hands. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d never have believed it.” She stroked his cheek. Purring like a giant gorilla-kitten, he laid one large paw on her leg. “My Georgie is a Sasquatch.”
His transformation back to human—albeit an enormous human—came quickly. Myra held his head during the entire process, never once uttering a sound or cringing. I had to give her credit. The girl definitely had balls. Within seconds, George had returned to normal. Or at least, normal for him.
After several more minutes where we all took our time to take in this new development, George finally got up off the floor and resumed his seat next to Myra. “Is Myra all right?”
She nodded, running her eyes over him. “I’m all right.” She lifted the sleeve of his baggy shirt. “No wonder you wear such oversized clothing.”
George, however, seemed to need something more. “No. George means…are you all right with George being…George?”
“Do you mean is she okay with you being a Big Foot?”
George snarled at me, no less a menacing sound coming from his human form. “George likes the word Sasquatch better.”
Who knew the big guy had issues with nicknames? “Uh, okay. Sorry. I didn’t real
ize Big, er, the other term wasn’t PC. Sasquatch. Got it.” Now I’d had everything imaginable happen to me. I’d been corrected by a Big Foot. Er, Sasquatch.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Myra touched his cheek, stroking it the same way she’d done when he was in his alternate form.
George tucked his head. “George wanted to but George was scared. George didn’t want Myra to stop liking George.” He raised his head to search her face. “Does Myra still like George?”
“No.”
The stunned hurt in George’s eyes almost punched a hole in my heart. Why had Myra said such an awful thing? If she didn’t like the guy any longer, she could’ve at least let him down easier than with a big fat no. Sheesh, even a Big, er, Sasquatch has feelings, right? She’d verbally kicked him in his balls.
“I don’t like George any more.” Myra smiled and used both of her hands to hold one of his. “I love Georgie. And I don’t care what you are. Sasquatch or man, I love you.”
Now there was the Myra I knew and loved. Letting my girlie instincts run wild, I reveled in the love story playing out in front of me. Partner, however, wasn’t ready to send out wedding invitations.
“For the love of Bambi, he’s an animal. How can you even think about a life with Chewbacca’s country cousin? Have you no pride, woman? No self-respect?”
Blake whirled, searching the room for the owner of the voice. “Okay, screw telling me later. Who the hell is that? Whoever you are, come out of hiding right now!”
Amidst Blake’s protest, Myra’s angry retort and George’s snarl, I kept my mouth shut and strode into the dining room where Partner continued to trash their possible union.
“I’m telling you, this inter-species thing can’t work. You don’t see a cow mating with a horse, do you? There’s a reason. It jest ain’t natural. Think about the poor, not to mention, ugly babies they would have. It’s worse than inbreeding.”
I picked Partner up, flipped him over, and worked on the battery lid. “You need to keep your opinions to yourself unless we ask for them.”
