by Kathy Love
Then his own shirtsleeve caught his attention—or more accurately his cuff link, deep red garnets set in a charm of a ferry boat: the symbol of his position and job in Hell.
He set down the picture and inspected himself. He was still dressed in his standard work uniform, a white shirt with a tab collar, a black vest and black trousers. He’d taken off his greatcoat sometime during the evening, but he was relieved to see that the rest of his clothing was intact.
A good sign nothing untoward had happened, but it still didn’t give him any hint as to where he was or how he got here.
“Just get out of here,” he told himself. He could just as easily contemplate this bizarre situation in the luxury of his own place.
He closed his eyes, picturing his ultramodern dwelling with its clean lines and stark colors. Not a single flower to be found anywhere. He visualized the living room with its black leather furniture. The bedroom with its king-size bed and dark red walls. He especially visualized his black granite bar and the bottle of Glenfiddich sitting on it.
A nice glass or two of fifty-year-old scotch and a little Xbox 360 on his big-screen television seemed exactly like what he needed after all this strangeness. There was nothing like expensive liquor and Modern Warfare 2 to get him calmed down. Then maybe he’d recall his lost evening.
Let there be a hot granddaughter, he added again.
Then with his creature comforts affixed in his mind, he willed himself away from this odd apartment and back to his own world….
Except nothing happened.
No whirring sound, no sense of whisking through space and time. No—nothing.
He opened his eyes to find himself still surrounded by flowers and the scent of old age.
Pulling in a deep breath, he closed his eyes again and really focused. But this time he noticed something he hadn’t the first time. It was a sort of weighted feeling as if leg irons were around his ankles, keeping him in this dimension.
He released the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding pent up in his lungs. What was going on? Why shouldn’t he be able to dematerialize out of the human realm?
But then he realized shouldn’t wasn’t the right word. He felt like he couldn’t. No, that wasn’t exactly the right word either.
For the first time since he woke up in this place, a sensation akin to panic constricted his chest. He forced himself to ignore the feeling, chanting over and over in his head that there was a reasonable explanation for all of this.
“Just go to a bar here,” he muttered to himself. “Have a stiff drink—and relax.”
Things were bound to make sense if he just calmed down. How could he expect to think clearly surrounded by floral chaos?
Just then the cat from the bedroom leapt up onto the recliner, the springs creaking under its massive bulk. It peered at him from its one good eye, then hissed.
“Yeah. I’m outta here.”
He left the living room, striding toward a door at the end of another small hallway. It had to be the exit. But when he reached the door, he stopped. Everything within him told him to just grab the doorknob, turn it and leave, but again something stopped him. Told him he had to stay right here.
“Just go,” he growled.
But he couldn’t bring himself to move. That was, until he heard the rattle of the doorknob, jiggling as if someone was inserting a key from the other side.
Killian glanced around, trying to decide what to do. He noticed the kitchen to his right and sidestepped into the narrow little room, leaning against an avocado-colored refrigerator as he listened. He heard the whoosh and creak of the door opening.
“Where is he?” a female voice said. A young female voice. The granddaughter?
“He’s got to still be here,” another female voice said.
Hmm, he hadn’t considered there might have been more than one granddaughter. That certainly made things more interesting—and worth remembering.
Killian decided there was no point in hiding. After all, they were expecting him to be here. At least, he thought they were talking about him, and they were the ones who could likely offer him the information he wanted.
He stepped out of the kitchen to see three young girls. And girls was definitely the operative word.
Dear Lucifer, was there any middle ground here?
As soon as they saw him, in almost comical unison, the girls screamed. And with the familiarity of that piercing sound, all his lost memories rushed back. The screaming girls, the flying snack foods, the thwack to the head.
Killian raised a hand, frowning down at his, for all practical purposes, abductors. Surprisingly, his gesture silenced them.
“Why did you bring me here?”
If his memories of the night before were any indication, he needed to get an answer as quickly as possible, before another candlestick-wielding woman appeared.
He shot a quick look over his shoulder, just for good measure.
The girl with a smattering of freckles across her nose and the dark brown eyes moved out of the doorway, waving to the other two to join her. The other dark-haired girl joined her inside the apartment. Only the cherubic blonde hesitated behind them. But finally, and clearly against her better judgment, she followed, although Killian noticed she didn’t release the doorknob.
Ready for a speedy escape. Smart girl. He was not in a good mood. And he was a demon. Never a great combination.
“Who are you? And why did you bring me here?” he demanded.
The girls all shifted, nervous.
Then to his surprise, the freckle-faced one straightened to her full height—maybe a whopping 5′2″—and met his gaze directly.
“I’m Daisy.”
Killian tried not to make a face. Of course, more flowers.
“This is Madison,” Daisy said, gesturing to first one girl, then the other. “And Emma.”
Madison surprised him by meeting his eyes too. She sported that ennui that all kids seemed to master as soon as their age hit double digits. Killian was tempted to point out to her she hadn’t looked quite so bored just moments earlier when she was squealing, but he remained silent. Emma still clutched the doorknob, managing none of her friend’s cool boredom. Quite the opposite. As soon as his gaze moved to her, she tensed as if she was ready to dart—or pass out. Her blue eyes widened and seemed to eat up half her face.
A twinge of sympathy pulled at him. He ignored it.
“I was the one who conjured you,” Daisy said, her expression neither blasé nor frightened. This girl was simply direct and calm.
A girl with a mission.
“We all conjured you,” Madison corrected her, giving Daisy a pointed look.
“Yes.” Daisy acknowledged her friend, but remained undaunted. “We all did. But we conjured you to fulfill my wish.”
“Which we should have negotiated,” Madison muttered, collapsing against the wall in a perfected slouch of disgust.
Daisy didn’t even glance at her friend this time. She stayed focused on him. “We called you to—”
“Do something impossible,” Madison interjected.
This time Daisy did shoot a censorious look at her friend. Then she said, “No. It might be a little tricky but not impossible.”
Madison rolled her eyes. Emma swayed. Apparently passing out was still an option for the silent friend.
“What is this tricky—possibly impossible task?” Killian asked, growing tired of the teenage bickering.
This wasn’t his usual thing. Hell, he’d never been conjured before, and he had very little experience with teenagers. But even with his admittedly limited experience, he wasn’t prepared for what the earnest girl in front of him said next.
“I want you to find my sister a boyfriend.”
CHAPTER 4
Killian blinked. Then he blinked again.
It was pretty rare for a demon to be speechless. Hell, he considered himself a rather talented talker—part of his job requirements—but …
“Boyfr
iend? For your sister?”
Yeah, that was eloquent, all right.
“Yes,” Daisy said, frowning at him as if she’d decided maybe she’d made a mistake conjuring him, after all.
Which she had.
“See,” Madison said. “Lame idea.”
Daisy frowned at her friend, then looked back at Killian, some of her doubt replaced by something akin to hope.
“Totally lame idea,” Killian stated, his tone not all that different from Madison’s. “I’m a demon, not a matchmaker.”
“But the book said that you have to grant us our wish,” Daisy said.
“What book?” he asked.
“Jenny Bell, Demon-Hunter,” Daisy said.
“Which is fiction,” Madison said.
Daisy threw her friend another look, this one fully exasperated; then she gestured to Killian. “Obviously not all fiction. Hello. He’s here, isn’t he?”
That was true. But Killian was more concerned with how the hell he was going to get out of here.
“So what exactly does this book say?”
Daisy turned back to him again. “It says that once the demon is conjured, he cannot leave until the wish is fulfilled.”
Killian shook his head. “Oh, no. No.”
There were so many reasons this was not good.
He stepped toward the door, and the one called … Emma squeaked and stumbled backwards away from him and to huddle in the corner.
He started to reach for the knob, but again got that feeling. That strange, strangling sensation that he couldn’t go.
Shit. This girl was telling the truth. He couldn’t leave. That’s why he hadn’t been able to simply materialize away. Hell, it seemed that he couldn’t even leave the apartment on his own two feet.
This had to be fixed and quick. The big boss man, and yes, he was referring to Satan, wasn’t going to be pleased when Killian didn’t show for work. Satan definitely didn’t adhere to the “happy employees make a more productive workplace” philosophy of management.
He twisted back to the girls. They all watched him as if they were uncertain of what he was going to do.
He wasn’t even sure himself. All he knew was he was pissed. This was unbelievable.
“I’m not some kind of goddamned genie,” he finally said, deciding not to reveal the fact that he was trapped here, by their mandate. Best not to let the teenyboppers know just how much control they had.
“Okay,” Daisy said, smiling slightly as if she was already aware of the power she had. “But you still have to grant this wish.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” he said, taking a step toward her—fully intent on intimidation. “I’m a demon. That makes me the one in control here.”
He saw a flash of uncertainty in the girl’s eyes. Then, to his surprise and dismay, she actually smiled. Her lips quivered slightly, as if the gesture was strained—but it was a smile nonetheless.
“You won’t hurt us. In fact, you can’t hurt us.”
He stopped stalking forward. Damn it, this book revealed far too much. They already knew they could control him, even if her quivering smile revealed that she wasn’t sure she should trust that fact. And she shouldn’t. She didn’t realize what his special demon power was—a very handy one to have at this moment. Killian focused on Daisy, holding her gaze. “Really? Can you be sure?”
He answered for her in his mind—that she wasn’t in control and he could go without fulfilling the wish. Words she’d say back to him as if they were her own idea. Just like Obi-Wan when he manipulated the guards in Star Wars. She’d be surprised later, after he was gone, that she’d decided to let him go. But that wouldn’t occur to her until after he was far, far away, and she’d never realize he was the one who’d made her do it.
His power was as practical as it was cool. Very handy when one of the damned panicked, refusing to join him on his trek into the depths of Hell.
Oh, Mr. Jones, there’s no need to be so upset. Hell isn’t nearly as bad as all the literature makes it sound. Really.
He’d gotten many a sinner to his or her proper destination with his little mind tricks. And he’d get himself out of here the same way.
But instead of the confused look he expected, Daisy just shook her head.
“Yes. You can’t hurt us. Because I’ve just told you that you can’t. Just like you can’t leave until you find my sister a boyfriend. That’s what the spell says. That you have to do whatever we say. Then you can leave.”
Killian stared at her, unable to believe he hadn’t been able to control her thoughts. She didn’t even seem to notice that he was trying to influence her.
“Damn it,” he muttered, frustrated, running a hand through his hair. Was he really powerless here? He’d used his powers on humans in their realm before. What was different this time?
“You might as well just go with it,” Daisy said, her tone irritatingly reasonable.
Killian dropped his hand, glaring at his pint-sized puppet master. “Is that so?”
She shrugged. “The quicker you do what we ask, the sooner you can leave.”
He gritted his teeth. Did a mere teen have to be so equable? And right?
Anger rose in his chest, and he considered advancing on her, intimidating her, but again he couldn’t do it. Not only because she’d told him he wasn’t allowed, but because bullying young girls went beyond even his dubious moral code.
“Fine,” he said, ignoring the fact that his tone sounded almost as petulant as any teenager’s. “What’s your plan?”
“First, you have to befriend my sister,” Daisy answered without hesitation.
She’d given this matchmaking idea a whole lot of thought. She’d been awake most of last night, trying to figure out the best way to pull off this crazy scheme. Poppy wasn’t exactly open to strangers. Not that she wasn’t friendly. Her older sister was very friendly—and once upon a time, she’d been very outgoing too. Until their parents’ deaths, when she’d gotten full guardianship of Daisy.
In the past four years, Daisy had watched her sister put all her own interests on the back burner and focus everything on Daisy. She’d lost more than just their parents in the car crash that took their lives. Poppy seemed to have let go of all her hopes and dreams too.
Daisy might be a self-absorbed fifteen-year-old at times, but she knew what her sister had given up to see that she felt safe and loved.
Now, Daisy wanted the same for her sister. And well, who didn’t want a boyfriend? Duh.
“Okay,” the demon said, giving her a doubtful look. “How do you propose we do that? In the shortest time possible.”
She’d thought about this too. “Since you’re supposed to be here from out of town—”
“Sweden, to be exact,” Madison interjected in her usual wry way.
“I said I’m sorry about that,” Emma mumbled. “And we fixed it by telling Poppy he’s been in Connecticut.”
“Since you’re from out of town,” Daisy repeated, “then you are going to ask her to show you around.”
The demon frowned. “This doesn’t sound quick to me. I am busy, you know.” Then he muttered something about Satan, and he was clearly pretty agitated.
Daisy hadn’t considered that. But she supposed being evil did take up quite a bit of time. And she was counting on this guy … this thing? Whatever, she was counting on him to find her sister Mr. Right?
“Maybe this was a bad idea,” she said to her friends.
“No—duh,” Madison said in her usual helpful way.
“It isn’t one of our best,” Emma agreed.
“Well, since we are finally in agreement on something,” the demon said, “why don’t we call this whole matchmaking scheme off and let me get back to my world?”
Daisy reached behind her and pulled the book that had started everything out of her back pocket. She flipped the dog-eared pages right to the exact spell she wanted. She scanned the spell that she knew nearly by heart. Shaking her head, she offered
him a pained look over the top of the open book.
“It says this spell is binding until the request is fulfilled. Nonrefundable, nontransferable.”
She jumped as the demon snaked out a hand with blinding speed and plucked the book from her grasp.
“Hey!” she said, but watched as he read the passages she’d just perused, then snapped the book closed and scanned the cover.
He made an irritated noise low in his throat as he read the author’s name aloud, “Ellina Kostova. I should have guessed.”
“Do you know her?” Emma asked, excitement raising her voice an octave, a fan-girl moment clearly overshadowing her fear. That was until the demon glared at her. Then she shrank back to her place in the corner.
“I know of her,” he said. Obviously, he wasn’t a fan. He looked at the book again, then held it back out to Daisy.
“So what was the exact wish?” he asked.
“Well, I asked that you find my sister her true love. Someone who will stand by her, make her laugh, inspire her, understand her, and …” Daisy hated that she could feel herself blushing. “And you know, make her toes curl.”
The demon frowned. “Make her toes curl?”
Daisy shrugged, feeling more heat creep into her cheeks. “You know … make her feel all giddy and excited and …”
“Get her off,” Madison said.
The demon shot the girl a surprisingly parental frown. “Are you old enough to say things like that?”
Madison rolled her eyes.
The demon ignored the look and turned back to Daisy.
“And why would I be able to find this person for her? In fact, what do I know about all those things? Except the last one,” he said quickly, holding up a hand to stop Madison, who’d started to speak. “I know how to handle the last one.”
Madison looked doubtful.
Daisy only half-registered the exchange, considering why she did think this guy—this demon—could find such a person. Surely the spell had brought forth this particular demon for a reason. It wasn’t like they’d had their pick of demonic entities. He was just the one who came. He had to be the right one.
“Do you have any special powers?”
He didn’t answer right away, and Daisy got the feeling he didn’t want to share that information.
