The Lying, the Witch, and the Werewolf (Down & Dirty Supernatural Cleaning Services Book 4)

by Kate Karyus Quinn

  It seems almost as horrible as the time I tried to lose my virginity. Unfortunately before we could seal the deal, I got a little overzealous in my penis handling and jerked poor Benjamin Marshall’s in a direction it was not meant to go. Our date and our relationship ended that night in the emergency room. I spent the rest of my high school career a virgin because no other boy would put his dick in my hands. The reputation also came with the nickname Ballbreaker, which annoyed me no end. My senior quote in the yearbook read, “FYI, it was his penis and it wasn’t broken, just sprained.” Actually it read “peanut” rather than penis, since the school objected to printing what they deemed to be foul language.

  Shit must feel my sudden uncomfortableness—both with my memories and Cassie’s bizarre, super personal story. He wiggles in my lap and whines, looking up at me.

  “Oh no! Does he have a potty in his body?” Cassie asks.

  “What?”

  “Does he have to go to the bathroom? I’m sure the driver will stop the bus for him. They revere Dalmanthers at this place, you know.”

  I glance up at a digital map that hangs above the driver’s head, tracing our progress. “It looks like we’re almost there,” I tell Cassie. “I’m sure Shit can hold it.”

  She giggles at his name (again) and I watch as we turn off the main road onto a smaller one…and then a smaller one…and soon we’re on a one-lane dirt road and trees are brushing both sides of the bus. My heart speeds up in my chest, and my palms go a little cold.

  “Did you know it was this isolated?” I ask Cassie.

  “Yeeees?” she says, but it sounds more like a question, and her bubbly personality has definitely gone a little flat.

  The bus comes to a grinding halt and the driver looks back at the four of us without a word. I don’t know if he’s a member of Together We Come or not, but I’m guessing he’s just an employee because I’m feeling a little judged. We grab our things and Shit sticks by me as we walk down a little path that leads to a ridiculously tall wooden staircase.

  “Seriously? Exercise?” The middle-aged guy asks, but the soccer mom digs in her heels and takes off up the steps while doing yoga breathing. Shit whines and checks out her ass as she goes. This sight also seems to motivate our companion, who takes off after her like he’s got calves of steel.

  “It’s not that great,” I chide Shit, and start my climb, Cassie at my side.

  We’re panting by the time we get to the third platform. My bag is feeling heavy, and I’m feeling really grateful to Hepa right now for convincing me to bring less crap. I stop to catch my breath, and flip my broom around so I can use it for a walking stick. Cassie joins me, leaning against the railing. I can just see our busmates at the top, talking to two other people, who are fitting them into some sort of vest.

  “Are there uniforms in the compound?” I ask Cassie.

  “I don’t think so,” she shakes her head. “I get the feeling it is very clothes optional.”

  I shrug and we struggle our way to the top, where two men greet us. One wears a denim vest and has long, luxurious curly hair on both his head and chest. The other one is skirtless, and sports those short shorts men used to wear in the seventies. They are both hella fit and I get a little hot under my peasant top.

  “Welcome,” they say in unison.

  “That’s not creepy,” I gasp softly, unable to speak louder after that last leg of stairs.

  “But it was like, totally creepy,” Cassie tells me.

  I’m about to explain that I was being sarcastic when the two men drop to their knees and fold into a full bow, hands out, their faces in the dirt.

  My mouth falls open as I realize they’re bowing to Shit. It’s one thing to be told they revere Dalmanthers but another to see them on their knees in homage while he lifts his back leg to take a piss.

  After what feels like an uncomfortably long time, the men finally sit up and address Shit. “Welcome—ultimate being…” They pause and the hairy one looks at me.

  “What’s his name?” the other one prompts.

  Shit. “Shit,” I tell them apologetically.

  He quirks a smile. “Welcome ultimate being Shit.” They bow again and this time—to my amazement—Shit returns the gesture, dipping his big spotted noggin to the ground before quickly lifting it again.

  “Hey!” I shout. “I didn’t know you could do that!”

  “Oh, Dalmanthers are incredible mimics,” the guy says, getting to his feet. His eyes light up at the topic. “I’m not surprised you haven’t seen it, though. They typically won’t imitate their masters. It seems they have an innate concern that their masters may find it mocking.”

  “Huh…” I say, not sure if I find this flattering or not. If I could have taught Shit how to run a vacuum and he never let me know that, I’m going to be pissed.

  “A good Dalmanther parent is hard to find,” he continues. “They are a high-risk breed, and very difficult to raise. We are honored to have you and your companion here.”

  “You must be a member,” Cassie says, eyeing him. Now that I have an up-close view, he looks a bit young. I backpedal on my previous perving. “You sure do love Dalmanthers.”

  “Yes, but I’m not a full member yet.” He shakes his head, reaching into a bin behind him to pull out three vests. “I work for Together We Come, but I’m not twenty-one yet, so I can’t join. They are very adamant about morality inside the sex cult.”

  “Right,” I say, pulling the proffered vest on. “What’s this for?”

  “This is how you gain access,” he explains. “You’ll zipline into the compound, shouting the password as you go.”

  “Awesome,” Cassie says, glancing at the line above our heads.

  “Or not,” I add. “I didn’t know about this, and heights are not my strong suit. Also, what about our bags?” I gesture to mine, which I’ve dropped to the ground at my feet.

  “You’ll be fine, and we’ll have your bags transferred directly to your quarters,” he says, already zipping me up, then attaching a second vest to my front. It’s much smaller, kid-sized, and is securely wrapped around both my waist and my shoulders. “Do I have permission to pick you up?”

  “Excuse me?” I snap, only to figure out he’s talking to Shit. Apparently, Shit’s okay with it because he doesn’t bite the kid’s face off when he picks Shit up in his arms and then with the help of his friend, lowers him into the toddler vest strapped to my chest.

  “All set,” one of the guys announces after they give our straps one last tug test to make sure everything’s sturdy.

  “I’ll go first!” Cassie says confidently, stepping up to the edge of the wooden platform with no fear at all. “What’s the password?”

  “You have to yell, “I’M COMING!” our guide says, and I give him a side-eye.

  “Are you serious right now?”

  “Yes, and the more you make it sound like you’re actually, you know, coming, the better your reception will be. Not that you won’t be very welcome,” he adds, giving me a once over.

  “Get your underage eyes off my ass,” I snap, just as Cassie leaps into the great wide open and disappears into the trees.

  “I’M COMING,” she yells, her voice fading into nothing as she goes. Shit gives a little whimper and looks up at me, his spotted skin shivering with fear.

  “Ready, boy?” I ask, stepping onto the platform.

  The truth is, I’m not ready. I’m not ready at all. But there’s no one to go home to except a vampire serial killer, so whatever. Fuck this. I’m joining a sex cult and taking my dog with me. Also, this broom.

  “Wait,” the man child grabs hold of my broom. “You don’t need this. We’ll transfer it for you, along with your bag.”

  “Oh,” I say, but I don’t release the broom. I have no idea what I’m dropping into down there and I’ll feel better knowing I’ve got a way out. “It’s actually a very personal item,” I tell him. “And er, special.”

  The guy gives me a look like I’m insa
ne, which is something considering the people who must come through here. “What’s so special about it?”

  “Er…” I can’t tell if the kid is messing with me or is too young to jump to the conclusion that Hepa assumed people here would. I have no intention of being the one to shatter his innocence if it’s the latter. “It’s hard—” before I can add ‘to say’, the other guy cuts me off with the classic—

  “That’s what she said.”

  The two of them bust a nut laughing which pretty much kills any last whiff of inappropriate attraction. Deciding I don’t need to justify my broom handling to these boys, I step to the edge of the platform.

  “I’M COMING!” I screech, and jump into my bright new future.

  Something warm and wet runs down my leg and I realize Cassie might be a flake, but she was right, after all.

  My Dalmanther definitely had a potty in his body.

  And now it’s all over mine.

  12

  I zip through the trees, my heartbeat fluttering and the wind blowing my hair back like I’m in a shampoo commercial. It’s exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, and I realize that my emotions are getting the best of me when the broom starts to vibrate in my hand.

  “Wait, no—broom! I’m fine,” I say, hoping my words aren’t whipped away on the wind. Hepa had said that my magical escape hatch might be triggered by any strong reactions of mine, like fear. The last thing I need is for this thing to zoom off while I’m still holding it, my body very firmly attached to a zip line. I imagine myself being torn in half, my right side zipping away, the left dangling in the harness to be received by a very unsettled sex cult.

  “Not a cult,” I remind myself, and that’s when I see a clearing in the trees ahead. There’s a landing platform at the end of the zipline, and I start to slow down as the angle decreases.

  Two nicely built dudes await my arrival, and Shit wiggles in his harness as we almost overshoot the landing. Strong arms wrap around me, bringing me to a sudden halt. I lurch forward and am enveloped by strength and warmth, masculinity and protection. I make eye contact with the guy who caught me. My legs go a little wobbly, and it’s got nothing to do with the zipline ride.

  “Hi,” I say, cocking my hips without even meaning to, tipping my head to the side and allowing my hair to cascade over one shoulder. “I’m Paige.”

  “I’m Mac,” he says, undoing my harness while maintaining eye contact. It’s like he’s stripping me right here, right now, and I am two thousand percent into this. My hands are halfway to his zipper when Cassie interrupts us.

  “Hey Paige, just FY-Me, Mac is an incubus.”

  “Huh?” I don’t know words anymore. I just know that I have genitals and so does he.

  “An incubus,” Mac says, giving me a small smile. “I’m a sex demon.”

  “Me too,” I breathe, moving closer, but then Shit shifts in his harness and lets out a loud woof letting me know that he’s about to be crushed between my chest and Mac’s. That’s when I remember exactly what an incubus is.

  “Dammit,” I mutter, stepping back from him. “Don’t do that again.”

  “To be fair,” Mac says, putting his hands in the air, “I can’t influence you to do anything you wouldn’t do anyway. All I do is remove your inhibitions.”

  I toss my hair and turn away from him—which isn’t easy—and focus very hard on Cassie as the other landing platform attendant unstraps her harness. I can’t say I’ve ever been especially inhibited in any way, but I was just about ready to bang this guy in public, suspended thirty feet in the air, with a Dalmanther attached to my chest and…I look down. And with an entire crowd of people watching.

  “Welcome wagon?” I ask the other attendant, who’s pulling Shit from my harness.

  “This is how we bring in the new recruits, yes,” he says, setting Shit on the ground. “Well, that and the circle jerk.”

  I laugh, then realize he’s probably not kidding.

  “Mac!” Cassie says, once she’s free from her harness. She holds out her arms and he comes in for a hug.

  “Careful,” I growl at her, but Cassie only flushes slightly in his arms.

  “I’ve known Mac a long time,” she says. “And we’ve never…” Cassie blushes red-hot, which was strange for a girl who was so open about describing her mermaid boyfriend’s penis. Despite her interest in settling down with the boyfriend who won’t marry her, I’m pretty sure Cassie also has the hots for Mac. “Done the indeed.”

  “Done the deed,” I correct.

  “Not from lack of trying on my part,” Mac makes a playful nip at her ear, and Cassie gently pushes him away. I can see her pulse beating in her neck faster than it did when we were climbing the stairs to get here.

  I stare down at the people gathered below, who are in different states of undress. Some are working the only-undies look, while others are going the other way—wearing hippie gear like mine without any bras beneath. A few have even chosen to let it all hang out, even if it isn’t the best look for them. Nobody seems very concerned about nudity, so I guess I could probably take off my skirt—Dalmanther piss and all. Self-consciously, I twist the wet section of my skirt into a knot, going for a Boho look. It exposes most of one thigh, but nobody seems to mind. In fact, I get a small round of applause from below, like the crowd thinks maybe I’m already adopting their lifestyle.

  I give them a quick wave and turn to Mac. “What’s the deal here?”

  “Trust fall,” Mac joins me at the edge of the platform. Amazingly, he’s holding Shit in his arms, and the Dalmanther seems totally fine with that. More than fine. He cuddles his head against Mac’s chest, actually purring. The Dalmanther purr is a hard-won sign of affection, and I’d been waiting to hear Shit’s. It hurts that this is that moment—and it’s not for me. Irritation flares as I glance over the side of the landing.

  “Seriously?” I ask him, incredulous. “Trust fall? That’s, like, thirty feet!”

  “That’s why it’s a true trust fall,” Mac says. “Together We Come encourages us to experience physical intimacy with one another, but it’s more than that. Emotional connection can boost pleasure profoundly, so we’d like our members to be as committed to each other as possible. We don’t require loyalty, but we do ask for an open and trusting nature. It starts here.”

  “Speaking of loyalty…” I give Shit a nasty side-eye but he only pants at me, eyes slightly glazed. That’s when I realize his lipstick is all the way out.

  “Hey, stop turning my dog on,” I tell Mac.

  “I’m not responsible for the animal urges of others,” Mac informs me, his voice low and gravelly. I definitely feel something shift down below. There’s a warmth there I haven’t felt since the one night I had with Liam. Except for a flicker back in the office with Nico. Which I can’t allow myself to even consider.

  “Give him back. And my broom,” I tell him. I’d barely realized he’s grabbed it.

  “It’s her emotional support broom,” Cassie explains.

  “I’ll get them to the ground,” Mac assures me.

  I’m not sure I trust Mac with my dog…but I also don’t want him strapped to my chest again. And I’m not entirely sure I can trust that he won’t tear the throat out of the first person who lays hands on me, trust fall or not.

  “Fine, you can take him,” I say. “But no funny business.”

  Mac straightens, clearly offended. “Seems like you need this trust fall more than most.”

  Maybe he’s right. With VSK stalking my every move, it’s been pretty much impossible to trust anyone outside of my inner circle. Which isn’t great. I don’t want to become a person locked away from others because of my fears. If that happens then VSK might never visit me again—but he’d still win.

  “You’re right,” I tell Mac. Leaning into Shit, I give him a good ear rub. In response Shit makes one of his low happy grunts. “Be a good boy,” I tell him.

  “Wow, you have great hands for massage,” Mac observes in a lo
w husky voice that immediately makes my libido snap to attention. “I do special one-on-one classes for those who want to bring their technique to the next level.”

  I gulp. Hard. And then can’t resist glancing down at Mac’s hands. They’re large, long, and well-manicured for a man living out in the middle of nowhere. Overall, they also seem to be great hands for...massage.

  Reminding myself of my strict no supes policy, I back away from Mac until I’m teetering on the edge of the platform.

  “I’M COMING,” I scream, and throw myself off the ledge.

  13

  Falling thirty feet into the arms of naked strangers is the preferred alternative to spending any more time in close contact with the sex demon.

  I land in a sea of warmth. Hands are everywhere, and I half expect someone to cop a feel, but nobody does. I’m propped up on my feet just before Cassie takes the plunge. She’s similarly caught—safely, and with no molestation. She joins me, breathless and happy.

  “That was awesome,” she says.

  Just then Shit’s nose nudges my hand. I look around, but there’s no sign of Mac which leaves me strangely both relieved and disappointed.

  I pat Shit’s head. “Shit, heel,” I order. I don’t want him running around.

  “Shitheel?” Cassie asks with a laugh.

  I laugh too. I hadn't thought of that.

  “Hello, Paige,” someone says, and there’s a hand on my shoulder. I jump and spin to find a good-looking guy with two little curls of horns on his head. “I’m Seamus, and I’m here to get you and Cassie loaded onto the welcome wagon.”

  “Is that like a gang bang?” I ask, eyeing his horns. I’d heard of satyrs, but they aren’t common. Their horns brought the particular attention of hardcore church folk down on them when supes first made an appearance on Earth, and they lay pretty low as a result.

  “No, silly,” he says, flipping away my orgy concerns with a wave of his hand. “We truly want you to be comfortable here at Together We Come, and in order to make that happen we need to know your preferences. No gang bangs until you see our consent witch.”