by Sam Cheever
“Damn you to Hell, then who is to blame! Tell me whom I must vanquish!”
My aunt’s form stood silent and motionless for long enough that I began to wonder if she had turned to stone. Finally though the moonbeam fell across her features and revealed them to me.
She wore my mother’s face.
I leaped upright in my bed, panting and wet with fevered sweat. I threw back the covers and jumped up to pace frantically around the room. What the Hades had the vision meant? It must have been symbolic. Surely I couldn’t accept it at face value. “Damned prophecy!” I exclaimed. “Why does it have to be so enigmatic?”
Still shaking from the nightmarish dream, I pulled the nightgown I’d discarded the night before over my head and slipped my chilled feet into slippers.
I knew I should get ready for work but I was strangely agitated and couldn’t even think about performing normal daily functions. I needed to do something about what I was sure had been a foretelling of some kind about Prince Dialle and me.
I desperately needed to know what it had meant.
I decided to try to reach Myra and see if she could decipher the dream vision for me. I reached for the large cross I wore on a platinum chain around my neck and pressed it to my forehead.
Before I could call her though, the televisual beeped and Emo’s face swam into view. He took one look at my face and his beautiful golden features creased in concern. “Astra are you all right? You look like you’ve seen an Agar.”
I flipped a hand dismissively and pushed sweat-dampened hair off my face. “I’m fine. I just had a nightmare. Did you find out anything new on the hostages?”
“Actually I did. One of my informants at Demonica said they’ve been moving them every day. Apparently they’ve spent some time in the Shadows.”
“That’s impossible!”
He shook his head, spilling shiny black curls around his square golden chin. “Not impossible, Astra, you know that. But certainly difficult.”
I blew out a breath in frustration. “Difficult is a distant fourth cousin to what this would be. It would take an incredible amount of black magic to pull that many humans into the Shadows.”
Against my will, a memory of Raoul’s black mass in the wildlife preserve played itself across my memory and I grimaced, realizing at last what he might have been doing with all that power he’d summoned.
Emo nodded, in complete agreement. “So what do you want me to do?”
I fixed him with a stern glare. “All that really matters for our purposes here is where the hostages are right now. Did you get that?”
Emo looked reluctant to respond to that question. I decided to save him the trouble. “You don’t know do you?”
He gave me a slightly embarrassed smile. “Well no. But I’m riding my contacts pretty hard. I’ve called in nearly all my favors on this one, Astra.”
“Then call in the rest of them. And throw some threats of bodily harm in for good measure. I need you to get me that location. I assume I do not need to tell you that I don’t want to face off with Raoul over another mutilated body.”
Emo’s golden face turned dark with temper. “Believe me, Astra, since the demons are targeting the royals I am not uninterested in this.”
I sighed. It seemed to be my week to piss off my friends. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m just a little cranky today.”
Emo harrumphed and disengaged the call.
I sat with my head in my hands for a few minutes, pouting and then remembered what I’d been about to do. I placed my cross on my forehead again and thought Myra’s name. But before I could get the whole name out of my weary brain the air changed and Prince Dialle shimmered into view.
I opened my mouth to ask him what he was doing there and he reached for me.
Movement and sound stopped as he shifted me away. While we moved without seeming to move toward wherever in Hades Dialle was taking me, all I could think about was landing wherever it was in my girly jammies. By the time the world shimmered back to normal, I’d worked myself up into a complete, frothing tizzy.
We landed in the middle of Demonica.
And me in my pink nightie.
The first thing I said to Dialle was, “I’m going to kill you with my bare hands.”
He looked at me and grinned. “What?”
I looked down at myself meaningfully.
He followed my gaze and grinned. “I like the fuzzy slippers.”
My response was a glare.
While I glared at him my mind was churning. I really needed to rethink my sleepwear. Maybe I should invest in some slinky black silk somethings. That way, if this happened again, I’d still be a little embarrassed to be seen in my jammies but at least I’d look hot instead of just stupid.
“What am I doing at Demonica in the middle of the day in my pink nightie and fuzzy slippers?”
“Alcott has agreed to talk to us again.”
I continued to glare at him.
He gave a sigh and narrowed his eyes at me. The result wasn’t much better than my nightie.
I looked down and gasped. “I look like a street tart!”
“You look like every man’s fantasy.”
“Get me out of this getup right now!”
Two black eyebrows arched upward in a leer and I nearly stamped a foot in frustration. “Oh no you don’t! I’d rather have my pink nightie on than nothing.”
He waggled the eyebrows at me and I glared at him.
Finally, he laughed and turned away. “Come, Astra, we have work to do.”
I muttered foul deprecations under my breath and started after him, trying to tug the red leather micro miniskirt lower on my thighs as I walked. It didn’t do much good. Every time I took a step the rough underside of the leather got caught on the black fishnet stockings underneath and rode up my legs, threatening to expose the red and black lace thong I was apparently wearing underneath the worthless scrap of a skirt. To further my indignity, every third step I had to stop and yank the red leather bustier higher on my chest so my boobs didn’t pop out.
I hit the stone steps down to Alcott’s office just behind Dialle, still muttering and tugging. The fire engine red shoes with the four-inch spiked heels caused me to totter dangerously on each step as I followed him down.
If I fall and break my neck because of these damn shoes you might feel bad. I thought at him furiously.
I would never allow you to fall and break anything, my princess.
Well then you’d better prepare yourself to catch me now, Dialle, because I’m goin’ down these stairs either head or butt first if I don’t get rid of these stupid torture devices on my feet.
Just like that the shoes were gone and I was wearing soft, leather boots that reached to just below my knees. I smiled in the dark. Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!
Dialle’s low chuckle gave me a jolt in the general vicinity of the tacky lace thong. I scowled as we emerged from the dense black of the stairs into the dim horror of Alcott’s haven.
At least my fashion woes had kept my mind off of what I was about to face. Small consolation.
Prince Dialle stopped about five feet from the bottom of the roughly chiseled stone steps and I stopped just behind him.
Tugging my bustier up and my skirt down, I tried to look like a badass. Not easy given the fact that I was dressed like a bad wet dream.
Alcott was not lounging in his ugly throne and the underground room was not filled to burstin’ with ugly bad guys. Things were much improved from the last time Dialle and I had visited the demon king.
I could see two Guards of Dis standing a few feet away from Alcott and sense two others in the shadows behind us. Not bad odds at all for Dialle and me should we need to fight our way out of the room.
The demon king stood several feet away from us with his hands hanging straight down his sides. His black, featureless face was immobile, his long form relaxed and swathed in black silk robes. Nothing about him gave away his feelings. He was a walking poker face.
Unfortunately, Alcott wasn’t going to allow me to fade into the background just yet. “Exploring alternative lifestyles, Mx. Phelps?”
The demon king’s head lowered as if he were sliding his gaze down my body, assessing my fashion statement.
I forced myself to smile as if his inference that I’d taken up street mating as a new career hadn’t bothered me a whit. Inside I was steaming.
“My mother always told me to dress according to the company I would keep, Alcott.” I followed this with an innocent shrug.
Alcott chuckled and gave me a slight nod in reverence to my wit. At least I thought that was what the nod was about. Who ever knew with that crowd?
I will definitely get even with you for this, Dialle.
My royal devil chose to ignore me. Instead he kept his midnight gaze and full attention turned on our demon host.
“Alcott, leader of the demon race, I, Dialle the Second, Prince of the Royal Devil Court and son of King Dialle the First, leader of all the dark world, am here to offer you an audience with the true king of all creatures below Heaven.”
I turned to him, my poker face forgotten and my surprise at his words completely obvious to anyone who cared to look.
Dialle had spoken in formal Court dialect. Which meant that King Dialle’s “offer” was actually a royal command.
It was a double-edged sword.
On the one hand King Dialle was ostensibly offering Alcott exactly what he’d demanded. An audience with King Dialle. On the other hand, he was putting the demon king smack back into his proper place at the table by basically decreeing his acquiescence.
Quite a conundrum for the monochromatic critter who would be king.
Alcott stood completely motionless for several beats in time. Finally his head tilted to the side in question. “The king has agreed to come to Demonica?”
Dialle threw his head back and laughed. “Do not insult the king’s intelligence, Alcott. You will go to him. Alone.”
If Alcott had been capable of sputtering I was pretty sure he’d have done it at that moment. Everyone in that room knew a trip alone into King Dialle’s Court was a death sentence for the demon leader.
But if he refused it was like a direct declaration of war against the Royal Court. Delusional as Alcott obviously was and power hungry to boot, I doubted he was stupid enough to want to insult King Dialle the First directly.
I waited silently to hear how he would dig himself out of the predicament he was in.
Alcott thought about it for a moment and then nodded slowly. “I will of course be allowed to bring guards.”
Dialle waved his hand dismissively. “You may bring six guards with you. No more. We will inform you through Torre when the king can see you. You will kill no more humans while you await your audience with the king.”
Alcott stood silently while Dialle and I turned to leave. My mind searched frantically for a face to go with the name.
Torre. I knew I’d heard that name before.
As Dialle and I emerged back into the dim light of the nightclub above, I asked, “Who’s Torre?”
Dialle turned and grabbed me, pulling me up hard against his body. He lowered his face and grazed my lips with his. Then he trailed a hot, nimble tongue down my chin, where he nibbled a bit before answering the question his activities had already made me forget.
“He’s the bartender here.”
Oh yeah, I thought. I remembered him. He was working the bar at Demonica the night I had my first audience with Abrine, Alcott’s newly deceased brother and the previous demon king.
Dialle replaced teeth with lips and sucked my chin until I thought I might start panting.
“He’s a royal spy.”
His hands clasped my butt under the worthless scrap of red leather, pulling me more tightly into his happy place.
“And he’s my brother.”
I gasped in surprise.
Then suddenly we were locked in time and space again. And, I had to limit my reaction to forming rapid fire questions in my mind.
When we landed in my office Dialle’s lips were on mine before I could question him about the bombshell he’d dropped on me at Demonica.
I pushed at his chest until his lips left mine with an audible smack and opened my mouth to question him but he shimmered away before I could get the first question out.
I stamped my foot in frustration and screamed. “Damnable devil, come the hell back here!”
I spun around, fully intending to stomp into my office and have a proper snit and found myself face to face with Emo.
I jumped and blinked. “Oh!”
His face did not look happy. “Astra.”
I was in no mood for his…mood. “Stop sneaking up on me, dammit! Everybody is always sneaking up on me and grabbing me and shifting me to He knows where in my slippers…”
Emo followed me into my office and leaned against the door frame as I plopped myself behind my desk.
He was watching me very intently and it took me a minute to figure out why. Suddenly I realized what I looked like. “Damn, why hadn’t Dialle taken me back home?” I scowled up at Emo, daring him to make a snide remark about my street strumpet outfit.
“Why are you dressed like a corner stander, Astra?”
Well that was just peachy! I got no respect…from anyone. I stood back up and started to stalk past Emo. “I’m going home. I’ll be back later.”
I tried to push past him at the door and he grabbed my arm, pulling me around to face him and dragging my stiff, unyielding body up against his. He lowered his face until I could taste his breath on my lips. He tasted of Chinese takeout from down the street.
“Why do you let him yank you around and involve you in his messes, Astra?” He lowered his face even closer to mine. I felt a warm pool of anticipation gathering itself in my lower regions and pressed my thighs together in self-defense.
“Let me go, Emo.”
His lips were only a whisper away from mine and he just stayed there, breathing heavily as if he were trying to gain control of some deep emotion. I stared up at him, feeling like my inordinate fear of what he would do next was glaringly evident in my over wide eyes.
I waited.
He breathed and trembled.
Finally he let me go and stepped out of my way. But as I pushed past him he said, “You have no business being involved in this, Astra. You will get hurt.”
I stopped in my tracks and closed my eyes, breathing deeply in an attempt to regain control of an overpowering urge to kill and maim. So far my day had been a particularly nasty contender for entry into the shitty day book.
When I felt as if I could speak to him without pulling out his nails I turned around and said, “Tell me why everyone wants me off this case, Emo. Right now.”
He stared at me for a couple of beats and then shrugged. His eyes told me he wasn’t as nonchalant as he was pretending to be. Emo and I had been close friends for nearly our whole lives. If anyone knew me and my moods, he did. So I was betting that he knew the razor fine line I was currently walking with my temper. Yet he refused to answer my question.
Instead he stood there, his beautiful black eyes focused on me as if I were a particularly volatile explosive device.
“Tell me right now Emo or you’re fired.” I almost gasped aloud as soon as I said the words but I couldn’t take them back.
I thought I saw him wince but he recovered too quickly for me to be sure.
In a contest of wills Emo and I were strongly matched. I knew what I’d just done was a fatal mistake. But it was one that would have to play itself out.
Emo would never back down.
I would never back down.
Stubborn R Us.
We stared at each other for several moments and then, finally, my best friend and partner nodded once and started to
ward the door.
I reached out to him as he passed me and grabbed his hand. He swung me around by the hand and into his arms and, before I even knew what he intended, his lips were on mine. We were like people who’d gone days without food at a smorgasbord. For a few seconds all we could do was clutch one another closer and grind hungrily against each other.
On some level I felt my daemon hickey sparking but Emo reached up and placed his hand over the mark and it stopped.
The shock of that brought me to my senses. I pulled away from him and covered my tingling lips with my hand.
He looked at me for a long moment, then reached out to tug the slut bodice higher up on my breasts. “You have no business being with him, Astra. He’ll kill you eventually but he’ll cause you so much pain before he does.”
My eyes filled with tears as I watched him walk out of the office.
Chapter Eleven
Super Size It
His chin was square, his pecs were buff,
But his manners were not up to snuff.
The client sitting across from me seemed less concerned about his missing wife than he was interested in the demons that he claimed took her. More worrying even than that was the extent of his knowledge, which, for your everyday, normal human type creature, was impressive.
Most humans had little to no knowledge of any of the dark worlders, choosing instead to pretend that evil didn’t exist in the world. But nowhere is their ignorance more profound than as directed toward the demon race, since the demons were so adept at hiding their true form and nature from the magically susceptible human race.
I waited patiently while my new client explained to me that his wife had started to frequent the demon nightclubs in downtown Angel City a little over a month previous. I listened while he told me how she had become increasingly withdrawn and uncommunicative as her apparent obsession with the demons had grown.
As I listened it occurred to me that he was describing a textbook case of demon fixation. It was almost word for word, in fact, the same description I’d read in my own reference text on the subject.
Unfortunately it was just too perfect to ring true to me, given my highly cynical nature.
