devil 02 - tween a devil and his hard place

by Sam Cheever

  “So it would appear that Alcott was expecting this and probably only had a few of his less important demons at the club.”

  Myra stared at me thoughtfully for a moment and then stood up. “Okay, you’re awake. Get dressed and let’s go.”

  I gave a sigh and stood up on weary legs. Taking my coffee with me I trudged back to my room muttering about how those with endless, heaven-derived energy should have more consideration for those of us who had to make do with the pittance of energy stores we’d been born with. My angel of course ignored me and went for a second cup of coffee.

  Moments later we shifted to a spot on the street by what was left of Demonica. The first thing I noticed was the smell. It was a cross between campfire and steak house. Since I knew what the burnt meat smell originated from it was enough to churn my empty stomach.

  Reluctantly I entered the smoldering remains of the building, Myra at my side in case something shifted and I needed celestial intervention. I grimaced at the wet, sooty mess that I had to slog through with my pretty leather boots and I noticed Myra had gone into float mode when she entered the building. I really wished I could do that. It would save so many pretty boots.

  A voice hailed me from across the burned-out space and it wasn’t a happy voice. I heard a soft pop and my angel was gone. I knew she was still there, she’d just gone into stealth mode.

  A human firefighter lumbered toward me in a bulky, silver-colored fire suit. I knew from doing some pretty extensive research that the suit was made out of a new alloy comprised of titanium aluminide and steel, for the ultimate in fire resistance and strength. It was also a very pretty, silver color.

  In my line of work, I sometimes need serious heat resistance. I’d been looking into my fashion options with the new fabric. At this point in its evolution, they weren’t good. I could either go bulky and baggy or baggy and bulky. Not a good choice range when you’re barely five feet tall. I’d look like a short, metal retaining wall with red hair.

  The man pushed his way through the debris and stopped in front of me with an incredulous look on his face. Despite the look of pissed off perplexity, it was a pretty good face.

  “Hey!” I said, just a friendly meeting between two young, attractive people.

  “Lady, are you frunkin’ crazy? What the hell are you doing in here?”

  I tried to look harmless and innocent. I wasn’t good at either. Practically batting my eyes at him I said, “I was just here last night. Do you believe this used to be Demonica?” I gave a low whistle through my teeth and smiled at him.

  His face lost a little of its confrontational aspect but he wasn’t entirely sure what he should do with me. “I repeat, lady, what are you doing in this building? Don’t you know it could come down on your head any second?”

  I gave him an “I’m sorry” look and then waved a hand vaguely in the direction of where the main room had been. “I left my purse here last night. I wanted to get it back.”

  He stared hard at me for a few beats and then touched me on the upper arm and started walking me out. “I think your purse is gone, honey. Maybe you should think about getting a new one.”

  I looked around under the pretense of making sure the purse was really gone and I felt him stiffen in an attempt not to laugh. “Maybe you’re right.”

  I faked tripping over a large chunk of charred ceiling beam and knelt down, rubbing my ankle while I threw my sensing power around the place. It was hard to get a bead on anything specific with all of the violent energy that was still hovering over the ruined club. But I did get something…

  My eyes grew wide and I looked up at the fireman, counting on his need to nurture overcoming his need to protect. “My ankle really hurts, do you think I could just sit down over there on that rock for a minute? Then I’ll go, I promise.”

  He looked at the “rock” I was talking about. It was actually a large, stone gargoyle that I remember had been one of twenty that had decorated the large dance room, hanging high over the dancers’ happily gyrating heads with malevolent expressions on their large, rock faces.

  He gave a frustrated sigh and favored me with a stern look. “I’ll give you five minutes and then you need to get the hell out of here. This is no place for a dainty little thing like you.”

  I heard a soft, tinkling laugh in my ear and knew my angel felt the same way I did about the dainty little thing comment. I just smiled at him in what I hoped was a grateful way. “You are my hero,” I said with another almost eyelash batting.

  To his extreme credit, he didn’t appear to fall for my sucking-up act in the least. He reached down and pulled me to my feet and then, the Big Guy save me, picked me up and carried me to the chunk of gargoyle and set me gently on top of it.

  My heart sped up and when I looked up into his sooty but very sexy face I was pretty sure my cheeks were pink. It was great cover for my current persona but pretty embarrassing for the real me. “Thanks,” was all I was able to choke out of a suddenly clenched throat.

  “I’ll just be over here,” he said and then, giving me a dazzling smile that told me he was on to my act but thought I was okay anyway, he walked away and started sifting through the debris close to the door.

  “Be still my heart,” I murmured and heard Myra whisper into my ear, “Amen, sister.”

  I grinned. Even the celestial female is a total sucker for the strong male hero type. Especially when he’s cute. I realized suddenly that no race did sexy male hero better than the human race. It’s in their genes to protect and care for anyone they perceive to be weaker than they are and they have such fierce pride in doing the right thing. I suddenly realized that, mixed with a strong and manly persona, it was a terribly sexy trait.

  Sighing lustily to clear my clenched chest, I went back to work. I heard a small pop and turned to see Myra standing beside me. A quick glance at my fireman showed that he’d stepped outside the building for a moment to confer with some other firemen.

  “Are you getting anything?” Myra asked me.

  “There’s something here,” I replied. I upped the power on my sensing aura and scanned the room with it. I felt the usual violent tension like a low level thrum throughout the cavernous space and here or there the violence spiked a bit, telling me there had been a battle before Demonica had gone down, literally, in flames.

  But as my power reached the furthest back corner it gave an enormous spike that caused me to jump. I recognized the aura it sensed there. My heart sped up and I felt the blood draining from my face. “Holy shit!”

  “What is it, Astra?”

  I turned to my angel and she scowled at the look on my face. “The superdemon. He was here. I didn’t vanquish him after all.”

  * * * * *

  The online news that morning was filled with angry stories about the fire at Demonica. Driven by hard or bad news rather than any particular value system, the press was inherently fond of all of the demon nightclubs, even if they weren’t recognized as demon-run establishments, because they were the most edgy and dangerous nightclubs in the city. Thus they produced the most news on any given night, mostly bad. And since the destruction of one of the largest, most popular and most trouble-strewn demon establishments made the press angry, they were naturally looking for someone to blame.

  Apparently, certain “unnamed” sources had given them just that.

  Breaking a decades-long practice, reinforced by regular threats from the police, of not speaking openly about the fact that dark worlders walked among us, one particular member of the press wrote a story in that morning’s online news that prompted a decidedly over-the-top headline.

  The headline read, “The Devil Forks up Some Demon”.

  The story beneath this tasteless banner was no better than its introduction.

  Smelling like takeout and looking like a victim of the Great Wars, the demon-run establishment Demonica was burned to the ground last night by a sect of royal devils led by King Dialle the First. According to very reliable sources within
the demon ranks, the nightclub’s destruction was only the latest salvo in a war initiated by the royals to keep the demon population under tight control.

  In recent weeks the royals have also kidnapped several humans from Demonica and killed a few of them in an effort to put pressure on King Alcott, who up until last night had his home and offices in the basement of Demonica, to give up his bid for freedom and continue to play a reluctant Igor to King Dialle’s Frankenstein.

  All efforts to retrieve the remaining hostages have been futile. The Strange Deaths Department of the Police seems to have run out of ideas for locating them.

  King Alcott told this reporter that he wishes to break free from the royals so that he can do more to help the community. He references his nightclubs as proof of this desire.

  “I provide jobs and entertainment for hundreds of people in Angel City,” says Alcott. “I’d like to do more but I can’t unless I break with the devils.”

  Whether you believe the demons or not, it seems that the royals have chosen to put the human race in the middle of a war between them. We can only hope the Paranormal Cops are returning the favor.

  “What a bunch of flaming bullshit!” I murmured as I read the page on my information unit. “Igor to Dialle’s Frankenstein? What does that even mean?” I did a quick search on my information unit and saw the ancient human movie and book the comment was based on. “That’s just silly!” I concluded from my research.

  Sighing, I realized the war had been well and truly engaged and the current situation unfortunately did have one thing in common with Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. The ending had already been written. But apparently I was the only one who had read it.

  * * * * *

  Later that day, I was on my way to face off with the Supreme High Witch of the Angel City coven in the Viper. My stat board told me I was only moments away from the hundred acre wildlife preserve where the coven had its headquarters. Not for the first time I wondered how the witches had managed to gain the rights to build in that area. I decided they must have friends in high places and made a mental note to ask Raoul about it the next time I saw him.

  The air in the Viper changed and I turned to find my Dialle sitting in the soft leather seat beside me.

  He smiled and my traitorous heart went pitter-patter.

  “Dialle.”

  “Astra. You’re looking particularly yummy today.”

  I grinned. I couldn’t help it. “Aren’t you just the consummate suck up?”

  He arched a perfectly shaped, black eyebrow and turned to face me. I’m perfectly willing to instigate sucking up again with you Astra. Our first foray into the activity proved extremely pleasurable. His voice in my mind was pure, indecent invitation.

  I shivered.

  Heavily lashed blue eyes assessed my reaction, not missing the shiver of anticipation his words had created in me. That extremely sexy gaze seared me from above deftly sculpted cheekbones and a lush, sensuous mouth that was perked upward at the corners over an extremely masculine, squared off jaw.

  I felt warmth pooling between my thighs.

  I gulped and tried to look away. Forcing myself to stare at the stat board rather than my yummy passenger. I was so screwed when it came to this particular royal. Even if I managed to get my mind under control my body would always react to him. I knew then that, whatever I felt for Emo and despite the accusations he’d made against Dialle, I was going to pursue a relationship with my devil. And hopefully soon.

  I pressed my legs together desperately and decided the best defense would have to be an offense. I turned back to him.

  “Nice work destroying Demonica, Dialle. I’m sure that will make things clearer for all involved.”

  His grin widened. “I’m not sure that is the case, Astra but it was a lot of fun.”

  Just then the Viper sounded an arrival tone to indicate that we’d reached our destination. I had to swallow a sharp retort and turn back to the controls so that I could guide us through the part of the preserve that was not on the computerized maps.

  I dropped the Viper down into a vehicle alley that had been cleared through the dense blanket of trees. The alley led to the lone building in the preserve. As we dropped to within a few feet of the ground the light fell away from the day and night seemed to descend on us prematurely. I don’t think I’d realized until that point how dense the trees were in that preserve.

  The only other time I’d been in the preserve I’d gone to the place where the witches performed their masses and the trees there, being on the edge of a meadow, hadn’t been quite as thickly layered.

  We followed the alley for a few miles, dodging upward a couple of times to avoid colliding with some extremely large deer and one hungry-looking blaven, a bearlike creature that walked upright and had claws the length of my hand. Rumor had it the blaven was the sasquatch of human legend.

  When we finally came in sight of the witches’ coven headquarters I turned to Dialle. “Before we face off with the High Supreme Witch, I need to know where we stand. Does the destruction of Demonica mean that your father has formally declared war on the demons?”

  Dialle snorted elegantly. “My father’s view is that the demons aren’t worthy of a formal declaration. Demonica was meant to be only a reminder to them that we could take them out any time we desire.”

  “Well, since Alcott appears to have the human press on his side I’m not sure how effective taking out Demonica was. The news has been filled all day with how your father is trying to bully poor, misunderstood King Alcott. I think his action last night is going to have serious unintended consequences.”

  Dialle reached to tuck an errant strand of hair behind my ear but didn’t respond.

  I dropped the Viper into hover in front of the large, low-slung ranch type building that housed the Angel City coven. Turning to my devil I gave him a look. “I think you’ve proven your point. Hopefully Alcott didn’t take your ‘reminder’ as an incentive to kill all the remaining hostages.”

  Dialle shrugged, appearing not to care one way or the other. “That would be an unfortunate outcome of course but unavoidable in this case. “

  I stared at him for a long moment. My interaction with the human fireman that morning popped into my head and I realized that I felt differently about the human victims of this situation than did the royals. In the royals’ view humans were little more than cattle to be used as necessary and protected only where it suited them.

  A few human deaths would mean nothing to King Dialle and his court unless it caused them problems. I decided right then and there that I would have to make sure human deaths caused them problems.

  “I’m sure the Angel Council would take a dim view of those humans dying unnecessarily, Dialle.”

  Again he shrugged. “Then let us go speak to the woman who is responsible for the humans’ current predicament.”

  I couldn’t very well argue with him on that point, since that was the reasoning that had brought me to the coven in the first place.

  We exited the Viper and I sent it into the air and engaged security. I led the way toward the front door. The coven headquarters seemed deceptively serene and harmless. Very human. I knew the power that resided behind those doors was an awesome thing and far from harmless.

  As we reached the door it opened inward. At first I thought it was magically induced, then I saw the extremely large shape lurking behind the door in the dim light of the foyer.

  “I am Astra Phelps. I’ve come to request an audience with the Supreme High Witch.”

  The bulky shape behind the door motioned for us to enter. The door swung shut behind Dialle and the very rotund woman who had let us in stood silently, short stubby fingers clasped at her round belly and peered expectantly at Dialle.

  He gave a slight but formal bow and quirked those yummy lips upward as he introduced himself. “Prince Dialle, madam witch. Dark Blessings.”

  The woman’s perfectly round face slid slowly into a lecherous grin that made my
skin crawl. She returned Dialle’s nod in a slightly negligent way that made me mad. As next in line for the royal devil throne, Dialle deserved more respect from a mere witch. Her attitude told me volumes about the coven’s current mood.

  “Welcome Astra Phelps and Prince Dialle. If you will follow me. The Supreme High Witch has been expecting you.”

  The rotund witch ambled ungracefully down a long, dimly lighted hallway, her stout, sensible shoes clicking slightly on the highly polished dark wood floors. I slid a glance to Dialle and he met it with a dark, unreadable expression.

  He hadn’t let the witch know in look or manner that her insolence had affected him one way or the other. But the look he gave me showed just what he thought of it.

  I shivered slightly. I hoped the coven knew what it was doing. Going up against the court of Dialle the First was stupidity at its finest. However, I doubted the witches, at least the coven members, knew the full extent of their overreach. I suspected the Supreme High Witch, whoever she was, was aware of the danger and would probably lie low until her purposes had been attained, leaving her minions to bear the brunt of the king’s anger.

  We were shown into a large room that looked like a combination library and greenhouse. The long wall directly across from the door where we entered sported an enormous fireplace, built of sparkling white Angel City limestone. Despite the relative warmth of the early evening outside, a raging fire crackled and snapped in the depths of the enormous fireplace.

  To the left, a wall of windows bowed out over a short expanse of bright green lawn and hovered over an exorbitant mixture of herbs and flowers. I recognized many of the plants as being useful for witch’s brews and magical incantations. The coven was growing Iris for communication, Coneflower for strength and protection, Fern for invisibility and Foxglove for protection and poisonous purposes.

  The witch who had shown us into the room gave us a small nod and left, her wide posterior swinging rather haughtily toward the door.