Bigfoots Don't Do Mini Coopers (Kate Storm Book 1)

by Meredith Allen Conner

  Based on its previous finger gesture, it had seen humans before, understanding English wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities.

  “Can you understand me?” I asked.

  It nodded, frowned and fainted again. My legs were getting bruised so I shuffled out from under the creature.

  The powerful rumble of a large truck proceeded Ash by a full minute. The jacked up, black pick up squealed to a stop next to my Mini Cooper. Chrome finishes contrasted nicely with the paint job and gleamed with the next bolt of lightening.

  My hero didn’t bother to turn the engine off as he slammed the door open and leapt to the ground. He took in my position with a heated glance then simply stood totally still for a moment. I knew he was scoping out the area for any danger. I’d recently had a psycho vampire assassin try to kill me so I appreciated his thoroughness.

  Satisfied that nothing bad lurked in the shadows, Ash headed towards me. I paused to just enjoy the view. Ash is quite large for a demon. Massive actually. He stands over six and a half feet tall with dark hair and mesmerizing amber eyes.

  I swear his muscles multiply all on their own. I see it as my duty to verify that possibility every time I’m with him. His habitual leather vest - sans shirt - has a simple string which holds it loosely together so that his muscles are always on display. I consider that one of his better qualities.

  To add to his infinite appeal, a multitude of scars line the left side of his face. I love a good scar. Where the scars end, a large, detailed black and red tattoo takes off. I happen to know that the tattoo encompasses part of his chest and back. I consider that one of my favorite images.

  He usually wears a hat or bandana to hide his horns. They’re a lovely shade of gray, about the size of a silver-dollar and guaranteed to cause a panic if the humans ever saw them. Tonight he had on a black leather bandana.

  Ash knelt down at my side, cupped my cheek, turned my head this way and that and then proceeded to examine the rest of my wet self. He ran a thick finger over the holes in my jeans. “I don’t see any blood.”

  “I told you. I’m fine.” The rain had washed away any trace of my blood.

  “Your jeans are ripped. I don’t . . .” Ash stiffened from head to toe. “What the hell is that?” He’d just noticed Bigfoot.

  It never fails to melt my heart - and other body parts - when Ash concentrates on me to the extent he tunes everything else out.

  Considering how large and incredibly stinky the creature was, it should have been the first thing Ash noticed. He hadn’t gotten his scars from playing Scrabble. Ash is a fighter.

  I’m sure he had noticed the creature, in a general way, already. He probably hadn’t realized it was a body though. Bigfoots are incredibly furry. And drenched? Well, the poor thing looked more like a roughly discarded rug from the ‘70s.

  “It’s Bigfoot.”

  “Bigfoot?” Ash began to breathe through his mouth. “I thought that was a myth.”

  See? It wasn’t just me.

  “Nope. Large, smelly, alive,” Bigfoot’s leg twitched so I knew I still spoke the truth, “and very hard to see in the rain.”

  Ash looked at my car and back at the figure on the ground. “You hit it with your car?”

  Uh-oh.

  I’ve had my fill recently of lying and I couldn’t see a positive way around the truth so I opted for silence.

  Ash shoved the body further away so he had more room and picked up my legs. He ran his hands up and down one then the other, searching for any damage. I heard him growl something about “witch” and “healing.” I wisely kept my mouth shut.

  Our relationship might be rocky, but I’ve learned that Ash comes from a highly protective line of demons. I’m from a likes-to-be-coddled line of witches myself, so it all works.

  “I really am fine.” I repeated. “But I need your help and your truck to get the thing back to my place.”

  Ash arched a brow. “You’re bringing that back to your apartment?”

  He only knew it as a revolting pile of wet fur while I could still hear the pathetic moans. That plus the fact I’d run it down in the first place. It just kept bombarding my conscience.

  “Yes.” I nodded for emphasis. “I hurt it. I have to heal it.”

  “Why can’t you just cast a spell right now?”

  “I don’t know what species it belongs to,” I explained. “The right species is key in using the right spell.” I didn’t want to accidentally kill it. Or turn it into a small green toad. In either case I’d still be the one to annihilate it.

  Witches are generally nature and animal lovers. Causing a creature to be completely demolished from existence is typically frowned upon. That, plus my Aunt Tabs would kill me.

  Ash considered me for a good minute. A wide smile split his face. His amber eyes have this disconcerting way of glowing when he feels strongly about something. Humor, anger, passion.

  Sigh.

  It gets me every time.

  “All right. I can’t wait to hear what Al has to say about this.” He could laugh. He didn’t live with him.

  Ash stood up and pulled me to my feet. He picked up Bigfoot and slung it over his shoulder. Bigfoot groaned. “But it stays in the back.”

  Fine by me. I didn’t want to be in a small, enclosed space with it either. Drat. I’d sort of ignored that angle when I decided to bring it to my tiny apartment.

  Ash laid Bigfoot in the back of his pick-up, arranging it so its legs didn’t hang out over the side. He opened the passenger door, lifted me inside and proceeded to buckle me in.

  I’m an independent witch. I don’t need help getting in or out of vehicles. However, I’m also a smart witch and Ash’s touch sends my body racing each and every time.

  Ash closed his door, pulled me close for a hard kiss. He eased back, amber eyes glowing as they traveled over my face, neck and chest. They paused for a long moment on my chest.

  I’m rather busty and with the rain and my drenched red t-shirt, I could guess at the view. He smiled, slow and very satisfied. His big hand cupped me, his thumb stroked over the hard tip of my breast. I shuddered, bit back a moan. His grip tightened, tiny blue flames rose up over the back of his hand, dancing along his skin.

  Ash is very strong. And very aware of how to use that strength. I held my breath as he increased the pressure. My stomach clenched, torn between almost pain and pure pleasure. He rubbed his thumb over my nipple again, the increased pressure adding to the sensitivity until I almost screamed.

  “Ash.” I was already on the verge of begging.

  A ragged moan drifted into the cab from the bed of the pick-up.

  Ash’s lids lowered. Slits of sparkling amber glowed at me from the black frames of his eyelashes. I held my breath. He slowly released me, his fingers drawing random patterns on the wet cotton of my shirt before he sat back. He patted out the flames on his hand. And then we were off.

  I settled back in my seat, did a few deep breathing exercises to control my thudding heart then tried a visualization technique before I gave up. He was sitting next to me. My hormones wouldn’t settle down until he was a good five miles away.

  Another loud clash of thunder surrounded the truck. The little hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I peeked over the seat out the back window. Bigfoot hadn’t moved as far as I could tell.

  What the heck had I just gotten myself into?

  3. Between A Demon And A Chihuahua

  Ash pulled up next to the curb in front of my second-story apartment and cut the engine. I glanced at my windows. I didn’t see any movement, but I knew he was waiting.

  Frog warts.

  We got out and I climbed into the bed of the truck to check on Bigfoot. My fairy godmother must still be kicking it. Bigfoot hadn’t died. Score one for me.

  “Where are you going to put it?”

  Huh. I hadn’t got quite that far in my thinking. Mostly it went: “Bigfoot Lives! And I just killed it. No, it’s still alive. Sweet Glinda, it smells. Oh no, it’s
dead. No, wait, still living. Aunt Tabs is going to have my broomstick for this.”

  The drive to my apartment wasn’t that long, but one would think I would have moved a bit further along in my thinking. I’m really just a one-track mind sort of witch. And worrying about being the sole cause of a species demise had fully occupied my thoughts.

  My apartment is tiny. Technically it’s a two bedroom. I doubt a technician - of any species - would consider my second bedroom an actual bedroom. My desk and bookshelf barely fit.

  I was not giving up my double bed for it - no matter how much my conscience screamed. A witch has to draw the line somewhere.

  That left my living room or deck. The deck was probably the best bet. I could rearrange the patio furniture for a bed. And it would keep the smell outside . . . On the other hand, my favorite furniture would be destroyed and the stench would certainly alert my neighbors.

  “Let’s move my chair and table to the deck.” I thought my plan through out loud. “My couch opens up to a bed and we can put it there.” I paused, considered. “And open up all the windows too.”

  August in Idaho is hot during the day and cool at night. I’d have to wear my long pajamas, but I’d be able to breathe.

  I studied the body. “Do you think it will be all right here while we move the furniture?”

  I peered around my block. It wasn’t very late, but it was dark thanks to the rain clouds. Lots of lights were on, but no one was outside. The curtains shifted four doors down. I whispered a concealing spell. I’d memorized that one too.

  Funny how certain things like crazy vampire assassins intent on killing you will spark a new interest in learning. Previous to that, I’d been content to let my Spell Book collect dust.

  The curtains fluttered some more and a light glinted. It reminded me of the flash you get from mirrors. Or lenses.

  I hadn’t met the new neighbor. That should probably change sometime soon.

  “He has a camera.”

  Demons have super senses just like the rest of the HC community. Luckily, humans don’t. I didn’t think my neighbor would expire from the killing look Ash aimed in his direction, but he might just wet his pants. I wondered how powerful the lens was.

  “It doesn’t matter. I cast a concealing spell over the body.” I stretched my arms. Just a casual move. Hanging out in the back of Ash’s pick-up. At night. In the rain.

  Okay, I needed a new plan.

  “Maybe we should bring my chair down and put it in the back of your truck?” That would work. It would look like I had been rearranging things in the back of his pick up to make room for the chair.

  “Why?” Ash didn’t bother to look at me as he asked his question. Arms planted across his chest, he was fully engaged in glaring at my neighbor.

  The HC don’t want the humans to know about them, but they don’t always go out of their way to hide either. Most of those alien/creature sightings in the tabloids are real.

  I check them out every time I’m in line at the grocery store. Keeps me up to date on both my friends and my enemies.

  The main problem is the arrogance that those in the HC have. Not that I blame them, entirely. They are faster, stronger and generally meaner than the humans. Makes them paranormal, so to speak.

  It’s also slightly annoying when one is not part of the group and simply normal. In human terms. The HC can be superior, I have to worry.

  “So it will look like we’re moving furniture and not bodies.” Again the rain, specifically, cast a suspicious cloud over my plan. I ignored it. I was doing the best with what I had.

  “Why do you care what your neighbors think?”

  Apparently they don’t have nosy neighbors in Hell.

  I thought about the possible repercussions, the potential 911 call placed if my spell didn’t hold, the paparazzi hounding me.

  “Kate?” Ash had given up glaring at my neighbor and now frowned at me.

  Right. I banished the image of myself in high heels, tight jeans and an even tighter top as I slid a pair of oversized sunglasses on before I gracefully eased into my car in a vain attempt to evade all the cameras.

  Somehow my mental Kate had managed to lose a good thirty pounds. Probably all the stress.

  Bigfoot moaned. I sighed. Really, what harm could one nosy neighbor do? My spell would hold - I’m a skilled witch - and we could keep an eye on the truck from my windows as we rearranged the furniture in my apartment.

  “Never mind. Let’s just get Bigfoot moved before it catches a cold.”

  Ash placed his hand at the small of my back as we headed up the stairs to my apartment. His demon mama had taught him well.

  I heard the growling start before I reached the top. “Knock it off.” I raised my voice. “Both of you.” I added with a glare over my shoulder. Ash narrowed his eyes.

  He was waiting just inside the door.

  “Look, I have something I need to take care of right now.” I knew it was foolish, but I had to at least try to stave off the fight. “Please do not start.”

  Ash and Al do not like each other.

  That’s possibly THE understatement of the millennium, but I’m a duck and dodge type witch when it comes to big problems so I was good with it.

  “I’ll help ya, Doll.” Al puffed up his chest. “Ya don’t need him,” he sneered.

  Al has a rather large crush on me. I love him, but not in a romantic way. As far as I’m concerned, it’s because he’s a Chihuahua. As far as Al is concerned, it’s because of Ash.

  “Actually, right now Al, I do need him.” I walked passed him into my living room. “I have to move some furniture.”

  “I can do that, Doll.” Al trotted along right next to me.

  If I snorted I’d hurt his ego. Big Al weighs about six pounds. I think he’s been putting on weight recently. Like since Ash first showed up.

  Ash, of course, snorted. Loudly.

  Al and I both whirled to glare at him.

  Ash had developed a strong dislike of Al from the moment they first met. That might have had something to do with Al threatening to shoot him. Or peeing on his leg.

  Ash had growled. I’d scooped Al up and locked him in my bedroom. Big Al is the ghost of a former New Jersey mafia hit-man. Any time he mentions a loaded weapon, I take him seriously. I don’t know why he channels through my Chihuahua.

  I wasn’t entirely certain what to do about him peeing on my boyfriend’s leg. Big Al has quite the knack for blatantly ignoring reality. Or in his case, the fact that he is a tiny dog.

  I don’t blame him for his issues. I follow the ostrich hiding routine far too often myself to throw any wands in his direction.

  Plus, how would you feel if one day you had been a gun toting, very large, take-no-shit-from-no-one hit-man and the next thing you know, you’re dead and living in the small, furry body of a nine by fourteen inch Chihuahua?

  I seriously doubt Al considers the two-inch height difference his ears give him an advantage of any sort.

  I simply cannot hold his issues against him.

  “Watch it, Demon, or I’ll put a hole in ya.”

  On the other hand, they can be somewhat irritating.

  I am fairly certain he can’t actually hold a gun, much less aim and fire one. But . . . He’s a very determined Chihuahua. And I had found a small caliber gun hidden behind the doggie treats just last week.

  It amazed me that anyone would sell a gun to a dog.

  “No one is hurting anyone,” I snapped. “We need to move some furniture and then bring up the body.”

  Al stopped so suddenly, his nails skittered on the hardwood. “Ya killed someone?” The hurt vibrated all the way through his deep voice. “Without me?”

  Once a hit-man, always a hit-man. It’s just something I’ve learned to live with.

  “No, Al.” I went to lift one side of the chair. Ash muttered under his breath. I’m pretty sure one of the words was “stubborn.” He grabbed me around the waist and lifted me out of the way. Then he
picked up the chair and headed down the hall towards my deck.

  Gotta love a strong demon. I’m not a small witch. I’m a size ten - on some occasions. Yes, most of those occasions have come and gone. As far as I’m concerned the fact that I still have a pair of size ten jeans in my drawer counts. We will not discuss how far back in that drawer they are.

  “Doll?” Al nudged me. His watery brown eyes blinked up at me.

  They get me every time.

  I knelt in front of him. “I didn’t kill anyone, Al.” I’d tried to impress the fact that I am a nice witch on him numerous times. He refuses to believe me. The minor detail of my part in the death of the vampire assassin hadn’t helped my cause.

  “I just ran it over.”

  That really didn’t sound much better.

  “It?”

  I shrugged. “It’s a Bigfoot. I have no idea what sex it is.”

  “Bigfoot?” Al twitched an ear. “Ya mean he does exist?”

  “Weird, huh?” I’d never have believed it myself if I hadn’t run it over.

  “So, it’s not really dead?” Al tilted his head from one side to the other as if trying to decide if he was disappointed or not.

  “No. I did hurt it though. Broken leg. Probably some internal damage.” My stomach clenched. “Never mind. Let’s just say it’s hurt and I have to heal it.”

  Ash planted a kiss on the top of my head as he passed by to pick up the table. “You didn’t mean to hit it, Kate.”

  True, but I’d done it all the same.

  Al’s little teeth missed Ash’s boot by a bare centimeter. I pretended not to notice as I shoved open the living room window. I checked the truck, the street around it, and the most direct route from my neighbor’s house to the pick-up.

  All clear.

  I headed into the kitchen to open the window there. “And you’re gonna bring it in here to cast a spell?” Al trotted along near my ankle.

  “Yep.” We went into my bedroom next.

  “Why can’t ya just cast the spell outside?” Al jumped onto my bed, sniffed my pillow. I opened the window.

  “Because I’m not sure what species it is exactly. I’m going to call Aunt Tabs for advice, but I’m thinking Bigfoot is truly just a mythological creature and not a member of the HC.”