“Yes,” Carrie said.
“To be a supermodel?”
“Yes, that would be my guess.”
Charlie put the picture down. “If I help you, will you get her soul back for her?”
“That’s our plan,” Eugene said, his voice not as confident as Charlie would have liked. Funny, his uncertainty actually made the story somehow more believable.
“I should be up front with you. I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with Ava Wells,” Charlie told them.
“All the more reason to help us,” Carrie said with an encouraging smile.
They kind of had him there, didn’t they?
“Okay,” he said with a sigh, still not believing he was buying into any of this. “Explain to me what my job will be.”
Ava stopped pacing as soon as she heard Charlie’s key in the lock. She flung herself at him as soon as he stepped inside the living room.
He caught her, holding her close, his surprised chuckle music to her ears.
“You are okay,” she said, kissing his cheek, his lips. He returned the kiss, before smiling down at her.
“I’m fine.”
“What took you so long? I was starting to get worried.”
“Well, it took a while for them to explain what my job would be,” he said slowly.
Ava frowned, confused. She couldn’t imagine it would be that hard to explain what a staff photographer’s duties were.
“It seems there’s a lot involved when capturing demons.”
Ava didn’t react for a moment, then repeated, “Capturing demons?”
He nodded, then pulled out a picture and handed it to her. “And saving the humans who sold their souls for their dreams.”
Ava looked at the picture, realizing it was of her, sleeping in Charlie’s bed. That first night they were together. All around her sleeping form was a yellow light, a halo.
“Is this how you see me?” she asked.
“Sometimes. I see auras around those who have sold their souls. With the demons I see the real features that they keep hidden behind the masks of human faces.”
She watched him for a moment. “You seem to be taking this pretty well.”
He considered her, then nodded. “Well, it is true, isn’t it?”
Ava nodded. “Yes, it is.”
“Then we need to get your soul back, and apparently I can help do that. So I have no choice but to accept the assignment.”
She smiled at him, leaning in to press her lips tenderly against his. She lingered for a moment, then pulled back to regard him, her eyes filled with unshed tears.
He started to speak, to comfort her, she was sure, but she pressed her fingers lightly to his lips to stop him. She needed to explain how she’d ended up in this situation. She wanted him to understand how she’d gotten mixed up with Finola White.
“I honestly didn’t understand what I was doing,” she said and he didn’t need to ask what she referred to; he knew. “I grew up with just my mother. My father left us when I was less than a year old, so I don’t remember him. And my mother had no help from her family; she really struggled to keep us going. She wasn’t a bad mother; she took care of me and made sure I had what I needed, but I always knew she resented being stuck with a child. She’d dreamed of being a model or an actress herself. And having me, well, she saw that as holding her back.
“So at a very young age I started to imagine what it would be like if I could be a model or actress, so my mother would be proud of me and not regret having me. I would fulfill her dreams and make her realize she’d done the right thing to have me.”
Charlie took her hand, running his thumb soothingly over her skin.
She continued, “Right out of high school, I came here to try and get a modeling contract. Maybe some acting roles. But I quickly realized I wasn’t going to cut it. Not in a city like this. Then by sheer chance, or at least I thought it was chance, I met Finola at a play where I was ushering—that was the closest I ever came to the stage. She must have sensed some sort of desperation in me, because she told me I was stunning. That she could see me in front of the camera. That I could be the next Cindy Crawford.”
“And what girl doesn’t want to hear that,” Charlie said, offering her an understanding smile.
She forced a tremulous smile back, still ashamed she’d so willingly sold her soul. Even though she knew Charlie understood.
“So I signed on the dotted line, giving her myself and as it turned out, my soul. And she did make me a star.”
“But—” Charlie prompted when she fell quiet for a moment.
“But,” she sighed. “That didn’t actually give me what I wanted. I made it big, buying my mother a beautiful new house, a new car. Trying to give her everything she imagined she would have in her youthful dreams, but none of that mattered. She’s still distant, still resentful, because now not only did I ruin her dreams, I stole them.”
Charlie pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight, holding her with the tenderness and caring she’d always wanted from her mother.
“I’m sure she is proud of you,” he said, his hands stroking her hair and her back. “I’m sure she just doesn’t know how to show you after being reserved for so many years.”
Ava nodded, realizing that while her mother’s detachment still hurt, she wasn’t going to let it ruin the one true, real happiness she’d ever found. She was going to make sure Charlie knew exactly how she felt about him. She wouldn’t hold back the way her mother had.
But she also had to be realistic.
“I don’t want you in any danger, so how are we going to make this work?”
Charlie frowned, clearly not following her shift in topic.
“How are we going to be together?” She smiled, her eyes shining with the growing love she felt for him. “Because I do want us to be together. Very, very much.”
He laughed, the sound rich and joyful. “I want us to be together too. And Carrie assures me that she can persuade Finola we are the next super couple. Top model and hot, new rising photographer. Maybe we’ll even get a nickname like Avlie or something.”
Ava laughed. “Or Charva. Well if you put a trendy enough spin on it, Finola will go for anything. She’s a demon who loves her celebrity.”
“Maybe that will be her downfall.”
Ava sighed, suddenly feeling that she might just have a shot at a happy future after all.
“You didn’t answer me though,” she said, leaning back to look up at the man she was very quickly falling in love with.
“What didn’t I answer?”
“I asked if that woman in your pictures was how you see me. Not the light, the woman.”
“You mean, you,” he said with one of his crooked smiles. “Yes, that’s exactly how I see you.”
Ava’s heart swelled in her chest, overcome by joy. “You see Addy Wellmeyer. You see the real me.”
“Ah,” he said as if things suddenly made sense to him. “Well, you, Addy Wellmeyer, are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“You are the most amazing man I’ve ever met.”
He smiled. “Nah, I’m just a guy with a good eye.”
What Slays in Vegas
Angie Fox
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The events of this novella take place a year after the events in The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers.
Chapter One
Shiloh rushed down a long hallway at the back of The Seven Deadly Sins Casino and cringed as she pushed through the human-repelling energy shield.
Zap!
The static electric shock zinged her down to her toes. Half the time it frizzed out her hair. She so didn’t need that tonight.
She was late.
She was starving.
She was about to be ambushed by a loopy bear of a hellhound. A smile tickled the corners of her lips. “Hey, Rufus.”
The hound’s red eyes brimmed with excitement as he danced in place, waiting. Rufus might be a well-trained guard,
but he was still a puppy at heart.
As soon as she came within striking distance of the Video Surveillance Room, Rufus shoved his head against her hip and buried his wet nose in her hand.
“Attention hound,” Shiloh said, scrubbing him on his coal black head. She didn’t really have the time, but she had a soft spot for the beast. Shiloh had always wanted a hellhound.
Maybe someday—if she ever got a life of her own.
Rufus whined and followed her with adoring eyes as she turned the corner toward the She-Demons assignment desk.
A middle-aged fairy hovered behind a work station that had seen better days. His bowl of candied Mag Mell Mushrooms sat within easy reach. A bribe. Shiloh should know. She’d given them to the jerk last night—anything to get a better post than the one she had.
“You’re late.” The fairy glared at her over his Elton Johnstyle reading glasses.
“I know.” Traffic on the Las Vegas Strip was hell this time of night. And Shiloh refused to live at the resort and casino, like the rest of the succubi. For one thing, she liked to think she had some life apart from her devil of a boss. For another, well, it’s not like the rest of the demons accepted her anyway.
Shiloh planted her hands on his desk. “Please tell me you’ve got something good for me, Jeebers.”
She’d been stuck in Gluttony for the past week and if she had to finger-feed one more pork chop to those overgrown louts, she’d scream.
Oh for the days of the Romans. At least most of them had wanted grapes.
The fairy wrinkled his nose. “That’s Mr. Jeebers to you,” he said, sounding like a munchkin. He adjusted his glasses and ran a tiny finger down the screen of his laptop. “Succubus 14 . . . I have your assignment right here. Entertainment Room Three. Sloth.”
Gah. “You have to be kidding. I’ve been off Lust for a month. I’m starving!”
The fairy began filing paperwork. “You’re only a half-breed. You can make it longer than the regular girls.”
“You don’t understand. I need to eat too.” She fed off lust. The boss didn’t allow takeout. She had to eat here at the casino and only during her shifts. How was she supposed to make it a week in Sloth?
All she did there was lie around and massage men’s temples while they snoozed. She needed sex. Now. Or she was going to flip over one of the sloths and have her way with him.
“Mr. Jeebers. Give me a break. Please.”
He stopped filing for a moment and gave her a long-suffering look.
“I’ll buy you a six-pack of the good stuff.”
“A case,” he countered.
“Fine,” she said, although she wondered what a case of Fitz’s Root Beer would run her. It didn’t matter. She was desperate.
Jeebers selected a large red file. “Hmm . . .” he said, removing a work order, “we only have one left. And we’re not done checking him out.”
“I’ll take it.” Shiloh snatched the eight-by-ten glossy photo from the fairy’s hand.
“Damien,” she said, noting the striking man in the picture. It was a security photo, taken near the gambling tables downstairs. It appeared this man liked to play poker for stacks of cash. How very human. Although the alternative—playing for lost souls—made her stomach curl. She didn’t like to think about those tables, even if she’d never had a soul of her own. It was just creepy.
She shook off the feeling. A demon like her couldn’t change the way things were done. She just needed a decent meal. And from the looks of him, Damien would be a five-course feast.
He was ruggedly built, with broad shoulders and great taste in suits. The one he wore fit him like a dream. He had a well-defined face, sharp around the edges with dark hair that was deliciously unkempt.
She tried to picture him in leather. Mmm . . . yes. He could be a bad boy. Then she pictured his hard body wearing nothing at all.
Even better.
She ran a French-tipped fingernail down the photo. Still, something bothered her. He had a certain air about him that appeared wholesome, maybe even angelic. “Damien—” she chewed on her generous lower lip, trying to locate the source of her niggling doubt. “Just Damien? No last name?”
The fairy shook his head as he reached for the photo. “Lies don’t stick to the page.”
She held it out of the fairy’s reach. “Tell me something I don’t know.” She slapped the photograph down on the desk. “I’ll take him.”
Jeebers snatched it up. “He requested a full succubus.”
“He’s not going to know the difference.” Not the way she was keyed up.
Jeebers looked like he was about to protest.
“A demon is a demon,” Shiloh said quickly. “Besides, don’t you want that sweet, fizzy Fitz’s Root Beer? I’m the only one who can get it for you.” Thank Hades she had a friend in St. Louis, where they made the stuff—a human friend who had more than fairy money to spend.
Jeebers looked torn.
“You haven’t had Fitz’s Root Beer in how long?”
“Two years,” he answered pitifully.
“That’s too long to wait,” Shiloh coaxed.
“Do not tell anyone,” Jeebers snapped, his tiny fingers pounding her change of assignment into his computer.
“Nobody.” She threw up a hand. Succubus’s honor.
“Napthulo will have my wings.”
“Napthulo isn’t going to know anything.”
She didn’t want to screw up her relationship with the boss, either. Napthulo was the all powerful demon lord of Las Vegas, not to mention the only one in the last millennium who’d offered her a steady job. There was a lot of prejudice against half-breeds.
“Be upstairs in ten minutes sharp,” the fairy said, snatching up the photo and stuffing the entire work order into another file.
“Are you kidding? I’ll be there in five,” Shiloh said, resisting the urge to kiss the fairy on his knobby little head.
She dashed for the changing rooms. It took everything she had not to rush up to the Lust room in jeans and a T-shirt.
Fawzi the ifrit stood guard outside the She-Demons dressing room. His copper skin gleamed. Gold cuffs on his wrists bound him to the casino and their master, and long spiraling horns cropped up above each ear. He’d been Shiloh’s bodyguard for the past four centuries and it drove him crazy that he couldn’t follow her home.
“You look happy,” he said, his voice low and rocky even as she reached up and planted a quick kiss on a bulge of muscles between his elbow and his shoulder.
“Lust,” she sang, dancing past him.
“Perfect,” he grinned, showing a set of ultra-white teeth. “You’ve been a bear this month.”
Shiloh banged through the door, knowing he’d follow her.
She shoved her way past a clothes rack displaying everything from gowns to sequined panties. “No more Gluttony. No more Greed.”
“Now I can protect you from more than day traders and mountains of shrimp cocktail, yes?”
“Oh yes.”
“Wear the gold.” Fawzi tossed a shimmering gown toward Shiloh as she ducked behind the dressing screen.
“Las Vegas Barbie. How original.”
“It’s your lucky color.”
True. Although she’d had her luck tonight talking Jeebers into giving her this assignment. Anything else was gravy.
Shiloh slipped into her favorite pair of gold spike heels. She kept all her shoes back here, where no one fiddled with them. She could have hidden a whole marching band behind the screen. None of the other girls bothered with modesty as they dressed.
She zipped the dress up the side, under the swell of her breasts.
Perfect.
Shiloh brushed past the ifrit to make a quick check of her makeup in the battered mirror behind her dressing table.
He wrinkled his nose. “Do I smell barbeque sauce?”
“Probably.” Fawzi had the heightened senses of his genie ancestors. At least that’s what she told herself. Friggin Gluttony roo
m. Two mineral baths and she still felt like she’d been slathered in KC Masterpiece.
To be safe, Shiloh dabbed Chanel No. 5 on her pulse points.
Sure, she had natural allure. She was half-succubus, and pleasure demons positively oozed sex. But her other half was human, so she also had to count on Chanel, MAC, Lancôme and that little trick where she dabbed Preparation H under her eyes after a particularly grueling night.
“Hold this.” She handed her purse to Fawzi while she shoved her street clothes into her locker. The ancient ifrit pinched her lime green bag between two fingers as if she’d asked him to tote around a dead possum.
As if she was asking much.
She took the bag from wussy boy, shoved it on top of her clothes, and spun the combination lock. “All set.” She slipped her arm around his and let his soupy warm power wash over her as he sifted them up to the sixty-ninth floor.
Lust.
At last.
They reappeared in an ornate hallway dripping with Jazz-era charm. Gleaming sconces cast a warm light over hunter green walls and plush red carpeting. Carved wood doors lined the hall.
An echo of cinnamon incense hung in the air.
“You ready?” Fawzi asked.
“Overdue,” she said, disengaging herself from his arm.
Fawzi shrank into a wisp of yellow smoke. He hovered near her ear. “As I am sworn to protect—”
“So you will be at my side.” Yeah, yeah. Whoever thought it was a good idea to repeat the blood oath every night had been smoking the hookah too hard. Fawzi would stay by her side until she had the human under her thrall. After that? Well, neither one of them really wanted him watching.
Shiloh touched her hand to the bronze handle of the Lust room. She straightened her shoulders, shook out her hair, and put on her most delicious smile.
Come and get me, boy.
The room smelled of cinnamon and sex. The crimsonveiled sconces on gold walls gave the room a warm glow. Heavy curtains blanketed the windows. At least a half dozen men and women lounged on suede couches, amid tables laden with candles and discarded clothes. Her fellow succubi had started without her. That’s okay. She could catch up.
So I Married A Demon Slayer Page 9
