The Devil's in the Details

by Kimberly Raye

  “Just leave the door open when you’ve finished looking around,” she said. “The security guard will lock up.”

  I nodded and waved good-bye. Then I spent the next few minutes walking the perimeter of the room and beating my brain for some way to make the space work.

  Better lighting. Great tablescapes. A bulldozer.

  The hope that had sprung when I’d gotten Karla’s text took a nosedive, and I blinked against the burning behind my eyes. I was so screwed. If I wanted invites by tomorrow afternoon, I had to secure a space today. Now.

  I wallowed in self-pity for the next few moments until my cell beeped me back to reality and the all-important fact that I was an optimist. I had been ever since I’d turned my back on my birthright and latched onto the dream of finding my own happily-ever-after.

  If I could believe there was a Mr. Perfect out there somewhere for me, I could damn well believe that I could nail down a venue in less than three hours and pull off a wedding that would meet with my mother’s approval.

  I just needed to get really creative.

  That, or run like hell. I’d surely wind up living in an igloo in Antarctica.

  “What are you doing?” Blythe demanded when I picked up the phone a few minutes later; she’d called after I didn’t immediately answer her text.

  “Not living in an igloo,” I said with all the courage I could muster. “What’s up?”

  “Agarth. Literally. I called him for information and he asked me out. I said I’d think about it and the next thing I know, he’s standing on my doorstep. Either he’s got his sword in his pants or he’s really glad to see me. I’m betting number two, which is why I’ve locked myself in the bathroom. I don’t care how important this is, I’m not boffing him for information.”

  “So he’s a little excited. He’s wanted a date with you forever. Just get back out there, go to the movies, and ignore whatever he’s got working below the waist. Pretend like you don’t notice it.”

  “We’re not going straight to the movies. It’s dinner and a movie.”

  “That’s good. The table will be in the way so you don’t have to actually make eye contact with his lap.”

  “You’re not making me feel any better.” She grew silent for a long moment, as if weighing her options. “But there is one thing that might help.” Her voice took on a desperate note. “Come with?”

  “A date usually means two people.”

  “So meet us there. We’ll pretend like it’s a chance thing.”

  “I don’t want to piss him off. He’s our only lead to Azazel.”

  “He’s in love with me. If I act like I’m superworried about you because you’re so stressed about this wedding and that it would make me extremely happy to at least invite you to eat dinner with us, he’ll go along with it. Please,” she added when I hesitated. “I would do it for you. I am doing it for you. It’s not my head on the chopping block, remember?”

  “I’ve got two hours and fifty-two minutes left to secure a venue for my mom or it won’t matter if Cutter chops off my head. I’ll be dead anyway.”

  “I once partied in the backseat of my limo with the manager of the Bell Tower on Thirty-Fourth. I could give him a call.”

  “It’s not nearly big enough.”

  “It accommodates one thousand people.”

  “I’m talking height. The Bell Tower is only two stories.”

  “True, but it’s got a water wall. The only water wall in the city of Houston.”

  If she’d been talking flowing blood, we’d be in business. But while it wasn’t my ideal, I was getting desperate. Two hours, forty-nine minutes, and counting. “Is it available?”

  “I’ll give him a call and tell you at dinner.”

  “You could always text.”

  “But then you wouldn’t have any incentive to help save my ass.”

  “I’m sure Agarth means no harm to your ass. He worships it.”

  “That’s the problem. I don’t want any worshipping tonight.”

  I weighed my options all of five seconds. “All right. Where?”

  “Cabo Bar and Grill in the museum district. Be there in twenty.” She hung up before I could protest.

  Not that I would have. Blythe was putting herself out there for me. She’d gone on exactly one previous date with Agarth that, in her opinion, had ended in disaster. Unfortunately, Agarth wasn’t too savvy when it came to dating, and picking his teeth during dinner hadn’t seemed like a deal breaker to him. He still lusted after her, and she’d done her best to avoid him like the plague.

  Until tonight.

  She was doing this for me and the least I could do was help her out.

  That, and we’re talking a wall built entirely of flowing water.

  I sent Cheryl a quick reminder about the dress appointment first thing tomorrow, texted the venue address to the Paper Emporium, and then left the depressing party space to head out to my car. The garage had been full, so I’d parked a block over.

  It was almost eight o’clock and the sun had already dropped behind the massive buildings in downtown. Dusk crawled through the streets, eating up the light, leaving a trail of thick shadows in its wake.

  Goose bumps whispered up my spine as I rounded the corner and made my way to my Nissan, parked near an almost expired meter.

  Just as I reached my Cube, a strange sensation crawled through me. I felt the presence directly behind me—a fierce coldness followed by a whisper of air against the back of my neck.

  My entire body froze. My keys plummeted from my suddenly limp fingers.

  Someone was there.

  The same someone who had left the cryptic message on my bathroom mirror?

  Maybe. Probably.

  I whirled, desperate to face my fear and catch a glimpse. “You’re so busted if I tell my—” I started, but the street was empty.

  A jingle of metal cut through the pounding of my heart, and I glanced down in time to see my keys rise up off the ground. They rose higher, higher, until they dangled right in front of my face.

  I forced myself to swallow past the lump in my throat. Evil thrived on fear. It drew power from it. The worst thing I could do would be to let on that I was freaked.

  Which I wasn’t, because I knew that my aunties would never really hurt me.

  Or would they?

  We’re talking total control Down Under. They’d been at each other’s throats forever, always arguing and fighting and backstabbing. This past year alone, Bella had set my ma’s hair on fire at the Fourth of July celebration and chopped off her hand over the last piece of apple pie. My mom had regrown both, but still. Bottom line? Bella hated my mother. Aunt Levita too. She’d been the one to spike Lillith’s mimosa with rat poison at my cousin Alice’s baby shower a few months back. After my ma had upchucked for about thirty minutes, she’d retaliated by dousing Levita with gas and setting her on fire.

  I know, right? Stabbing a set of keys into the forehead of little ole me seemed petty in comparison.

  I shook away the possibility and focused on the fact that this was my family we were talking about. Sure, they were crazy. Power hungry. Deadly. But I was immortal. While they could screw up the good thing I had going with this body, it wasn’t as if they could get rid of me forever. They knew that and so did I.

  They were just trying to shake me up, to upset my mother’s plan by forcing me to back out of the wedding. It was petty and stupid, and it certainly wouldn’t stop my mother from tying the knot if she truly wanted to. But it would piss her off. And my aunties loved pissing off one another.

  “Seriously?” I fought to keep my voice from shaking. “Is that the best you can do? Talk about Demon 101.”

  The keys stalled then and, just like that, they crashed to the ground at my feet.

  Jess Damon: one. Crazy demon stalker: zero.

  I drew a much-needed breath, snatched up the keys, and climbed into my car. I was just about to crank the engine when the hair on the back of my neck stood on
end again. The coldness whispered around me. As if a heavy breath were rushing at the windshield, it clouded and then an invisible fingertip traced the words:

  I warned you.

  The coldness pressed in, and icy fingers tightened around my throat.

  11

  I was choking.

  The realization peeled back the layers of shock and jump-started my survival instincts. Adrenaline pumped through me, pushing out the denial until the only thing I could think of was escaping. I grappled for the door handle. Just as my fingers closed around the slim metal, a loud click slid past the panic beating at my temples. Whoever was inside the car with me had locked the door.

  Desperation flooded through me. I was going to die. Right here. Right now. No more wedding planning. No more searching for my prince charming. My human body was going to die, which meant I would be sucked Down Under for who knew how long. While my mom and aunties could grab another body at will (they were in charge, after all) everyone else was doomed to get back in line and wait their turn.

  And you thought the line at the DMV was long.

  I searched blindly for the lock button. There. It clicked, and I made a mad grab for the handle, only to have it wrenched from my hand. The door swung open and strong hands reached for me. In the blink of an eye, my feet hit the pavement and the supernatural noose snapped. I gasped for air as muscular arms cradled me close and a familiar heat zipped through my body.

  “What the hell is going on?” Cutter’s deep voice rumbled past the thunder in my ears.

  “I…” I croaked, drinking in huge drafts of air until my burning lungs eased. “Couldn’t breathe,” I finally managed. As the dizziness passed, I became acutely aware that I was leaning heavily on a certain sexy demon hunter. I could feel the hard planes of his body, the ripple of his arms as he tightened his hold.

  Oh, boy.

  A wave of lust overtook my terror.

  “What happened in there?” His warm breath close to my ear distracted me from my traitorous body. I inhaled and exhaled calmly.

  I considered telling him the truth—that I was being targeted by one of my crazy aunties, most likely Aunt Bella, who was undoubtedly desperate to throw a wrench into my ma’s plans. But then he would know that I wasn’t just some lowly demon wedding planner, but a direct descendant of the soon-to-be head honcho herself.

  “Asthma attack,” I heard myself say. “I probably should have checked medical history before I hopped into this body, huh?”

  He looked doubtful. In fact, he looked downright pissed, and ready to tear apart whoever had trapped me inside the car.

  Then again, I was his ticket to Azazel. Of course he wanted me safe.

  “What are you doing here?” I blurted, eager to kill the fierce, protective look in his eyes and ignore the desire rippling through me. A feeling that made me want to curl into his arms even more than I wanted to jump his bones.

  He stared at me a heartbeat longer, as if he felt the push-pull of emotion just as much as I did, but then he seemed to realize that he was standing much too close.

  His arms dropped away and he stepped back. “You didn’t think I was just going to back off and disappear because you said you’d deliver Azazel?”

  “I was hoping.”

  “That’s not the way this works.”

  “You don’t trust me.” I wasn’t sure why that bothered me so much. If I were him, I wouldn’t trust me either. A demon had stolen his soul, for Pete’s sake. Definitely a foundation for trust issues. “I meant what I said. I’ll find Azazel.”

  “And I’ll lay off your client, after you fulfill your end of the deal.”

  “Meaning I’m under surveillance.”

  He nodded. “You and your newest client. I spent months tracking Lillith Damon. I’m not backing off until you give me a good reason to back off. Until then it’s business as usual. Lucky for you.” His gaze caught and held mine. Sparks flared along my nerve endings and I had the sudden urge to rip off my clothes and straddle him right there on the sidewalk.

  The way he was looking at me didn’t help the situation either. His eyes glittered, hot and mesmerizing, and I knew he was feeling the exact same way. Raw desire. Fierce need.

  My breasts ached and my thighs trembled and…

  This was so not good.

  “I could have opened that door by myself,” I pointed out. “I am a badass demon, after all.” What the hell are you doing? That’s like reminding the deer hunter that you’re the prizewinning buck.

  But I had to do something. He looked too good and I wanted him too bad and he was obviously falling under my succubus mojo, because I knew he wanted me too.

  The blaze in his eyes faded into a hard, glittering light. “It’s getting late. You should go.”

  The statement jump-started my brain, and I glanced at my watch. “I’m fifteen minutes late.” Shit. Blythe was going to kill me.

  “Hot date?”

  “Something like that.”

  Cutter stiffened and I had the insane idea that he wasn’t all that happy about my response.

  I should be so lucky.

  The thought struck before I could remind myself of the all-important fact that Cutter and I were at opposite ends of the supernatural spectrum. Human there. Demon here. A giant, demon-killing sword in between.

  No way was he jealous. And even if he was, no way did it actually mean anything except that my demon mojo was alive and well and spilling over in abundance.

  The notion sent an unexpected burst of disappointment through me. “I really should go.”

  And then I climbed into the car, keyed the ignition, and left Cutter staring after me.

  Agarth was from an ancient era of plagues and idols (that’s golden calves, not the superpopular gig with Randy Jackson). He was a throwback to a time when demons were big and bad and ferocious. Forget trickery and manipulation. The bad boys of ancient times were in-your-face with their power. They were fierce, barbaric, and aggressive. Qualities that hadn’t been lost just because times had changed and people had become more civilized. While Agarth occupied the body of a thirty-two-year-old construction worker with a decent face and great abs, his old-school personality was still front and center via a foot-long beard, a piercing black stare, and a fondness for sharp things.

  It was no surprise I found him wielding a butter knife when I walked into Cabo a half hour later.

  Blythe sat across from him looking slightly desperate, particularly when he reached over, stabbed her roll, and proceeded to devour it in one bite (minus any chewing). He burped. She cringed.

  O-kay.

  Pissing off a crazy eccentric with a weapon was not the way I wanted to spend my Tuesday night. I was just about to rethink the whole date-crashing thing when Blythe spied me out of the corner of her eye. Her head whipped around and relief flooded her expression, followed by a hard edge because I was late.

  “Jess,” she called out, waving an arm and beckoning me over. “What a surprise seeing you here. Agarth”—she motioned to the man sitting across from her—“you remember Jess?”

  Agarth turned his hard stare on me and ice sank into the pit of my stomach. Suddenly I was sitting in my car, the cold fingers slithering around my neck, cutting off my air.

  Was I insane? I already had one demon after me. I so didn’t need to piss off another.

  “I…” I swallowed and fought for my courage. Blythe was in this mess—aka a date with Agarth—because she was trying to help me. The least I could do was hold her hand and try to ease the pain. “You did the ice sculpture for my last wedding,” I reminded him. “It was awesome.”

  He grunted his recognition, and I spent the next few moments going through the whole chance meeting spiel that ended with Blythe insisting that I join them. Agarth looked as if he would sooner stab me in the heart than share his date. But when Blythe batted her eyes at him, he shrugged and growled, “Sit, woman.”

  “I know she wishes not to be here with me,” he said when Blythe he
aded for the little girls’ room a few minutes later. “It matters not. I am simply happy she is here.”

  Agarth definitely put on his big-boy boxers today. He was actually interested in pleasing my best friend. Even if it meant putting up with a third wheel when he would much rather be alone with Blythe.

  Too cute.

  “Blythe’s really picky,” I heard myself say. “Maybe you’ll grow on her.” He gave me a steely-eyed stare and I added, “Maybe not. But you’ll still help me, right?”

  When he didn’t answer, I continued, “Blythe falling head over heels for you isn’t part of the bargain. You wanted another date with her, you got it. Now I need to know what you know about Azazel.”

  “I know not of his whereabouts.”

  “But?” I prodded.

  “I shall look into it.”

  “Before Friday?”

  “Ye have my word. Now stop all this yapping and eat.” He motioned to the turkey sandwich the waitress had set down in front of me.

  “I’m not very hungry…” Before I even finished my reply, he leaned over, stabbed a slab of turkey with his knife, and popped it into his mouth.

  I spent the next few minutes avoiding Agarth’s butter knife as he stabbed more of my food and then proceeded to order a double-decker for himself.

  “Old-school demons obviously like meat.”

  “’Tis an appetite for the flesh I cannot forget.”

  Ewwwww.

  “I’m back.” Blythe slid into her chair.

  “Thank God,” I blurted. Agarth gave me a sharp look, and I added, “Sorry.”

  “’Tis the problem with demons these days. They are so settled in with the humans that they forget where they came from. Back in my day”—he waved the knife at me—“we would skewer a demon for uttering such sacrilege.” Agarth launched into a thirty-minute story about the old days, and I did my best not to grab his butter knife and stab myself.

  I became acutely aware of Cutter Owens about halfway through the sacrilege story when I had the sudden thought that the air unit had gone out in the crowded bar. But then the hair tingled on the back of my neck and I knew.