by Dakota Brown
THE PRICE OF POSSESSION
A Reverse Harem Tale
Pizza Shop Exorcist
Book One
by
Dakota Brown
THE PRICE OF POSSESSION
A Reverse Harem Tale
Pizza Shop Exorcist, book 1
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2021 by Dakota Brown
Cover Design © 2021 by Camila Marques
All rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination and or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published by Untold Press LLC
114 NE Estia Lane
Port St Lucie, FL 34983
www.untoldpress.com
PRODUCED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Dedication
This one is for David B. Riley.
Thank you for publishing my first stories way back. Thank you for your friendship through the years, and everything else. You will be missed.
Acknowledgments
Sending a shout out to my team: My PA Becky Hodges, Lizzy, Shoshanah, Justinn, Sean, Jen, and Therese. You all keep me sane–relatively, because, let's be honest, what is even sanity for an author–and on track. Thank you so much for all the things you do for me. I also want to thank my cover artist. I absolutely love what she created for this series.
Every book is a journey, and let's be honest, last year was an adventure. This year is looking to be one, too. I just hope that those hobbits have about gotten that ring thrown into the volcano so we can get on to the good parts of the quest in our everyday lives and move past all the bad stuff. Writing these adventures has kept me going through the last twelve months, giving me a lot of positives to focus on and escape into. Hopefully, they've provided some escape for you as well.
I had a ton of fun writing Chris Price and her guys. I hope you enjoy reading about her, because I have lots more planned. I needed some snark in my life, and this character provided ample outlet.
Take care of yourselves, dear readers, and I'll see you around the internet.
Chapter 1
Price
The aroma of garlic and tomatoes strengthened as the door to my office opened. I glanced up from the computer monitor I squinted at. "What's up, Billy?"
"Chris, one of the customers is hassling Stacy." My restaurant manager had deep furrows in his brow and his dark eyes sparked with anger. The only person who hated customers disrespecting the servers more than him was me.
Slamming my boots down onto the floor from where I'd had them propped up on the back of the desk, I shoved my chair backward and stood, a feral grin on my face. "I love it when they're dicks while I'm doing paperwork."
A smirk broke through Billy's frown. "Get'em Boss Lady," he said as he followed me out of the office.
I stormed through the kitchen, though I didn't take time to talk to my employees like I normally would have. Right now, I was out for blood. I headed into the dining area.
Stacy stood by a corner table shooting a desperate look toward the kitchen. Her expression lightened when she saw me. The man yelling at her increased his volume and I could hear him shout over the 80's rock blasting through the speakers. White man, early forties, clean cut hair, wearing jeans and a polo. Great, not even an interesting challenge, just an average asshole sitting at one of my tables.
There weren't a lot of people in the pizza parlor yet, as it was relatively early, but he had already caught an audience. I was sure he was loving that. I just felt bad for his kids for having such a horrible role model. His wife didn't look any more pleasant than he did, so maybe the two boys sitting there looking uncomfortable were completely screwed.
"You're completely incompetent..." the man declared as I approached.
"Hey, asshat, what's your problem," I snarled as I kicked out the chair next to him, stomped my combat boot down on the seat and leaned well into the man's personal space.
He turned and I swear he was frothing at the lips.
"Who the hell are you?"
"I'm the bloody owner, asshole. Who the hell are you?"
That stopped his tirade for a moment while he tried to process the image I presented to him. His gaze traveled up my five foot two frame. It wouldn't have been intimidating, but his eyes widened at the bleached blond hair, shaved sides, spikey top and a few extra piercings. The angry glare combined with the black leather jacket–anarchy symbol on the front–and acid washed jeans and combat boots certainly gave him pause–I owned the throwback to the eighties persona.
"Your server..."
I cut him off as he jabbed his finger toward her. "I'm gonna stop you right there. You're being a dick. Don't care what the problem is, there are other ways to resolve your issues than beating up on the wait staff."
He opened his mouth.
"Is it going to be polite?"
"What?" he stammered.
"The words about to come out of your mouth. Are they going to be polite?"
He shot to his feet so he could tower over me. I grinned and hopped up on the chair.
"You listen here, I'm the customer and I demand respect." He shook his finger at me.
"You can demand it all you want, but you've done nothing to earn it. You can't come in here and throw at temper tantrum like a child and expect to get respect."
His eyes widened and he whirled away. "We're leaving!"
"Mate, you gotta pay for your pizza first."
"It's not even what I ordered."
"Yeah, and if you hadn't been a dick about it, we mighta worked something out. Now you're going to pay for your pizza and tip the waitress really nicely or I'm going to call the cops. Retail theft is illegal in Santa Fe, and, well, everywhere."
The man's jaw dropped, and I grinned. "Pay for your food, tip the lady, then get out and never come back."
The kids got out of their chairs and one of them tugged at his arm. "Just pay, let's go."
Their mom was staring at me like she couldn't decide if she should scream and run in fear or go all self-entitled on me.
The man must have decided I was serious. He pulled out his wallet, grabbed out a bill, threw it down on the table, and stormed toward the exit. I glanced down, making sure it was enough to cover everything, before watching as they left.
"I'm leaving a bad review!" he shouted.
"I'll look forward to ripping you a new one online, too," I shouted back. "Fucking tourists," I muttered before grabbing the hundred-dollar bill and handing it to Stacy. "At least he tipped you well."
Her eyebrows rose. "I'll make change for the pizza."
"Naw, mate, don't worry about the pizza. Tip's all yours. Just clean off the table. Jerks." I hopped off the chair and stomped back toward the kitchen to a round of applause from our regulars and some mystified looks from a few out of towners.
The tourists were typically pretty easy to tell in Santa Fe, and we catered to the local crowd. They were a loyal group. They also knew I took good care of my staff. The secret to Price's Pizza Parlor, happy staff, and secret family recipes for the crusts. The nostalgic nod in the décor, music–and the owner–toward the eighties punk scene didn't hurt, either. Especially in Santa Fe.
"Thanks, Chris."
"Sure thing, Billy. Thanks for grabbing me. Always a good time." I shot him a grin, and answered a few smiles from my cooks, before shutting myself back into my office. This paperwork was the worst part of having a business. Yet again, I deb
ated training Billy for this job. I liked staying active with the shop, but to be honest, I'd rather be in the kitchen than in the office.
I had settled back into the payroll when Billy cracked my door open again. My stomach grumbled when the heavy scent of garlic hit me. Maybe it was time for lunch. Dinner? I glanced at the clock. Dinner.
"Yeah?"
"There's a priest here to see you," he said uncertainly.
Fuck.
"Black guy? Ordered a basil and mozzarella with a beer?"
"Yeah." Billy nodded. "Then he asked for you."
"Kay, make his small a medium. On the house. Throw a ginger beer on the order and I'll meet him in a minute." Good time for dinner, I supposed, though I clenched my jaw and wondered what Darius wanted with me. He and I went way back, thick and thin and all that, but when he showed up, he usually wanted something, and if it was something he couldn't handle, it was going to either be very interesting, or very dangerous. Possibly both. I hadn't seen him since I'd officially given up my old life five years back. Despite the lack of contact, he was arguably my best friend. Perhaps by default since I didn't have a lot of friends left these days. We had drifted apart after our misspent youths, but he had still turned up now and again. At least until after my family had gotten killed five years back. Then it had seemed like he had ducked away for good.
"Sure, boss."
I shot Billy a thumbs up and made the final entries on the payroll. I was definitely teaching Billy how to do this.
Once I finished, I headed out into the kitchen. A few of my cooks gave me curious looks. I shrugged. "Gotta atone for my sins, I guess." A cocky grin had them laughing as I left the kitchen.
Mandy was just giving Darius our pizza when I hit the dining area. Our drinks already sat on the table of the small corner booth.
He looked up when I approached, a broad smile easing his pensive expression. I hadn't seen Darius in five years, but not much had changed. Perhaps a hint more gray in his short cropped brown hair and in the carefully trimmed beard and mustache he wore. I hadn't seen him in anything but his black clothing with the white collar since he'd taken his vows, though a priest walking into an eighties throwback pizza joint amused the hell out of me.
I smiled tightly back. "Mandy, I'll shout if we need anything, otherwise leave us alone, okay?"
"Sure, Chris." She glanced at Darius and he nodded that he was okay, and the waitress split.
"Price, good to see you." He pushed a plate toward me, and I helped myself to the pizza before answering.
"Yeah, always good to see you, too, mate. What's up?"
"I'd stick to the platitudes, but I don't want to get eviscerated." He chuckled.
I winked and took a bite of my pizza, groaning softly in pleasure. I really did like pizza. Never got tired of it.
"We've got an interesting one down at the jail."
I arched an eyebrow and took a drink, waiting. He was going to ask for help and I was going to tell him no, because I was out. Done. Not getting dragged back in. Gone respectable and all that.
"The demon wants out. Is practically begging us to send it home. I can't get it out of the guy's body."
My other eyebrow shot up to join the first. "Say what?"
"The demon wants to be exorcised. I can't get it out. The guy is hanging onto the creature somehow."
"That's...not how it works."
Pizza forgotten, my mind whirled around the possibilities and came up blank.
"Yes, I realize that."
"Did you try, uh, asking the demon why it was stuck?"
"It can't tell us. Mostly it's not even able to talk or control its host, which is also weird. The signs all say the demon has been there a while, but it has been reduced to begging for release."
"That's bizarre."
"Yes."
He didn't say it, but obviously that is why he had walked through my doors. He wanted me to have a go at releasing the demon. Trouble was, that wasn't my gig anymore.
"Darius..."
"Chris, please. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
"More to it than just one stuck demon?"
He nodded.
"Care to fill me in?"
"I can't. It's an ongoing police investigation. If they want to tell you more, that's up to them."
I sighed, remembered my food, and put some attention to filling the void in my gut while I considered Darius' predicament. I should be sending him packing. Best friend or not, Darius usually brought trouble with him.
"You know I quit, right?"
His shoulders slumped. "Chris..."
I waved my hand, "yeah, yeah, I know. Tried everything, can't think of anything else, I'm your only hope, etcetera."
Darius sighed. "I've said it before, and I'll say it until the day I die. I'm sorry I dragged you into all of this."
"I'm not sorry you dragged me in, just never expected you to abandon me, or I might not have followed in the first place." He knew I didn't mean him joining the priesthood. That had happened long after.
There was nothing he could say, so he simply nodded sadly.
"S'okay, mate. I forgave you a long time ago. Guess I'll let you drag me back in." Cursing myself as I finished off my pizza and sucked down the ginger beer, I tried to prepare myself for an exorcism.
I was good. Maybe one of the best, and for five years I'd managed to leave all that life behind and focus on my family's pizza parlor. They'd died in a fight with a demon prince they'd had no business even being involved with. That part had been accidental. My folks, bless 'em, were as normal as you could possibly get. How they'd come up with me? Well, if I didn't look just like them, I'd suspect I was a changeling of some sort.
Note, I'm not. I checked. Handy spell, that.
Darius still blamed himself for the incident with the demon prince, though it had happened several years after he became a priest. I blamed me. Either way, it was five years past and I'd managed to focus on the family business and not get involved with anything more esoteric than a couple of really awful boyfriends. The last of which had a restraining order on him, and I'd been done with that for over a year. Determined that it would be just me, myself, my vibrator and I, for the near future, I was happy to focus on pizza.
"So, how'd the cops take an actual demon landing on top of them? And how'd they know to call you?" That was a curiosity. Outside of the religious types and a handful of folks actually in the know, as it were, most people thought demons weren't actually real. I was one of those in the know and I didn't even fully understand what all was out there.
Darius concentrated on a slice of pizza for a minute before he shrugged. "This is technically not information I'm supposed to share, but one of the cops on the detail that brought the man in happens to go to my church. He's quite religious and the incident freaked him out enough that he came to me. Obviously, I recognized the signs of possession and got him to take me in to see the man. The deputy in charge of the investigation is not what you would call a believer, but she's also willing to accept something that's so obviously in front of her eyes."
"Huh. Wonder how they'll explain this in their official paperwork."
"Not my problem." Darius chuckled.
"No. Guess not."
Finishing the last of his side of the pizza, Darius stood and pulled out his wallet.
I shook my head. "Pizza's on the house. Tip the waitress."
He smiled, threw a twenty on the table, and gestured for me to lead the way.
I waved at Mandy before heading for the door. "I'll be back!"
A few of the nerdier students of the eighties laughed at my inadvertent movie quote. We had 'quote wars' night a couple of times a month, and the tables that managed the most entertaining quotes would get discounts on their pies. We were generous, but the locals really got into it and it wasn't hard to award the discounts liberally on merit.
The evening heat smacked into me when I left the airconditioned building. Only an extreme dedication to 'the look' k
ept me in my leather jacket with the pizza on the back and the anarchy symbol on the front.
Fortunately, while my car looked like it was a piece of shit, the air conditioner worked really damn well, and the engine was big enough to power it. Got next to nothing for fuel economy, but I didn't typically have to drive far, anyway.
I got into the gray sedan. Darius had parked his small Honda next to it. Though I knew the way to the jail, I followed just in case they had taken the prisoner someplace else. I wasn't sure how I felt about being on the police radar, though. I'd moved back to Santa Fe to get away from my demons, not find new ones.
Sure enough, Darius headed west out of Santa Fe proper. The houses thinned out as we drove out into the flat openness of the desert. A few miles down the road, a quick swing south, and we were at the sheriff's office. They would have a holding cell there, so I guessed we weren't actually going to the jail itself. Suited me fine. An exorcism in a jail just seemed like an even worse plan than doing an exorcism at all.
I parked next to Darius, quickly shed the handful of knives I had in various pockets, and slid out of my car.
A deputy sheriff, her nametag said McClellan, met us at the door. She shook Darius' hand before eyeing me. I looked up at her. She was taller than Darius, probably at least six foot. Her dark hair was pulled back in a bun, and she had a deep tan to her skin and high cheekbones that made me think she was part Native.
"This her?"
Darius nodded. "If anyone can figure it out, Chris Price can."
Deputy McClellan looked skeptical, but she shook my hand anyway before leading us through a door that required a keycard, and back into the main part of the building. The carpet was old, but serviceable, the paint job relatively new, and the occasional artwork southwestern.
We went down the hallway and back into another room guarded by a keycard reader. I'd been on the wrong side of the law in enough minor scrapes to be a touch nervous but this time I wasn't in cuffs, so hopefully getting out of here wouldn't be a big deal.
