A Demon's Debt

by Cece Rose

  The covers are pulled off the bed abruptly. I shoot up into a sitting position and stare wide-eyed at Kaden.

  “What the fuck! I could have been sleeping naked for all you knew!” I snap. I reach to snatch the covers back from him, but he steps back with them, holding them out of my reach.

  “At least my day would have been off to a good start,” he teases. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I cover my face with my hands.

  Stupid freaking elf.

  “Get out, I’ll be down in a bit,” I mutter through my teeth.

  “That’s what you said yesterday, and the day before, yet you don’t venture out the room till you’re sure we’ve all left for the day. I’m not moving till you get up, M. We’re going to have breakfast together, all of us.”

  “Ugh, I'm getting up now, so shut up.” Sighing deeply, I slide off the bed. I just put my feet on the floor when a loud deep laugh comes from Kaden. I stand up, hands on my hips, “What the fuck now?” I ask, grinding my teeth together.

  Kaden wipes his eyes and eventually gets out, “What are those on your pyjamas? What are you even wearing?”

  I look down at them seeing nothing wrong, they are soft, warm, purple, and awesome. “Umm, they’re unicorns. What do you think they are, horses with erections on their heads?” Kaden walks over to me, taking a closer look.

  “Erections on their heads?” he questions. I nod my head mutely. “Angel, I’m so sorry, I thought they were rhinos shitting rainbows.”

  “Rhinos shitting rainbows? They are clearly graceful, curvaceous unicorns riding Nyan cats.”

  “Riding huh? You do have a dirty mind today. Also, you clearly seem to be misadvised on the size of an erection. I mean...” He glances downwards, and my eyes follow his. He makes a tutting noise and I quickly look up, he continues, “Horses are meant to be hung,” he pauses and meets my eyes before continuing, “As are some men.” He walks to the door, talking over his shoulder, “Breakfast in five minutes. Oh, and by the way, you look adorable in your jammies, rhinos or not.” He then walks out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

  I stare after him, my mouth wide open. Did he just imply what I think he did? And why do I suddenly want to check to see if he’s exaggerating or not? I move to the bathroom that adjoins my bedroom. After splashing cold water onto my face, I look up into the mirror and immediately frown at what I see. Ugh. My hair is a mess, and the bags under my eyes are so dark that Animal Planet is going to start following me around. They’ll be filming a freaking documentary about a racoon outside of its natural habitat. I slap my cheeks pulling down my eyes, so I see all white, or red rather. Ugh, so bloodshot. I blink and let go. I look like a crazy homeless person in purple pyjamas.

  With a sigh, I reach out and grab a hand towel to dry my face. And then I shove my hair up into a messy bun. I’m not going to look any better than this, even if I got dressed and put make-up on. I give myself a little pep talk, square my shoulders, and then head downstairs.

  The smell of bacon greets me as I enter the modern kitchen. Squinting from the sun shining through the large bay window, I shield my eyes with my hand and glance around the large kitchen. Mason and Kaden are sitting at the breakfast bar opposite each other while Callan’s back is to me as he’s cooking on the stove, wearing nothing but red and blue checked flannel pyjama bottoms.

  “Finally, you’re down here,” Kaden grumbles. Callan turns around at his voice, spatula in hand, looking at me.

  “Lass, it’s great tae see you down here finally.” I open then close my mouth, then leave it hanging. Holy shit balls, Callan is ripped! I stare at his naked chest gaping at him. He has broad shoulders, thick muscular arms, and a six-pack that would make any woman—and some men—drool. There is a light sprinkling of dark hair across his chest. I trail my eyes back down over his six pack, and down the V line of his Adonis belt, his trail ends just beneath where his navy-blue boxers peek out.

  Ouch! I turn on my heels to find Nick standing beside me, a smirk playing on his face. I rub at the side of my head and shoot a glare at him.

  “Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?” I open my mouth to make a retort, but he continues, “Also, you’ve got a bit of drool on your chin, right there.” He points to the left side of my chin.

  Mortified, I quickly reach my hand up to my face and wipe my chin, only to find there is no drool. I glare at Nick, he just smirks and walks over to Callan, whispering something to him. Callan grins, then shakes his head and turns back to the stove. My cheeks redden. They must think I’m like a crazy pervert, what with the way I look and how god damn hot he looks… fucking Nicky, he loves tormenting me.

  “Here, take a seat by me, Mona. Don’t take any notice of them,” Mason says softly, as he pats the white stool next to him. I sigh and take the offered seat. At least Mason is always on my side. I can’t help but notice that the table has already been set for six people. Kaden was clearly optimistic that he’d get me down here today.

  “Do you want anything to drink, lass? We have tea, water, and orange juice?” Callan asks over his shoulder from where he stands at the stove.

  I pull a face. Tea? What’s wrong with these people? “Do you have any coffee?” I ask. Nick snorts, shaking his head, looking almost commiserative as he takes the seat across from me.

  “No, coffee is bad for you. It’s got too much caffeine, and you’re barely sleeping as it is, you’re lucky tea was even offered. Callan, give her orange juice or water.” I grumble a curse under my breath, then I open my mouth to argue when I notice Kaden’s fierce expression. So not fair! Who does he think he is, bossing me around?

  Mason nudges my shoulder and whispers in my ear, “He’s banned coffee at home for a year now. He’s a health nut, makes us all work out four times a week to keep fit, feel lucky he hasn’t made you yet. After work tomorrow, I’ll stop off and buy you some iced coffees to keep hidden in your room.”

  “I heard that!” Kaden interjects. “You won’t, and that’s a fantastic idea, Mason. We need to get our girl here nice, fit, and healthy. I'll write out a daily plan for you now.” He stands up and walks across the kitchen, pouring my orange juice giving it to me before reaching on top of the fridge, pulling out a notepad and a pen.

  “Mona, exercise? You’re kidding, right?” Nick snorts. “As if, she can’t even take a little walk without becoming Moany-Mona.”

  I glare at Nick, then at Kaden, and finally at Mason. Surely, he should have known elf ears would overhear him. He just smiles sheepishly at me. “I’m sorry, but he is right, you do need to get stronger. With your new abilities, we need to find out what you can and can't do.”

  “Just don’t expect her to run far, those midget legs of hers have to step five to our one,” Nick grumbles.

  “I don’t move slow, you just run really fast. And anyway, I don’t know why you are complaining, if I had your ability I would just boof!” I say throwing my hands out in an exaggerated gesture.

  “Boof?” Callan asks as he comes over with a plate filled with bacon and sausages placing it on the table before walking off and coming back with eggs and then one with toast.

  “Yeah, boof,” I make the same motion with my hands. Kaden comes back to the table putting the notepad to one side of his plate, then sits down before he starts to fill it with food. Callan sits next to Nick, arching his eyebrow at me.

  “You know, boom and oompft…” I trail off, shrugging. I reach, grabbing a few strips of bacon and sausages, I shove them on my plate and then begin munching on a piece of toast. After a while, I notice the silence and look up.

  “What?” I ask around a mouthful of food.

  “Boof? I swear you keep getting weirder and weirder,” Nick says, looking disgruntled before piling food upon his own plate.

  “Weird is cool, you’re just a tool,” I chirp.

  “I rest my case,” he mutters, before shutting up and digging into his own food.

  “Whatever, Nicky,” I grumble, before ignoring him in favou
r of showing attention to my real best friend, bacon.

  “So, what are we doing today?” Callan asks, directing his question to everyone.

  “Well, we went swimming last week, and the time before that we went paintballing,” Kaden says, looking up from his notepad, in which I'm sure he is writing out some cruel, torturous exercise regime for me.

  “We should do something Mona can join us for,” Mason pipes in.

  “As if Mona would even come along, or keep up with any of the stuff we do,” Nick mutters.

  “Shut up, Nick,” Kaden snaps, as he throws a scrunched-up ball of paper at him. There goes my training plan, hopefully.

  “I’m sure she would like some of the stuff we do,” Callan says softly, narrowing his eyes on Nick. A look passes between them.

  “You make it sound like this is a regular thing?” I question.

  “Yes, every Sunday we do a group activity. That way even when we are swamped during the week we still have time to hang out,” Mason answers with a smile. I notice he's left his hair down today, rather than in its usual bun. I find myself wanting to just reach out and touch it.

  “It’s our activity day, Mona wouldn’t be able to keep up,” Nick snorts.

  “Like hell I couldn’t!” I snap at him. “I could beat you at anything, let alone keep up with you.”

  “Wanna bet?” he goads.

  “Yeah, I do,” I retort.

  “What do you want to bet?”

  “Nick,” Kaden warns.

  “Shut it, Kadie.”

  “Shut up,” we snap, almost in unison, before looking back to each other and glaring. I think about what I want for a minute when an idea hits me that I just can’t resist.

  “You have to boof…jump me wherever I want to go, whenever I want to go. My personal teleport taxi.” Nick laughs, and I glance at the others, their faces are a mixture of humour and concern.

  “What do I get when I win?” Nick asks with a glint in his eyes.

  “You can ask for anything you want, I suppose, seeing as you won’t be getting it. I don’t lose,” I retort.

  “Fine, then you won't mind me asking for two things if you're so confident?”

  “Not a problem, because I won’t lose.” The sudden urge to poke my tongue out at him in a childish manner strikes me, but I keep it at bay, for now.

  “Number one, you stop calling me Nicky.”

  “And number two?”

  “You clean my room.”

  “That’s all?”

  “I wasn’t finished. You clean my room, in a sexy French maid outfit,” he finishes, a satisfied grin on his stupid smug face.

  “De—”

  “No way!” Kaden cuts over me. His sea-green eyes glaring at Nick.

  “I’d have to vote against it too,” Mason pipes in.

  “Me three,” Callan adds.

  I glare at them all. “Do none of you have any belief that I’ll win?”

  Silence from all three of them. Traitors.

  “Well, it’s a good thing it isn’t your decision then, guys. You’re on, Nicky.”

  Chapter 3

  “Why is it so freaking loud!” I whine at Mason.

  “Because there are go-karts,” he answers.

  “No shit, Sherlock,” I mutter. I dart my eyes around, trying to ignore all the damn noise. A noise I hate more than clocks, who’d of thought that could happen? Why the hell is this place so dirty? It smells like burning rubber, and it's like there's a layer of grease on everything and everyone. How anyone could think this is an idea of a good time is beyond me, but I have to beat Nick. I need to beat him. I glance at the go-karts and get the same feeling I had on my one and only driving lesson: fear. Fuck. This may be harder than expected.

  “Still feeling confident?” Nick whispers smugly from behind me. I turn around to face him.

  “You bet. All you’ll be seeing is my dust!” I retort, flaring out the fake confidence.

  “Sure.” He rolls his eyes and walks off towards the counter to join Callan. I go to follow, but feel a hand link in mine. I turn and see Kaden.

  “What?” I ask softly, losing the bravado now Nick has stepped away.

  “You’re nervous,” he says softly, stating it rather than asking.

  “Me, nervous? What would make you think that?”

  “Your heart rate is going a million times a second, angel. You haven’t done this before, have you?”

  I chew on my bottom lip. “No. I had one driving lesson when I was seventeen, and I crashed the damn car, Kaden.”

  “Well, surely that's the instructor's fault for not using their set of breaks,” Kaden says, his eyes softening on me in understanding. “You don't have to do this.”

  “Oh, I’m doing it,” I mutter, feeling determined not to fail. I am not letting Nick win. The smug asshat would never let me live it down.

  “Are you sure?” Mason asks softly, I turn around and look into his amber eyes, surrounded by the black frames of his glasses.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, then you should know, M, Nick will crash into you if he needs to. Callan would, too. He’s actually pretty competitive, not that he’d admit it,” Kaden says, giving my hand a squeeze before letting go.

  “Ugh, why did it have to be go-karting?” I mutter.

  “Well, because of your little bet we had to pick something that would be winnable. And of course, Nick would suggest this, he always wins,” Kaden answers.

  “Wait, always? How often do you guys come here?” I ask.

  “Not that often, maybe every other month or so?” Mason answers.

  “Oh, okay.”

  “But Nick always drives like he’s racing. So, when you clean his room would mind doing mine, too while you’re at it, angel?” Kaden teases.

  “Not helping.” I bump my side against his playfully.

  “Sorry, M,” he replies sheepishly. “I brought plenty of my healing vials with me though,” he adds.

  “Wait, I’m not going to get injured go-karting, am I?” I ask them both.

  “Well, regular go-karting I wouldn’t have bothered,” Kaden answers.

  “Regular go-karting? This place looks pretty normal to me,” I say, gesturing towards the track.

  “We’re not going on that track,” Mason answers.

  “What do you mean; what other track is there?” I ask, looking around but seeing no sign of another track.

  “Just you wait, M, you’re gonna freak,” Kaden answers with a chuckle. Great. Because normal go-karting just wasn’t scary enough. Kaden and Mason head over to join Nick and Callan at the counter, and I follow after them, dread pooling in my stomach. The man behind the counter gives me a curious look as we approach.

  “Five of ye today?” the man asks, his Scottish accent is rougher than Callan’s, as he directs his question to Nick.

  “Yes, there will be.”

  “She’ll need tae sign the waiver,” he replies.

  “What waiver?” I ask.

  “The death or accident one. Nobody’s died in years though, girl, so I wouldnae be worried,” he replies.

  Kaden frowns. “What about that guy, what was his name…? Je—”

  “His death was nothing tae do with my track, and I won’t hear any talk of it being,” the man answers, cutting Kaden off.

  “Death waiver?” I practically squeak, as I look around again for this death waiver required track. Where the hell could they hide another large racetrack here?

  “You’ll be fine,” Kaden promises, again linking his hand in mine.

  “But—”

  “No buts, M. It’ll only be our group on the track for our turn, and none of us are going to let anything happen to you,” he reassures me.

  “Honestly, lass, it’ll be fine,” Callan adds softly.

  “Yeah, we wouldn't let you do it if we thought you'd get hurt,” Mason chimes in.

  Nick snorts and walks off without saying anything further. Like I expected anything else. I silently follow af
ter him and the others, and we head through a door labelled staff. I’m surprised when I see it leads to a staircase. We head down the metal stairs, making loud clanging noises the whole way down. Reaching the bottom, there’s a big double door which Nick doesn’t hesitate to push open. I look out at the huge space down here in shock.

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “You sure you’re not backing out?” Nick goads, as I come to stand next to him, nearer the track itself.

  “Fuck off, I’m not backing out. But you could have mentioned this place looks like Mario Kart gone metal on steroids,” I snap back at him. He laughs and shoots me a sly grin.

  Choosing to ignore his goading look, I stare at the underground track, it looks like a frickin’ death trap. How could anyone find this fun? The track itself is moving and constantly changing. I'm baffled as to how they can accurately say how many laps someone has done if all the laps are different. The people currently on the track are speeding around it in their death-karts, while the track seems to do everything possible to make them crash. And if that wasn't enough, they're shooting magic at each other. And now I know why they make you sign a waiver.

  “Come on, M, you need to pick a kart,” Kaden calls. I head over towards him, where he is standing by another door. I mill through the people, of which there seems to be a lot of. There's a food stand and what looks like a bar down here as well as the track, plus lots of seating around the track itself. Clearly, this is a spectator sport.

  “Does it matter which kart? They’re all the same, right?”

  “Not exactly,” he says with a tight-lipped smile. He pushes the door open and gestures for me to step inside. I walk into the room and I’m left in shock. There are so many damn karts in here all lined up neatly and ready to go. They are all painted differently, different colours and designs, but the actual karts themselves look the same.

  “So, I’m picking a colour? Is there a purple one?” I ask.

  “Angel, look at the karts closer. More specifically, the specs on the laminated paper that have been left on the seat,” he says. He walks over to the one nearest to us, and picks up the spec sheet and holds it out to me. I flick my eyes over it, seeing nothing but what I'd assume to be normal go-kart mumbo-jumbo, but then my eyes catch onto something. Shoots fire from front and rear.