Wicked Fantasy

by Nina Bangs

  “I’ll find him, and then I’ll send him back to hell.” Conall knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Demons never were. But the demonic dirtbag wasn’t getting another crack at Gerry.

  And this had nothing to do with the protection clause in his hated contract with Morrigan. This was all about a need to protect the woman he’d just made love with, and intended to make love with again. And again, and again, and again? He wasn’t ready to commit to that yet, because with the commitment came an admittance of other things.

  “It would be logical to find out a motive before destroying the demon.” Gabriel blinked his huge red eyes. “He might be doing the will of a master.”

  “We don’t have definite proof that this demon . . .” Holgarth glanced at Gerry. “What’s his name?”

  “Dell.”

  “We don’t have proof that Dell is the guilty party or even is a demon. He might simply be a human with pale eyes. It would be foolish to jump to conclusions. We could be sued for wrongful death by the demon’s estate. The owner of the park frowns on lawsuits of any kind.” There spoke Holgarth the lawyer.

  “Whoever that is.” Conall grumbled his annoyance. Holgarth always invoked this mysterious owner to justify whatever blasted decision he wanted everyone to accept.

  “Know, wizard, that if anything happens to Gerry because of your fear of a lawsuit, all your spells will not keep me from you.” Whenever he grew angry or upset, Conall reverted to his old speech patterns, the ones he used as a warrior. Nothing would happen to Gerry. He wouldn’t allow it.

  Beside him, Gerry sighed. “There’s only one solution. I have to die.”

  All the breath whooshed from him. “No!” It was a primal shout of denial.

  “Not really die. At least I hope not.” Her gaze softened on him. “Pretend to die. When the killer makes his next attempt, I’ll play dead. Once he thinks he’s succeeded, maybe he’ll reveal the reason why he wanted me out of the way.”

  “Excellent idea.” Holgarth.

  “Rotten idea.” Conall.

  “We’ll need a plan with safeguards in place.” Gabriel.

  “Can I destroy the demon?” Fo.

  “I’ll wear my hot demon-hunter outfit.” Sparkle.

  “Oh, hell. Will this cut into my TV time? Count me out if I’m in the middle of a bowl of ice cream.” Ganymede.

  “Destiny tried to harpoon me today, so I took a chunk out of her boat. She’s a babe, but she’s got some serious issues with sharks.” Banan.

  Everyone stared at him.

  “Here’s my plan. Anyone can jump in with an idea.” Gerry got down to the business of catching a demon.

  An hour later, Gerry’s eyes were narrow slits of fury, and Conall figured his face was red with rage. The room had emptied of everyone but them a long time ago.

  “You can’t go out in the dark by yourself. You’ll be easy pickings for the likes of the demon.”

  “You’re such a primitive, Irish sexist. If I were a male vampire you wouldn’t say that. You’d just warn me to be careful. Okay, I’ll be careful.”

  “Like you were when the guillotine almost separated your head from your body?”

  “I didn’t suspect Dell then. I’m on to him now.”

  Conall used his strongest argument, the one she wouldn’t be able to refute. “If this whole thing is about me, then the demon knows about the curse. He’ll expect me to be protecting you from another attack. It’ll look suspicious if you’re out by yourself.”

  Gerry thought about that. “Fine, so you can come along.”

  He’d be generous in triumph. “That’s a wise decision.” “But stay far enough away so he can make some kind of attempt.”

  He’d be understanding, kind . . . “What? That’s idiocy.”

  “I’ll take Fo with me. I’ll make loud comments to her about hating someone following me around and how smart I was to sneak away from you. Dell might see you trailing me, but he’ll figure he can kill me and still escape from you. Fo will make sure I stay alive until you arrive.”

  Hardheaded. Conall knew he wouldn’t get a better deal by arguing. But he’d decide how far behind he’d stay. Maybe he wouldn’t even stay behind. Maybe he’d scout ahead.

  “So when are you going for your walk?” Did he sound a little sulky? Warriors didn’t sulk, but this woman drove him to act in ways he’d never acted before.

  “Now sounds good. In a few hours it’ll be dawn.” She headed for the door. “I’ll find Fo. Go get your sword. I know you feel naked without it. Meet you outside.”

  He fetched his sword and then strode through the great hall and out the door. Would she try to sneak away from him? He hoped not. After a few tense minutes, she joined him.

  Fo peered from her purple pouch. “I’ll keep Gerry safe. I’ll warn her when the demon is near, and I’ll turn him into a pile of ash if I have to.” She looked pretty excited about the pile of ash part.

  Gerry glanced around before speaking loudly. “Damn. I forgot my key. Would you run back to get it for me, Conall?”

  Disgruntled, he stepped back into the castle and made a show of going to the dungeon. When he went outside again, Gerry was disappearing into the darkness. He followed quickly.

  He could hear her talking to Fo, but she seemed to be drawing away from him. Blasted woman, she was doing that on purpose. He was fast, but if she used her preternatural speed, he’d have trouble keeping close to her. And in the time it would take him to catch up, disaster might strike.

  He knew he should trust her abilities more. He knew she could hold her own with the demon if he played fair. But he wouldn’t. The fire and the guillotine proved he was a backdoor killer—sly and stealthy. He wouldn’t give her a chance to defeat him in open battle.

  And just as Conall broke into a full-out run, he heard the screams. Fo!

  A blast of adrenaline sent him pounding down the path, his breaths coming in huge gulps, his rage and fears living things inside him. The bastard wouldn’t get his woman. He drew his sword as he ran, swinging it above his head as he shouted a battle cry the world hadn’t heard for eight centuries.

  He came to a skidding stop in front of the Cock Crows at Dawn, the official brothel of the Wild West attraction. He expected . . . Conall wasn’t sure. Fighting, blood, death? All he saw was a small crowd gathered around someone. Without worrying about what anyone would think of his drawn sword, he pushed his way through the people.

  Gerry crouched in the center, cradling Fo in her hands.

  “Are you and Fo okay? Did the bastard hurt you? Where is he?”

  Gerry looked up at him, panic in her gaze. “I didn’t see Dell.”

  “Then why—?”

  “Fo’s in labor, Conall. The baby’s coming, and I don’t know what to do.”

  Conall gulped. He would’ve welcomed a dozen demons instead of this. They had to get Fo back to the castle as fast as possible. He glanced around at the crowd. “Fo’s the lady’s sister. Her mom left a message that Fo’s in labor.” He nodded at Gerry. “She’s trying to call the hospital, but her cell phone won’t work. Can’t say I blame her for getting a little upset. I’ll loan her my phone, and everything will be fine.” That was about as much damage control as he had time for.

  Murmurs of sympathy came from the crowd, and then everyone wandered away.

  “Let’s get moving.” Conall reached for Fo.

  “No, no, no!” Fo had a loud voice for her small form. “I need to give birth right now. If I don’t, I’m afraid I’ll shut down forever. The stress on my system will be too much. That’s what Gabriel said. He knows about these things. Help me.” The last was a pitiful wail.

  Where did Gabriel get his info? Conall didn’t think you’d get many hits if you Googled “sentient machine births.”

  “I don’t know anything about electronics.” Gerry turned Fo over and peered into her card slot. “It seems to be stuck up there.”

  “Ouch, ooooh, owie!” Fo wasn’t suffering in silence.

 
Gerry made female sounds of comfort.

  “How bad is the pain?” Knowing Fo’s love of drama, Conall wanted to pin down how bad things were with the demon detector.

  “I’m not in pain, but those seemed to be appropriate human sounds for giving birth.” Fo stared at him from wide purple eyes.

  If the situation wasn’t so desperate, Conall would’ve smiled. Fo never lost sight of her goal—to be human in every possible way.

  “Can your system correct the problem?” He figured not, but he’d hang on to hope until the last possible moment.

  “No. I’m having a breech birth. Do something.” Her voice grew even louder. “Save my baby!”

  People started to stare again. Gerry grinned weakly at them. “Sorry. My cell phone. It’s broken. I’m really attached to it. It’s like a baby to me.”

  She drew a few strange looks, but people kept moving.

  They weren’t going to reach the castle in time. Conall had to do something now. “Let’s see.” When Gerry handed Fo to him, he studied the problem. “The chip’s wedged in there.” He rooted around in his pocket. Keys. He pulled them out. A small thin key that unlocked his safety-deposit box might just fit into the opening.

  “Hurry. I’m about to crash!” Fo’s voice was fading in and out.

  Hell. “Hang in there, Fo.” He worked the key into the narrow slot, then poked and prodded until there was a sudden click and the small chip popped out.

  “You saved my baby! You saved my baby!”

  While Fo sobbed, Conall stood helplessly holding Fo in one hand and the tiny chip in the other. Gerry rode to his rescue.

  “I’ll take Fo. You hold on to her baby.”

  Something warm and tentative touched him. Gerry accepted Fo as a sentient being along with her very real human emotions. Not many people would do that. But then Gerry was special.

  Once Gerry had Fo, they hurried toward the castle. Conall closed his fingers gently around the chip and only fleetingly thought about the bizarre nature of the whole thing.

  “Is it a boy or a girl?” Fo sounded weak but joyful.

  Conall looked. “Haven’t a clue, Fo.” No tiny penis to tell the tale.

  They entered the castle almost at a run. While Gerry spread the news, Conall took Fo and her baby into the privacy of the conference room. He set her on the table and placed the chip on top of her where she could see it.

  Fo’s big purple eyes filled with wonder. “It’s a girl.” She turned her gaze on Conall. “You saved her, so I’m going to name her after you.”

  Conall didn’t have a chance to react before an excited crowd filled the room. Kim brought Gabriel to the table and set him in his cradle so he could see mother and child.

  “She’s beautiful, Fo. She looks just like you.” Gabriel’s voice was hoarse with emotion.

  Conall didn’t see the similarity, but then what did he know about mothers and babies?

  Fo rolled her eyes so she could see Kim. “You’re a grandma, Kimmie. Grandmas babysit, don’t they?”

  “I guess so.” Kim sounded uncertain.

  Conall figured Kim wasn’t quite clear on the concept. Computer chips didn’t need diaper changes.

  “We’ll get our baby a spectacular case and then choose the color of her eyes. They have to be unique because she’s so incredible. She’s the firstborn of two sentient machines.” Gabriel’s eyes glowed with pride.

  Fo frowned. She was into the whole human experience and didn’t like anyone reminding her of her electronic roots.

  As everyone pushed forward to congratulate the new parents, Conall and Gerry made their way toward the door.

  Gerry grinned. “You did good, warrior. You were sympathetic, caring, and came through when Fo needed you. I like that in a man.”

  “I’ve faced barbarian hordes with less fear than—”

  “Conall, Gerry, don’t leave.” Fo’s cry rose above the general uproar.

  “Guess we don’t get to sneak away.” Resignedly, Conall walked back to the table with Gerry beside him.

  “Gabriel and I have an announcement.” Fo had recovered from childbirth in record time. “Since Conall’s courage and quick thinking saved me and our child, Gabriel and I are naming her Conalla in honor of him.”

  There was applause all around along with one voice, it sounded like Ganymede’s, that asked, “Isn’t that a cooking oil?”

  “You’re thinking of canola oil, sweetie.” Sparkle’s voice.

  Then there was silence. Conall glanced around. Everyone was looking at him expectantly. Damn. He was supposed to say something? What? He looked at Gerry and she gave him a thumbs-up.

  Here went nothing. “Conalla is beautiful.” She was the most beautiful small black square he’d ever seen. “I’m sure she’ll have her mother’s love of life and her dad’s curiosity about all things. And I’m proud that Fo and Gabriel named her after me.” No doubt his namesake would cause him no end of trouble somewhere down the line, just as her mother had on many occasions. But for now, he’d celebrate her birth.

  When Gerry and he finally escaped, they returned to the dungeon. Dawn was close, so they decided to put off the search for Dell. She headed for the shower, but he didn’t follow her. The same way he wouldn’t join her when she crawled into bed. No matter how much he wanted to curl his body around her while she slept.

  Conall had lots of thinking to do. And not just about how to find the bastard stalking her.

  He clearly remembered thinking of Gerry as “his woman” while charging to her rescue. His woman? Those two words carried a lot of weight and would require some deep soul-searching tonight. And Conall O’Rourke hadn’t corresponded with his soul in a very long time.

  12

  “Wake up. Rise to a new, sensual décor, sister. I need to finish sexing up this dismal excuse for a dungeon and then get back to my store before Edge gives away all my candy just for spite. Men can be petty, don’t you think?”

  Clatter, bang.

  “I mean, so I let it slip that he was conspiring with a few demonic vestal virgins. What’s the big deal?”

  Crash, boom.

  “Yes, his demon partnership does make one wonder if he’s behind the attempts on your life, but who am I to mention that?”

  Bump, click.

  “Are you awake yet? The sun has set, time for all creatures of the night to do their things. And their main thing should be having superior sex.”

  Kerplunk, swish.

  “Oh, and tell Jinx the next time he tries to lift my fave earrings, I’ll disconnect his tail—or whatever other appendages he’s sporting—from the rest of his miserable little body.”

  Slam.

  Sparkle? Gerry opened one eye. The other one popped open all on its own when she saw what Sparkle had done. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Good, you’re up. And I never kid about sex.” She finished hanging red velvet drapes across the back wall of the dungeon. “There. Turns cold and gray into hot and happening. If sex had color and texture, it’d be red velvet.”

  “What the . . . ?” Gerry sat up and looked around. “The place looks like a bordello.”

  “Exactly. A first-rate cathouse.” Sparkle paused to study the painting on the wall over the iron maiden—a man and woman tangled in white sheets and red-hot passion. Then she walked over to straighten it. “Whoever first called a bordello a cathouse had it right—a place that’s all slinky and sly and sexy.”

  “Where’s the furniture?” Okay, there was furniture, sort of.

  “The stuff you had here was vintage motel cheap. I don’t know where Conall dug it up. Now this furniture oozes sensual invitation.” She slid her hand across the back of a silky black chaise longue. “Big enough for two.”

  “Yes, well—” It was almost worth shutting her mouth just to see Conall’s face when he walked in here.

  “Don’t argue. It won’t do any good. I borrowed this big round couch from the Cock Crows at Dawn. They won’t miss it. Don’t the erotic poss
ibilities just scream at you?”

  Nope, no screaming going on, except for her sense of good taste, which was shrieking over the red velvet couch that matched the red velvet drapes, accented by the black silk chaise longue.

  Luckily, Sparkle didn’t wait for her to answer. “I’ve left an assortment of interesting oils on the table along with a candle to heat them. Rub them in. Everywhere.” She rolled her eyes up in her head as she contemplated the oily event. “Slide the hot oil over Conall’s glorious chest and totally awesome abs. Then sit back and admire all that glistening male flesh.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “You don’t have to think, you have me to do that for you. I’ve also left a variety of spreadable sweets—chocolate syrup, honey, and caramel topping. Lather them on, then lick them off.”

  “We’ll be sticky messes.” Why was Sparkle doing this, and how would she stop her?

  Sparkle narrowed her gaze on Gerry. “You’re supposed to lose yourself in the passion of the moment. Take a shower together afterward, for heaven’s sake. Do I have to tell you everything?”

  “You’re not subtle, are you?” Jeez, all she needed was a madam at the door welcoming clients.

  “Subtle? Subtle never won any wars, sister. Men think about sex every seven seconds, so we give them the visuals, the scents, the textures of sex, and thought becomes action. Simple.”

  “Cold.” Where were the emotions in Sparkle’s formula?

  Sparkle shrugged. “I only deal with the physical pleasure part. That’s yummy enough for me. You supply the warm fuzzies.”

  “The bed looks the same.” An island of normal floating in a sea of sex.

  “Not quite. I replaced the mattress while you were sleeping. Good thing you sleep like the dead, because I kind of bounced you off the floor when I moved you. But now when passion rises, and you fling yourselves onto the bed, erotic scents will drive you and Conall to unexplored sensual heights.”

  “I’m afraid of heights.” Oops, a Freudian slip. She carefully climbed from the bed, making sure she didn’t trigger the mattress’s sensual scent-o-meter. Where was Conall when she needed him? Wait. Where was Conall?