DEMONS DON'T ALWAYS
TELL THE TRUTH
Meredith Allen Conner
Dedication
To My Dad and Second Mom
Thanks for always believing in and encouraging me
I love you both
Table of Contents
1. Redneck Fairies and Party Plans.
2. Secrets.
3. Hot Demons and More Secrets.
4. My First Plan Fails.
5. My Second Plan Fails.
6. A God Walked In.
7. No Forward Progress.
8. An Itchy Witchy Feeling.
9. Party Preparations.
10. A Witch, A Shirt and A Disaster.
11. Meltdown.
12. Revelation.
13. The Demon King.
14. Lost.
15. Break In.
16. More Secrets.
17. Advice From A Chihuahua.
18. Confronting My Secretary.
19. A Few Answers.
20. Progress.
21. Forget Progress.
22. Worries.
23. UDBF.
24. Ash.
25. Passion. Passion. Passion.
26. Morning Disaster.
27. Panic.
28. A Kidnapping and A Plan.
29. The Weeny Prince.
30. Confronting Big Al.
31. Beer and Karaoke.
1. Redneck Fairies and Party Plans.
The phone rang, but I ignored it. I could do that since I had an official receptionist.
The thought still made me want to indulge in some serious booty shakes.
Not too long ago, I'd been just scraping by.
Now I had a new location for my business, a rather steady stream of clients, a secretary and window boxes with purple petunias.
I'm Kate Storm and I own Love Required, a matchmaking business. I service both the humans and the HC - humanly challenged - population. I'm a half-bred witch so I can do that. The humans don't know about the HC and the immortal HC don't care about the humans. I fall somewhere in the middle. I'm mortal, which excludes me from the HC, but I'm also a witch, which excludes me from the humans as well.
I'm on my own plane. Population one.
I suppose you could say that's created a few issues for me. Okay. A lot of issues. I'm working on them.
I'd originally decided to move business locations after my first important HC client turned up dead on my previous doorstep. I'd hoped a new move would get rid of the bad memories.
Unfortunately, an important human client blew that plan to hell when he wound up dead in the alley outside my new backdoor.
I probably sound a bit uncaring towards the fate of my clients. It's not that I'm a mean witch, just an imminently practical one. Plus, I did not like either one of those clients.
I guess that does make me a rather mean witch.
This time I'd cast a few spells to get rid of the lingering taint of death. Moving locations again would be way too costly. And I'm rather fond of my new window boxes.
It's enough to make a witch think she's cursed. Which I am. Just not in a death-will-follow-you-where-ever-you-go type way. I'm cursed to fail in love.
Kind of makes the whole matchmaking part of my business rather ironic, doesn't it?
Mwah, mwah, mwah.
It's always better to cackle than cry in my book.
At any rate, I'm hoping for a break from dead bodies and shady frame jobs. Plus I'd like to keep as many of my clients alive as possible. Referrals are awesome.
Désirée Norma-Sue, my redneck fairy secretary, appeared in the open doorway. I blinked twice. I like to think I've grown accustomed to her fashion sense, but sometimes I'm still in awe. She'd been sitting behind her desk when I arrived an hour ago. Her upper half had nearly blinded me, the entire outfit almost unhinged my jaw.
Her top was a rather breathtaking shade of neon scarlet. It clung lovingly to her tiny curves and had a diamond cut-out strategically placed between her breasts with three white rhinestones above the cut-out. Her top contrasted . . . Well, let's just say it contrasted with her curly hair, pulled into a riotous top knot and currently sporting a lime green hue.
Her previously hidden lower half showed off a tight zebra striped skirt that ended with a lime green ruffle - two shades darker than her hair - right above her knees. Shiny, scarlet, four inch, patent leather boots encased her tiny calves from the knees down.
I blinked again.
I honestly never knew whether to grab my sunglasses or applaud her style. She was fearless and I was a tiny bit envious.
Typically for me, I had on biker's boots, jeans and a slightly wrinkled blue t-shirt. I'd been going longer and longer in between washes with my jeans. They refused to fit comfortably after I washed them and I refused to buy a larger size.
I've been stress eating lately. I blame it on my demon boyfriend.
I'm a size ten. Maybe. Probably not. I do have a pair of size ten jeans somewhere in my drawer. That's gotta count. I've cut the tags out of the rest of them.
"Sugar, I have to run a quick errand. You need anything while I'm out?"
Désirée Norma-Sue pronounced every word with an extra syllable. Some words she'd even remove the sounds I was familiar with and add in totally new ones. I was not pronounced eye, but alternatively aye-ah or ah-h. I had yet to figure out how an h could be a syllable all on its own.
She's from Louisiana. They do things just a bit different there.
"No. Thanks though." I opened my mouth, planning to tease her about her date with a huge gargoyle the night before, but the words never came.
It finally hit me that while her clothes were bright and shiny, her skin was not. A fairy's skin sparkles all on its own. No cosmetics needed. Tiny lines spun out from between her eyebrows and if I didn't know better, I'd describe the look in her brown eyes as hunted.
What had spooked my secretary and friend?
I knew something had driven her away from Louisiana. Something bad. I'd known it since the minute we'd first shaken hands and I'd cast my truth spell.
I just didn't know the details.
I hadn't needed to know them at the time.
I reconsidered that thought.
"I'll see you when you get back?" Désirée Norma-Sue nodded once and spun on one sharp heel. The next second she was gone.
I don't think she even noticed the question in my words. She was in too much of a hurry to leave. However, I was pretty sure she'd be back. She wasn't the type of fairy to leave a witch in the lurch.
We had more than a business relationship. Désirée Norma-Sue was my friend. I don't have many friends. I've got more fingers on one hand than I do friends. And I have the usual number of digits on my hands.
I take my friendships very seriously.
She obviously wasn't ready to talk about it. Whatever it was. I'd give her a few days. If she didn't say anything, I'd corner her about it.
I wasn't about to lose my secretary. Or my friend.
****
"An ass is an ass is ass." The leash jerked in my hand. "And if you ask me, Ass is a total ass."
Désirée had come back from lunch looking more like herself. It was a gorgeous early September day. Winter arrives swiftly and lasts for an exceedingly long time in Idaho so we closed shop and took advantage of the weather.
I'd decided to do something about the tightness of my jeans and go for a walk. I'd brought Al along with me.
"Well, I'm not asking you, Al." I refused to look at him. "I asked you if you wanted to have people over for dinner
on Saturday night." If I acknowledged his rude address for my boyfriend, then I also acknowledged he was getting to me.
I had a new plan. I was going to proceed as if Al and I were simply friends. Which we were. Despite his crush on me. I could never love him the way he stubbornly hoped I would.
I did love him. Just not in a romantic way. Which was why I couldn't crush him. It would tear me up to hurt him.
So, my new plan was to act as if we were simply good friends without any acknowledgement of anything else. And hope Al would eventually go along with my plan.
I had my doubts. He's an extremely stubborn Chihuahua.
Al is the ghost of a New Jersey mafia hit-man. I've never figured out why he channels through my Chihuahua.
I'm certain as a human, he was big and in excellent shape. Al approaches danger as if he can control any situation. Unfortunately his new shape is about nine by fourteen inches and covered in short black and tan fur.
It's got to be rough, transforming from large hit man to small Chihuahua. I have discovered, however, that both hit-men and Chihuahuas tend to be stubborn and have one track minds.
I'm a half bred mortal witch, so I have my own issues. I can't complain about his.
"He's still an ass."
Even when his issues were more annoying than mine. I was going to out-stubborn the hardheaded hit-man.
I hoped.
"I was thinking about Morgan, Drake, Désirée and Phil." I ticked off the invitees with one hand. "Anyone else you can think of?" I held my breath on this question.
I'd started taking Al out to our local watering hole Got Fangs? recently. Turns out the HC bar owner has a cousin who channels through a miniature horse and was sympathetic to Al's situation. Al now had his very own group of friends.
I was a bit torn about that. On the one hand I wanted to encourage him to branch out and hopefully find someone else to fall in love with. Preferably something short and furry.
On the other hand I don't have a lot of friends myself and tend to be rather possessive and selfish with the ones I do have.
I was fighting myself as much as Al with his issue.
Not exactly logical or fair. I know. I have never claimed to be either. I do the best with what I am.
"No. That sounds good."
Whew. Not only was my selfish side relieved, but so was my practical side. I wasn't one hundred percent sure I could fit Ash, Drake and Phil on my back porch at the same time and leave room for the rest of us.
Let me explain.
Ash is my boyfriend. He's a demon lord. Six and a half feet of steely muscles and enough testosterone to make a witch consider begging. Long and loudly. He's also the reason I'm looking for a way to break the curse on my coven.
I'm already in love with him. It would destroy me if something happened to him. More like reduce me to a shallow husk of myself, spiritless, without hope and a whiny, sobbing mess. You could say I'm motivated to break the curse.
Ash is the demon of my dreams. Complete with half-dollar sized pewter horns and a line of scars, running down the side of his face and neck and ending partway down his arm and chest.
They make me want to equally caress them and brandish my wand in his defense.
Not that I'd get the chance to defend him. Demon lords are rather dominant, possessive and determined.
Yum.
Drake almost rivals Ash in size. He's a vampire. Black hair, green eyes, pale skin. He's the boyfriend of my UDBF. UnDead Best Friend Morgan.
I should probably add in a few extra letters to UDBF now that I know Morgan is actually Morgana Le Fay. As well as my aunt. I'm still adjusting to this info. And UDBF just has a great ring to it.
Phil is Désirée Norma-Sue's boyfriend. Or at least they were dating. I knew Désirée Norma-Sue thought of him as her boyfriend. I just couldn't quite get my mind around it. For a gargoyle, Phil is huge. I don't mean in a tall way, but in a round way.
He's just around six feet. Both in height and in girth. Every gargoyle I know is completely ripped. I think there is something about the turning to stone during the day thing that seriously works their muscles.
Phil is muscled. He's also extremely round. His belly is bigger than Désirée Norma-Sue's entire body.
As a result. all of this meant I needed a strategic plan to host a dinner party.
My apartment is tiny. Not cozily small, but uncomfortably small. Bigfoot had recently spent a few nights on my pull-out. I still felt slightly claustrophobic.
I hoped to hold my dinner party on my porch. I'm on the second floor and my porch runs the entire length of my rental real estate. It's the reason I rented my apartment in the first place.
After I'd moved in, I had splurged on two sets of brown wicker patio furniture. The cushions are fuchsia with coordinating striped and floral pillows. I'd strung five round pink Chinese lanterns down the center of the porch.
It's my favorite place.
I was fairly confident the second story porch would hold up under the combined weight of the males. You have to think about these things. Especially when inviting a gargoyle over.
I wasn't as confident about whether my wicker furniture would hold up. However, I really wanted to host a get together at my place.
To me this was the ultimate sign that Ash and I were an official couple. Our dates and get-togethers at Got Fangs? were great, don't get me wrong. I treasured all of those moments.
But there is just something about having a dinner party together with your friends and boyfriend in your own apartment.
Especially as I'd just recently made up my mind to fully commit to our relationship. I had a plan. It went something like this: 1. No more Ducking and Dodging. That's pretty much my go to method for dealing with, well, anything. 2. No more hiding things from Ash. 3. No more allowing Ash to hide things from me. 4. Break the curse. 5. Stay alive while breaking the curse.
I was a bit vague on the last two points on my list. 1. I hadn't come up with a way to actually break the curse and 2. I wasn't sure I'd live through it.
Turns out I have a really, really, really scary aunt. Several times removed. She's a bad witch. I don't say that lightly either. She used black magic to cast a spell to make all my relatives mortal, then - as if that wasn't bad enough - she cursed everyone in the family to Fail In Love. To make certain her point was made, she also killed as many of my relatives as she could.
I dare anyone - of any species - to come up with a worse relative.
This aunt had been a bit peeved because her sisters had used black magic to make her son mortal. He then died in battle.
The son's name was Mordred. You might remember him from Knight's of the Round Table. He was the one to betray Arthur, steal his crown and marry Guinevere.
Frankly, I thought if one was going to make a huge power play and do bad things then, maybe, one had to deal with the shit-storm all on their own.
My aunt, Morgause, obviously took a different stand entirely.
I was currently zero for zero on any plans/ideas/thoughts as to how to locate my aunt and break the curse.
Morgan hadn't come up with anything either and she's been around for roughly fifteen hundred years. Kind of made my chances look paltry.
But I was determined.
"You're not gonna actually cook are ya?" Al ran to the other side of my body chasing a butterfly. I switched hands with the leash.
"No." We both shuddered slightly at the very thought. I do not cook. Ever. My attempts at cooking go beyond bad and into the realm of inducing hospital visits. "I was thinking of ordering spaghetti and meatballs."
Al and I loved pasta and we ordered faithfully from the Italian restaurant down the street. Meatballs were one of Al's favorites and I was counting on them to keep his mouth busy.
Ash and Al do not like each other. Although Ash has been making an effort lately. He brought rawhides and Al's favorite Bourbon over on his last visit.
Al had thrown up one of the rawhides on Ash's boot.
/> I looked down at the furry menace. He picked that moment to look up and wink one of his bulging brown eyes.
I sighed. What was I going to do about him?
2. Secrets.
Almost an hour later we'd managed to walk all the way back to Love Required. Our town of Dominion is a small town. I could probably add a couple more miles to our walk and tour the entire town.
I didn't want to add another couple miles to our walk. I wanted to take a break. Spike's was located a few shops down from mine.
Spike's is a human bar. The usual assortment of local homo-sapien bar customers fill the seats there until about ten or eleven in the evening.
After that the clientele changed over. Leather jackets, cuffs and head wraps became the norm. Along with an amazing variety of spiky accessories. Jake, the owner, even had his own spiked merchandise for sale behind the bar.
I do so admire a successful entrepreneur.
I also decided I really, really wanted that rest. It had nothing to do with my slight shortness of breath or the subtle throbbing in my legs.
Honest.
Sort of.
Okay. A total lie. Cut a witch some slack. Al and I hadn't walked this far in . . . Clearly, too long of a period of time.
"Yo, Doll."
"Yeah. I see it, Al. What do you say we stop in and say hi to Jake?" I'd pick him up and carry him in if he said no.
"Sounds good. I haven't seen Sandra since they got married."
Sandra and Jake Harrison were one of my most successful matches. A total True Love match. They were so insanely happy together it made me both giddy and my heart ache just to be around them.
I opened the door and we stepped into the cool dark room. The blinds were closed on the two windows as per the usual during the day. At night, Jake opened the blinds and the blue and red neon signs cast a, well, a neon glow over the tables closest to the windows.
Al and I skirted the tables and chairs as we headed towards the stools at the bar. I didn't worry about bringing Al in at this time of day. The bar was empty.
Good thing too or I would start to worry about my fellow Dominion citizens. It was only a little after three in the afternoon.
Demons Don't Always Tell The Truth (Kate Storm Series Book 3) Page 1
