by Cecy Robson
I shoved my fear away and focused. Hell would host the Ice Capades before I’d become his next prey.
The were continued screaming, because yeah, no help coming from that corner. I watched, waiting, building my magic between breaths and releasing blast after blast. The demon evaded each one. He thought he was smart.
But so was I.
I aimed, taking out another bottle of vodka. The demon laughed when I shot a bottle of bourbon and a supersized bottle of Jack after that. He thought I’d missed, until he glanced down at the booze soaking his feet.
I released my flame at the puddles of alcohol surrounding his form. A crest of blue and white engulfed him, my cue to scramble to my feet and fling myself over the counter. I landed on my heels—no way was I ruining my dress—in time to hear the thing shriek, and for wet entrails to splatter against the wall like confetti. Pieces of demon slithered down, thankfully drying in the air as they reached the warped floorboards.
Another holler from the store owner, another screech. I stumbled to a stand and peeked over the counter. The other demon child, the one I’d first injured, was taking his turn on the store owner’s face. I should have been grossed out—it was all sorts of sick. But I was more annoyed than anything. “Rip off its wings!”
He screamed louder, causing me to yell. “Rip off his wings—his wings!”
The owner gurgled and choked, but managed a “What?”
I cupped my hands. “Rip off his wings and throw him in the fire.” I pointed wildly for all the good it did me. “The fire!” I hollered.
His screams morphed into choked bubbling. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” I stomped over, lifted the fire extinguisher, and zapped the bastard—the demon, I mean, not the giant prick getting his face chewed off.
The demon rolled off the store owner and I smashed him in the head with the extinguisher. I took about two steps back and finished singeing the little bugger. Although the smoke detector blasted above us, the exploding demon innards were moist enough to put out the dwindling flames.
That said, ew.
Repulsion, and the experience, might have made me a little irritable at that moment. Just a little bit. “What are you, deaf?” I snapped at the owner. “I told you to rip his wings off and toss him in the fire—”
The store owner sat up then. Blood soaked his face, shirt, and the sides of his head where the demons had eaten his…ears.
“My bad,” I told him.
I placed my hand over my belly, mostly because I was trying not to puke, and eased back to where I’d dropped my purse. I rummaged through it, swearing when I realized I’d forgotten my phone. “Where’s your phone?” I asked.
“Huh?”
“Your phone!” I screamed. “I need to borrow your phone!”
He wiped his face with his nasty shirt and pointed. “You calling the weres?”
I wanted to. But I couldn’t. Not today. My fingers dialed quickly, although they were shaking more than I liked. Call me a coward, call me a wussy, call me a priss, but demons just plain suck.
“Who is this?” Tim hissed on the line.
“Cleanup in aisle nine,” I told him.
“Taran?” he asked. “What’s with you? Your voice is shaking like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“No. Not a ghost.” It didn’t take a genius to figure out things were all sorts of effed up. Fear, and the adrenaline pumping through me, racked my body and found their way into each syllable I spoke.
“What happened?” Tim barked. “And where are you?”
“I’m at Big MoFo Beers in South Tahoe. You know how Misha feels like he owes us? Well, I’m calling in a favor….”
I had my bottle of sake—the real one the owner had tucked beneath the register. It wasn’t like he told me where he’d stashed it. If it hadn’t been enclosed in the shiny red box, I probably wouldn’t have found it.
I was contemplating taking a shot of Captain Morgan when Misha stalked in, flanked by his walking dead peeps. They took in the damage around them, their expensive shoes crunching over the sea of shattered glass.
Yeah, you might say I knew how to bust things up.
Tim’s eyes cut to Misha. “I don’t smell them, Master,” he said.
Misha knelt in his finely tailored gray suit where the fire had roasted the demons. He took a whiff, grimacing when something reached his nose. “Did you burn them with alcohol?” he asked me. At my nod, he turned to his vamps. “Alcohol cleanses the air of iniquity. What remains should dissipate by the hour.”
“But, Master, how could they survive this close to the lake’s purity?”
Misha shook his head. “I don’t know. Tahoe’s power should have sickened them or forced them away. But we remain a good distance from its shore, and the building’s brick exterior likely shielded them to some extent.” He scanned the surroundings. “Regardless, their time here would have been brief.”
Okay. He had my attention then. “So you’re thinking they were hunting outside the perimeter and ventured in?”
“That’s probable,” Misha agreed, rising with ease. “The lake’s power, even on creatures as vile as this, is strong enough to repel them.”
He regarded me then in a way that demonstrated he was taking in more than my dress. “Why didn’t you contact Celia or your wolf? And why did you ask me to keep the incident and your whereabouts from her?”
I thought about what awaited me. Maybe supernatural smack-downs weren’t so bad after all. “Today’s a special day, and I don’t want to screw it up.”
“Does it involve your wolf?”
“Yes.” We weren’t exactly chummy, but I couldn’t lie to Misha even if I wanted to. These supernatural senses could be downright annoying. “Look. His family is visiting. It’s kind of a big deal. Could you figure out what happened on behalf of the Alliance? I’ll fill Gemini in later.”
“And your sister? I fear she will be angry at me for keeping this from her.”
That’s what he claimed, but I didn’t miss the wicked grin that followed. I wasn’t sure what he was up to; he probably wanted something in return. But no way would I be stupid enough to owe a master vamp a favor. “Then tell her. It could be one of many sweet little secrets you share. Just wait until she gets back to your place,” I added quickly, and rather testily.
He quirked an eyebrow. Perhaps I’d spoiled his fun, and perhaps I didn’t care. “Very well,” he said.
“Thanks, Misha.” I clutched my sake close, and walked to where the store owner had found a corner to lurk in. I bent to see how he was. What can I say? I’m a hell of a gal. “You okay?” I asked. For all that he’d been a jerk, he didn’t deserve to be chomped on like steak.
He’d stopped bleeding, but that was about all I could say. “I asked if you were okay,” I repeated, louder.
“They’ll grow back!” he yelled. He stood, watching me. “Who are you, anyway? You’re kind of badass.”
“No one,” I said. I didn’t want to admit I was the girlfriend of Aric’s second-in-command, especially if I wanted to keep this incident quiet a little longer. Thing was, a local were should have known at least something about me, or at least my sisters in general. Maybe he was new. Weres seeking asylum had migrated to Tahoe in droves.
“How about dinner sometime?” he asked, patting my ass.
I stepped away from him and I swear, it took all I had not to smack him. He’d not only tried to dupe me out of my sake, taking my hard-earned money, and behaved like an overall asshole, but also lain there like a bleeding slug while I took on two demon children by myself—and now he copped a feel. “I don’t date conniving assholes who try to take advantage of a desperate damsel in distress,” was my response.
Well, I didn’t.
I stomped away then, muttering obscenities. Oddly enough, the stress of my day was far from over.
Chapter 8
I reached for the bag of baked treats I’d bought on my way out of South Tahoe so it wouldn’t spill when I made the turn into my devel
opment. In spite of the day I’d had, I smiled when I glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes. I still had time left to unwind—more if the flight Gem’s parents had taken was delayed.
I willed myself to relax. No demons, I reminded myself. No death. No missing body parts.
It’s all good. All good.
Until it wasn’t.
Mrs. Mancuso was placing a Christmas garland around “Carl,” her freaky lawn jockey with the lazy eye. Come on. We still had two weeks until Thanksgiving. Besides, this woman was more Scrooge than Jolly Saint Nick.
I pulled into my driveway, steeling myself for what was coming and praying to sweet baby Jesus in the manger that for once she’d ignore me, for once she’d keep her trap shut, for once she’d walk back into her house.
Well, sweet baby Jesus must have been busy making the blind see, or tending to some poor sap with leprosy. No sooner did I step out of my car with my bags tucked under my arms than she attacked. The malevolent bag of bones in support hose appeared like smoke right in front of me. She laid into me like she’d been lurking in the bushes with Carl, waiting for my arrival. “Dressed like a tramp as always, I see,” she whispered.
Today was not the day to piss me off. Demon children and bloody shop owners with missing ears aside, I still had Gemini’s parents to meet and greet.
I stomped away, or at least I tried. But I was in heels, and, well, Mancuso was like an Olympic sprinter in those orthopedic shoes she wore. She swept in front of me. “Tell me, does the Whore of Babylon know you took her clothes?” she asked. “Or do you find her attire too conservative for your slutty tastes?”
She eyed me then, very much like vultures eye a carcass before their first bite. “In my day, women dressed like ladies,” she sneered. “Not harlots the likes of you or your trashy sisters.”
It took all I had not to throw my bags at her. “Goddamnit, woman. Why are you here? What do you want? And what’s your problem?”
“You,” she said in a low voice. “You and your horrible family have completely soiled this neighborhood. You’re nothing but sinners deserving of a public stoning.”
Okay, I was pissed—furious even. Yet a smile spread across my face when I realized Mancuso and I were all alone. No Shayna to pull me back in the house. No Emme begging me to ignore her. I’d been waiting for this moment for a long time, and considering my last few hours—and the fact that she’d had to go and put down my family—I wasn’t holding back. “You know what? You are the biggest pain in the ass this side of Tahoe…,” you freaking dinosaur?
“Taran,” Celia called from the door.
I continued, ignoring her. “I can’t wait until you die…”
“Taran!” Celia beckoned louder.
“…and when you do,” I said, narrowing my eyes, “I swear to God I will run up and down the street naked…”
“Taran, stop it!” Celia raced forward.
“…singing, ‘Ding-dong, the witch is dead!’ ” I snapped.
“Taran!”
“So take your sagging neck skin, flip it over your shoulder, and get away from me, you wretched old c—”
Celia covered my mouth, her eyes wild and her expression one of sheer horror. “Taran,” she whispered frantically. “Gem’s parents are inside.”
The color drained from my face and down to my ass. “Wh-what?” I stammered.
Celia dropped her hand away from my mouth, stopping to glance back at the house and speaking low. “They took an earlier flight and arrived about ten minutes after you left—we tried calling you, but you left your phone on your nightstand.”
“Where’s their car?” I squeaked. I whipped around. Mine and Celia’s were the only cars in the driveway.
“In the garage,” she muttered. “We were, ah, trying to be nice.”
I simply stared, stared, clutching my bags tight as if they could somehow shield me. This day couldn’t possibly be real.
Mrs. Mancuso met me with a wide and enthusiastic grin. “Good luck meeting the folks,” she said. She walked away then, with a skip to her step that I’d never seen.
It was all I could do not to smoke her ass.
Celia clutched my elbow to steady me. I took a breath, and then another, willing myself to remain vertical. “D-do you think…” I tried to settle my nerves. Stupid nerves didn’t let me, since they insisted we were screwed anyway. “Do you think they heard me?” I managed.
There was positively no flicker of hope anywhere in Celia’s features. None. The last time I’d seen her look at me that way, she was paralyzed by magic and freaking demons were flying away with her. “Taran…” she began. “The whole neighborhood heard you. Mr. Fitzgerald across the street called Emme to ask what was going on with you and Mrs. Mancuso.”
I couldn’t move. Not even a little bit. Celia took my bags and led me into the house, my body trembling with total humiliation. I stepped through the door and into our large, open family room.
Gemini sat with his face buried in his hands. His parents waited on the couch, stone-faced, unmoving, their lips pursed tight as if they’d been sucking on lemons in my absence. Emme’s jaw hung open while she held a tray of hors d’oeuvres in front of Gem’s mom and dad. Shayna took one look at me and bolted into the kitchen. I watched her disappear, wishing I could join her.
I swallowed hard, my voice quivering. “Hello. I’m Taran. Did you have a nice flight?”
Gemini lifted his head, defeat marching across his face like an army of Huns. I shrugged out of my coat, mostly because I didn’t know what else to do then. His eyebrows rose to his hairline when he saw me in my dress.
He stood and crossed the room to meet me, taking each of my hands into his. He smiled, the warmth in his dark almond eyes causing me to melt. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, lifting my hands and kissing them softly.
I sighed, both at his presence by my side and at his show of support. Maybe I stood a chance after all.
Maybe.
He released one hand but held tight to the other, leading me forward to where his parents remained unmoving on the couch. Slowly, they rose to their feet, their spines as rigid as metal poles and their irate expressions unflinching.
Gem bowed. “Father, Mother, I would like to introduce you to Taran, my mate. Taran, these are my most honorable parents, Zen and Aiko Hamamatsu.”
The pride in his tone when he called me his mate brought a sting to my eyes that had nothing to do with the stupid perfume that had assaulted me earlier. I hadn’t expected to react this way and did my best to beat down the emotion.
Keep it together, girl.
I placed my hands on my lap to bow when they did. Emme was all about manners. She’d been googling proper Japanese etiquette on my behalf for days and had me practice the night before. “I am very honored to make your acquaintance,” I said. I erected my posture carefully, just like that lady had in the YouTube video Emme had showed me.
Gem appeared, like, totally impressed. His parents…not so much.
They ignored me and looked back at Gem. “Your mate does not seem to be aware that it is our custom to regard our elders with respect,” Pop Hamamatsu said.
Gem dropped his eyes and bowed, while I did my best not to hurl. “I assure you, Father, Taran is extremely respectful of others,” he said. “Especially those well into their years.”
Momma Hamamatsu wasn’t so convinced. She swiveled her head in my direction. “Then why did she speak so terribly to that frail woman?” Her pursed lips wrinkled further. “A kind woman who welcomed us so warmly.”
“What?” I asked like a moron.
Gem’s face flushed. “Gardening is one of my mother’s favorite pastimes. She was admiring Mrs. Mancuso’s elm.” He squared his jaw. “Mrs. Mancuso made it a point to find out who they were and what they were doing here as she showed them around her yard.”
I was going to fry Mrs. Mancuso to cinders. I knew it then. The old battle-axe had totally set me up. No wonder she’d whispered her insults.
&
nbsp; I glanced over my shoulder at Celia. “Help me,” I mouthed.
Her idea of “help” consisted of running for her life. “Ah, we should go and let you catch up,” she offered. She grabbed Shayna, who was peering around the wall, and dragged her out of the house. Emme excused herself, placed the food on the coffee table, and charged after them.
Gem bowed again and attempted to explain my attack on that poor defenseless elderly woman from hell. “Mrs. Mancuso is not fond of many,” he said. “She often instigates quarrels—especially with Taran, forcing her to lose her patience. She’s not the frail, kind woman she pretended to be.”
Momma and Pop barely blinked. “Perhaps life has not been kind to her. More reason to show her sympathy and respect,” Pop said. He turned back to me. “To injure an opponent with harsh words is to injure yourself.”
If “life” hadn’t been kind to Mancuso, it probably meant Mancuso had managed to piss “life” off, too. And what was up with the Yoda-ish?
Mancuso a pain is she.
Of course, that wasn’t what I said. As upset as I was that I’d been made to look like the bad guy, I didn’t need to add more fuel to the inferno I was currently standing in. What I needed was damage control.
I didn’t have many options then. But I had sake.
“Excuse me.” I hurried to where Celia had placed my bags on the small hall table, only to pause and turn back around when I remembered that I’d forgotten to bow. Son of a bitch. Being polite was exhausting. I reached for my liquor store bag and brought it over.
This time I remembered to bow, but ditched the whole “honorable” mention. I pulled the sake out of the bag and handed it to Pop. “Here. I’m sorry. I meant to place it in a gift bag, but I didn’t have time.”
Momma nodded, although her features remained tight and unreadable. Pop admired the bottle after pulling it from its beautiful box. “Ancient Beauty,” he said, sounding slightly awed despite his severe scowl. “Thank you for this fine treasure.”
