Demons Prefer Blondes

by Sidney Ayers

  Serah and her hottie clients, oh brother. With a smirk, she shoved the phone into her coat pocket. “Okay, let’s go,” she said as she put Gerardo’s car into gear and pulled out the driveway.

  Rafe looked surprisingly relaxed. His hand no longer gripped the door handle and his face wasn’t scrunched in worry. Thank goodness he was getting used to riding in a car. At least it wasn’t Serah driving!

  She turned to Rafe, ready to make conversation as they crept at a steady fifteen miles an hour down the icy road. “So who’s this Lamia I’ve heard so much about? Another ex?”

  Rafe snorted. “I have more class than that. She takes the form of a snake and can change her appearance at will. After she joined the Infernati, she chose to nourish herself in a not-so-honorable way.”

  “How?”

  “She feasts on the blood of children.”

  Her stomach roiled. “Disgusting! So I won’t feel bad when I kick her ass, then?”

  “In theory.” Rafe scraped his fingers through his hair.

  “That doesn’t sound all that comforting,” she said as she slid to a stop. A gust of wind blasted into the car, catapulting it sideways.

  “Neither does that,” Rafe said craning his head to glance out the frosty window. “Bloody storm demons. Step on it!”

  She slammed her foot to the gas pedal, the car revolting by skidding and slipping on the icy snow-covered road. “Easier said than done.”

  When she had enough traction, the car lunged forward. Jerking the car to the left, she turned down the road and sped up as much as the weather would allow.

  “Why would I feel guilty about battling a demon that bleeds children dry?”

  “Remember, she takes many forms. An innocent baby, your prized family pet, a friend… a sister.”

  He’d said enough. Lamia had come to him as his sister. How terrible! As she prepared for another sliding stop, the car rumbling and groaning beneath them, she turned to him. “I’m sorry, Rafe.”

  Sucking in a breath, Rafe nodded. “No need. It’s not your fault.” His eyes flickered and flared with each word. “I’m glad the chest ended up in your friend’s and your hands. Had it ended up elsewhere, we’d have an even more serious problem.”

  “But you yourself said I was inept.”

  Rafe winced.

  “Okay, maybe not in such harsh terms, but you know.”

  “I apologize. I’ve just never seen any woman, demon or not—besides Jacoba—so determined to save the world.”

  “Jacoba?”

  “My sister.”

  “Oh.” Talk about an awkward moment.

  The way too quiet pregnant pause was interrupted by the cell phone—again! Now she officially disliked Justin Timberlake.

  “What now?” she muttered as she dug the cell phone from her pocket. Gazing down at the display, she arched an eyebrow. Home? What the hell?

  “About time,” came the squeak.

  “Hey Squeaks,” she said, her voice chipper. “What’s up?”

  Squeaky huffed, a sound that came out more like a strangled chipmunk. “Where the hell youse at?”

  “We’re almost there. It’s a little slippery out here.”

  “Hurry up already. The Boss needs to eat.”

  “Boss? Eat?” What the heck?

  “Fuggedaboutit,” Squeaky growled. “As for eating, I still have to nourish the chimpanzee body I’m borrowing.”

  “There’s food in the fridge.”

  “You call that food?” Squeaky giggled. “Frozen lasagna in a box ain’t my idea of a meal. Don Corleone would be rolling in his grave.”

  Time to make this chimp her own offer he wouldn’t be able to refuse. “So you want lasagna, eh?”

  “Yes. Homemade lasagna, with fresh tomato, garlic, and basil.” He harrumphed as if she wouldn’t be able to honor said request. She had that ace up her sleeve.

  “You’re in luck, Don Squeakleone.”

  “How so?” His voice raised an octave in avid interest.

  “When Rafe and I return, you’re heading to Serah’s work to guard her.”

  “How does this involve filling my chimp gut with lasagna?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Serah’s a caterer.” She curved her lips into a wide smile. “An Italian caterer.”

  “Italian?” Squeaky asked in an inquisitive tone.

  It was time to seal the deal. “Her lasagna is the best on this side of state. Even better than Vinnie’s Ristorante.”

  “Tell me more.”

  Taking a deep breath, she recalled the first time she tasted Serah’s signature dish. Heaven on a plate, yet still sinful. Her mouth watered just thinking about it.

  “Homemade tomato sauce, oregano, and basil. Five cheesy layers, sausage, and beef. Mmm. Did I mention real ricotta cheese? No cottage cheese tainting her lasagna.” That always hooked ’em.

  “I’m drooling just thinking about it,” he replied with giddy laughter. “So when youse gonna get here?”

  “Five minutes, okay?”

  “A’ight.”

  “Squeaky?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You need to lay off The Sopranos.”

  “Fuggedaboudit.”

  Oh well, she tried. “Bye,” she said, snapping the phone shut.

  Rafe blew out a deep breath. “All set?”

  “Yep,” she said, hanging a right onto her street. Home sweet home. “Squeaky thinks you don’t like him.”

  Rafe snorted. “I was a little put off at first.”

  “He does have a unique vocal presence.”

  “Bloody annoying,” Rafe said with a throaty chuckle. “But he’s growing on me, voice and all.”

  “That’s cool.” Was she starting to grow on him too? From the way they locked lips, something grew. Every time they touched, whether just a simple brush or their Titanic-like kiss, one thing was certain. Electricity sparked in the air. Her heart raced. Dang, she was hopeless.

  With a deep sigh, she took a left into the snow-piled driveway. Her tiny, yet completely functional, bungalow, despite the size, stood warm and welcoming. A trail of smoke blew from the chimney. Way to warm the house, Squeaky.

  “We’re back,” she said as she chugged into the driveway and skated the car to a stop. Wind blew snow across the yard, and the maple tree swayed with each mighty gust. One way, then the other. Weird… strange… unnatural.

  Branches snapped, falling into the cold fluff below. Completely reminiscent of a bad Stephen King made-for-TV movie. Now this was the storm of the twenty-first century—demons included.

  Screams and howls rent the air. Thick cold breaths of snow sliced into her face as she trod up the walkway to the porch. A branch snapped and propelled into her chest.

  Her breath left her body in a giant whoosh as she slammed backward. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, steadying her. The intoxicating scent of peppermint and exotic spices wafted to her nose.

  Her body, despite the freezing cold, melted into him. Her head lolled back on his massive shoulder. “Thank you,” she said in a breathy whisper. Allowing Rafe to loosen his hold, she pulled herself around to face him. She glanced up, absolutely amazed at his strong jaw, and the dark hair beneath his tight-fitting hat whipping as snow and ice blew. But most mesmerizing were those two silver eyes, sparking and churning with desire. She reached up, tracing a tender finger down his cheek. She was completely and utterly entranced. Not good when a bunch of storm demons were on the prowl.

  Rafe’s gaze grew stony as he hauled her into his chest.

  “What was that all about?”

  The sinister chuckle sent her blood curdling. “Don’t let me stop your torrid embrace.” The voice, although haunting, sent shivers through her body.

  Wrenching herself from Rafe’s arms, she spun around. Red curls swirled around a porcelain face, full red lips pouting. Her ruby red eyes flickered menacingly. Red eyes? Photoshop obviously wouldn’t help her photo. Not that Gerardo would want to take her picture anyway.

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nbsp; She clucked her forked tongue, sounding like a cross between Hannibal Lecter and Kaa from Disney’s Jungle Book. “I’m not happy with you, Rafe.”

  She needed no introduction—the snake lady herself. “Lamia?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

  Rafe offered a silent nod. “Leave her out of this, Lamia.”

  “Another woman for you to fail?” A shrill cackle erupted from her mouth, her eyes boring into Lucy. “Did he tell you he sent his sister to her death?”

  Her body stiffened and she raised her chin. Don’t show her weakness. “No, but we discussed how we would send you to yours.”

  “Oh my! A smart one, just like your father.” Lamia’s forked tongue darted in and out of her mouth. “That trait will get you killed, Lucia.”

  Rafe gripped Lucy’s arm, his fingers like a giant vice. “Don’t let her get under your skin.” Spoken like someone with experience.

  “I never let anyone get under my skin.” Not even Mrs. Carlson. She moved her hand to the inside of her jacket, where she stored the silver blade her dad gave her on the way out. Not moving one flutter, she rejoiced. Maybe she was stealthy after all. Gripping the hilt with newly discovered superhuman strength, she yanked the blade from its sheath.

  “Don’t,” Rafe urged.

  Yeah right. She wouldn’t give into this bloodsucking bitch. No matter how hard Rafe tried to stop her, she wouldn’t back down.

  “Lucia, darling. Aren’t you a little worried?” She slithered toward them, her green scaly tail swaying back and forth.

  Who does she think she is? Lucy tightened the grip on her dagger. “Why should I be?”

  “Your would-be protector.” She ran long slender fingers through the corkscrew curls, a wry smile curving her lips. Two pointy fangs pressed into her lower lip.

  “Protector?” she asked, feigning insult. She yanked Rafe’s arms from her waist and pushed him away. “Do I look like I need protection?”

  “Lucy,” Rafe urged with a low growl, his silver eyes warning.

  “Shh,” she whispered. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “We can’t risk—”

  “Shut the hell up about risks for once, Rafael Deleon.” She angled her gaze back to Lamia. “He’s the one who needs protection. He’s an insufferable boor. He needs his ass kicked.”

  Lamia snorted. “Doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

  Rafe turned his head to Lucy and huffed, contempt rolling from him like a bad fog. “I’m full of surprises, unlike this woman. A real nag.”

  Her heart clenched and her body shivered. Why in the hell did it feel like her heart had just been ripped out of her chest?

  Rafe turned back to the forked-tongued bitch. “So, where’s your prized lackey? I thought for certain she’d come along.”

  “Anxious to rekindle your old flame, are you?” Lamia licked her lips. “I can summon her if you like.”

  “I find it hard to believe Larissa Harding, a woman who’d put a crowd to sleep, is a succubus.” Then again, it took Lucy a bit to accept the fact that she was one too.

  “You better believe it,” Lamia said, lunging at her. “My best creation, and I owe it all to Rafe.” She angled her gaze to Rafe, her long tail curling up his leg.

  Bitch!

  She gripped the dagger tighter. She should slam it into her overly-endowed chest. And here she thought Lilith was annoying. This woman made Lilith look like an angel.

  With a low grumble, Rafe yanked his leg from Lamia’s scaly grasp. “You won’t succeed this time.”

  “We’ll see, my darling.” Her bright red eyes flickered with venom. “I’ve yet to fail where you’re concerned.” She clucked her tongue, the hissing grating in Lucy’s ears. “So predictable.”

  “I’m not as naïve anymore.” Rafe crossed his arms, his muscles flexing against his leather jacket.

  “I have my ways.” She drew her tail back and slithered away.

  Lucy had enough. This woman would go down. “Hey bitch!” She raised her chin high, hand poised high with dagger glinting. “Don’t walk away.”

  “I’ve come to deliver a message. Not to fight.” She ran her fingers through her snaky curls. “No need to draw your weapon, Lucia.”

  “Deliver it,” Rafe said through gritted teeth.

  Shrugging, Lamia turned around, her serpent tail swishing. She angled her gaze over her shoulder. “Belial wanted to tell you what a gracious guest your sister is. A pity for you, isn’t it?”

  Ignoring the scaly bitch, Lucy gripped the dagger. “I have a message for Belial too,” she said, her voice calm yet firm. With cautious steps, she sauntered toward Miss Hiss. She raised her chin and stared her right in the eyes.

  “I suppose I can play messenger for a bit.” Lamia grinned, her pointy teeth poking from her mouth. If only she could kick them out.

  She bit her tongue, or she would’ve laid some not so pleasant words into this woman. Words she’d never dare speak in public. She’d put her family through hell. She angled a sidelong glance at the man who still stood strong and towering next to her. She’d put Rafe through hell. It was time to return the favor.

  Rolling her eyes, she examined her blood red painted claws. They had manicurists in the bowels of hell. Fancy that. “Get on with it already. We don’t have all day.”

  Lucy stood nose to nose with her, not even caring that her tail swished up her leg. “Oh yeah. Here’s my message.”

  “Lucia…” Rafe cautioned.

  Lucia? They were back to formalities again? No thanks to Lamia. She wouldn’t regret this one bit. It was fine to fuck with her, but involving her friends and family was a whole different story.

  “Spit it out.” Lamia’s eyes sparkled like two gaudy rubies.

  Oh, she’d spit something out. Right in her smug face. With a quickness she was soon becoming acquainted with, Lucy yanked out the dagger and held it even with snake lady’s heart—if the cold-blooded bitch even had one. She could simply slam the weapon in and send her wherever it was she came from. But now wasn’t the time.

  “I should kill you right now for everything you’ve done.” She twisted the knife into Lamia’s gauze-draped gown, her gaze blazing. “But you’re a tool, doing Belial’s dirty work.”

  “Belial doesn’t control me!”

  Lucy laughed. “Yet here you are, delivering his messages.”

  “I wanted to see my old friend.” She whipped her tail from her leg and wrapped it around Rafe’s waist, yanking him up against her lithe body. She was deliberately egging her on—and by the narrowing of Rafe’s eyes, pissing him off. “I see why Amanda chose you. So strong and virile.”

  She yanked her gaze back to Lucy, the gauche gems of her eyes still flickering. Curving her lips into a self-satisfied smile, she inched her tail near his equipment. She was going down now.

  Lucy poised her hand steady, ready to strike.

  “Lucy, don’t,” she heard amongst her swirling emotions. A female voice—her own voice. Her conscience. What a great time for her to make her presence known. Right when her dagger was ready to strike.

  “Lucy, don’t,” Rafe echoed, taking her other hand in his. The heat and energy that radiated from him was no longer foreign, but welcome and comforting.

  Lamia clapped her hands like a giddy schoolgirl. “Please tell me you haven’t fallen again, Deleon. You’re such a sap.”

  “No,” Rafe replied. Despite the denial, he still gripped her hand in his. “I only care about my mission and protecting Lucia.”

  “I’ve seen that hunger in your eyes before.” Lamia gazed down at the knife, still poised and ready. “When I sent my precious Amanda to you.”

  Now she knew what this bitch was trying to do. No way in hell would she let her manipulate Rafe. She’d injured him enough. Lucy saw it in his eyes. They swirled like two giant storms whenever Lamia said Larissa’s real name. She also saw it when Lamia mentioned his sister. She had to stab this bitch right now.

  And that’s what Lamia wanted her to do. Maybe
she’d play for a bit; make her think she’d won. But the rage building inside told Lucy something else. She played with fire. Lucy twisted the dagger into the gauzy gown. “If you’re going to visit Michigan in December, try to fit in.” Lucy withdrew the dagger and re-sheathed it. “Next time wear a coat.”

  Lamia threw her head back in laughter, the sound crackling in her ears. “The princess has a sense of humor. How divine.”

  Princess? She’d been trying to absorb the whole day’s worth of events and it finally caught up with her. Her father was king. She was a princess. Not a princess of anything she’d want to admit to in public, but still a princess.

  Bow to me, Lucia, Princess of the Sex Demons.

  She wrinkled her nose. Nope, not something she wanted broadcast over the eleven o’clock news. And she wasn’t all that into the bowing thing, anyway. And now she was rambling again. Probably another of Lamia’s tricks. Evil bitch!

  “I have more than a sense of humor, but I’ll save that for a different day.” Stuffing the dagger back into her jacket, she backed away. “And here’s my message to Belial: Fuck you.”

  Short and to the point. Lucy’s sort of message. With that, she swiveled around and grabbed Rafe’s arm. “Let’s go. The stench here is making me want to yak up my lunch.”

  “You don’t know who or what you’re dealing with, Lucia Anne Gregory! You’re making a grave mistake.”

  Shrugging, she led Rafe up the porch steps, not even giving the bitch a backward glance. She wouldn’t let Lamia get under her skin.

  Rafe leaned in, his breath teasing along her ear. “Very impressive. Even the strongest have failed against her charms.”

  “Thanks,” she said as the snow barraged them. “But I wouldn’t necessarily call them charms.”

  Rafe curved his lips into a reassuring smile. “Good point.”

  She liked the new Lucy—demon and all.

  Chapter 19

  As soon as the door slammed behind them, Rafael blew out a breath of relief. Not that Lamia didn’t deserve a silver dagger slammed into her icy heart, but Lucia didn’t deserve the guilt and anguish that went with performing such a cold-blooded act.