by J. D. Brown
“You’re kidding,” said Angie. “Again?”
“I’m telling you, there’s a nest of them around here somewhere.” But five in one week? Lyn furrowed her brow as some of her studying came to use … her demon studies, that is.
Kimaris demons were loners. They didn’t travel together or live together. In fact, they were quite territorial. So why the sudden flocking to my apartment? “Hey, can you get—”
“Way ahead of you, sister.” Angie ran to Lyn’s room.
Lyn went to the hall closet. She shoved her feet into her shiny new biker boots—her birthday present from Angie—and grabbed a protection charm she made using instructions in Gran’s journal. No time like the present to test its effectiveness.
Angie returned with Channing in her hands. “You never told me what happens when a Kimaris demon dies.”
“Oh, they fold up into a neat little pile of sand and blow away in the wind like a dandelion.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.” Or absolutely not. Lyn hoped the wild spray of ichor would convince Angie to postpone the rest of their study session.
“Okay,” said Angie. “You ready?”
“Darling, I was born ready.”
Angie handed her the katana, and Lyn led the way out of her apartment.
“You know, I think it’s great what you’re doing. Following in Lolly’s footsteps.” Angie’s hand glided over the railing as they descended the stairwell.
“Only because it was your idea this time,” Lyn huffed. “When I wanted to fight the Duke it was all ‘No, Lyn, don’t be crazy, Lyn, you might get hurt, Lyn.’”
“Well, you did get hurt.”
She stopped and glared at her friend.
Angie winced. “Sorry. Forget I said anything.”
“Eh, I’m over it.” Lyn waved her hand as though clearing the air between them, then continued down the stairs.
“You do know I’ve always thought the Daughter of Eve thing was cool. And now that you’re getting your education straightened out you’ll be much better prepared.”
“Oh, yeah, definitely. I’ll be whacking demons left and right with my immense use of the Pythagorean theorem.”
“You know what I mean. Lolly would be proud of you.”
Lyn smiled as they reached the main entrance. “Of course, there’s a lot you can learn on the job too. For example; the first rule of demon hunting—always give them Hell.” She karate-kicked the door open with the sole of her boot.
Only it didn’t open.
“Oh man, that was my cool blockbuster moment.”
Angie sighed, turned the doorknob, and pushed. “Rule number two: remember that you can’t afford to break any more private property.”
“Hmm, I don’t think that’s in the guidebook.”
“I’m insane for being your friend, you know that?”
“Every day, Louise, every day.”
Angie glanced at the wide-open entrance and shrugged. “Want to do a sexy blockbuster heroine walk into the sunshine?”
“Hell yes!”
Her bestie swept her hand in front of her, making a go-ahead-and-have-fun motion.
Lyn stepped up to the metal door frame. She unsheathed Channing and slung his beautiful, gleaming glory over her shoulder. Then, she performed her best catwalk down the stoop, sashaying her hips.
Nailed it.
The Kimaris demon rolled over and hopped to its hoofed legs. Its scaly, curved fishtail lifted in warning, like a scorpion sizing her up.
“Hey,” Angie called out from the top of the stoop. “Didn’t you say Kimaris demons are poisonous?
Oh fudgsicles, she’s right.
As if the Kimaris had heard her, the fin-like end if its tail split open to reveal a stinger.
No biggie; she had a stinger of her own. The katana glimmered in her hand, its weight a deadly extension of her arm. She took aim, then watched as four more Kimaris demons emerged from the shadows like ghoat-sized cockroaches.
Dude …
“Angie, go inside. Do not open the door until I say so.”
“Everything okay?”
Lyn surveyed their surroundings. A single row of parked cars lined the narrow sidewalk, backing right up to the street. It was a gorgeous day. The summer heat had wound down to a more comfortable seventy-degrees and people were out enjoying the fresh air. Which meant Lyn looked positively insane brandishing a weapon against a heard of invisible demons.
Just another Tuesday in Paradise, right?
“There’s five of them,” she told Angie. “They must’ve crawled out to check on the injured one.” Even though the original Kimaris demon was totally fine. He—or it—along with all his comrades looked right at her.
“What about you?”
“Dang it, Angie, this is no time to argue. At least I can see them.”
“Point made,” said Angie. “Going inside now.”
Lyn waited until she heard the door click shut. “All right you little pests, time to meet your maker.”
She swung at one, but it countered with its tail. The scales were hard, like armor. She pushed her weight into the sword, shoving the creature back while two others advanced on her. She swung Channing in a low arch, encouraging them to keep their distance from her calves. One of them made a noise. It sounded like, ‘Bland good.’ Another joined in with, ‘A-walk-ehns’
Wait, did they just speak? She didn’t think Lesser demons could talk, but these two seemed to be trying.
“Blaaand.”
“Good.”
“A-walk-ens.”
The two Kimaris demons took turns bleating each word like a chorus of terribly off-key children. The other three formed a barrier between her and the two attempting to communicate. That’s when she realized they weren’t attacking—they were just trying to protect the messengers.
“Dude,” she said out loud. “W.T.F.?”
“Bland.”
“God.”
“Ah.”
“Wake.”
“Ens.”
“Bland.”
“God.”
“Awake—”
“All right already, I get it. Bland god awakens. No idea what it means though. Maybe offer your god a chili pepper?”
A couple people stopped along the sidewalk and blinked in her direction. Their dog barked like crazy, so they didn’t stay long. Lyn considered holding her cell phone to her ear so she wouldn’t look so insane, but she knew better than to compromise the grip on her sword.
“Blaaand gawd,” the Kimaris demons repeated.
Boy, this was getting old fast.
Then, suddenly, Lyn remembered what Dantalion had said to her: “Would you like to know how the Blind God feels about you?”
Dantalion had referred to Sam as the Blind God. Did the Kimaris demons know him as the Blind God too?
“Do you mean blind god awakens?” she asked them, fully expecting a man in a white suit to throw her in a van headed to the looney bin.
“Bland god awakensss!” The demons bounced up and down on their hooved legs, and Lyn held her breath so she wouldn’t laugh. She failed and a chortle escaped through her nose. She couldn’t help it. They were kind of cute when they were excited. But, ‘the Bind God awakens?’ What did that mean?
“Okay, so … make him coffee?”
And just like that, the Kimaris demons scattered into the shadows and disappeared.
Well, that was weird. Hmm … The Blind God awakens?
Even if the demons were referring to Sam, why tell her? Was it a warning? A cry for help? Was Sam in trouble? When wasn’t a Greater demon in trouble? Trouble was kind of their forte, wasn’t it? Right up there with chaos and death. What the heck did she care?
Maybe it was bait. For what, she had no idea, but if Sam or the Duke or any other demon thought she was going to fall for it, they could bite her.
Lyn turned around, climbed the stoop, and reached for the doorknob. The scent of brimstone glided over her senses and
she paused as her breath misted in front of her.
Now what?
She faced the street.
On the other side of the road, in all his blue-eyed glory, wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt as though he didn’t belong anywhere else in the world, stood Sam. He grinned that super-model come-hither smile of his, all smoldering and dangerous, then took a step back and disappeared.
Lyn started—she hadn’t expected the disappearing act—then scoffed under her breath. Quantum leaping, right? She studied the vacant spot where he had stood a moment ago, then shook her head as her mouth curved into a knowing smirk.
She turned to go inside, but hesitated. Just in case any Kimaris demons were still hanging around, she decided to voice her thought out loud.
“Round two, bitches.”
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Never Save a Demon
By J.D. Brown
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About the Author
J.D. Brown knows vampires exist because she’s dating one, and no he doesn’t sparkle. A magnet for subcultures and weirdness, J.D. was that socially awkward girl with more fictional friends than real ones. As a child battling a hearing loss and a medical condition called Muckle-Wells Syndrome, J.D. found comfort in books where strong women always saved the day and got the guy. An obsession with Charmed, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer lead J.D. to believe that her mutated genes made her something more, not something less. Thus, her stubborn flare to persevere was born.
A lover of fine cuisine, coffee, and shoes, J.D. never understood why shoe stores don’t serve Starbucks and soufflé. She resides in Illinois where she writes urban fantasy—a.k.a. vampires for adults—and has political debates with her dogs. She loves to hear from fans and is active on Facebook.com/AuthorJDBrown
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