by Kat Cotton
“Boring is good. No one will remember it.” He didn’t look at me as he said it. He just stared at the car. “It’d get good mileage.”
“Listen, one of us here is a trained Demon Fighter and one of us isn’t. I think the expert is the one we should be listening to.”
He bowed his head. “Sorry.”
“So, we’ll get the Mustang?”
“Are you letting your heart have control?”
He raised his head, not quite looking at me, and that dimple-piercing smile reappeared. I couldn’t argue with what he said. Not just about the car either. I’d never been a model of impulse control, that’s for sure, but I had to hold back for once in my life. There were too many unanswered questions in this situation.
I wasn’t even sure why I’d consulted with him about the car. It was my money, my decision. I never consulted, ever. Other people’s opinions mattered nothing to me. I wasn’t a high school girl who needed to call her best friends before making a move.
“Let’s look at the Mustang again.”
“I’m not sure Nic—”
“This isn’t about Nic,” I snapped. I wished he’d shut up about Nic. “If Nic wanted things done his way, he’d be the one hunting the Demon Child. But he’s not. He’s outsourced it to me.”
“Sorry.”
“And stop apologizing.”
His lips moved to form the word, moving into the shape of the “so…,” but he stopped himself before it actually came out. Instead, he frowned. An intense frown that spoke all his disapproval. I wouldn’t let that frown stop me.
I opened the door of the Mustang and sat in the driver’s seat. The car caressed me. A new car would never have that same smell. Leather and cigarette smoke so stale it’d embedded itself into the interior, the faint trace of a rushed fuck on the backseat, the ghosts of a thousand road trips. The smell of that car raked through so many lost memories; it should not have been nearly as comforting as it was.
“I need this car.”
He frowned again. Damn that frown. I couldn’t argue with it. I couldn’t wipe it off his face. Maybe, I could secretly Botox it away when he was asleep. Except, did Botox work on vampires?
“Maybe we should look at the white one again,” he said.
I sighed. My head actually agreed with him. The white car was the sensible option for stakeouts. But…
“If we have to give chase, that boring car will not cut it. It doesn’t have the grunt.”
“If we have to give chase, it’ll be in the city. We won’t need grunt.”
That was okay for him to say. I bet he’d never driven a car. Or, if he had, it was an old lady car with good fuel economy. I dragged myself behind him to have a second look at that white car.
Inside the showroom, the salesman watched us. When we’d first set foot on the lot, he’d approached us. All sleazy smiles. I’d said a few words to him and he’d run inside like a little bitch. I didn’t want his talking to distract me from my mission.
“You could always get this for the stakeouts, then come back for the Mustang later,” Kisho said.
“But it’s so boring.”
We stood in front of the car, giving it a once-over. I was almost convinced to buy it. It was the most practical option. We stayed side-by-side as though the car was the only thing on our minds. It might’ve been on his, but I had way more shit in my head than was good for me.
I had to ask about it. Why was I being coy? I’d never been coy in my life. Normally, my biggest issue was stopping things from being blurted out of my mouth. If I didn’t ask now, the questions would build up in my mind, getting too big for me to raise.
“Kisho, I need to ask…”
Kisho shoved me aside. Was he avoiding my questions?
Then I looked up.
A figure jumped over the roof of the car, all stereotypical demon with a long coat flying out behind him. He came at me like a punk. I couldn’t tell if he had weapons or not, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
“It’s okay, I’ve got it,” I said as the demon thudded to the ground.
His demon feet spun on the gravel, then he righted himself, ready for another attack.
Not if I attacked first, though.
“Don’t watch this,” I said to Kisho.
I pulled the silver blade out of my pocket, then threw my leather jacket to the ground.
As I tucked the blade into the back of my skirt, I thrust my breasts forward. The whole pin-up pose action going on. I even pouted my lips.
The demon stopped in midlaunch and stared.
I bent down slightly and fixed him with my sex stare. I lightly ran my tongue over my top lip as I pretended to pull up the leg on my stocking.
How dare Nic say he couldn’t see my sexual aura? You just had to look at the way this demon drooled to get an idea of how it worked. This was sexual aura at its finest.
I sized the demon up. He was a garden-variety fighting demon. All bulging muscles with tiny little horns on his head. Meaty hands with long, sharp claws. Not unattractive. He had to be someone’s minion, but I’d worry about that later.
His eyes never left my breasts, and you could see his little demon rising.
“Dude, we are making important car buying decisions here. You should not be interrupting. It’s just plain rude.”
He nodded his head, still drooling over my breasts. I’d wait until he was fully erect, then go for the kill. My blood boiled that he’d jumped us just as I’d gotten up the courage to ask about the thing with Nic. Damn demons and their lousy sense of timing.
I took another step, swinging my hip. As I walked, I reached into my waistband and pulled out the knife.
“Stay away from the Demon Child,” he said. The words struggled their way out of him, like he’d had orders to tell us that but he’d lost the will to do so. His voice sounded hoarse because the effort of saying them, of displeasing me, was more than his throat could handle.
He was so my bitch now. I took another step toward him, focusing on his face. As the distance between us narrowed, I smelled the demon lust on him. He made it too easy. I liked a bit of challenge in my temptation.
“Are you giving me orders? Because I don’t like that.” I kept my voice low and seductive.
He nodded. You could see the gulp in his throat.
My body almost touched his now. I ran one hand down his cheap polyester shirt, then twisted and smashed my fist into his face. The silver rings on my fingers seared into his demon flesh. He let out a piercing scream and reeled back in shock.
“Bitch!”
I punched him again. His flesh sizzled. He bought his demony hands up to his face, but it was a trick and he charged me, head down like a battering ram.
There was no sexing him now. My allure had completely worn off.
I ducked and swerved.
With the force behind him, he smashed into that white car, crumpling the fender. His demon claws scratched the paint as he tried to cling on, but his body slid down the car body onto the ground below. I winced as he dragged his nails down the metal.
I lunged at him, ready to plunge my knife into his chest.
He bounded to his feet, grabbed my hand and threw my knife under the car. Way out of my reach.
This guy was stronger than I’d thought.
I kicked, a gut-destroying foot to the belly. Enough to jar my leg.
He doubled over but righted himself almost instantly.
“Stay down, you bastard,” I screamed.
My next kick went to his knees, aiming to bring him down.
He laughed, then swung for me with those razor-sharp demon claws.
I ducked, but not fast enough.
Pain seared through my face. One of those claws scraped my cheek. Blood ran from the cut, but I wiped it with my hand and kept fighting.
Drawing a deep breath, I prepared to fight back. The scratch throbbed, but it wouldn’t kill me. And I wasn’t going to let a stupid demon defeat me.
Punch.
Punch.
Each punch left his flesh seared, but he kept standing.
He swung back.
My head recoiled, and a thud of pain went through me. I tasted blood in my mouth. Whoever had sent this guy wasn’t mucking around. But I was faster and smarter.
He charged at me again.
I jumped out of his way, but he’d anticipated that. I’d have gotten clean away, but my foot skidded on the gravel.
He crushed me to the ground with his body. Sulfur breath in my face, scaly skin on mine.
The weight of him forced the air from my lungs. My body screamed with the force of the blow. The rough gravel scraped my back. I scrambled to get out from under him. No luck. He had me pinned.
Move, you bastard. I shouted the words in my brain, but I didn’t have the capacity to say them out loud.
He didn’t need to fight me. If he stayed as he was, I’d end up squashed like a bug.
I tried kicking my legs but could get no force behind them. I tried getting my fingers free to gorge him in the eyes. I tried screaming. I shut my eyes, preparing for the worst.
Then, suddenly, I was free of him. I sucked as much oxygen into me as I could.
When I opened my eyes, Kisho stood near me, holding the demon by his neck.
I threw myself under the car, grabbing my blade. I wasn’t sure how long Kisho could contain him.
Before I offed him, I had to know one thing.
“Who sent you?”
The demon squirmed in Kisho’s grasp, trying to turn. “Ask him,” he said.
That made no sense. If Kisho knew who’d sent the demon, he’d tell me. The sides were pretty damn clear. Nic, Kisho and I on the side of “kill the Demon Child”. The mayor and his buddies on the side of “not kill”.
I thrust my silver blade into the demon’s chest.
The demon crumbled to a pile of demon dust that soon blew away and mixed with the gravel of the car lot.
I dusted my hands off.
“Thanks,” I said, smiling at Kisho.
“You could’ve been killed,” he answered.
His shoulders rose sharply with his breath, as though something disturbed him.
“Don’t worry, it’s all in a day’s work. I’ve gotten out of worse. But I much prefer the way you handled it.”
I wanted to reassure him, but he moved closer to me, a glazed look in his eyes.
When his body touched mine, my chest felt tighter than it had with the demon pinning me. He put his hands on my shoulders. My eyes became glued to his face. There was something different about him. The adrenaline of the fight? That made people act strangely sometimes.
His face came closer to mine then—he licked my cheek!
The blood from the scratch.
I should’ve been repulsed by his lick, but I wasn’t. It wasn’t a sexy thing either. I was just… nice. Weirdly nice, and comforting. I could tell he wasn’t about to go into a blood frenzy and attack me. He’d been way too gentle.
I reached for him, but he pulled away.
“Sorry,” he said, keeping his head bowed.
“No. It’s okay, it’s really okay.”
He bent down and picked up my jacket, dusting it off.
I wasn’t sure what to do with this moment. What did it mean when a vampire licked your blood? I was more into killing things. None of the vampire lore ever mentioned vampires being tender and gentle. It was all either feeding or frenzied sex. Often both at the same time.
Maybe it meant nothing, maybe a helluva lot.
“Come on,” I said, walking across the car lot. “I’m buying the Mustang.”
“But—”
“We can’t buy the boring car now. It has demon flesh encrusted in the fender. Plus, YOLO and all that.”
“YOLO?”
“You only live once.” Jeez, where had this guy been for the last ten years? Under a rock?
“I still don’t get it.”
“Maybe because you’re undead. But life is short, my friend. I need something fun.”
He was undead. I had to remember that. Even though he was totally hot and so unvampire-like, he’d tasted my blood. He was one of them. I had to watch myself around him. I had to watch myself around all of them. And I sure should not be relying on anyone else to help me out in a fight.
Chapter 12: Timon
“Okay, first we have to go see Timon,” I told Kisho. “He’s a bit weird with people, so stay right behind me.”
I drove around the parking lot at the market, looking for somewhere safe to park the car. I finally found a spot near the door.
“I hope it’ll be okay here. There are some dodgy people around.”
Although most of them were old ladies with shopping carts, you could never be too careful.
“I could stay in the car and wait,” Kisho said. “Then it’d be safe.”
“No. You have to come with me.” I got out the car and looked around to make sure no one was checking it out.
“But if he doesn’t like people—”
“Yeah, but sometimes you can get really good deals on boxes of mangoes, and I need someone to carry them for me.”
“I thought we were here for information.”
“Yep, the mangoes are just a bonus. And the donuts. The donuts here are crazy delicious. I’ll get you one.”
Kisho followed me into the market. Around us, a cacophony of voices yelled. Some kid played on the piano in the food area—the piano with the big sign saying, “Don’t let your kids play this piano.” Couldn’t people read?
Lots of cheap boxes of carrots, no cheap mangoes, though.
“Watch out,” I said to Kisho as a forklift came zooming right at us.
“Hey, those oranges are really cheap,” he said, pointing out a stall.
“Nope. I don’t shop there. One time I got a box of onions and they were rotten inside. And I have issues with that fat Greek guy. He tried to feel me up one time, then got all shitty. If he wasn’t trying to put his finger where it wasn’t welcome, I wouldn’t have broken it. Some people just don’t understand actions and consequences.”
We walked through the vegetable area, going around the outside of the meat and fish sections, then got to the stalls selling cheap suitcases and dusty toys. Kept going, right down the back. The Indian woman who sold the spices had closed up and moved out since last time I’d been here. All that was left was the lingering scent of saffron and cloves. The stall with the weird religious statues had closed too. I guess business didn’t do so well back here.
Right at the very back, in the dingiest corner, with flaps of canvas hanging down, was Timon’s stall. He did everything he could to discourage customers.
I lifted the flap.
“Wait a moment,” I told Kisho.
Inside, bookshelves lined the walls. The place stunk of old paper and strange herbs. I ducked, preempting whatever Timon would throw at me. Sometimes his greetings could be a bit rough. He seemed to have an endless supply of darts and daggers to throw.
I waited. Nothing. That was strange.
I lifted the flap, telling Kisho to come in.
“Timon,” I called.
I’d never known him not to be in his stall. I guess the dude had to go pee sometime. I think he slept on the pile of rags in the corner. I kicked it to make sure he wasn’t buried in there somewhere. Nope.
Just to check, I opened the secret door in the bookshelves. He could be in the back, working on a spell.
“Timon,” I called again.
The room, normally filled with potions brewing away and weird concoctions in jars, had been stripped. There were just empty shelves, a box of matches on the floor and a few coins sitting on one of the empty shelves. I put them in my pocket. That would pay for my parking.
“Timon?” I gave it one more try, but it seemed he’d gone.
Gone where? He’d been in this stall as long as I could remember. Was he even aware of the outside world? Maybe he’d been taken, but there was no sign of a struggle. The
room looked like it’d been carefully packed up.
Strange, but on the plus side, he wouldn’t be bugging me about the money I owed him.
“Let’s make tracks,” I said.
“Donuts?” Kisho reminded me.
“Oh yeah, we will not be leaving without donuts.”
We went straight to the donut van. I ordered a bag.
“They’ll take a few minutes,” the guy said.
I leaned on the van to wait. Kisho took his jacket off because the day had warmed up. As he raised his arm, his t-shirt rose, giving me a glimpse of his belly. He had to have done that on purpose. No guy would be unaware of what an utter turn-on it was. He was practically begging me to jump him. Now was the moment to make a move. I reached forward to touch him, then saw a streak of movement behind him.
I sprinted across to the cauliflower stall, knocking people out of my way, and grabbed that little man before he could escape.
“Timon!”
He had an old wooden box in his arms. That box was almost bigger than him. No wonder he couldn’t get away from me. He struggled and knocked me with the edge of the box, but soon stopped with the sound of glass rattling inside.
“Timon, I’ve been looking for you.”
“Go away.”
“Come on, don’t be like that.” I put my arm around him, tight, so he couldn’t get away.
“You’re nothing but trouble, and anyway, I’m leaving town.”
He gazed from side to side as though someone might be spying on us. Two old Greek ladies looked, but I think they were more interested in the “reduced for quick sale” boxes of mushrooms. They should know better at their age. Those mushrooms were ten minutes away from being plain mush.
I dragged him behind the big cauliflower crate, blocking him in with my body.
“What’s going on?” I asked him.
“I can’t talk about it.” Again with the furtive gaze.
“Yeah, you can.”
I leaned against him, trying to be vaguely threatening. It wasn’t like I’d actually hurt him, but it would help if he thought I could.
“I don’t exactly know, but all signs are pointing to big EVIL.” He shrunk into himself as he said that, as though just mentioning big evil would bring it to life.
“The Demon Child? That’s not such a big secret. It’s been all over the news.”
