A Fiend in Need

by Maureen Child

  “So they tell me.” I leaned against the doorjamb, inhaled the tempting scent of oregano and asked, “So, is the doc a demon, too?”

  “Uh…uh…”

  “So that’s a yes,” I said, and shook my head. I mean, come on. A demon wants to hire a Demon Duster to clean her clinic? What was this? Suicide by Duster?

  “Look, the doc’s really great.” The nurse was still acting like she wanted to sprint for her life, but she kept smiling like we were friends. “She’s really into this whole karmic attitude. You know, live and let live? Plus, she figured since you clean for Devlin Cole and you haven’t dusted him yet…”

  See what happens? You sleep with a demon and bingo! There goes your reputation.

  “Anyway, she’s only half-demon, so it’d be like killing a human, and you don’t kill humans, right?”

  “Not so far.” Boy, could I talk tough or what? The truth was, I was still having trouble killing demons. Killing a human? So not gonna happen. Although now that Nurse Mole had said that, I had something to think about. Killing a half-demon was actually like killing a half-human. Right? How did that figure into my own karmic scale?

  Oh, God. This gig just kept getting more confusing.

  “She’s half-demon?”

  “Uh-huh. Half Tarrana demon. They’re demonic healers.”

  “Yeah?” You learn something new every day. I’d have to remember to ask Jasmine about Tarrana demons, because if Mole Woman was lying to me, I’d have to come back.

  She frowned and asked, “You’re not going to dust her, are you? I really need this job.”

  “Probably not,” I conceded. “But if she’s a healer you ought to have her look at that mole.”

  Magic Nights gleamed like a white palace in the early afternoon sunlight.

  It took up practically the whole block, and at night it was lit up like a wedding cake under a spotlight. Devlin’s club was almost impossible to get into. You had to be rich, famous or infamous to get a table in the club. And to get to the real club, upstairs in one of the private fantasy-sex rooms, you practically had to donate a kidney.

  Or, I thought, be sleeping with the owner.

  Yep, for the last month I’d been having semiregular sex with a semi-irregular demon. Hey, nobody’s perfect. Besides, Devlin had really helped me out when I needed it.

  These days, though my life kept getting weirder, my hoo-hah had never been happier. And with a happy hoo-hah, all things are possible. (Now that’s a bumper sticker!)

  Ever since that morning I’d been thinking it was time Devlin and I had a little talk. You know the one—to see where we were headed, if anywhere. What we were feeling, if anything, beyond mind-expanding sex. And what kind of relationship we actually had, if we had one.

  I’m pretty sure we did. I liked him. He liked me. And we both liked the sex. I wasn’t looking for promises of forever or white picket fences. But I guess I just wasn’t the whoopee-easy-sex-no-strings kind of Duster. It might have been easier if I were, but what could you do? I guess I needed some actual caring with my fling.

  So I parked behind Magic Nights, walked into the office and faced down Devlin Cole’s assistant/secretary/pit bull.

  Serena Sands and I had taken an instant dislike to each other when we first met, and nothing had happened to warm us up any. Personally, I think she wanted Devlin to herself and sort of figured that it was just too twisted for a demon and a Duster to be slapping the sheets together.

  So whenever I had to face her, I kept my hand on my squirt bottle just in case she ever decided to go against Devlin’s orders to leave me alone and clear out the field for herself.

  “Hi, Serena.” Big smile. Lots of teeth. Never let a demon know she makes you crazy.

  “Cassidy.” A bow of her head, very queen-to-peasant. Of course, to be honest, she looked pretty damned royal. Which made me wonder what the actual demon queen looked like.

  Serena stood at least six feet tall without the three-inch spike heels she consistently wore. Her legs were about five feet of her height, and her long, silvery blond hair fell in fairy-tale ripples down her back. I told myself that this was just her human costume. That no doubt in her real demon skin she was troll-like and had spinach permanently wedged into her fangs.

  I spun my squirt bottle like a gunfighter with a .45 and gave her a smile when she eyed me warily. “I’m just here to see Devlin. He available?”

  She smiled too.

  See how nicely we both lied?

  “Sure. He’s in the penthouse; just go on up.”

  Hmm. That was easy. Too easy, really. Usually she liked to make me cool my heels for a while before letting me through the gates to Good-time City. Whatever. Maybe she’d had an epiphany. Maybe I was starting to worry her. Maybe…I didn’t care what the reason was.

  I headed for the elevator, still swinging my Duster liquid, just in case she changed her mind and got a little feisty. The elevator opened with a silent swish, and then I was inside and hitting the button for Devlin’s private apartment at the top of the building. He also had a huge house on the point overlooking the ocean, but I’d never seen it. Hey, why drive out of town when you’ve got all of these nice, comfy beds right here where they’re handy?

  Just for a moment or two, I remembered our last night together. A week ago we’d used the swing room, and let me just say that a man with good balance is worth his weight in condoms.

  The doors opened on Devlin’s suite, and I came up out of my memories to stop for a second or two just to admire it. The room looked as though it belonged in a mountain cabin. Lots of wood, leather and big, overstuffed furniture. The drapes were closed, making the room dark, but a couple of the lamps were on, showing me the way across the floor in a stream of pale light.

  Not that I needed a road map. Heck, we’d been all over the room together. Terrace, couch, tabletop (my back hurt for days, but it had been worth it). My hoo-hah trembled and started lighting candles, readying for the party that was soon to begin. I was already hot, and I hadn’t even seen Devlin yet. Regular sex can really spoil a girl.

  Still absently swinging my squirt bottle, I wandered through the apartment toward the bedroom. There were noises coming from inside and I figured Devlin was relaxing with a some TV, so I sneaked up, wanting to surprise him with a little afternoon game of hide-the-demon-part. After our heart-to-heart chat, of course.

  I opened his door and stopped dead.

  My jaw dropped and my stomach pitched. I knew I was breathing because my head was getting light due to the hyper-ventilation going on.

  There was definitely a game of hide-the-demon-weenie going on, but I hadn’t been invited.

  In the wash of golden lamplight I watched Devlin—my demon—balance a naked, three-boobed freak of nature on his dick and give her a spin. Okay, maybe she wasn’t spinning, but I’m pretty sure my head was.

  “WHAT THE HELL?”

  Everybody stopped and looked at me. The demon babe on Devlin’s lap was smiling. Easy to understand why, since I’d been in her position often enough to know there was plenty to smile about.

  Devlin looked uncomfortable, though. Small consolation. “Cassidy…”

  “Who’s she?” I demanded.

  “Excuse me?” Three Boob demanded right back. “You’re the one barging in.”

  Her boobs—all three of ’em—were perfect: Big and bouncy and making my measly two seem even smaller than they actually were in comparison. And they looked real, too. Damn it.

  “Okay, let’s not get excited,” Devlin said, and tried to disentangle himself from Three Boob. She wasn’t having any of that, though. She locked her long legs around his middle and clung to him like melted chocolate on Saran Wrap.

  “EXCITED? WHO’S EXCITED?” I heard myself screeching, and couldn’t care. For God’s sake, you couldn’t trust anybody anymore.

  So much for our chat about our relationship.

  Pain shot through me, surprising me with its strength. It wasn’t the wounded-till-y
ou-bled feeling you get over losing the love of your life, though. This was more like sheer humiliation. Damn it, I’d really liked him. Now that I knew he was a lying, cheating dick of a demon, I was seriously pissed off.

  “Get rid of her, Dev,” the demon cling-on whispered, rubbing all three of her boobs against his chest like she was trying to start a fire. Maybe she was.

  “Get rid of me?” I shot Devlin a look that should have sizzled his ass to the sheets. Hey, when I’m hurt, I make sure everyone else in the room is hurt, too. “Yeah, let’s see you try that, Dev.”

  He was still trying to pry his babe from his body. “Cassidy, you’re overreacting….”

  “Really? Cuz I don’t think I am.” I waved one hand and noticed that I was still holding my squirt bottle. Funny. I’d forgotten all about it.

  What I wanted to do was reach into Devlin Cole’s amazingly broad and tanned chest and rip out his shriveled, wormlike heart. I wanted to cry, too. But I wasn’t about to do that in front of Three Boob. My fingers were itching to reach into that chest of his, but I’d probably regret it later, so instead I pointed my bottle and took aim.

  “Cass, don’t!”

  A gentleman demon to the last, he tried to shield Three Boob from the spray, but I was way too thorough for that. I sent so many streams of liquid shooting at the two of them, they had as much chance of drowning as they did of being burned. I was mad and hurt and feeling a little outboobed.

  The demon babe was howling and screaming and trying to wipe herself off, using Devlin as a towel. Devlin was trying to peel a hysterical female off of him and wipe himself down with the silk sheets at the same time. Me, I just stood there squirting the two of them. I watched them roll off the bed, crash onto the floor and drag the quilt up over their heads, and still I squirted ’em.

  Demon babe’s screams were piercing, and Devlin’s shouts were getting more frantic. All good. Finally, though, I’d had enough. There was only an inch or so of fluid left, and I might need that for emergency dustage. So I turned around, stomped back to the private elevator and jumped inside.

  I felt like I didn’t even need the elevator. I was so damned mad I could have jumped out the window. I could have stood in front of a speeding train and had it bounce right off me. I could have—The elevator dinged and let me off in the lobby, and I stepped out to face Serena’s broad smile.

  Made me glad I’d saved some demon spray.

  “Leaving so soon?” Her voice was a croon that stabbed at me. She’d set me up, knowing full well what I’d find when I went up to Devlin’s place. Fine. She wanted to play games—let’s see how good she was at ’em.

  I gave her a squirt right between the eyes, and she hissed in a breath while her skin bubbled and smoked. Serena leaped up, jumped across her desk and snarled at me. Her human costume slipped a little, and I caught a glimpse of red eyes and yellow skin. Hmm. Not quite so pretty when the makeup was off, were we?

  She charged me, six feet of furious demon, and I was more than ready to hit somebody. I could have just dusted her and let it go at that, but the truth was, with the mood I was in, it would be way more satisfying just to beat the crap out of her.

  She hit me hard, and we toppled over backward. She was pretty strong, and I felt the heel of my shoe snap as I went down, and that only made me madder. Serena hissed at me again, blinked, and her mask dropped completely: yellow skin, red eyes and raised ridges along her cheekbones. Her silvery hair looked even better against her real complexion than the phony one she normally wore, and that really pissed me off.

  I slugged her hard and felt satisfaction when her nose broke. Blood spurted over both of us, and when she howled I pitched her off me, jumped to my feet and swung my Marc Jacobs tote in a wide enough arc that it slapped into the side of her head and knocked her off balance again just as she was looking for her footing.

  “You stupid bitch,” she said, shaking that hair back out of her face and sending droplets of pink blood flying around the room. “You never should have come here. Never should have started up with Devlin.”

  “I didn’t start with him,” I told her. “He started with me!”

  She wiped her face with the back of her hand, smearing that ugly pink blood across both cheeks. “You were just a bump in the road. A diversion.”

  She really knew how to throw a punch. Even the psychological ones.

  “Yeah, well,” I sniped, “that’s over. Your boss is just a pile of lint.”

  “You DUSTED him?” Her voice hit a note that only dogs should have been able to hear.

  “What’d you think I’d do to him?” I countered, letting her believe Devlin’s being toast crumbs was all her fault. What the hell? Why should I be the only one in pain here?

  “You…you…” She looked from me to the elevator as if she were going to run upstairs and try to piece her boss back together again.

  “Back at you, babe.” I stepped in close, swung my right arm back to get full power and gave her one more punch just for the hell of it. She took off like she was shot from a cannon, and I watched her fly backward through the air. (Duster strength? Pretty impressive.) Serena landed hard, legs splayed, eyes practically jittering in their sockets. When she could focus again, I leaned in and said, “Just so we’re clear? Next time I see you, I’ll dust your ass.”

  Then I was out of there.

  Magic Nights, my ass.

  Tears stung my eyes, but damned if I’d cry over a two-timing demon. I should have known better. Shouldn’t have been steered down the road of sin by such a skilled driver. Shouldn’t already be missing the big jerk.

  I stepped out the office door into a patch of sunlight, and another damned demon jumped at me. This one had pointy ears, ragged hair and liver spots all over his green face. Two red horns curved up from his forehead, there was another horn dead center in his chest and yet one more a little lower that looked suspiciously like—Never mind; I didn’t want to know.

  Chapter Six

  “The money is mine, Duster!” The demon’s voice roared out around me just before its big freaking fist slammed into my jaw.

  Suddenly I knew what it felt like to fly. I sailed through the crisp autumn air. My heelless pump flew off, my brand-new Marc Jacobs tote skidded across the pavement and my skirt hiked up so high, I let La Sombra know I was wearing my best ivory thong. I landed on the sidewalk, thunking the back of my head so hard, my eyeballs rolled up into my skull. I felt my bones rattle and took a second to shake my head enough so that my eyeballs would settle into place. Just in time to see the demon charging me again.

  Well, damn it.

  As if this day weren’t crappy enough.

  The demon was practically drooling, and all of its horns were vibrating.

  Nasty.

  “Ohmigod!”

  Somebody screamed, and it wasn’t me.

  CRAP.

  This was new. I was fighting a demon right out in the open. Half of my still-pissed-off-and-slightly-scared brain noted that there were a few people watching this little show. A woman walking to her car (probably the screamer). A kid on a skateboard. An old guy on a bus bench.

  Great, I had an audience watching me get my ass kicked.

  It didn’t seem to bother the demon any. It ran at me, hands outstretched, long fingers clicking together as if it could already feel my neck snapping. Well, audience or not, I wasn’t going to just lie there and die. My own fingers curled around the bottle of demon spray I’d somehow managed to hang on to, and when Horny got close enough I gave him a good squirt.

  The demon howled, stopped dead and wiped at its eyes with those nasty fingers. While it was busy sizzling from the demon acid, I did one of those great, swing-your-legs-out-and-flip-to-your-feet moves. (Hey, all that training with Jasmine was starting to pay off. Not that I’d admit that to her.)

  Then I spun into a half circle and slammed my now-shoeless foot into the demon’s belly. He flew back like he was yanked on a rope, and I was so damn mad by this point that I was
on the demon almost before he landed.

  “You seriously picked the wrong day to screw with me!” I shouted.

  He scrabbled back on the gravel-dusted cement, still trying to clear his vision enough to kill me.

  “Do you know what I’ve been through?”

  “You bitch!”

  “That’s the best you can do?”

  He screamed at me then and made a grab for my leg, but I leaped straight up in the air and landed on the other side of him.

  So there I was, standing in a parking lot with my skirt hiked up to my waist, my hair studded with gravel from my landing, and bloody scrapes on my hands and knees. I had one shoe, and my new purse was totally ruined. I was pissed. Hurt. Disappointed.

  Tears were starting to form, but I choked them back. No way was I crying. Not yet anyway.

  “I am not a bitch!” I reached into his chest. He was still staring at me—stunned, confused and a little ticked off, when I ripped his heart out and sent him blowing into the wind.

  “Cool!” the kid on the skateboard shouted.

  Funny: I’d forgotten about the audience. Quickly I yanked my skirt down—barn door open, horse gone—and turned around in time to see the old guy on the bus bench drop his mouth open so that his lit cigar fell into his lap. He leaped up, beating at his crotch, then ran for it like I was some kind of deranged killer or something.

  Hmm.

  Maybe that’s how it had looked to the casual observer.

  I heard sirens getting closer and knew my day was about to get worse. I glanced over at the woman who had been walking to her car. She was already behind the wheel, and her tires squealed as she peeled out of the lot.

  Good move, Cass, I told myself. So much for the whole secret-identity thing. Although Buffy never had been able to keep her slayer status a secret, and she’d done all right. But then, Buffy’s demon lover had never cheated on her!

  Great. Plan your life on the workings of a TV show.

  I was all alone in the sun-drenched parking lot, looking like I’d been dragged behind a trash truck, when Logan wheeled into the parking lot, a flashing red light on the roof of his black SUV. He slammed to a stop three feet away, and his eyes bugged out at the sight of me.