by Xenia Melzer
Chapter Seventeen
“You think this is a good idea?” Now that the book club meeting was actually happening, Sammy seemed to have second thoughts on Barion joining them.
“No, it’s probably not. But we both love Barion, so we can’t tell him not to come and the others said it’s okay. We just have to take Mavis’ and Maribell’s baskets from them, in case they come armored again.” Dre wasn’t sure what to think of Barion’s sudden interest in meeting people, but when he came to the book club, at least Dre could keep an eye on him. If Barion got into trouble, Dre would be there to help—or stop—him. Unless he pissed off the witches. Then his little brother would be on his own. Dre loved Barion, but he wasn’t suicidal, not when he’d finally found his mate. He took Sammy’s hand. “Let’s just see what happens. We can’t change it now anyway.”
“I love your pragmatic view on the world.” Sammy started making the drinks for his friends while Dre put some left-over pastries on a plate. Today was Emilia’s turn to bring sweets. As Sammy had informed him, the vampire tended toward more exotic food, like Japanese mochi ice cream, wagashi and sata andagi. While Dre liked to try new things, he was a traditionalist when it came to his pastries, meaning he preferred cookies and pie and muffins over anything else. The plate with the pastries was his emergency ration.
A soft rustling at the tables let Dre turned around. Milo had already gone home. The kid had to study for another test, and the shop had been empty. Since he hadn’t heard the door chimes, Dre assumed his brother had arrived. “Barion.” He stopped short. It wasn’t his brother but Jon standing there, his hands folded in front of his body. “Oh, hi, Jon. I’m sorry. I forgot you come from downstairs. I was expecting my brother.”
Jon opened his mouth to say something but was cut short by Barion’s booming voice. “Did I hear my name?” Barion stepped forward from the section with the manga comics, his eyes gleaming happily.
“Yes. I mistook Jon for you. Jon, this is Barion, my younger brother. Don’t take anything he says seriously, and just in case he pisses you off, don’t forget that we have different mothers and I’m mated to your landlord. Barion, this is Jon. He’s a nice guy, so don’t bother him with your usual crap.”
“Geez, brother, I feel so loved.” Barion turned to Jon, offering him his hand, only to pull it back when he seemed to remember what Dre had told him about the zombie’s aversion to touching. “Hi, Jon. I’m so sorry you only had my brother as a role model for demons so far. I can assure you that we weren’t all born with a stick up our asses. Some of us are actually fun to be around.”
Jon grinned broadly. “Hi, Barion. I like you. You’re funny. Who do you think should end up on the Iron Throne?”
Barion’s eyes started to gleam. “A man after my heart. Daenerys, of course, with Jon as her loving husband and Drogon and Rhaegal to protect their children. Tell me, what do you think about Lagertha?”
“I love her. A strong woman, who knows what she wants and who has no qualms taking it. Though I do have a weak spot for Aslaug. I think she was misrepresented in the series.”
Barion smiled broadly and gestured toward one of the couches. “Shall we sit? I can feel a longer discussion in our immediate future.”
Jon nodded shyly before sitting down next to Barion. The two started chatting like they’d known each other forever. Dre turned to Sammy with raised brows. All he got was a shrug.
When Sammy was done making everybody’s favorite beverage, the others started trickling in, as if they had smelled it. Mavis and Maribell were the first, followed by Amber and Emilia, who had indeed brought an assortment of Japanese sweets, which made Dre grateful for the pastries he had secured. Last were Troy and Declan, who immediately snatched two of the green mochi ice creams, happily munching on them while they settled next to Amber. Once everybody was seated, Sammy cleared his throat. “Welcome, everybody, to our book club meeting. Over there is Barion, Dre’s little brother, who has joined us today to see if the book club is for him.”
Barion waved, meeting the gaze of everybody. Declan and Troy waved back, Emilia and Amber gave a nod, and Mavis and Maribell just stared. Their purses were too small to host a lot of curses, so Dre allowed himself to relax slightly. Sammy went on, recapitulating what they had done during the last meeting before introducing the new topic. “Now what were your impressions of the Cthulhu Cycle by H. P. Lovecraft?” He looked around.
Both of Barion’s brows arched up. “I’ve meant to ask this before, brother. Wasn’t Lovecraft that human Aunt Corrallione hooked up with for some time?”
Dre rolled his eyes. Leave it to Barion to ruin his big surprise. “Yes, Barion. She was. And thank you. I’ve meant to mention this little tidbit casually during discussion. Thanks to you, my grand entrance is ruined.”
“Wait, Lovecraft actually knew a demon?” Amber’s eyebrows almost reached her hairline and she looked at lot more elegant doing it than Barion.
“‘Knew’ is one way of putting it,” Barion huffed. “They were fucking like bunnies in the spring.”
“Barion! Watch your language.” Dre threw his brother an angry look.
“Don’t mind the language. We’ve all heard worse.” Emilia grinned. “But knowing that Lovecraft actually had a reliable source for his stories sheds a different light on it all. Now, Dre, Barion, help us find out what is true and what is fiction in the Cthulhu Cycle.”
“This is so cool! I’ve always wondered how Lovecraft managed such great details.” Jon sounded so excited that it had Dre smiling. He truly liked the zombie and seeing him happy woke warm feelings in Dre’s chest.
“Well, I guess it’s time to share some stories, don’t you think, Barion?” He winked at his brother, who returned the gesture.
“Don’t you dare fool us, boys!” Mavis gazed at them sternly. “This is too good to be just a tall tale.”
“We would never dare, ma’am.” Dre bowed, took a sip from his tea and leaned back in his seat, an arm over Sammy’s shoulder. “Where do we start?”
“How about Nyarlathotep? I always wondered what Lovecraft had to smoke in order to make him up.” Declan stole the last mochi ice cream.
“Yes, Nyarl. He actually has a real counterpart in the demon realm, though he’s imprisoned for life—which in our case means forever. Bastard deserves no less. As for his role in the Cthulhu Cycle…”
The evening just flew by and before Dre knew it, he and Sammy were closing the shop behind their friends while Barion insisted on accompanying Jon down to the cellar. His brother had made it clear that he would go directly home afterward, which left Dre and Sammy in blissful solitude.
“What do you say, mate of mine? Shall we go upstairs and deal with the dishes tomorrow?” Dre kissed Sammy’s cheek.
Sammy only hesitated for a second before he abandoned the dishes and went into his arms. “I think Mavis and Maribell have decided I can do the cleaning up now that I have help.”
“They helped you before?”
Sammy made a vaguely magical gesture with his hands. “They cheated. It drove Declan and Troy nuts with jealousy.”
“I can imagine! But they’re right. You have me now, your strong demon warrior, and the mess I can’t handle has yet to be made.”
“Oh, I’d love to make a mess, my love.” Sammy waggled his eyebrows. Dre felt his cock taking an immediate interest.
“I can help you with that, mo grah thu.” He whisked Sammy in his arms and didn’t bother with the stairs. One swipe of his claw and they were in Sammy’s—their—bedroom, ready to create the mess of messes after a wonderful evening spent with their friends.
Life couldn’t get much better.
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Wanted: Demon Familiar
Bellora Quinn and Sadie Rose Bermingham
Excerpt
Neil set the bushel of summer squash into the panel van with the rest of the produce ready to go to market tomorrow morning and
jumped down. Mr. Yaetz patted him on the back. “That’s the last one. Good job, Neil. You best head home now. Don’t want to get caught outside the wards after nightfall, ’specially not in that fancy car.”
Neil stifled a wince and forced himself not to look around to see who might have overheard the mention of his ‘fancy car’. Mr. Yaetz didn’t mean anything by it, but the car was a sore point with his co-workers at the small greenhouse and urban farm lot. None of them had their own vehicle, much less a sleek convertible sports car. Explaining that it was his mother’s, not his, hadn’t stopped the digs about his ‘slumming with the common folk’ or brought him any closer to the camaraderie the rest of them shared.
“Thanks, Mr. Yaetz. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Neil told him and turned toward the front lot. He glanced at the horizon automatically, judging how much time he had. About forty-five minutes, maybe an hour. More than enough for the short drive home. He wasn’t likely to come across any shadow beasts here on the outskirts of the city but a pack hunting farther afield was always a possibility. Of course, if he did run across shadow beasts, they would have to catch him first and the Maserati was both fast and agile.
Neil slid behind the wheel and the powerful engine purred to life. With the sun slowly sinking behind him, he swung the car out onto the road and headed for home.
As expected, Neil pulled into the driveway with plenty of daylight left and no encounters with any creatures that came out after dark. Climbing the front steps, his thoughts preoccupied with a shower and dinner, he almost missed the broken seal on his front door. He stopped cold. The warding glyph, usually a subtle shimmering gold, was inert, dull gray and cracked with lines of black. A sick knot cramped in his belly and Neil pressed his thumb down on the latch and pushed the door open but hesitated on the threshold.
“Mom?”
He listened. No answer.
Neil stepped into the foyer and slowly moved into the hall. A picture had been knocked off the wall and the broken glass from the frame glittered in the fading sunlight streaming in behind him.
“Mom?” he called again, louder.
Something crashed in the kitchen, the metallic clatter of pans hitting the tile floor. Neil ran in that direction.
His mother screamed, “Neil, get out! Get out!”
Heart hammering, he skidded into the kitchen. A black-clad, hooded man held on to his struggling mother. Another man stood next to them with a curved knife in his hand—his eyes were flat black and icy cold as they slid over him. Neil rushed them, yelling, “Get away from her!” The man with the knife lifted his free arm and flung the outstretched fingers of his empty hand at him. Neil hit the stop spell so hard it jarred him from teeth to toes, knocking him on his ass.
“Neil!” his mother shrieked.
He lifted his head in time to see the man who had floored him lift the knife and draw it down the side of her throat and across her shoulder in two professional, vicious slashes. The other man let her go as her eyes went wide and her hands flew up to clutch at the wounds. The blood didn’t spray everywhere like it did in the movies. It welled up in a gush of red that soaked the front of her shirt as she choked and gasped then fell down on her knees.
“Mom! No!” Neil scrambled to his feet. The two men moved toward him in unison as his mother crumpled, face down on the floor. Her body sounded like a wet rag hitting the tiles and a shocking pool of red spread under her.
“Take him,” the one holding the bloody knife said. His voice was low, emotionless and without accent, like an automaton in one of the old films they occasionally streamed when the comms satellite was functioning.
On autopilot, Neil grabbed the pendant that hung on the chain around his neck and ripped it off, throwing it on the floor. The man reached to stop him, but it was too late. The glass pendant shattered and a wall of noxious smoke rose between him and the killers. It wouldn’t hold them long, a minute if he was lucky. Probably less. He turned and ran back down the hall, fleeing the house.
He stumbled down the steps and fumbled the keys from his pocket, hitting the lock button. He yanked the door open and was shaking so badly he dropped the keys on the floor.
“Fuck! Fuck!” He reached down and his fingers just touched the ring as the killers came running out of the front door. Neil grabbed the keyring and jammed the right key in the ignition. For one horrible second, he was sure it wouldn’t start even though he’d just driven the car home. The engine turned over as smooth as a kitten’s purr and he slammed the shifter in reverse just as the man with the blade grabbed the driver’s door handle. Neil put his foot down on the pedal. The tires squealed and the car shot backward down the driveway and into the street.
Blood pounded in his ears, almost drowning out the engine sounds as he threw the car into drive and floored the gas, clutching the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He looked in the rear-view mirror as he sped away. They would come after him. He turned at the next intersection. Then turned again. And again. He tried to focus on what to do next but all he could see was the shock and anguish on his mother’s face before she fell, and that bright pool of red spreading out under her. He looked in the mirror again but saw no sign of the men that had killed her. That didn’t mean anything. They could come, he knew it. He was heading out of the city following pure instinct, but now he slowed the car for just a moment. At the next turn, he doubled back the way he’d come.
Out of the city might seem safer, but it wasn’t. He had little money and the car would take him only so far. He needed resources.
He forced his fingers to relax on the steering wheel but his hands still shook. When he took a breath, it was shaky too. The red had been so stark against her blonde hair. Her eyes…had they been blank before she fell or after she hit the floor? No. No he couldn’t think of that now. He raised and hand and swiped at his wet cheeks.
Bone Men. Their name whispered across Neil’s mind in his father’s voice, from one of his many lessons. Assassins. Twisted by the sorcery that enhanced them, marked by the lives they took. Had she been their target? Was her death retribution for something his father had done? Or…or were they there for him?
His mind raced as fast as his pulse and the car he was driving. He took another deep breath and eased his foot back off the pedal a few degrees. He needed a clear head. He needed a plan. But first he needed somewhere to hide. Instinct told him to find someone he trusted, but his training overrode that idea. He could hear his father’s voice in his ear again. Trust no one, Nielob. If they come for you, go to ground. Speak to no one you know. Hide and wait. I will find you.
Not if he could help it. If he had his way, he’d lose both the Bone Men and his father, for good. The car would get him a good distance but he couldn’t keep it. It was traceable. He’d drive into the city, find someone he could sell the car to for scrap and use the money to get a ticket to as far away as it would take him.
He couldn’t take the car directly to a salvage yard without a title, too risky. He needed a fence. Months ago, while he’d been watering seedlings at work, he’d overheard Carl bragging about how his uncle was going to get a real car, one with a combustion engine. No one had believed him and Carl had gotten mad. Insisted his uncle knew a guy that dealt in contraband autos in the city. Hammersfell Road, next to the old Ackard Motors factory. There was a warehouse where they had raves. The fence organized them. Neil had no way of knowing if the bragging was just lies, but he had filed the information away anyway. His chin gave an odd quiver and the tightness in his throat squeezed hard enough to choke him. No. He couldn’t give in to tears now. He couldn’t afford to let out the sobs that threatened him. A safe place first. The grief tasted of bitter acid and wanted to strangle him, but he swallowed it down and kept going.
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About the Author
Xenia Melzer was born and raised in a small village in the South of Bavaria. As one of nature's true chocoholics, she’s always in search of the perfect chocolate experience. So far, she’s had about a dozen truly remarkable ones. Despite having been in close proximity to the mountains all her life, she has never understood why so many people think snow sports are fun. There are neither chocolate nor horses involved and it’s cold by definition, so where’s the sense? She does not like beer either and has never been to the Oktoberfest— no quality chocolate there.
Even though her mind is preoccupied with various stories most of the time, Xenia has managed to get through school and university with surprisingly good grades. Right after school she met her one true love who showed her that reality is capable of producing some truly amazing love stories itself.
While she was having her two children, she started writing down the most persistent stories in her head as a way of relieving mommy-related stress symptoms. As it turned out, the stress-relief has now become a source of the same, albeit a positive one.
When she’s not writing, she translates the stories of other authors into German, enjoys riding and running, spending time with her kids, and dancing with her husband.
Xenia loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website details and author profile page at https://www.pride-publishing.com
