Teague dove under a massive copse of trees and landed on the banks of a small creek. They’d met here on more than one occasion, and Teague figured it would be the most likely place to find him.
Water trickled over rocks, flowing downstream. By the side, a large but old and decrepit log stretched out. Teague shook it with a clawed foot. “Surgat,” he whispered, knowing he’d still hear Teague from a distance. Hell, he probably sensed Teague was in the area before he’d even landed.
In the distance, he heard motorcycles revving. These woods were popular for dirt bike enthusiasts, but none of the trails came too close to this part of the creek. The cold water ran shallow here, but farther away it filled out and deepened.
Teague shook the log again, disturbing a tree frog that sprang out and away. Teague jumped, startled by the little creature. Laughter exploded behind him. “Yeah, you wouldn’t miss that.”
“Ha! Never.” The scratchy voice continued to laugh as Teague turned. A dark hoodie jacket covered Surgat’s head and shoulders. Teague couldn’t see his face but counted it as a blessing. His long tail poked out of the back of his baggy jeans and flicked back and forth above his head. His clawed feet gripped the rocks around the bank. “I know why you’re here,” he said, pointing an accusing claw at Teague.
“Yeah?”
“I know things. Lots, lots of things.” He danced around, his tail flipping around, making him look a bit simian. Surgat may look harmless, but Teague knew better.
“I don’t doubt you. At all. Why do you think I came to you?”
He stopped dancing. “You’re very entertaining, Teague. I like you. Always have. And I always kept your secret. I saw your father bring the Osestra whore through his castle walls.”
Teague’s father’s estate could hardly be considered a castle, but Teague wasn’t about to correct him on it. “All these years, and you’ve said nothing?”
“Not my secret. But...I think you owe me for keeping it.”
“Ha! I might have before, but now it’s out. Why should I owe you? That’s not why I’m here, anyway.”
“Teague, Teague, Teague, my dear friend. That is exactly why you are here. You can’t get home. You’ve been disowned, disavowed. Kicked. The fuck. Out.” He pointed at Teague. “I can get you back in.” Surgat shrugged and lifted his hand up. Teague could see the claws shining and reflecting in the sun trickling through the surrounding trees. “But not what you want either, is it?”
Teague sighed and dipped his clawed foot in the cold water. “I know I’ve been exiled. Huh. Exiled from Exilum. Fitting.” He figured Beleth had something to do with it. It wouldn’t have come from his father. His dad wouldn’t have banned him, even if he could.
“I don’t want involvement in this, Teague. Sorry, child. Getting you back into Exilum would be better. Easier for me.”
“I need information. I have to know what’s going on back home. I don’t want to go there—”
“Neither do I.”
“But I need to know. This war is coming. Sooner than we’d imagined.”
“Beleth is on the move. His army is...what? Doing whatever it is they do...”
“Mobilizing?”
“Hm...yes, they move. Tired of training. They want to fight. They want to come here.”
Teague splashed his foot in the water. “I know you don’t want to get involved, but what do you think is going to happen? What’s going to happen to you? When this war gets going, Beleth will call on you.”
“I’m not helping him. Not helping Osestra, either. I learned my lesson there.”
Teague didn’t know the true story of what had happened. Maybe no one did anymore. It all went down long before he’d ever been born, and demons didn’t like to talk about it. Something bad must have happened for Surgat to have sided with Exilum, though.
But Teague needed current information, not past. “Gather news for me. Is Beleth coming? When? How big is his army? People talk, they brag. Shouldn’t be too hard to find out, right?”
Surgat walked around, pacing the edge of the bank. He let out a sigh. “If this war happens, I’m done—finished. Neither side will let me live. Whichever side wins. Exilum, Osestra—Osestra, Exilum. Neither trust me. And I sure as hell don’t want to help either of them. If Manna is merged with demons, I don’t want to be here.”
“If it’s taken by Osestra—”
“Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.”
Teague didn’t have to explain the consequences to Surgat. He knew first hand and probably better than Teague. “So help us. Help Manna. We want to fight them, fight both sides.”
“I know, but you’ll lose. You and your little halfling don’t stand a chance. Snowballs in hell and all that.” Surgat giggled and waved his clawed hand in the air.
“That’s the other thing I wanted to ask you.”
“What?” He stopped pacing and focused on Teague.
He didn’t care much for Surgat’s attention, either. His eyes glowed a sickly green beneath his hoodie. Teague swore he could see nasty green, glowing saliva dripping from an overly-fanged mouth. Nothing but darkness hid beneath his hood, and he knew better than to look too closely.
“We need allies. There must be more half demons here on Manna, despite the laws made against it. I know damn well demons have been...eh...you know...not playing by the rules.” Teague looked at Surgat and raised his eye ridges in question.
For a moment, nothing could be heard except the babbling of the water over rocks. Then Surgat burst out laughing. “Rule breakers! Horny fuckers!” Teague crossed his dark, boney arms and waited, not seeing what was so funny. “Your halfling. He’s, oh frog-shit, this is too funny. Dynäj!”
Teague had not known Surgat to curse or be informal. Laughing hysterically was completely out of character for him. “What?”
“Your halfling is the grandson of Pharzuph. This I know.”
“What?” Teague’s jaw fell open. Pharzuph had the power to invoke lust and fornication. Had Vern inherited those gifts, too? Possibly. Teague had certainly been taken by him. The men at the club fawned all over him, tripping over themselves to get as close as they could to the stage when he danced. But how he’d been treated in high school—bullied—it didn’t fit. Had it all been about misguided and misunderstood attraction? Teague didn’t have the answers. Back then, he had never even suspected Vern had demon blood.
“And you made him Szélküs. Your little plaything. It’s a surprising you two do anything but fuck.” He laughed even harder.
“We’re not that bad. And you’re off subject. There has to be more.”
“Oh, yes. There are,” he gasped out between bouts of laughter. “Ah...”
“Why didn’t Vern know? About being demon, I mean.”
“He got it from his mother. His mother was old Pharzuph’s offspring. The power doesn’t manifest in women. The human females.” He shook his head, almost knocking the hoodie off, but he grabbed it at the last second. “Females only pass it on. It makes the next generation stronger. But she didn’t know...so she couldn’t tell him. Her mother probably didn’t realize what Pharzuph was, either...she hadn’t been married to the guy. He knocked her up and split.” He let out an evil chuckle and skipped over a rock. “As demons do.”
Teague didn’t want to hear about the sordid past. It didn’t matter in the long run. “So you’re going to help us? Find information and help us find the other Manna demons.”
“Halflings. Not a good match to fight demons...” He took a step closer to Teague. The energy wafting off of him made Teague scramble to his feet and take a step back. “Like you. Halflings make wild magic. If you hadn’t learned side by side with Zepher, you would be able to do things...other things.” He cocked his head to the side. This time the hoodie fell off. The stuff of nightmares lived in that darkness. Teague screwed his eyes shut. “Unimaginable things.”
“Surgat!”
The demon huffed. “Fine. It’s back on.”
Teague
peeked out. He didn’t want to see Surgat’s true form. Even a glimpse would give him bad dreams for weeks or longer. “Help us?”
“I don’t want this war. If I have to choose sides...I choose Manna.”
“Thank you,” Teague said with a sigh.
“I won’t even charge you for it.” Surgat danced around, humming a tuneless song before adding, “This time.”
The trip back to Miami took longer than Teague expected and his energy had dropped too low. He’d had to stop overnight and rest. He picked a hotel in Gainesville and called Vern, but it rolled to his voicemail. He would be at the club. “I’ll be home some time tomorrow, babe. Be safe. I love you.” Teague hung up and fell back in the cheap motel bed, too exhausted to do anything else.
In the morning, he shifted to his natural form and floated up to the roof. The sun would help energize him. He needed to refrain from shifting forms for a while. Changing so quickly cost too much energy, but the trip would take so much longer if he traveled while invisible. His need to be near Vern tugged at his heart, but he couldn’t rush.
He crossed Florida diagonally, not keeping to the highways, but making a straight shot to Miami. The trip took him over Lake Okeechobee and the Everglades. The energy wafting off from the natural wildlife and vegetation refueled him before he hit civilization again. Refueling from the static energy of flora and fauna took a lot more time. It had been faster in the past when forests covered the land. Thankfully, there were multiple ways to recharge. He could almost feel the city sucking the energy back out of him at any given moment. He ignored the feeling since he couldn’t do much about it and headed across the city to where Vern would be shooting the commercial.
Teague had no clue what the commercial was for, but it would be worth watching. He floated down behind where the camera crew had set up. They had several cameras positioned around a wide, open courtyard. Sound booms and other equipment were set up around the open space.
It had arches, columns, and a big fountain off to the side. Most of the walls and columns were a yellow-gold stone, but some were gray like slate. The area had a lot of tropical plants scattered everywhere and some lined a paved driveway leading up and around the courtyard. The buildings behind the courtyard had Spanish tile roofs. There was also a garage with three wide arches with wooden doors and old-fashioned iron and glass lanterns above them. It looked like a Mediterranean dream.
Everyone buzzed around with things to do. He didn’t see Vern anywhere. No one would have noticed him through all the commotion, even if he would have been in his bat-like Exilum form.
After a few minutes, a couple of very nice convertible cars, one red and one black, pulled into the courtyard. A man jumped over and directed everyone where he wanted them. The drivers parked them to his specifications, each to the side of the main courtyard and framing the entryway beside the fountain.
The drivers got out and found niches to wait in while other people buzzed around. The cameras focused on the cars, giving Teague the impression they were the real stars of the film.
The man in charge, quieted everyone and made sure they were ready. Then he motioned to someone standing by doors on the inside of a set of arches Teague hadn’t noticed before. They opened the doors and dashed inside. Only a moment later, the door opened again.
The man in charge yelled, “Action!”
Vern stepped out of the doors like a European playboy. He wore white pants that hugged his hips and thighs exactly right. He had a gray shirt tucked in, open at the collar and a straw fedora in one hand. A pair of dark aviator sunglasses blocked his eyes, and his light brown hair had been brushed back off of his forehead. He didn’t walk out, no—he swaggered. His plump lips quirked up in a half smile.
Teague’s timid Vern had transformed into Vick, the sexy star commanding every eye in the place, including his. Vick tossed the hat into the red car. It landed on the seat. He took another half-step forward and cocked his hip. “Two for the show!” he said and ran his hand along the side of the car. Teague couldn’t see his eyes, but he appeared to watch something in the distance rather than his long fingers dancing over the car.
A woman walked forward, entering the scene from the direction Vern had been looking. She had long honey-gold hair and even longer legs. She wore a trench coat, which she promptly took off and dropped into the black car. Under the jacket, she wore a flimsy white dress, cinched at the waist with a smoky gray belt and high wedge-heeled sandals.
“We’d better go,” she practically purred the words and shook her head. Most men would take to their knees for this beauty, but not Vern. He gave her another smirk and grabbed her around the waist, tugging her up against his body.
“Why rush?” He jerked his head toward the car. “I can get us there in record time. Zero to sixty in less than three seconds. Every damn time.” His luscious lips formed a wide and knowing smile. “Never less from Viteure.”
“Cut. Great. Well done, Vick.” He walked over and put his arm around Vern’s shoulder.
Jealousy instantly surged through his blood. He couldn’t stand the thought of another man touching Vern. It was bad enough dealing with the low-lifes looking at him at the dance club. This? Too much.
He glided closer and whispered, “He’s taken.” The words and malicious intentions aimed at the director influenced him to remove his arm. He wouldn’t even know why, but his action was all that mattered to Teague. He lingered as close as he could get away with, wanting to protect what belonged to him.
Vern turned his head and looked directly at him. He nodded, and everyone probably assumed he was responding to the director, but Vern could see him lingering there, protectively watching. The whole situation only proved Vern’s skills as an actor.
The director asked to do it one more time. Vern smiled and winked at Teague, before heading back inside the building. It would be a long day watching Vern work, but Teague had nothing else he wanted to do.
Deciding to walk home after the commercial, they stopped to grab Cuban sandwiches for lunch. He could use the extra fuel, and they were so tasty.
“You were great. And sexy. You know?”
Vern’s shy smile made Teague want to eat it off his face. “Thanks.”
“I wanted to rip your director’s arm off.”
Vern laughed. “He was being supportive. Friendly.”
“You’re done with this one, yeah? The commercial?” Teague stuffed a piece of sandwich in his mouth, hoping to keep from saying the wrong thing.
“You’re cute all jealous and shit.” Vern winked at him and took a sip of his drink. “I don’t want anyone but you, Teague.” He shrugged. “I never did. But, yeah. We’re done. Commercials are mostly post-production. My part is over.”
“Okay, good.”
After they ate, Teague put his arm around Vern looking for comfort, but Vern didn’t object.
They headed toward Teague’s hotel only a few blocks up. They cut through an alleyway and slid in between two buildings, Coffee Kraze, where he loved to get his caffeine fix in the mornings, and an empty warehouse. It had an overhang, casting a shadow over the street between the buildings. A few palm trees by the road obscured them from sight of passersby. Teague meant to take advantage of their cover. He grabbed Vern and pushed him against the wall. He slid his hands behind him, grabbed Vern’s ass and lifted him up. To his happy surprise, Vern responded by wrapping his legs around Teague’s waist.
He nuzzled under Vern’s ear. “You looked very sexy in those fancy clothes today.” He loved Vern back in his faded jeans, but he’d been especially hot in the white slacks. “I may have to take you shopping.”
“You don’t have to buy me.”
“I’m not. I want to treat you. That’s all.” He kissed along Vern’s long neck, and Vern tilted his head back to give him more room. “Plus, I liked seeing you dressed up.” Teague licked and nipped at Vern’s neck, making him moan.
“Treat away...”
“You smell good, too.” He’d us
ed the hotel’s soap that smelled of vanilla and cedar with a hint of light citrus like grapefruit. He moved to Vern’s lips, pressing against them firmly. Vern’s hands plunged into his hair as he opened for Teague. Nothing in the three realms could have made him happier at the moment with Vern secure in his arms and his tongue probing his mouth. Except maybe having Vern’s cock in his hand.
He slid one hand to Vern’s waist to make his fantasy come true. He popped open the button and tugged at the opening. The zipper made a chuffing sound going down. “Ah...V, I want you. Want to feel you.” He barely got his fingers inside Vern’s underwear, touching the tip of his dick.
“Shh... stop. Listen...”
“What?” Teague peered down the alley.
Something on the ground, scurrying things, two of them about the size of a finger, maybe a little larger made their way, zig-zagging down the alley. They had multiple legs and eyestalks jutting out of the center of each of them. They skittered closer. Teague moved, stomping his foot, meaning to crush them, but one dodged out of the way, and the other scuttled up the side of the building.
“What the fuck? What are they?” Vern zipped and buttoned his jeans back up.
“Nothing good. You heard them?”
“Yeah.” Vern’s gaze focused on the alley behind them, and Teague turned around.
A large figure weaved in and out of the shadows, coming closer. It had a large head, bald and shaped funny, not quite human. Rather than a protruding nose, it had a hole or socket in the center of its face below two shifty eyes, glowing an iridescent blue. Teague could see its ribs and shoulder bones through its translucent skin. Some kind of gauzy wrap slung low around its waist. It held out hands and shook them, before diving into the shadows again. Its fingers dropped off of its hands and shifted into the scurrying things they’d seen before, but these had claws for teeth. Teague had heard of this creature and hoped to never encounter it, especially not coming against him.
Demon or Angel (Age of Exilum Book 1) Page 19
