Fiends and Familiars

by Dunbar, Debra

  So I wasn’t going to evict a reclusive badger living a hundred yards from the werewolf compound just because some wolf named Bruce with poor personal hygiene had gotten himself sprayed.

  I made Clinton go back to the compound, then I knelt by the sett once more, hoping this badger wasn’t overly grumpy when awakened.

  “Mr. Badger? I’m so sorry to disturb you during your sleep, but I need to discuss something with you. It’s about the incident the other night with a werewolf?”

  The furry form grumbled then twitched, his long claws scratching along the dirt.

  “Badger, I know it’s early for you to awaken, but I need to talk with you.”

  Go away.

  I recoiled, not because of fear, but because of shock. My gift allowed me to communicate with animals. It also allowed me to communicate with shifters in their animal form. Thus I knew very well that a wolf expressed himself in a far different manner than a werewolf on four legs.

  This wasn’t a badger. At least it wasn’t a badger-badger. It was a werebadger.

  Shifters continued to retain some of their animal traits in their human form, so although this guy probably preferred to stay up all night and sleep all day, he was perfectly capable of getting his ass up and out of his sett to talk to me.

  “Hey! You!” I shouted. “I’m Adrienne Perkins, a witch of Accident. Get out of there and talk to me right now or I’ll have you tossed outside the wards and banished.”

  The werebadger rolled over and opened an eye. He might be here under the radar, keeping his presence a secret by hiding out in his animal form, but I was sure he knew the rules and regulations of being in Accident. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here when badgers typically weren’t found on the east coast.

  Slowly he made his way out of the tunnel. I backed up to give him room and he shook the dirt off his fur, stretching a bit before transforming into his human form.

  A naked human form.

  I was used to seeing naked shifters, naked fae, and the occasional naked human, but I didn’t know this guy and he was…well, he was fairly impressive in the reproductive organ department.

  I tried not to stare. “A werewolf pack is taking possession of this section of the mountain, and the other night you sprayed one of them.”

  He wiggled his hips making things bounce around. “He deserved it, the wanker. Guy was poking at me with a bloody stick.”

  I had no idea why a man who shifted into an American Badger was speaking with a British accent, but it wasn’t the weirdest thing I’d ever encountered in my life, so I let it go.

  “Did you identify yourself as a shifter?” I’m sure Bruce thought he smelled funny, but given that we don’t have badgers here, he probably thought this shifter was just a weird animal—a weird threatening animal with huge claws.

  “I shouldn’t have to shift forms just because that fool didn’t recognize me. It’s rude to poke someone with a stick, whether they’re an animal or a shifter.”

  I agreed with that. And wouldn’t Bruce be mortified to realize he was actually annoying another shifter—well, annoying not-on-purpose. Bruce and many of the other werewolves did plenty of annoying on purpose.

  “You’re going to have a hard time living in your badger form this close to a werewolf compound,” I warned him. “Be prepared for a lot of them to mistaken you for a non-shifter.”

  “Then they better be prepared to smell like old gym socks for a few days,” he replied smugly. “I was here first and I’m not moving.”

  He had a point. And if we’d known he’d dug a sett here, or that there was a werebadger living inside the wards, we would have let Clinton know to choose land farther away.

  “Officially you weren’t here.” He started to speak and I held up a finger—not my middle one because I’m polite. “We don’t require anyone to announce their presence or register or anything, but this is exactly what happens when we have supernatural beings living here that we don’t know about.”

  “I’ve been here three months,” he complained. “The food supply is good. I’ve already dug my sett—and can I tell you how unpleasant it is to dig with all the rocks in the ground here? Thought I was going to need a demolition hammer. Plus winter is right around the corner. I’m not moving.”

  “Then you need to learn to get along with the werewolves. Be a good neighbor. Don’t spray them, and let them know you’re a shifter if you encounter them.”

  He reached down to scratch his balls and muttered something about territory and people waking him up in the middle of the day.

  “How much territory do you need?” I asked, forcing my eyes up to his face. “I can’t do much about the noise with the compound so close and the construction going on, but perhaps you can sleep farther back in your sett so it doesn’t disturb you?”

  He scowled. “During the day I’d like it if everyone can keep to their side of the stream. At night too, but I like to head out to where they’re digging that road to find some dinner, so I probably won’t be here at night.”

  I nodded. “I’ll have the werewolves flag your area, although they may need to use the stream itself. As for dinner, they won’t be eating the same things you are, so you don’t need to worry about them taking your prey.”

  Small mammals made up a good proportion of an actual wolf’s prey, but werewolves tended to do their shopping at the supermarket or rely upon domesticated animals and farming, and when they were in their animal form, they were hunting larger prey.

  He nodded, then looked over to the compound. Something about the expression on his face gave me an idea.

  “Good neighbors socialize,” I offered. “Perhaps the werewolves can include you in the occasional dinner. They put on quite a barbeque.”

  He thought about it a moment then nodded. “Okay. But only occasional. I don’t like being human very often. And I’m not sure they’d want me to reciprocate unless wolves like eating earthworms.”

  I doubted that. “No, it’s only right for them to play the hosts since there are so many of them and only one of you.”

  “Good. I’m Trap.”

  He stuck out a hand and I shook it with mine before I could realize it was the same hand he’d been scratching his balls with. Ewww. I hoped I still had some sanitizing wipes in the truck.

  “Adrienne Perkins. You can call me Addy.”

  He grinned. “Well Addy, if you don’t mind I’d like to get back to my bed. Unless you’d like to join me, that is.”

  “Doubt I’d fit.” I couldn’t help but grin. “My witch powers don’t include transforming into an animal.”

  He nodded. “Just talking to them, then? Got it. Good to meet you. Come over sometimes for earthworms.”

  Before I could reply, he was back in his badger form, waddling his wedge-shaped body into the tunnel and curling up into a furry ball.

  Chapter 8

  Typhon

  Yeth had finally slinked into hell early morning, just before the sun would have been rising at the witch’s house. I couldn’t blame him for being just as under that witch’s spell as I was, but I still took the opportunity to chew him out. He’d failed to capture Faust, was under the spell of honey-smoked ham, and had spent the night curled up in her garage, cuddling a ham bone and eating hard-boiled eggs.

  I didn’t mention that I’d spent the night boinking that same witch in her dreams, also failing to capture Faust. Yeth didn’t need to know about my failings.

  Instead I headed in to see the son of Satan, my head completely occupied by memories of last night. Lucien greeted me at the door of a large house that looked like it had been cobbled together a section at a time over the last few centuries. Inside was human and homey with comfortable seating and a table that looked big enough to hold a board meeting. I followed the other demon into the kitchen where we sat at a little metal table and drank coffee.

  “So…this is your home.” For a reason most of hell found bizarre, Lucien was living here among the humans. He’d come for vacation earlie
r this year and never returned. Rumors quickly flew through the fiery depths that he’d found a witch to bond with. I originally hadn’t paid attention to the gossip. It wasn’t my business who the prince was screwing. I normally tried to avoid the guy as much as I could, but with his father dealing with some VIP arrivals in hell I was temporarily reporting to his spawn.

  And that worked to my advantage. If the rumors were true, then Lucien knew about witches. He knew how tricky and enchanting they were. He could help me with my little problem. He could help me retrieve Faust, and somehow hopefully manage to do it without losing the witch I was falling for.

  What an idiot. I didn’t even know her name and I was falling for her? Sheesh.

  Lucien shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed. “It’s Cassie’s. She grew up here. Her family’s lived here since they founded the town. I tried to get her to move somewhere more stately, but she refused.”

  She refused. And Lucien knuckled under and moved in. The coffee churned in my stomach as I thought about the son of Satan, a powerful demon, becoming a doormat to a witch.

  “It wasn’t a battle worth fighting,” Lucien went on. “Outside of my desire to live in a house that mirrored my station, I have no complaints. It’s centrally located, and location really is everything.”

  What was he talking about? He worked in hell. He teleported. And I got the impression this wasn’t some posh address as far as human standards went. We were in some podunk town in a valley surrounded by mountains.

  “And Cassie loves it. She’d be so unhappy if she had to live somewhere else.”

  Ah. That I understood. My mind wandered back to last night, to the sound of my witch’s laugh, the beauty of her smile. The thought of her being unhappy nearly gave me a panic attack of anxiety.

  “What is it like?” I asked him. “Being mated to a witch, that is. Did she cast a spell upon you to lure you in?”

  Lucien chuckled. “It feels like that some days. I’ll admit there was an immediate attraction, but looking back I doubt it was magic on her part. In fact, she was really annoyed with me at first. She didn’t believe I was a demon. She thought I was a human who’d wandered into town, gotten into a fight with a few werewolves, and ended up in jail.”

  I scooted my chair even closer and leaned in. “Go on.”

  The other demon glanced around before speaking. “I love her—not just the sex. She’s strong, smart, and sassy. She’s got a temper to rival any demon in hell. She’s fiercely loyal and protective. She’s funny. She makes me laugh. I haven’t laughed this much in centuries. We’re bonded. That means both of us are stronger together than we are alone. I give her magic a boost, and she enhances my powers—all through our bond.”

  I sat back. Wow. “What if you do something and she doesn’t like it?”

  Lucien grimaced. “There’s a huge fight and it usually includes setting things on fire and a whole lot of yelling. The makeup sex is totally worth it, though.”

  That decided it right there. This witch who was sheltering Faust may have put a spell on me, but I still wanted her—and I wanted the sort of relationship Lucien had without all the fire and yelling, that is. Makeup sex. Hmmm. I’d break through her wards, grab Faust, then endure a big fight. I didn’t like the idea of fighting, but as long as there would be makeup sex at the end of it, I’d get through it.

  “She forgives you, right?” I asked, a little worried about this plan of mine. “After all the yelling and fire and the makeup sex, things go back to normal? She doesn’t refuse to see you ever again or vow to never rest until she disembowels you or something?”

  “You need to make sure the makeup sex is really good.” Lucien emphasized his point with a raised index finger. “If you did something really bad, then you might need to bring her flowers or cook her dinner, or even grovel a little.”

  “Grovel?” Lucien groveled? The son of Satan groveled?

  “Just a little.” He made a pinch motion with his thumb and index finger. “Happy witch, happy life.”

  Break through the wards. Steal Faust and return him to hell. Come back and endure the yelling and fire. Enjoy the makeup sex, but ensure my performance is top notch. Grovel. I really didn’t like the last one, but I’d do it if it meant the witch forgave me.

  “So, what do you need to discuss this morning?” Lucien leaned back in his chair, cradling his coffee mug in his hands, the picture of an executive from hell.

  “He’s here,” I told the other demon. “We’ve managed to finally locate Faust.”

  “Faust? Here? Where?” The prince looked confused as if he expected the man to be hiding behind the stove or in the pantry.

  “Here.” I gave the pronoun lots of emphasis. “He’s about twenty miles from this town.”

  “You’ve found Faust?” Lucien asked.

  I winced, wondering if bedding a witch had addled his brains. Was this what I had to look forward to?

  “Yes. We know his location, but haven’t yet laid eyes on him. The man was tricky when he was alive, and I’m willing to bet he’s learned a thing or two since his escape.”

  “So you know his general location? As in a few square miles?” Lucien’s expression was hopeful. “Do you honestly think we might finally be able to retrieve this bastard and drag him back to hell where he belongs?”

  Shit, I hoped so. “He’s in a house. He’s inside the house, but he could be hiding anywhere inside. I’ve verified this personally. My hellhounds have felt his presence there, and so have I.”

  Lucien frowned. “Then what’s the problem? It’s a house. Search it. Tear it down. Set it on fire and wait for him to come out. Why haven’t you hauled him back to hell yet?”

  I clenched my teeth, unwilling to admit that we’d been trying with no success—that I’d been trying with no success.

  “There are some…difficulties in that. First, he’s cagey and we don’t want to tip him off that we’ve discovered his whereabouts only to have him vanish on us. I’d like your permission to send my pack to surround the house and remain there until he can be retrieved. Secondly, there are some fairly strong wards around the house, and the dwelling is in a neighborhood. Breaking them would bring attention from the humans.”

  There was a time when I didn’t have to ask permission to send my pack of hellhounds to scorch the earth and shred every living thing in their path. The world had changed though—for the worse in my opinion.

  “Why can’t your hellhounds retrieve him?” Lucien asked. “Just snatch him on his way to the grocery store if there’s a problem getting into the house.”

  “We haven’t seen him leave the house. If I can have the hellhounds do a twenty-four-hour surveillance, we might be able to grab him if he leaves, but that means the humans are going to see a pack of hounds on a stakeout. And if we go in to forcibly retrieve him…well the humans are going to notice that as well.”

  I had a plan. I was ready to move. But I didn’t want to have the upper management of hell coming down on my head because I freaked out a whole bunch of humans and possibly risked breaching our stealth contract with heaven.

  “You and your hounds can break into one human’s house to retrieve Faust.” Lucien rolled his eyes. “We’ll take care of any fallout. Just go get him.”

  There was my permission, but if thousands of years in hell had taught me anything, it was to make sure all the risks had been laid on the table, and that I had informed consent to proceed.

  “We haven’t been able to observe him inside the dwelling, but he appears to be living with a woman and using magic to keep the hellhounds outside. There are wards,” I reminded Lucien. “They’re powerful enough that smashing through them would do significant damage to the house, and cause quite a lot of noise.”

  “The longer Faust is free, the more we look like fools.” Lucien shook his head. “We should have secured him better once we’d dragged him into hell. It’s not your fault, Typhon. He just wasn’t an appropriate soul for your level and punishment methods.”


  I bristled. Even though the prince might not blame me, I blamed myself. I’d lost a soul. Well, not lost per se, but had one escape me. Yes, Faust had help getting out of hell. Yes, he was rumored to be capable of magic and he’d managed to live for centuries, slipping away from every reaper who’d been sent to snag his soul. I should have realized he’d need special precautions—and special punishments.

  I needed to do what I needed to do, regardless of how the consequences of that might pain me. There was no escaping this. I’d need to use my hellhounds to guard the residence, then break through the wards and go in myself to retrieve him. I was strong enough to break through the wards, strong enough to resist the witch’s spell. I’d go in, grab Faust by his scrawny neck, and drag him back to hell.

  And then the witch would hate me. No more sexy dream time. No more nothing. I needed to ensure the makeup sex was truly exemplary, or I’d spend the rest of my life mourning her loss.

  “I’m going to send Abraxas in to take care of it,” Lucien decided. “There’s no need for you or the hellhounds to get involved. I appreciate your tracking him down, but Abraxas is better suited to bring Faust back to hell.”

  I nearly growled. The thought of that asshole demon facing my witch made me want to strangle someone. And the humiliation… Faust had escaped from my level of hell. Sending in another to retrieve him was an insult.

  “My Prince, there’s no need to interrupt Abraxas from his very important duties. I can handle this myself. Me and my hellhounds.”

  Lucien waved a hand. “No, you’re right. I don’t like the idea of sending in your pack. They poop all over the neighborhood. People complain. Next thing you know the police are called—or worse, animal control.”