Murphy's Fury
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Murphy’s Fury
A Fury Girl Chronicle
Shannon Tripp
Copyright Aug2012 Shannon Tripp
This book is a work of fiction
The characters are productions
of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Murphy’s Fury
The shimmering portal closed on her heels and Jasmine sighed with happiness. She was home again after another successful assignment. She felt the tingle of her magic as it melted from her skin and she looked down, grinning at what she saw. She was back in her blond bombshell body with the curves in all the right places. They only thing that hadn’t changed was the Fury trademark: bright blue eyes. She twirled in place, enjoying the feeling of standing up on two feet. I hope that’s the last assignment I have where I’m stuck in a cat suit, she thought as she struck a pose.
A pout slipped onto her lips when no one applauded or otherwise admired her. Deciding she was bored without an audience, she went looking for one. Humming slightly off key, she started down the endless corridor, knocking on every identical, gold-covered door as she passed.
A few swung open behind her and she grinned at the curses that flew into the air when the demons behind the portals saw who was knocking. She laughed harder when she heard them slam shut. Stopping randomly in the middle of the hallway, she contemplated the gilded door in front of her. She reached out and pounded on it. Then she gripped the knob. She waited for it to start turning before leaning back and hanging all her weight from her hands.
She laughed in delight as the door fought, banging against the frame.
*Jasmine, quit teasing the lessors. Come.* Daddy Dearest’s voice boomed in her head.
Jasmine squeaked as she felt the world tilt. The doorknob slipped through her fingers and she glimpsed an angry red face through the crack between the door and frame. When she spotted the horn-rimmed glasses, she knew it was Murphy, the demon of mischief. She groaned when she realized whom she had been teasing and hoped he hadn’t gotten a good look at her.
The world straightened and she landed on her knees on the obsidian floor at the feet of Daddy Dearest.
What is he wearing? The thought was out before she could stuff it behind her eyes, but Daddy Dearest didn’t say anything so she peeked again, trying to figure out just what he was supposed to be.
His costume was not what she’d expected. Last time he called her, he looked like a dapper fellow but this time he looked like one of those goat boys from the fantasy museum. He had cloven hooves and fuzzy brown legs. The hair covered him from waist to ankles. His torso was cinnamon and sugar brown and he had dark, wavy brown hair that matched the fur on his legs. Rising above the hair were huge curling horns that wrapped down and around his ears. He looked like a walking ram.
*Report.* A cloven hoof started tapping.
Still kneeling and wishing she’d dare rub the ache out of her knees, Jasmine reached for her collar. She tapped on the citrine set in the middle. The gem flared slightly and a sickly green soul lifted from it, sticking on its exit. Closing her hand over the green blob, she jerked at it. The soul let go of the gem and sat pulsating in her palm. She flicked her hand, sending the green ball flying.
He didn’t seem to move but the soul disappeared. Jasmine, well aware of his love of sleight-of-hand tricks, knew he’d caught it, so she stifled her curiosity just to annoy him.
He snorted as he tossed a card at her. She watched it flutter through the thick air before coming to rest on the floor by her knees.
Her fingers barely brushed the card when the world tilted again. She landed in her room, sprawled on her butt.
Glancing down at the note card, she realized just how much trouble her mischief earlier was going to cost her. Instead of the usual name of the lady scorned and where she lived, this card read Sandy Gene. The information had been cut in half. Is Sandy Gene the name of the victim? Maybe it’s the name of the place where my assignment lives. Or maybe Murphy has really fouled me up and this has nothing to do with my assignment. The last thought disturbed her the most.
Sure she was screwed this time, she decided to be a bit daring. Oh well, in for a penny… She took a deep breath and called to the air, “Two questions; who is Sandy Gene and why are you masquerading as a faun? You don’t find nymphs in Hell.” She waited for a minute and when no voice boomed in her head, she stuck her tongue between the molars on the right side of her mouth and grinned. She’d been cheeky to Daddy Dearest and she’d gotten away with it.
She rose and walked to the closet intending to exchange her collar with one that was already charged. She didn’t want to start an assignment with little magic. She pulled it off, thumbing the diamond as she unclasped the buckle. Loose magic sank into the gem, making it glow slightly. She glanced down when the collar’s weight shifted. An amethyst had appeared near the buckle. Shrugging and thinking the new gem would have been fun on this assignment she reached into the closet for a new collar. Her hand barely brushed a hook before the world tilted again. Her hand squeezed around the uncharged collar and she screamed as blackness swallowed her.