Demons Are a Girl’s Best Friend (4 page)

“I want to choose the game,” Sybil groused. “You always win at that one.”

“Who’s in angst here?” She batted her eyes.

“Fine, but after one game, we play one of my choices.” Sybil stood up.

Maggie thought about it. “Deal.”

An hour later she entered her quarters, first noticing that her wastebasket was empty, the bed covers were pulled back, and fresh towels were set out in the bathroom. Even the mess in the shower had been cleaned up, and the tile sparkled.

But her biggest surprise was seeing her once Bloater-spattered top and skirt now immaculate and neatly draped over a chair. A small note covered with neat calligraphy topped the clothing.

Do not ever leave a horrific mess like this again.

There was no doubt the note was more than a warning. It was a promise that if she did, she’d end up without domestic service for centuries.

Maggie stopped at her dresser and gazed at the tiny painted portrait of a small girl’s smiling face.
I love you, Margit.

“I love you, too, Aleta,”
she whispered, thinking of the sister she couldn’t save so many years ago and her vow that no one else would lose a loved one if she could help it.

She didn’t bother undressing but merely fell on the bed, and, thanks to the beginnings of a sugar coma, she had no trouble falling asleep immediately.

***

Something was very wrong here.

“My dreams usually involve old boyfriends who suddenly sprout fangs and fur,” Maggie said from her seated position on a brick-colored couch that was as comfy as it looked. Scented candles were scattered around the room, the soft fragrance of spice permeating the air. She looked over the back of the furniture when she heard a door open and close and a familiar male figure walked in.

“What are
you
doing here?” they asked at the same time.

“You’re in my dream,” Maggie told him, still not sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. She cast a quick glance downward. Oh good. No sexy lingerie, leather bras, or corsets along with thigh-high boots. She was dressed simply in her favorite gray jeans and sage cotton T-shirt. Her feet were bare, and she caught a glimpse of her ankle bracelet.

“No, you’re in
my
dream, Margit,” Declan stated, deliberately using her birth name. She wondered where he gained her real name, when there was no way of learning his. He walked around the couch and dropped into a navy easy chair. Like Maggie, he wore jeans and T-shirt, but in unrelieved black, while his dark hair stuck up in unruly disarray, as if he’d just climbed out of bed.

“I don’t like surprises.” Feeling the need for protection, she cupped her hand, waiting for the reassuring warmth of witchflame in her palm. Except nothing happened. She scowled at her empty fingers.

Declan smiled. “Funny thing about that. You seem to forget I own fire. If I don’t wish it in my presence, it won’t make itself known.”

Maggie looked around. “So what all do you do in here?” She leaned forward and picked up the television remote. “So what does a half-demon watch in the dream realm?”

“You can have flatter abs in just two minutes a day!”
A perky brunette with a bleached, toothy smile announced.

Maggie clicked the channel button.

“This floor cleaner is a miracle worker!”

“This cookware set will be the last one you’ll ever use!”

“How many foreign languages do you want to learn in a matter of days?”

“Oookay.” Maggie switched off the TV. “You’ve got Hi-Def infomercials. That is so sad.”

“Tell me about it. No sports channels, no movie channels, just nonstop raves for diet aids, kitchen tools, cleaning products, and exercise equipment. Maybe this is a nightmare.” He stood up and held out his hand. “What do you say we blow this joint?”

Maggie felt the heat of his fingers as she allowed him to pull her to her feet. “We can do that?”

“Sure we can. It’s our dream.” He laced his fingers through hers and snapped his fingers.

If he hadn’t been holding her hand, she knew she would have fallen. There was a dizzying sensation as the world spun around like a tornado.

Well, Dorothy, I don’t think you’re heading for the Emerald City
.

Once Maggie felt as if she was on solid ground again, the first thing she noticed was the hint of sulfur, and it wasn’t coming from Declan. She tightened her grip on his hand as she stumbled on loose rock. At least she now wore shoes. A rumbling sound rippling through the air had her looking up and up and up.

“Are you kidding me? We’re at the base of a volcano! Don’t you get enough eau de sulfur at the old homestead so you feel you have to travel for more?”

“No, that’s just a bonus,” he told her. “I thought you might like to stretch your legs.”

“Stretch my legs as in hiking up a volcano?” By then she realized the shoes on her feet were hiking boots. “While I like long walks, I’m not all that keen on trekking up a cliff that looks like it’s ready to blow.”

“No, it’s just having a minor tantrum.” He widened his stance when the ground rolled under their feet. “Besides, this is the best time to climb it. Makes it more challenging.”

Maggie burst out laughing. “Lead on, Sir Edmund.” She gestured upward.

Declan took hold of her hand and started up a rocky path. “You’re a Hellion Guard. That means you’re in top physical shape. This should be a walk in the park for you.”

“Yes, we all endure rigorous physical training,” she replied. “But I’m not a glutton for punishment.” She rubbed her nose against the acrid smell. “I’ve done my share of hiking, but there are times when it’s nice to curl up with a good book.”

He shook his head. “I can’t see you as a witch of leisure.”

“When you’ve been on a mission that’s lasted for days and sleep was nonexistent, you think seriously about a week-long nap.” She paused to pick up an odd-shaped piece of shiny lava rock and tucked it into her pocket. She was curious to see if it would show up once she was out of the dream realm. “So this is your idea of exercise?”

“I also like running. I’m not into joining a fitness club, so I use the track at the high school.” He climbed easily over a tall boulder and helped her to do the same.

“I hope you have a dozen water bottles on you, because while you might not mind the smell, I do. And why doesn’t it smell like rotten eggs?” She wrinkled her nose.

Declan laughed. “Sulfur only smells musty and acrid. The rotten egg smell comes from hydrogen sulfide.”

“Great, a science lesson, too,” she muttered, wishing for her perfume, although she wasn’t sure the black-orchid scent would blend well with the pungent smell around her. “You must have been teacher’s pet.”

“You either received high marks in your studies, or you received a whipping,” he said matter-of-factly. “A wonderful incentive to study hard.”

Maggie stopped abruptly, pulling on his hand. “You were beaten?” She huffed a laugh and shook her head. “Of course you were. No wonder most of you turn out psychotic.” She winced as her palm lost skin on a rough boulder. A whispered spell instantly healed the flesh. “At least some magick works here.” She gripped his hand tighter when she started to slide on the loose rocks.

Declan pulled her upright, for just a moment holding her so close she could feel the hardness of his muscular body, waiting as she nodded she was okay.

“So tell me about yourself, Declan. What do you do when you’re not in the club? Follow the volunteer fire department? Go out to the elder home and perform tricks? You must save a fortune in heating bills.”

Declan chuckled. “You enjoy being a smart-ass, don’t you?”

“It’s a gift,” she said with appropriate humility. “If I can’t take my enemies down with my Guard skills, I talk them to death.”

He smiled and shook his head as he followed the upward path. “Or blow them up.”

“Now that was an accident,” she defended herself. “I didn’t realize the Bloater would burst into gooey bits so fast. I almost clogged the shower trying to get that nasty stuff off. So come on, dish, big boy. What do you do during your off hours when you’re not climbing Mount Everest?”

“I’m actually a quiet guy. Like you, there are times when I’m happy to settle down with a good book and a glass of wine. What about you? What else do you do besides going into clubs and destroying them?”

“Not my fault, remember? Last week I played dogcatcher.” She began to regret talking, since now the taste was in her mouth. She wondered if a marathon toothbrushing and using several cases of mouthwash would erase the nasty flavor.

“As in—?”

“Caught a hellhound that got off his leash and returned him to his owner. That critter decided I was his mommy, and yuck! Have you ever had one lick your face?” She mimed gagging. “A hellhound’s breath is about as rancid as you can get.”

“What about when you’re not on duty? What do you do for fun?”

“End up in someone’s dream. So how do you think this happened? I’ll be honest. I’ve never shared a dream with someone before.”

“I couldn’t say.” He stopped and produced a water bottle, handing it to her first. “But I’m not sorry to see you here, Margit.”

“At least you haven’t asked what my sign is.” She was grateful to find the water tasted cold and refreshing without any tang from the sulfur around them.

“I gave up pick-up lines years ago.”

She handed the bottle back to him, experiencing an odd flutter in the pit of her stomach as she watched him drink. “You’re not what I expected of a fire demon.”

“Half,” he corrected her. “My mother was human.”

“It looks like you take after your dad.”

Declan’s expression darkened. “Not exactly a compliment.”

“Fine, no more said.” Maggie looked up, relieved to see they were almost at the top. She fanned herself with her free hand. “And I thought Texas during the summer was hot. You really need to consider cooler destinations for your hikes, and I don’t mean the Andes, either.” She allowed him to pull her up the last few steps until they stood on the edge.

“What do you think?” Declan looked down.

Maggie followed his gaze, staring at the rich red, orange, and black colors that the molten lava comprised as it bubbled up amidst the dark smoke. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she said softly, feeling in awe of the force of nature that was so close to them.

“It’s a humbling experience,” he replied quietly. “All it takes is one good rumble, and the lava bubbles up and out.” His gaze moved to the ground a few feet to their right. “What do you know.” He placed his hands at her waist as he pointed in the direction he was looking. “Look there. Can you see it?”

She looked down at the spot he gestured toward.

Among the gray and black earth was a tiny spot of color. Two green leaves framed a delicate white flower that looked too fragile for such harsh surroundings.

Maggie’s face fairly glowed as she looked up at Declan’s. “New life,” she whispered. “Lava kills, and yet that small plant managed not only to grow but bloom amid the desolation.” Tears sparkled in her eyes as she smiled at Declan, who smiled back. She tipped her face upward as he leaned down. She then straightened up when the air around them turned to a gray mist. “Uh, is this supposed to happen?”

Declan sighed and said with regret, “Sweet dreams, Margit.”

“Dreams? That’s what we’re—”

***

“—having now,” Maggie was still saying as she shot up in bed
.
“Lights.” She looked around the bedroom, finding herself alone in bed.

“Do you mind?” Elle mumbled sleepily from her spot. “Some of us need our beauty sleep.”

Maggie climbed out of bed. As she did, she realized she felt a pull in her leg muscles as if she’d been… been hiking up a mountain. She shook her head, trying to convince herself it was nothing more than a very realistic dream as she changed into pajama pants and a tank top. She crawled back under the covers and pulled them over her head. She whispered the lights off.

She lay awake in the dark, aware of a hint of sulfur on her skin. When she shifted in bed, she realized there was something hard under her. She reached under her body and picked up an odd-shaped piece of lava rock.

***

Declan paced the length of his bedroom. His skin felt tight and ready to combust, while his erection only added to the pain straining his body.

His dreams were infrequent and usually included blood and suffering. A few times, a portent of things to come would visit him during his sleep, but never had he had a dream like this.

He had brought females into his dreams before. They were always beautiful, knowledgeable in the sensual arts, and eager for the prestige of mating with a fire demon—even a half-breed. Some were rejected; others he accepted because they happened to show up when he felt lonely and wanted the surcease only a woman’s body could offer, even if only in a dream.

The only problem was that his loneliness returned the moment he banished them from his dreams, and the sex was nothing more than an unsettling memory.

This time, there was no seduction. Just a normal conversation! Something he wasn’t used to in the dream realm
or
real life.

“Too bad we couldn’t have had that kiss before we woke up, Maggie O’Malley,” he whispered. “I think you owe me one.”

“Whoa, what’d you do last night?” Meech asked as he used the tip of his knife to pick his jagged teeth. Something that resembled a wiggling Cheeto was stabbed on the tip. “You look like shit. I hope the guy was worth it.”

“Gee, Meech, tactful much?” Maggie practically chugged her espresso, waiting for the high-test caffeine to hit her system with all the subtlety of a Louisville Slugger. A past-dawn bedtime meant she hadn’t woken up until midafternoon, and she knew her usual peppermint tea wasn’t going to do the trick.

Her body clock was seriously out of whack. She could feel the weight of the small rock she’d tucked inside her pocket. “I’m going to tell your mate you said that, and she’s going to cut your heart out with a spoon.”

“That’s nothing new.” His usually sunny-natured blue face looked forlorn. “Reesa told me if I even looked at her funny, she would put a knife through my dick. Pregnancy hormones are a bitch.”

Sybil’s wings fluttered as she glided over to the table with a large cup of warm honey and nectar held firmly in one hand and a muffin in the other. “He told Reesa that perhaps her age might be the reason she’s so on edge lately and that he was positive she’d feel more like her old self once the babe was born.”

Espresso almost spewed out of Maggie’s nose. “And you’re still in one piece? Meech, Reesa’s in a delicate condition. The last thing you do is say something stupid like that.”

“You couldn’t have told me that before? I thought she would cut my balls off. And I’m very fond of my balls.” He returned to cleaning his teeth.

“Reesa is older than most females when they bear their first young. We didn’t think she could conceive. We had a lot of sex every time she was in heat, and this time it happened.” His homely face suddenly shone with delight at the thought of a child in his household.

Maggie thought of her own childhood, short as it had been—she’d been only six when her parents died of plague. But she never forgot her baby sister, Aleta, who’d followed Maggie everywhere on unsteady feet. And the memory of how the little girl died was seared forever in her mind. The village bully had stampeded a herd of sheep that ran the little girl down, leaving her with what Maggie now knew were fatal internal injuries.

All Maggie knew then was that her baby sister cried constantly in pain and no one could help her. The young Maggie had held the little girl as she exhaled her last breath. Maggie vowed that she would grow up and do whatever it took to learn how to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. Three months later, the rest of her family died during a plague epidemic and Eurydice appeared to take her away to the Witches’ Academy.

Meech turned to Maggie. “You will be there for the birth, true? After all, you are the vow mother. The one who will be there to help guide our child into a fulfilling life.”

Maggie gulped. “I thought all I had to do was buy a nice gift.”

“No, the vow mother is there to witness the birth of her charge. And to give her blessing when the child finds his or her mate.” He pushed himself away from the table and lumbered off, still engrossed in picking his teeth.

“Nobody said anything about my having to be there for the birth,” Maggie told her friend.

“It’s a natural function of life. Their kind isn’t so different from humans.”

“If I’m lucky, I’ll be sent out on an assignment when Reesa goes into labor.”

“You know very well that the Fates won’t allow it.” Sybil glanced around and then leaned closer to Maggie, keeping her voice low. “There was some excitement last night. I got a message after I reached my quarters to go to the holding cells. Deets’s team brought in a prisoner who was in a bad way. The jailer wanted me to talk to her since she was saying some alarming things.”

“You mean they wanted you to calm her down and not bother waking up a healer.” Maggie shook her head in disgust. “That had to mean that Xera was on call. She won’t leave her bed unless a gorgeous man has something to do with it. You should have gotten tough and told them to drag her skanky ass out of bed and let you have your sleep.”

“It was better that I went and not Xera, who may be an excellent healer but doesn’t interact well with anyone with severe mental distress. The female is demon and was hysterical. I would have said that demons are never hysterical.”

“Why do I feel you’re going to tell me something bad?” Maggie forked up her scrambled eggs spiced with green peppers and onions. Yay for breakfast served 24-7. “Oh, wait a minute… all we know is bad.”

The elf nodded. “I’d say this could be as bad as we’ve had in some time. The female has dark knowledge of something about to happen. They did finally bring in Xera to use a sleeping spell because the demon wouldn’t stop screaming. She probably won’t awaken until late tonight, but I’d like you to listen in when I talk to her again. All I heard last night was a lot of odd rambling, but I sensed a strong core of truth in there—and not in a good way.”

Maggie nodded as she worked on spreading black-raspberry jam on her toast. “What did Mal say when you told him?”

Sybil shook her head. “I wanted more details before I made my report. Once you hear what she has to say, you’ll understand why I’m waiting.”

“No hints before tonight?”

“Better if I don’t.” She sipped her drink and continued snacking on her muffin. “I want a fresh perspective.”

“I thought that’s what Boris was for.”

Sybil made a face at the mention of her superior. “He can read about it in my report.”

Maggie mulled over what Sybil
wasn’t
telling her. “Now you’re scaring me.”

“Nothing scares you. Well… except for childbirth.” Sybil flashed an evil smile as she finished her nectar. “I have to get to my office. Don’t forget you promised to take me to Damnation Alley once it’s running again. I want an up close and personal look at that demon.”

“I don’t recall promising a thing.” Maggie flashed Sybil a bright smile. “And if you’ve seen one demon, you’ve seen them all.”
Unless they’re so gorgeous, your teeth ache when you look at them and they take you on a hike up a volcano.

Sybil leaned over the table to whisper in her ear, “And if I recall correctly, Mal doesn’t know who left that bunch of henbane in his desk drawer. The same henbane that caused him to break out in an oozy case of boils that didn’t go away for a week.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“I learned from the master.” Sybil sketched a snarky curtsey and left the dining room.

Maggie flicked a bunch of half-hearted magick sprinkles the elf’s way. All they did was buzz around her head for a moment and then flitter off. “I swear, you can’t trust anyone these days,” she muttered, now concentrating on her syrup-soaked pancakes.

***

Maggie finished her breakfast, wondering why she hadn’t mentioned her dream to Sybil.

She decided it was a good thing. Her elf buddy probably would have suggested Maggie talk to one of the people in the Psych department who dealt with dreams. That was one place she preferred to stay out of.

But what kind of dream found you seated in a living room watching TV with a half-demon?

She fixed herself another extra-strength espresso and snagged a cheese Danish on her way back to her chair. She figured some part of it was moderately healthy.

“Thank you.” Her cup was taken out of her hand before she could sit down.

Her eyes almost crossed as she stared at the new blight of her existence. “You—”

Declan waved a hand as he sipped the super-caffeine. “Excellent. Perhaps you should get some for yourself.”

Maggie’s first thought was that he was very lucky she wasn’t in the mood to pull out the silver stiletto strapped to her thigh. Or snag the short sword resting against her back… and there was also the PK Walther 380 snuggled in a shoulder harness. Not to mention a venomous black widow spider tattooed to her bicep. Elegance rustled in response to Maggie’s sudden state of alertness.

Just because she was in her own territory didn’t mean she went around unarmed. And if there was one thing she hated, it was somebody sneaking up on her when her guard was down.

But damn, the man was downright mouthwatering, and she had to admit he was a great conversationalist in the dream realm.

“How did you get in here, and who authorized
that
?” Her eyes fairly turned him to grave dust as she stared at the medallion around his neck that indicated he was a visitor to the compound and would be treated accordingly.

He continued drinking his—
her
—espresso. “If you have the right papers, you are allowed to enter the compound and they give you pretty jewelry.” His eyes danced with laughter over the small cup. “It just so happens that I have the right papers.”

“Forged, I’m sure.” Maggie had to wiggle her fingers because of the magick that threatened to erupt from the tips.

“I don’t need forged papers, Margit.”

Maggie prided herself on not giving away her emotions even when she was blindsided by a sexy half-demon. This was one of those times when she had to dig down deep to keep her expression serene.

Declan’s black eyes smoldered with an eerie silver sheen. “You’re more than an everyday witch, Maggie O’Malley.” He paused. “Tell me something. How did a witch with Nordic looks like yours come up with a name straight from the Emerald Isle?”

“My father.” She gave him her usual explanation.

He raised an eyebrow at that. “What was his name?”

Maggie flashed him a blinding smile. “Sven O’Malley.” She stood up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Declan also stood. “As do I. I was notified that you’re holding one of my people.”

I should have known the female demon belonged to him. Jealousy, party of one.

“That’s not my department.” She looked around until she spied one of the messenger ferrets. “Bickie, would you take Declan over to the holding cells?”

“I’d prefer you to be my guide.” Declan continued, watching her with a heated intensity that flowed over her skin’s surface.

“And I’d prefer a long weekend camping in the Outback. I have a meeting to attend. I should warn you now that the female had to be sedated because she was very agitated.”

She ignored the look of anger on Declan’s face as she looked down at the black ferret whose head whipped back and forth as if he were viewing a tennis match at warp speed. He continued slurping coffee from his tiny to-go mug.

“Have a good day.” Maggie smiled as she sauntered off.

“Dude, you were so lucky,” Bickie told Declan as he led him out of the dining room.

“Why is that?” Declan watched the sun bounce off Maggie’s gilded hair as she crossed the compound.

“Maggie tends to break things or shoot someone when she gets that look on her face. I could tell you stories,” he trilled in his overly caffeinated voice.

The half-demon looked down at what he considered his new best friend. “Really? Such as?” It wasn’t easy to throw a subtle suggestion into a brain moving along at that high a speed, but he soon accomplished it.

And Bickie didn’t stop talking about the comely witch as he led Declan to the holding cells.

***

“The next time we go after a Bloater, someone else will go in…
Frebus.
” Maggie shot a grim eye toward the blond-furred creature.

“Bloaters don’t like our kind,” he defended himself. “They’d smell me a mile off.”

“So do we,” Meech muttered from the other side of the conference table. “Ever hear of taking a shower or even using cologne other than something that smells like a century-dead skunk?”

“As if you smell any better,” Frebus snarled.

“Boys, boys,” the witch soothed. “If you keep this up, I’ll have to put you both in time-outs. We’ll have playtime later. It’s just that our last three missions have ended up as disasters.”

“Not really. When you consider the end result, they were all successful.” Tita, a tall sultry vampire and the other female on the team, chimed in. Her pale slender fingers were cupped around a mug of blood.

“No loss within our team and no damage. Unless you consider your outfit last night.” Her nose wrinkled with distaste. “Too bad. Now, can we get on with this? Some of us prefer sleeping during daylight hours.”

Since she was several centuries old, Tita could move about indoors from dawn to dusk, but she chose to keep the schedule she’d been forced into when she was first Turned. She specialized in night jobs and hypnosis, and could see perfectly in the dark, which made her a very useful Guard. Not to mention she had her own lethal methods. She leaned back in the dark-red leather chair and crossed her legs, with an evil grin at her colleagues that revealed wickedly sharp fangs.

“I heard that the owner of Damnation Alley is here on the grounds,” Meech brought up. “Do you think he’s going to file a complaint against us for destroying his club?”

Maggie opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. An odd prickling sensation skated along the tops of her arms, leaving her feeling unsettled. She already knew Declan was in the compound, so it wasn’t some witchy warning system.

But she’d bet her favorite Hisshou fixed-blade military knife that her unease had to do with the sexy half-demon. Reposing in tattoo form on her shoulder, Elle offered spidery whisperings that echoed Maggie’s thoughts—trust an arachnid with mating on her mind to be alert to those particular sensations.

“Maggie?”

She straightened up at the sound of Tita’s voice.

“Sometime today? Tick tock.” Tita tapped her watch. “Fine, last night was a cluster fuck. No one’s fault.” She glanced sideways at Frebus, who slid further down in his chair, trying unsuccessfully to minimize his seven-foot furry self.

“Perhaps a little. We all know that outside intel can be sketchy or not entirely accurate. We need to have one of the researchers look into the Bloater communities. There are clearly things we don’t understand about them. That way, if we come up against another, we’ll know better how to handle it.”

Damn, I should have been the one to say that!

“I don’t understand why this particular Bloater suddenly popped up on our radar,” Meech said. “They always stay pretty much to themselves.”