A Demon And His Witch (6 page)

Where the fuck is Remy?
She’d actually welcome his smirk and innuendos right about now.

Wrapping his hand around her braid, Pedro yanked her upright and she managed to whisper only the first consonant for a spell before he knocked her out with a head-butt.

Chapter Four

It took Remy a little longer than five minutes to make his way from the roof to the balcony. The damned dog on the ninth floor with its sharp teeth needed avoiding. And the couple on the seventh, engaged in a sexual orgy involving Nutella, restraints, and a strap-on stole his attention for a moment. But he’d not come on a pleasurable, peeping Tom mission. He needed to reach his witchy partner and help her send the first of their targets back to Hell.

Once they accomplished their mission though, Remy would seriously be looking into getting home via another method. His still sore balls couldn’t handle another ride on that torturous broom of hers. Although, he’d quite enjoyed the snuggling – ahem, groping – part.

Swinging onto the balcony of the condo he searched for, he cursed as he saw his witch out for the count at the hands of their target. He didn’t waste any time busting through the sliding glass door. Not exactly his most noble entrance but at least it distracted the damned soul with the knife poised over his mouthy cougar.

“I don’t think so.” If anybody got to kill the shrew with the wicked tongue, it would be him. “Shall we dance?” he inquired with an arched brow. Hands held out to his side, he eased the target into a false sense of security. Remy appeared unarmed. Appearances could be so deceiving.

“I am not going back to Hell!”

“Care to wager?” Remy asked with an arched brow and a taunting smile.

The idiot charged him with the kitchen knife. Remy didn’t move. Waiting until the last moment, he struck, one hand clamping like a vise around the wrist holding the weapon, the other jabbing forth to crush the prick’s windpipe.

Gasping like a fish on land, the damned one sank to his knees. Remy shook his head. “Is that all you have? Really? Couldn’t you have at least
tried
to make it sporting?”

Sighing, Remy kicked the target over to writhe in pain on the carpet while he went to fetch the witch. He muttered a heartfelt “Fuck,” as he noticed the blossoming bruise on her cheek. Sure, it would heal, probably by morning if she used some magic, but still, what did it say about him that she’d gotten hurt on his watch?

Then again, her unconscious state meant he got to grope her, under the guise of patting her down for the tag needed to send the woman beater, Pedro, back to Hell. Not finding it in her pants pocket, or between her legs, he stuck his hand down her top and his fingers brushed the silkiest skin before touching the metal icon Lucifer gave her to complete the task.

Sliding it out, and wishing he’d thought to search with his mouth instead, he clutched it in one hand before scooping her into his arms. Carrying her, and enjoying the silent respite, he brought her to Pedro who crawled away making choking sounds.

Remy knelt and placed her limp hand around the token. Guiding her like a puppet, he slapped the icon onto the escaped soul. With a wheezing scream, Pedro sank in on himself, his essence suddenly sucked into a small black hole. Back to the Pit, where he belonged.

“Mission accomplished. Time to get you home, little cougar.” Standing, he kept her cradled in his arms, and called himself all kinds of idiot for sadistically missing her acerbic tongue. Call him a masochist, but he liked the fact she didn’t just give in to his charm, that she fought her obvious attraction to him.

Most denizens in Hell gave in to their base urges with little encouragement. That she refused intrigued him. And, unfortunately for her, made him determined to try even harder to get between her thighs.

But only once she begged for it.

Making his way back to the pool and the spot where they’d stashed her broom, he looked at her serene expression. She couldn’t very well fly back unconscious.

A more gentle demon – a mentally unbalanced one in other words – would have balked at dumping her in to the cold water of the pool.

He, however, never claimed to be nice. Down she went. Crossing his arms, he waited. Up she came sputtering.

“You rotten jerk! What did you do that for?”

“Hey, if you’re going to sleep on the job, there will be consequences,” he admonished shaking a finger.

Her jaw worked, however nothing but a shocked stutter came out. “You, you –”

“Hot piece of demon ass?”

“No.”

“Brave soldier of Hell?”

“No!”

“Number one panty dropper in the Pit?”

“Would you stop that,” she screeched. “This is not funny. You dumped me in a pool. I could have drowned.”

“Nah, I was keeping an eye to make sure you bobbed up. I was pretty confident those big melons of yours would keep you afloat.”

She slogged up the pool steps, glaring at him, her teeth bared in a fierce scowl. “I am going to kill you.”

“For what? Waking you up? You know,” he eyed her up and down, noting how the fabric clung to the breasts he already knew from touch were round and perfect. “Wet is a good look for you,” he said, his deadpan expression belied by the mirth that surely shone in his eyes.

Flipping her hair back, arching her back and placing a hand on a cocked hip, she looked utterly delicious. And up to something. “Looks good, but tastes even better,” she smirked.

Ooh, point for the witch who made his mouth water at her naughty repartee. “Is that an invitation?”

“You’re not my type.”

“And what is your type? No wait. Let me guess. Hard, plastic coated and jammed full of big D batteries.”

She scowled at him.

Touché. He’d hit a sore spot. Pity she kept shooting him down. He knew how to make that spot feel so much better. “Here’s your ride.” Pulling her broom out from its hiding spot, he handed it to her.

Straddling it, she barked, “What are you waiting for? Get on.”

“No thanks. I’d rather not end up splattered on some city street. I’d say we’re done for the night, unless you need me for some nefarious fun?”

“In your dreams, demon.”

“Oh goody. I have a great imagination. I can’t wait to see what you’re going to do to me.” He laughed when she growled. “Ooh, now that’s a sexy sound. Love it. Think of me tonight when you’re riding your plastic friend. I know I’ll be picturing you when I’m getting off.”

“I hate you.”

“Do you always repeat yourself? Maybe your age is catching up to you. Good thing you’ve got me helping you out or you might forget your quest. So, same time tomorrow?”

“Same time for what?”

“Meeting up with you, of course, to hunt some more souls. I’ll see you at your place around nine-ish.”

“Not if I can help it,” she muttered before taking off on her broom, a trail of liquid dripping under her.

What a woman.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d found himself so intrigued. But he wouldn’t get to enjoy the witch for long if she had her way. Remy revised his plan to find some mortal pussy before heading back to hell. For some reason, it suddenly became more important to make sure he stayed partnered with the witch.

You are not getting rid of me that easy.

Perhaps he’d inherited his mother’s crazy gene after all. She would be so proud.

*

Lucifer eyed Remy as he lounged in the chair across from his desk, appearing like the poster boy for insouciance, and yet, he could see the telltale anxiety in the way his one foot kept tapping. It only took Ysabel one day to screw with one of his finest trackers. Lucifer fought an urge to shake his head. “Let me get this straight. After pissing Ysabel off, to the point she’s going to come storming in here any minute demanding I fire you, you still want to work with her? Are you insane?”

“I hope so,” Remy grinned.

A smile cracked Lucifer’s face. “Congratulations. Your mother will be ecstatic. Consider it done. I like a male who doesn’t back down in the face of a shrew.”

“Bah, she’s not a shrew. Just a little feisty. Besides, I think I might enjoy taming a cougar with claws.”

“Taming? Ysabel?” Lucifer almost choked.

“Hmm, maybe you’re right. Keeping her wild will be more fun. Think I can get her to redirect that energy of hers so she stalks me and shreds the clothes from me? No, wait. She’s not a shapeshifter, which means she’d need a knife. On second thought, I’ll make sure I’m naked when she does decide to come after me. It’s probably safer.”

“Are you sure you’re okay, soldier?”

“Never better, sir. Now if you’ll excuse me, I shall exit via the back because if I’m not mistaken, that squelching noise signals the arrival of my hot tempered witch. Remember, I was never here.”

“Never here,” Lucifer muttered. Remy slipped out the secret entrance and Lucifer sighed. “What have I done?” With little time to ponder that question, he just had time to settle himself more comfortably in his seat before a sopping wet, and extremely pissed, Ysabel came stomping into his office.

“I demand you fire him.”

“What? No hello?”

“Fuck you. You knew I was coming. I want him gone.”

How interesting. It seemed he’d finally found someone to rile his normally collected assistant’s feathers. “No can do. You need a partner.”

“Then find me someone else.”

“Sorry, but he’s all I’ve got for the moment.”

“But I hate him!” she yelled. Her outburst surprised them both, and it took a few blinks before the red in her cheeks died down. “Surely, there’s someone else? Anyone. What about that serious demon, what’s his name again, Xaphan? Couldn’t I take him instead?”

“I’ve got plans for him.” Plans Xaphan would absolutely hate. Lucifer couldn’t wait.

“I am so not voting for you when the contest for boss of the year comes around,” she threatened, pivoting and stomp-squishing her way back out.

“What? And here I had a speech prepared thanking myself for my greatness and the fact I did everything on my own.”

Ysabel flicked him a middle finger salute before she slammed his door shut.

He smiled.
Saucy witch. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was one of my own children.

Then again, given how she drove him nuts, he was kind of glad she wasn’t. He had enough to handle with Muriel and his constantly disappearing son, Christopher. The latter he’d given up on. The former he secretly adored, especially since she’d given him a granddaughter who thought he could do no good. Which reminded him, he needed to find the pet dragon he’d bought the little tyke. It escaped its caretaker and the last thing the entire world needed was for the atomic bomb, also known as his darling granddaughter, to go off because he lost her favorite pet. Then again, the end of the world would definitely liven things up around Hell.
But cut into my golf game. Fuck.
He needed to find that dragon.

Chapter Five

Ysabel tried to prepare herself the following afternoon when the time of her death came around. She filled the tub with cold water and climbed in naked. The shocking temperature instantly had her teeth chattering.
I can do this. Think of it as a hot day on the Hade’s Beach.

It didn’t work. The flames arrived right on time, licking up her legs, her body, until they reached her head. But by then, she was already screaming, the tub full of steam. People could boast of bravery and handling pain all they wanted. No one could withstand this kind of agony, even if it petered out when its two minutes were up. She lay for a moment afterward in the tub, its water evaporated from the inferno that raged a minute before. While not a mark remained of her ordeal, her mind and body still reacted as if she suffered. The pain lingered like a bad hangover and her psyche shrieked, rejecting all attempts at calm. It sucked.
And this blast from my past is going to keep happening every day until I catch the other four souls.
It made her want to cry, a weak indulgence she’d not allowed herself since death.

She still remembered with disgust her first day in Hell. Weak, sobbing and afraid. Despite the contract she’d signed with Lucifer and her second chance at life, albeit in the Pit, she’d shivered, miserable and fearful. The memory of the flames mocked her every time she closed her eyes.

Nefertiti, Lucifer’s sorceress, took one look at her and brought her home. Under her care, Ysabel learned to protect herself, her magic becoming strong enough to protect her from most of the predators in Hell. Confidence restored, she got her revenge on those who condemned her to burn, dragging five souls, the number she’d bargained for, straight to Hell, laughing as they screamed.

The hardest of the captures though, much as it shamed her, was Francisco’s.

She still recalled that day, all those years ago, when she rode a broom from the portal in the woods to the village she’d grown up in. The village that denounced her.

How benign it seemed. How quaint with its thatched cottages, and dirt paths lined with gardens. But she didn’t linger, even if her fingers itched to douse it in flames. She swooped with purpose to the big house on the hill, its windows dark as its occupants slept, the hour late. Landing on the sill of the window to her ex-lover’s room, she slipped inside and padded on bare feet to the large bed, a bed they’d never trysted in. No, all she merited were grassy fields, and her straw filled pallet. Sometimes she didn’t even get such softness, as he often liked to take her braced against a tree, her skirts flipped up so he could quickly take his pleasure. And while those brief moments left her unsatisfied, she allowed them for love.

How foolish of her to not recognize the signs of his selfishness.

Amidst the mound of pillows and bedding, he snored softly. In repose, his features were smooth, his tousled hair dark and silky to the touch. A pang of longing struck her. Why did things have to turn out this way? What evil had she truly done other than to love this man?

She must have made a sound, or the chill of her presence alerted him, because his eyes flicked open. For a long moment, he stared at her unblinking, then confusion set in and his brow creased.