Key of Solomon: Relic Defender, Book 1 (24 page)

“Sure and the shower sounds like fun, but a nap?”

“Yes, a nap. I was up late last night.”

His gray expression took on an incredulous look. “You’re serious aren’t you?”

“Do I look serious?”

He snorted, an explosion of pebble-rattling sound and shook his head. “I never figured you for boring, doll.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

The little man held up his hand. “Whatever. If you aren’t going to be any fun, I’m going to use Mikos’s computer. At least the hot babes in the games know how to enjoy life.” The deep pitch suggested he was aggrieved at her decision.

Lexi tried, almost unsuccessfully, to keep a grin from her face. She liked Rocky. Liked his irreverent attitude and cocky personality.

Her smile slipped a bit. She didn’t like deceiving him but there was no way he’d let her out on her own if she told him what she planned to do. He’d only stop her or go running to Mikos.

“Have fun, stone head,” Lexi said and quickly left the room. Before she could change her mind.

Chapter Fourteen

“It is not because things are difficult that we do not dare;

it is because we do not dare that they are difficult.”

Seneca

His greatsword flashed, slicing deep into the sadoq’s neck lopping it off with one pass. The demon screeched, a long, drawn-out wail of pain and anger. Even as the creature died, the double-set of thick arms flailed about looking for something to tear. Sulfur billowed out, filling Mikos’s nostrils with the stench of rotten eggs, raw agony and death. The scent of Hell.

It seemed with each hell-spawn he destroyed two more took its place. Beside him, Marisol fought just as hard, even better. Lethal beauty in action.

And she seemed to enjoy herself whereas he didn’t.

Another demon came at him, a
catzacul
this time. Fingernails extended into wicked claws, old flesh, likely human flesh dripped from the tips. The feline-like demon shrieked curses, spittle flying from its mouth with skin-searing acid in every drop. The
catzacul’s
deadly claws scored a strike before Mikos took its head.

“Hells bells, Mikos! There are so many. Where are they all coming from?”

He didn’t have an answer for her. He’d wondered the same thing. Even so, he and Mari were more than a match for the lesser castes. Yet it seemed as if Hell had spat out every lower level demon from its bowels. Almost like they were meant to die. Expendable.

When the last one lay in pieces at their feet, his greatsword dropped, the point resting in the gore. His back to Mari’s, he surveyed the carnage. Not a Fallen or High Caste demon among them. Just the lesser ones.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why would Lucifer send so many to die?”

“Because they are worthless,” the new arrival’s voice purred over his skin.

Mikos clenched his teeth as lust crashed over him in wave after wave of pleasure. Like a punch to the stomach, his insides twisted. His cock hardened. Sweat beaded upon his upper lip, the salty wetness stinging his mouth.

“Well, well, isn’t this a pretty picture after all?” Jahi, the Queen of Succubae, sauntered into view. “The traitorous bitch and the cowardly fool.”

Beside him, Mari gasped and froze. He couldn’t straighten to look at her. He turned his head. Wide-eyes, red as brightest red glared with deadly fury at Jahi. The struggle to move warred with her compulsion to obey.

Because Mari used to be a succubus, she’d been under the rule of the Queen and even though she’d renounced Hell and Lucifer, it wasn’t that easy to get rid of Jahi.

Jahi bent down, the sunlight bright yellow of her hair cascading down over one shoulder. Mikos felt the soft, silken brush of the strands against his cheek. Like walking into a spider web. He groaned, his jaw locked with the effort to withstand her power.

Her mouth spread into a smile. White teeth flashed. “So, how did you like the party I threw for you two?” Long eyelashes fluttered over eyes as blue as a newborn baby’s. “I certainly outdid myself.”

Mikos shuddered, feeling the seductive pull of Jahi fading to a more manageable level. “Hell-bitch, what do you want?” he groaned, a low rumble of sound.

With a final burst of willpower, he straightened. She uncurled and stood tall before him. After she stood upright, he brought up his sword and pressed the point to her throat but did not slice the hard steel into her tender flesh.

Despite the urge that begged him to do so, Jahi was one of Lucifer’s closest companions. His concubine and he would not appreciate it if Mikos killed her. And he didn’t want to find out just how angry Lucifer would be. Even if she was apparently plotting with Beliel.

Jahi chuckled. She knew the accords as well as he did. “Oh pooh. I can’t touch you, but you can’t touch me either. Isn’t that such a bitch? Whereas I—” she waved a hand at Mari, “—can do whatever I want with her.”

Mari screamed and fell to her knees. Mikos pressed deeper. A bubble of red slid down the blade. “Stop,” he snarled. “I can’t kill you, but I can hurt you. Let her go.”

Jahi tilted her head. Her movement sliced an inch long cut into her neck. “Fine.” A wave of her hand again. With Mari’s curses ringing in his ears, she disappeared in an explosion of displaced air.

“What did you do? If you’ve hurt her, I promise you—”

“Relax,” she interrupted. “She’s fine. But don’t expect to see her for a few days. It will take her some time to get out of Vyfelin.”

Christ’s wounds. Vyfelin. Yes, Mari would indeed make it out of there relatively intact. And likely be twice as vicious as she normally was. Vyfelin, one of the lower levels of Hell, was populated with men who’d fallen to succubae. She would be hurt, angry but otherwise fine.

“Why are you here?”

Jahi shrugged. “For the same thing as you, I imagine. The Key.”

“So, now you are Beliel’s slave?”

She snarled. “I’m no one’s slave.” As if she regretted her flash of anger, she smiled and tossed her head. “He’s paying me a lot for my assistance.”

Mikos didn’t even want to know what Beliel had offered much less what the evil bitch had requested. “He’ll not find the Key.”

“He doesn’t have to. The Defender will bring it to him.”

Mikos jerked his head back.

Jahi’s smile stretched. “Ah, you are surprised. Good.”

“The Defender won’t give Beliel the Key.”

“You’ll see. Soon.” Before the last vocal had left her mouth, she shimmered into a sparkling dust funnel and spun into the night.

Lucifer’s balls! His stomach clenched. Not just a reaction to the release of her power over him. “By the Light, what did they plan to make Lexi give them the Key?”

Mikos was sure, whatever it was, would test Lexi’s conviction. And faith.

About an hour later, Lexi stood in front of Blush. For the first time, worry crept into her mind. Was this a good idea? Being here without Mikos?

Being here in the first place?

Squaring her shoulders, she pushed open the door before doubt became fear. She had to see if Devyn had returned. No matter that the twist in her stomach left Lexi feeling this was a futile hope, she still had to find out. After Mikos continually came up with excuses as to why she couldn’t go, she’d had to wait.

At first glance, nothing seemed to have changed since she’d left. Same bar, same scarred and pitted tables. Same lost souls dotted about the place, watching the dancers who moved as lethargically as the men who watched. A Sunday night sure didn’t pack the club.

Staying in the deeper shadows, Lexi scanned the inside. The current performer, known as Hot Lips, had a blank look on her face, as if she just went through the motions, yet her mind was somewhere else entirely.

Hot Lips’ music pounded a dull throb through Lexi’s body, her nerve endings jumping in response. She took a couple of deep breaths. Get it together, Lex. Not the time or place to succumb to an attack of the jitters.

The man at the bar was new. Tall, broad shoulders, face angular, a pointy nose adding to the overall impression of a weasel. She met his narrow gaze and waited. He finished pouring a drink for a customer a couple of stools down then came back to her.

“I’m looking for a tiny blonde. She’s a waitress here. Her name is Devyn.”

“Don’t know her.” He shrugged, pulled out a towel and in a cliché movement from every movie she’d ever seen featuring a bartender, began to wipe down the counter.

Lexi heaved an inward sigh. Pulling a ten-dollar bill from her pocket, she slid it across the smooth surface. Quick as a wink, the bill disappeared into the weasel’s bony fingers.

“Heard of her. Haven’t met her.”

“She hasn’t been in?”

“Nope. Talk is she quit without notice. Went home.”

Went home? Even though she didn’t know Devyn, she knew the girl well enough to know that going home was the last thing she would have done. Devyn’s mother was an alcoholic with a penchant for bringing home strays. And not the four-footed furry kind.

Okay, not cute, four-footed furry kinds. More like truck driving, beer swilling deadbeats. From what Lexi’d heard, Devyn beat feet from her home when the latest deadbeat tried for a threesome. Maybe that similarity was why she needed to find Devyn.

Frozen fingers scampered up Lexi’s spine. The still air in the club shifted, a simple breath of movement, yet she felt the stirring. She shuddered, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

Motion from behind the bar spun her around. The weasel-faced bartender leaped over the counter and landed near her. He shook. Depthless, jet-black eyes filled his face. His lips split into a wide, hungry grin. At the parody of a smile, icy fear twisted around her heart.

In the next instant, he changed. His body elongated. Fingers, growing and tipped with black nails with curved ends, arched away from his body. From the side of his long, gaunt head, tufted ears stuck out.

Holy crap, he really was a weasel!

Momentary panic skipped through her mind as she struggled to assimilate what her eyes saw.

“You come.” The weasel demanded in a shrill voice. From the vicinity of the bartender’s chest. Not his mouth. From his freaking chest. His tone was high-pitched, with a grating edge like the squeal of rusty hinges scraping against a rusty door. Instinctively, Lexi felt her shoulders duck in reaction to both the sound and his appearance.

“Sorry, you aren’t my type. I don’t date rodents.”

As the words left her mouth, Lexi wanted to slap herself. What was she doing? Mouthing off to a demon? Call her crazy, but somehow she didn’t think she’d be reborn a second time.

The weasel laughed. At least, she thought the rapid squeaking was laughter. Maybe it was a signal for other weasel demons.

Adrenaline rushed through her body in a fight or flee demand. She hated to back down from conflict, yet, was she ready to fight a demon? Of course, the option of going with him was out too, leaving her with the only choice that made any sense. Fleeing.

Right.

Instead, Lexi settled into a fight stance. She was not going to back down from a weasly faced demon.

He leaped at her, his black-tipped fingers stabbing toward her, the sharp points digging into her neck in a two-handed strangle. The metallic scent of blood filled her nostrils.

She choked, knowing she only had seconds to break free before the lack of oxygen would cause her to pass out.

Letting her neck muscles relax, she threw herself to the left and brought her right arm up and over the weasel’s. Lexi grabbed his right hand and turned, the pressure of her grip locking his arm.

His fingers slid from around her neck. At the sharp bite of pain as the nails scraped against her skin, she hissed, followed by a raspy inhale of blessed air.

A chittering sound, like teeth gnashing a carrot, came from the weasel’s chest, er, mouth. Hurt or pissed off? She didn’t care.

She turned its wrist out, putting a lock on it. Both of its arms now trapped, she drove her right elbow back into its pointy chin. Its head snapped back and wobbled unsteadily, but it didn’t fall. Sonofabitch.

Before the weasel could strike back, she slid a foot forward and kneed its groin. At least, she hoped it was his groin. She wasn’t up on the anatomy of weasel demons. For all she knew, she could have struck its, well, tail.

This time, luck was on her side. The weasel let out high-pitched squeal, bending over as it clutched the sensitive part between its legs.

Cool. It seemed as if males were the same no matter the humanoid species.

Skittering backward, Lexi worked on calming her nerves and taking deep gulps of air. It would either go down and stay down or physiologies aside, come at her again.

It chose door number two. Despite appearing shaky, it straightened, its head turning from side to side as if it had lost her. As if it couldn’t see her. It lifted its sharp-edged chin— Sniffed. It actually sniffed the air.

She backed up another step. Freaking terrific. For some reason it couldn’t see her but it could smell her? This really sucked.

With another bout of frantic chittering, the weasel started in her direction. Materializing out of thin air, a bolt of yellow energy struck the weasel, sending it reeling backward. It crashed into a far wall and slid down until it rested on the floor in a lump of boneless flesh.

She jerked her head around and her mouth dropped open. Backlit by the muted lights over the bar, Big Joe’s squat form stood, his arms lifted. Sparks scampered over his hands and fingers before dissipating.

“He will be out for only a little time. You must go.”

Looked like Big Joe.

Sounded like Big Joe.

But, Big Joe didn’t shoot energy bolts from his fingers.

“Lexi, are you listening?” The tiny ring of annoyance tinged his words along with the lines furrowing his brow.

Lexi shook her head rapidly, then refocused on Big Joe. Hmm. Looked the same as he always did. Gray suit. Red tie. Black shoes. Slicked back dark hair with gray frosting his temples.

“Alexandria!”

She blinked and met his brown gaze. Did her expression look as confused as she felt? “I hear you.”

“Then get out of here. You are not ready to fight a demon alone.”