Demons Are a Girl’s Best Friend (3 page)

“Fire demon Declan?” the ferret asked. “Catrina was talking about him. She couldn’t stop drooling. Said she saw him at Damnation Alley a few nights ago, and he could light her fire anytime.”

“Fire demon? No wonder I smelled sulfur.” Maggie turned to the ferret. “What else do you know about Declan, Trickie?”

“The obvious. That he’s one hot guy,” he chortled.

“Go.” Mal waved his hand in his usual
Get the Hades out of my office
gesture.

“I need to be the one who goes to Mexico,” she muttered, leaving the room with Trickie trotting at her heels.

“Don’t think that’s happenin’ no matter what you say.”

“Why is your Cubs cap purple, Trickie? Their colors are red and blue.” Maggie eyed the garish cap.

“Forget Chicago. We’re talking the New Orleans Cubs, babe. Those shifters know how to play serious ball.” The ferret whistled a high-pitched tune as he raced off on his next task.

Maggie left the building and walked outside. She paused and looked up to admire the night sky dotted with stars and breathed in the crisp scent of sage. She’d lived in the five-hundred-acre Texas-based compound for the last hundred years and loved it. As the years passed, it continued to grow with additional teams and many Guard members starting families.

Protection wards meant their human neighbors couldn’t detect the large area and kept it safe from supernatural predators. Not that any would dare to sneak onto the grounds, unless they wanted to be turned into a pile of ash.

The main buildings housing administration, the dining hall, the fitness center, and the armory were set in a semicircle at the heart of the compound, with living quarters for single members of the Guard and bungalows for families set off to the side. She headed to the fitness center, where she found Sybil seated on a workout mat with a pile of bandages arrayed around her. She looked up and grinned.

“Mal must have been barking rather than biting, since you’re still in one piece.”

Maggie reached down and pulled her friend to her feet. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean I don’t need some serious therapy.”

Sybil’s gossamer wings fluttered a calming scent. “Therapy as in…?” She raised a delicate eyebrow as they left the building and crossed the large compound that even past 2 a.m. was bustling with messenger ferrets busy with their tasks, as well as Guard teams coming back from assignments and others preparing to head out. The Hellion Guard worked 24-7 and was sent not only worldwide but also to other realms. Their work would put the Navy SEALs, Marine Recon, and Army Green Berets combined to shame.

Maggie nodded at some and spoke to others as she and Sybil made their way to a sprawling one-story building near the far end. She breathed in deeply, enjoying the scent of burning mesquite and smoked meat that permeated the air. She thought of the mega barbecue pit set up behind the dining hall.
Yum! Gonna be a barbecue later on.

Sybil smiled at an Orlando-Bloom-as-Legolas look-alike, even spinning around and walking backward to watch him stroll away. The wild scent of the forest followed him.

“Focus, Syb,” Maggie muttered with a grin.

“I am. But Elweard is seriously hot.” Sybil returned her grin. “And his name means elf guard. How perfect is that?”

“Yeah, gorgeous, eyes that make you melt, a smile that’s downright sinful.” Maggie grabbed her friend’s arm and pulled her along. “Forget the testosterone, woman. We have better things to do, as in girl bonding over an ice cream sundae.”

“Shopping would be even better. We could take one of the jets and fly to New York City for a lovely breakfast, then hit the stores.”

“Why do all my friends have this need to shop?” Maggie wondered if she’d missed out on that girl gene when she was born. She’d rather spend time training than at the mall. For now, she wasted no time heading to the building that housed a series of eateries covering every Guard species. A well-fed team was a happy team, and all the teams in the compound were extremely happy.

“It’s more fun to go out and enjoy the great outdoors. And you don’t need a snappy wardrobe and lip gloss to do it in, either.”

“You wouldn’t be so well dressed if we didn’t brave the boutiques on your behalf. All you’d buy are more jeans, T-shirts, and yoga pants.” Sybil followed Maggie through the heavy glass doors. “So what are we indulging in before you’ll feel more like yourself?”

Maggie immediately headed for the dessert corner, which emitted mouth-watering, fresh-baked smells. “The hard stuff. I’m talking about a Snow Queen sundae that’s over six feet tall.”

The image of sexy Declan covered in yummy marshmallow crème popped into her mind.

Ha! I wonder what a fire demon would make of that?

“Are you ready to read the damage report on the club, Master?”

Declan looked up from the iced glass of vodka he had contemplated downing in the next few seconds. His half-demon self would metabolize the strong alcohol almost the same as spring water, but he could still savor the initial bite from the drink.

“How bad is it?” Not that he needed to hear the report. He’d already seen the disaster that had been his club. Months of work destroyed in seconds. But his second-in-command wasn’t happy unless he could put it into a report for Declan to survey.

The imp that stood in front of him was about as ugly as you could get and scary enough to cause a lifetime worth of nightmares. Luckily Snips was as organized as a brownie, didn’t tolerate bullshit, and was as loyal as you could get, considering imps were better known for pulling pranks than holding actual jobs.

But Snips had good reason to remain solidly by Declan’s side. The demon was known for protecting those who were devoted to him. Declan was aware that Snips hadn’t had a very happy existence before he took over the club. Now the imp didn’t have to worry about being beaten, or worse, if he said one wrong word.

“That whole room will need fire blasting to get the Bloater shit off the walls, floor, bar, and the furniture. And that’s not to mention the smell it left behind. That witch did a number on the place, Declan, and we’re left to clean it up. We should send the Guard the bill.” Snips frowned as he gazed with mismatched eyes at the ever-present PDA he was holding in his eggplant-colored claws.

“We can’t totally blame her, Snips. To be technical, the mess came from the Bloater when he was destroyed.” Declan recalled the ease with which Maggie O’Malley had caught the creature. A smooth efficient job—even if the oily mixture had ended up everywhere and he had been forced to close the club hours too early. Declan had heard stories of what happened when a Bloater was executed. Too bad those stories didn’t tell all, or he would have barred it from the club.

“She just did her job, even though I wish she’d lured him outside to the parking lot before executing him.” He leaned back in the buttery-soft, black leather chair, one hand still cupped around the glass. Steam curled upward in tiny coils as the once icy vodka now bubbled.

“The Hellion Guard prides itself on not going into a situation unless necessary. The questions I have are, what did the Bloater do to cause their attention to be directed on him, and why were they here to confront him? Is there a reason why we didn’t receive any courtesy foreknowledge that this incident was going down?” He speared his assistant with a cold gaze. “Our intelligence claims to be as good as the Guard’s. What happened?”

The imp didn’t back down. “We have never bothered with the Bloaters. They are the lowest of the low and not worthy of our attention. While we are not happy when they come here, they do spend a great deal of coin.”

“For something not worthy of our attention, it was still spending that coin in
my
club and in some way should have been protected from the Guard interference—or at least escorted outside where the damage could have been better contained.”

The scent of sulfur intensified in the room, and Snips instinctively stepped back as his boss’s eyes glowed dark orange. Declan picked up a cigar and snipped the end. Not bothering with a lighter, he put it between his lips and puffed once. The end glowed cherry red, and rich aromatic smoke coiled upward.

The imp kept his slit-shaped eyes on his boss even as he struggled not to retreat any further. “No one sensed any reason to bar it from the club. Bloaters are known to battle more among themselves than with others. They have been in the club before and never caused a problem. Ratchet said anyone with coin that didn’t make trouble could enter.” Unspoken was what happened to anyone who did cause trouble in the club. They were never heard of again.

A dark-red candle that sat on the corner of Declan’s polished ebony desk suddenly shot up in a white-hot flame that upped the temperature in the room a good fifty degrees. The flame soon settled into a gentle illumination, but the powerful heat remained.

“Then I am certain you will find out why the Bloater had the Hellion Guard on its ass. And you will tell me before nightfall.” Declan stared at Snips as he set the cigar in an onyx ashtray. “I’m sure the club will be put back to rights as soon as possible, under your direction.”

“I will need to bring through more workers to have the work done quickly,” Snips warned.

“Do it, but make sure they are trustworthy and that they understand it’s only a temporary visit to this plane and that they will be returned as soon as the work is finished. No boons will be granted. This is purely a work-for-hire position, and they aren’t allowed to leave the club under any circumstances. They are to be watched at all times.”

The imp nodded and rapidly punched a few keys on his PDA. “The report is on your computer.” He bobbed his head again and left the office.

Left alone, Declan stared at the candle, willing the flame to extinguish. As a barometer of his temper, the candle was infallible and an excellent way for him to work on not burning anything down.

He may have been only half a fire demon, but there was enough heat in him to level a large city in seconds. It only took a good sneeze at the age of four for him to burn down two houses. After that, his nannies were required to learn powerful fire-extinguishing spells and ordered to keep tight control over him.

He’d wanted a purpose to his existence. The chance six months ago to own this club was the beginning, even if it came with stipulations such as overseeing the portal. He was responsible for seeing that traffic was logged in and out and that certain demons didn’t stay long in this realm. Some were to be barred altogether, but Declan knew better. If you had the right bribe, you could easily come through the magickal doorway. For demons, it was about what you had and were willing to trade.

But the excitement had started to wane right after he renovated the club to look as dark and dangerous as he felt and had named it as befitted his nature. He’d worked hard to erase all signs of Ratchet’s influence in the building, so that it would feel all his. The underground club had been here for years, each new owner changing it to his personal specifications.

But there was always a price for that windfall, and if owners didn’t follow the rules, they would find themselves dead. Declan’s predecessors were well and truly gone. He didn’t intend to follow their paths. He would do whatever it took to remain here, run his club, and create a new existence for himself. By agreeing to the terms of his new life, he could do that and more.

But lately, Declan felt the need to have something in his life other than the club. His existence had been lonely for so long, and now he felt the need for a mate. What caught his eye was a sassy witch who made him smile.

The question was if the interest was returned.

***

“How you can eat all that in the middle of the night and not get sick is just… wrong.” Sybil eyed what looked like a mile-high sundae that Maggie was consuming.

Scoops of peppermint ice cream were covered with marshmallow cream and dusted with tinted coconut, providing a colorful display. To make it last as long as possible, Maggie used a long-handled iced tea spoon.

Sybil returned to her one scoop of butter pecan ice cream topped with a spoonful of warm caramel sauce.

“Don’t forget to clean up the mess before you leave,” Tantris, the gnome that ran the kitchens, warned them. “And no taking it into the games room, either. When any of you do that, you forget to return the dishes.”

“Spoilsport,” Maggie muttered, spooning up her frozen treat.

“I have more to do than clean up after you. Do you think a 1,000-pound boar can roast itself? Who’s going to make sure the marinade is properly applied if I’m not out there to oversee the work?” He walked away with the rolling gait of a longtime sailor.

“Tyrant.” The word held affection and not insult. After all, the teams wouldn’t survive without Tantris ruling the kitchens that fed so many people and creatures at all hours of the day or night.

“One day you’ll push him too far, and he’ll cut you off,” Sybil warned. “He comes up with more ice cream flavors than Baskin-Robbins could ever think of.”

Maggie sighed. “True, although there have been a few that I’d never want to try. Remember when he had all those leftover oysters?” She shuddered. “That was totally disgusting.”

The elf waited until Maggie had another spoonful of ice cream and coconut before speaking again.

“Tell me about this Declan, Maggie.”

The ice cream immediately slid down the wrong way, and Maggie began choking. Sybil didn’t have a chance to hop out of her seat to save her before a passing giant thumped Maggie on the back so hard she shot out of her chair.

“Thanks Otos… I think,” Maggie choked, accepting his hand as he pulled her to her feet.

“Take smaller bites,” he advised in a deep, reverberating voice before he walked away, each footstep sounding like the beginning rumbles of an earthquake.

“So he’s that hot.” Sybil’s lips parted in a wide smile. “I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t spend so much time in the compound. How I wish I were on your team. I’d love to see him in person.” She spooned up more ice cream.

“No biggie. He’s a fire demon. Not someone I’d care to hang out with. He hosts Bloaters at his club, for Fates’ sake. I’m positive ‘sarcasm’ is his middle name.”

“And here I thought that was
your
middle name,” the comely elf murmured. Her wings wafted more lavender and vanilla.

“Mal wants me to find out what Declan’s doing here,” Maggie said.

Sybil raised an elegant eyebrow at Maggie’s disgruntled tone. “But he said that Kittan can’t do research for you, so that means you have to do all the grunt work.”

“Mal’s punishing me.” Maggie waved her spoon in the air and then quickly lapped the coconut off the bottom of the utensil.

“Again?” Sybil giggled and then quickly backed off. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Besides, why such a long face? If Mal told me I had to investigate a sexy male, I would be all over him.”

“Okay, Syb, that word choice doesn’t work. The image of you all over Mal is pretty gross.”

Sybil ignored that remark. “We all know that demons are very private. They may mingle with others, but that’s very limited. They are usually vigilant about who they hang with. I can imagine the only reason Declan is around so many of our kind is because of the club.”

Maggie’s mind clicked away like a computer. “I can’t see Mal having any interest in Declan. It’s got to be about the club.”

“The club, as in the portal, since we know all their clubs have portals.” Since Sybil had already finished her ice cream, she now dared to steal some of Maggie’s. The witch was so occupied with her thoughts that she didn’t think to object. “Demons coming in and out. Creating mischief.”

“Creating turmoil and bloodshed is more like it. Hey!” She playfully swatted Sybil’s spoon away from her dish. “Go get your own.”

“I’ve already had mine, and now I’m saving you from a million calories. So when are we visiting Damnation Alley so I can see this demonic hottie for myself?”

Maggie stared at her friend, whose usual attire was lilac or soft cream in spider web silk. The short, angled hemline showed off slender legs and feet encased in ballet-style slippers. “Uh, Syb, even if you do a great job being truly scary when you’re in interrogator mode, you still look more Tinker Bell than Xena.”

“We’re talking going clubbing and dancing, Maggie, not taking down any big bads,” Sybil argued, then pleaded, “I wanna go dancing. I wanna meet some sexy males.”

“Mal would draw and quarter me if I took you to Damnation Alley and something happened to you.”

Sybil’s ethereal features shifted to a rarely seen stubborn expression. One that Maggie knew meant the elf wouldn’t back down. “I’ll be perfectly safe if I’m with you.”

Maggie swallowed her sigh. “The dress code at Damnation Alley tends to be black with a lot of chains, fangs, and claws.”

“I have a gorgeous dark-purple dress, and I can appear as forbidding as you when you’re doing the one-hot-mama look.” Sybil sat back in her chair and stared at her friend. “What else is bothering you? There’s something else on your mind, isn’t there?”

Maggie made a face. “Arius filed a grievance against me. It seems he didn’t like his last training session in the gym. One tiny cut the healer took care of in seconds. You’d think I’d cut off a limb.”

”I think he has a crush on you.”

“Sure. You always file a grievance when you have a crush on someone. He just wants to make my life miserable, and he’s doing a good job of it.”

“I’d call it a good way for Arius to get your attention, even if he went about it the wrong way. Come on, Maggie. You have to admit he’s cute. He makes me think of a cuddly, awkward puppy you want to pick up and hug.”

“The last thing I need in my life is a puppy. Still, as long as he doesn’t hump my leg or pee on my shoes, I won’t have to kill him. You’d think he’d know better than to file a grievance against me. It’s just going to make it harder for him when he takes my classes. For Fates’ sake, if Arius had done that to Zouk, he’d have been turned into something you could scrape off the highway.”

As Maggie stared at the slowly melting remains of her mega-sundae, she realized that her eyes had very much outweighed her stomach. A buzz was rolling around in her head, and she was positive one more bite would send her reeling into a sugar coma.

“The club probably won’t be open for a few weeks,” she mused. “That Bloater made a pretty huge mess when it exploded. I wouldn’t want to be on that cleanup crew.” She took one look at Sybil’s face and sighed. “Fine. You and I will check out Damnation Alley when the place is open for business again.”

Sybil’s squeal bounced around the room. “This will be so much fun. We haven’t gone out together in ages.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s going to be a blast,” Maggie muttered, picking up her dishes. “Want to play
Grim Reaper Blaster?”
She grinned in anticipation of one of her favorite video games.