SEDUCTIVE SUPERNATURALS: 12 Tales of Shapeshifters, Vampires & Sexy Spirits (160 page)

Logan took a bite of chicken and reached for the television remote. “Mind if I check the score on the game?”

Typical. I wasn’t even sure which sport season it was. But I had fried chicken and mashed potatoes, so I was feeling generous. “Sure, go ahead.”

He turned on the TV just in time to hear the local news anchor winding up his report on the missing persons cases stacking up in La Sombra. Inwardly wincing a little, I heard the reporter mention the names of some of the demons I’d dispatched over the last couple of days. The police had found no connection between a homeless man, a florist and a certain biology teacher. I could have told them there was most definitely a connection, but I wasn’t looking for a private suite at Hotel Nutso.

Deliberately, I lowered my head, keeping my gaze on my plate and my mind on eating. It didn’t work.

Game forgotten, Logan punched the TV off and turned to look at me, his features looking like they were carved out of marble.

“That’s the other reason I came here tonight, Cassie. Some weird shit is happening in town and I want you and Thea to be extra careful.”

I tried to laugh off the warning. “Please. We’re fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

He waved a hand at the TV. “Weren’t you listening? People are coming up missing around here. Some woman who worked at the manicure shop—“

Must have been the evil blonde with the ugly dress and good nails.

“Mr. Mondaca—remember him? Biology teacher at the high school?”

“Yeah, I do—“ And I remembered a sense of satisfaction as he littered his own desk after I was finished with him.

“And then today, some bagboy at the market went out to collect carts and nobody ever saw him again.”

I took a bite of chicken. I’d left Devlin in the grocery store, gone to my car and squirted that kid as he took my cart from me. The nasty little junior demon had sprung at me, dropping his human ‘disguise’ in favor of dagger nails and sharp teeth. I was so surprised, I’d dropped my
Fossil
bag onto the dirty parking lot and would probably never get the gunk off of it.

The bagboy demon shouted something like ‘You bitch’—not very original, but he was under stress. Still, he’d made me ruin one of my favorite purses, which totally pissed me off. So I admit, I actually enjoyed slapping my hand through his chest and I even remember sticking out my tongue as his ashes drifted to the ground.

Truthfully, I hadn’t given the kid another thought until just this minute. Now Logan was watching me, waiting for a reaction and I didn’t know which one to give him. So I went for vague.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” he snapped, cop face slamming down onto his features. “Jesus, Cassie, if you’re not going to read the papers, at least watch the news once in awhile.”

“Logan, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“You’re wrong.”

“This isn’t LA.”

“No, right now it feels
worse.
There’s something...” he shook his head as if trying to search for the right words to describe what he was feeling.

I felt bad for him, but hey, I’d already tried to explain the demon situation to him and he hadn’t wanted to hear it. No way was I going to get laughed at again. Crappy day, remember? So let him work this one out on his own.

After a long minute or two, his breath left him in a rush. “All I’m saying is, you and Thea should be careful.”

“We always are,” I assured him.

Thankfully, Thea came bursting into the living room in the next second, ending the conversation.

“Hi mom,” she called, apparently now officially speaking to me again. Then she spotted Logan and her face froze up a little. “Hi, um...”

Sugar lumbered to her feet, reluctantly left the food and went to greet Thea with the traditional nose to the crotch.

“Logan,” he said to Thea, picking up on her indecision quickly. “If you can’t call me dad, and that’s okay, you could call me Logan.”

Thea shot me a look and when I smiled, she looked back at her father and nodded. “Okay. Hi Logan.”

“Hungry?” he asked.

Honestly, the man was very good. He already knew that the way to the Burke women’s hearts was through the stomach.

“Yeah,” she said and came right over, grabbing up a chicken leg and a napkin before flopping down onto the couch and folding her legs up under her.

In the lamplight, her black hair shone like night and her eyes, so much like Logan’s, pinned us both with curiosity. “So, what’s going on?”

“Dinner,” I said bluntly.

Logan grinned. “I just wanted to come and see you guys.”

“You weren’t doing anything...gross, were you?”

I waved my chicken wing at her, then shot a look at Logan that said,
See? She wouldn’t be happy about us hooking up, so just keep your tiger caged.

“Okay,” she said, reaching out one hand to pat Sugar. But, since there was no chicken in that hand, the dog whimpered. “Mom going on dates with Mr. Delicious is one thing, but...” she shuddered.

“Mr. Delicious?” I asked and pretended I didn’t hear Logan muttering something exceptionally unflattering under his breath.

“Yeah, Devlin Cole is sooooo cool,” Thea said on a sigh that I’m sure irritated her father on many levels—which made me smile. I never claimed to be a good person.

“Zoe and I were talking about what we’re gonna wear on Saturday,” Thea said, grabbing my attention.

“Saturday?” Logan looked at me.

I was blank for a second or two and then it hit me. Damn, I’d been so busy the last couple of weeks, I’d forgotten all about the annual ‘end of Summer’ block party.
“Is that this weekend?”

“Well,
yeah,
” Thea said. “Last weekend in September, just like always.”

“What?” Logan asked.

Thea explained, so I just kept eating, listening with only half an ear as I thought about all the opportunities for demons to do some party crashing. This just wasn’t fair. Our street’s annual block party to celebrate the end of Summer was a rite of passage. A time when we shut down the street to cars, pulled tables out onto the road and piled them high with all kinds of food.

We always attached strings of lights from the trees and the Marchetti boys provided the music by setting out their incredibly loud speakers. (The only day of the year when no one complained about them.) There was dancing and drinking and laughing and a generally great time, giving Summer a send-off.

Now, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it, because I’d be wandering around with my damn squirt bottle. Or keeping an eye out for thugs sent from Judge Jenks. Damn it, I couldn’t wait much longer to take care of this threat on Thea. I couldn’t protect her every day—especially when I didn’t know
who
I was protecting her from.

“Sounds like fun,” Logan said, shifting his gaze from Thea to me. “Is everybody invited?”

I glanced at my darling daughter and she was giving me that
please can I have a puppy
look that had, years ago, brought Sugar into our lives. Now, I knew she was wanting me to invite her father to the party.

Somehow, Thea managed to look all grown up and like a little girl all at the same time. No way could I disappoint her, even if I’d rather not have Logan hanging around—just in case I had to dust some demons. But hell. If she wanted him there, why not?

“Sure, Logan,” I said, forcing enthusiasm I didn’t really feel into my voice. “Party starts around five on Saturday.”

He reached over and tugged at my hair. “Sounds great.”

* * *

I spent the next couple of days doing ordinary things. You know, cleaning houses, dusting demons, the usual. But the more I tried to just lead my life, the more the threat of the judge kept bothering me. I mean, I’m the Duster, right? That should have gotten me some respect from the demons. A little fear wouldn’t have been out of line either.

But so far...nada.

The judge wasn’t worried about me.

So maybe it was time to give him a little something to think about.

After I finished the last of my houses for the day, I went home and changed into some black slacks, and a dark green, long sleeved shirt. Then I put on some makeup—when heading out to make a threat to some hotshot demon, it’s best to go in with all the ammo you’ve got—and stepped into my black half boots. I threw my wallet and keys into my small Coach bag, then gave myself a good squirt with the demon spray. If Devlin didn’t like the smell of it, I was guessing the judge wouldn’t be real fond of it, either.

Like I said. Ammo.

Then I hopped into my VW bug (that I no longer owed a million and one easy payments for) and drove to downtown La Sombra. I passed the bakery (silent applause for me, because I really could have used a cinnamon roll at the moment), and hardly noticed the last of the lingering tourists wandering the Coast highway.

On my left, the ocean was gray and roiling with whitecaps. Seagulls dipped and spun in the wind that tossed the fronds of the palm trees into a wild dance. On my right, shops sat crowded together, doors open, tempting the last of the Summer dollars into their stores.

But my mind was focused on the courthouse just up ahead. Inside, Judge Jenks would be presiding over the bench he’d ruled for years. He would be handing down sentences, (no doubt still stripping innocent teenagers of their licenses), and in general enjoying being in charge of so many lives.

Well, after today, he wouldn’t be able to get any shits and giggles out of torturing me. I was going to call him out. Let him know that he didn’t worry me. And that if he didn’t back off my daughter, I was going to send him into the giant dust ball universe.

I am Duster.

Hear me roar.

More than Fiends: Chapter Eighteen

The courthouse was pink.

Not
pink,
pink, but that soft pastel color that blossoms on old adobe buildings after years of weathering in the sun. More than a hundred years old, it was built in the old California style, looking more like one of the Missions than a courthouse.

Heavily carved double doors opened onto a cool, brick red tiled floor that glistened in the late afternoon sunshine streaming in through leaded glass windows. Silence hung in the air, almost daring you to speak above a whisper.

Sort of felt like that depressing pall you usually found in funeral homes.
Great, Cassidy. Think about funerals. Way to go on the positive thinking front.

Only a handful of people were in the hall. In the late afternoon, most of the court’s business was finished and these few lingerers weren’t going to stop me. I’m stubborn, in case you hadn’t noticed. Once I finally made up my mind on something, I pretty much stuck with it until it was done. And I was
going
to talk to the judge. Get him to call his dogs off of Thea, even if it meant ripping the old fart’s heart out right there in the courthouse.

The doors to the three courtrooms were closed and small brass plaques announced which judge was on the bench in which room.

But I knew where Judge Jenks was without looking. He’d been lording it over everyone from the same bench for years. The room had his personality (or lack thereof) stamped on it. No other judge would be able to work in that courtroom without holding an exorcism or something.

My boot heels sounded overly loud and a man in a black suit looked up as I passed. I nodded and kept walking. Didn’t know who he was, didn’t care.

Nervous?

Oh, yeah.

But I wasn’t going to let the judge know it. Grabbing hold of one of the doors leading into the courtroom, I gave it a yank and stepped inside. Here too, there were only a few people. I glanced at them all quickly, trying to decide without benefit of my squirt bottle, who might be a demon.

I checked out both attorneys seated at tables opposite each other, and wondered. Lawyers/demons—probably not much of a difference. Then I let my gaze linger for a long minute on the defendant. I’d been at that table once and it wasn’t a comfortable spot to land in. The guy sitting there now though, looked as comfy as though he was sitting on his mom’s couch.

Clearly, he’d been there before. It would have taken me a week to read all the tattoos he had, covering his body in a variety of colors. His eyes were flat and black and I was pretty sure he, at least, was a demon. Reminding myself to keep an eye on him, I checked out the four other people in the courtroom. There were two bailiffs. One, short and thick, looked like a tree stump standing beside the defendant. The other was tall and gray haired, positioned before the bench like a statue, hands clasped in front of him.

Demons? Who knew.

Then there was the stenographer. Red hair, blue eyes and a great black suit with white pinstripes. She looked too tidy to be a demon, but she worked for Jenks, which meant she was a woman of
unbelievable
patience, or...

Finally, I looked at the judge and jolted. He was staring at me. His blue eyes looked pale in his George Hamilton tanned face. His thick, white hair was swept back from his forehead and his mouth was flattened into a grim, disapproving line.

Reaching out blindly, I grabbed the back of the closest bench seat and slid down into it. My hands were suddenly shaking, so I grabbed hold of my Coach bag and tightened my grip. The attorneys were talking, but the judge’s gaze never left me.

It felt like he was trying to see
inside
me, which was a really creepy feeling. Devlin hadn’t said anything about the judge having super powers or anything though, so I was guessing that it was just his usual creep factor, magnified since I knew what he really was.

He smiled then. A brief curl of his lips that sent an icy chill straight down my spine. Evil seemed to ripple off of him in thick waves that swept out from the bench in ever widening circles.

Fear tasted like old pennies. Sort of coppery.

My heart jolted in my chest, but I kept my gaze locked with the judge’s. Wasn’t going to let the old bastard know I was scared.

The room felt shadowy, despite the weak spill of sunlight filtering through the window glass. A chill crawled through me and the small hairs at the back of my neck stood straight up.