Things Forbidden (4 page)

The shop was a comfortable
cover story for their true identities.  They were only visible in their true forms at night, and by day they looked every bit the part of a human.  Most demons used this to their advantage, amassing vast fortunes over the centuries that they would live.  Paris was no exception to this rule. 

“I have been doing research,” he said, again hoping his friend would l
et the subject die.  The half
-smile
on Jackson’s face told Paris he still wasn’t buying it.  Luckily, the Grand Elder decided to take that moment to enter the room, effectively drawing the attention away from him and his unusual
behavior
. 

The Grand Elder was the supreme authority for all demons.  He
was immensely powerful, but his body
was g
etting old.  He
was little more than a wrinkled husk of a man now, requiring assistance for even the slightest moveme
nt.  He was helped up the steps of a small dais at the far end of
the meeting
hall
where his kind had gathered for centuries.  The room was in the massive palace of the Grand Elder, in a dimension separate from the human’s world
. 
He sat on the throne with the Council seated just slightly behind on either side of him.  There were five Demon Lords on the council, and together with the Grand Elder, they were the ruling body
in the demon community.  They made the laws, they enforced them, and they were constantly fighting amongst themselves. 

A time of uncertainty was comi
ng.
The Grand Elder had no sons, and only one daughter that was quite possibly the ugliest thing Paris had ever seen.  Only a son could become the next Grand Elder, and it was becoming painfully obvious that no demon was willing to mate his daughter, even if it meant becoming the most powerful demon in existence.
  If he passed on with no son in law to take his place, the entire kingdom would erupt into a chaotic power struggle. 

“While you were doi
ng research,” Jackson
whispered
,
a smirk on his face that severely unnerved him,
“father came by
the store to talk
.”

Jackson’s father was on the Council
.
Paris, although not outwardly noticeable
, began to get very nervous.  There was something big going on.  For the Council to be assembled together with the Grand Elder was unusual.  Paris could tell by the grin on Jackson’s face he would regret spending the past w
eek chasing his own curiosity and neglecting his responsibilities. 

“Well,” Jackson continued, “he actually came by to talk to you.  But since you were out…”

H
is friend let his
words trail off,
unfinished
, but
still telling Paris that Jackson
knew what was about to happen. 
The
Grand Elder’s daughter, Salem, entered the room and took a
seat beside her father
.  There was
another chair
on the other side of the Grand Elder that was left empty.
  Paris became increasingly unsettled.

The Grand Elder stood, achingly slow, his every joint crackling as he s
truggled to hold himself on
wobbly knees.  He smacked his lips a couple of times, looking around the room of demonic royalty that had gathered, preparing to speak.

“My beautiful subjects
,” he spoke, using an unusual amount of affection towards them.  His hand reached out for his daughter, her pudgy fingers grabbing onto his as she stood up next to him.  She was shorter than him, ev
en as he hunched over.  Her round
face hel
d beady little eyes that
darted around the room, one of them slightly askew. 
Her nose sat flattened into her face with
a constant
scrunch, and s
he scratched absently at a cluster of warts that h
ad formed just under her chin.  Paris had to fight the urge to cringe at the sight of her.

“My time is nearing an end,” the Grand Elder continued, his voice chalky and breaking, “and as you all know I have no sons to carry on my lineage.  However, I do have a daughter.  And she has chosen a mate, who will take my place once I go.”

He turned to his daughter with a
smile and small nod.  Every demon in the room held his
breath, praying he was not the unlucky chosen one.  But Paris knew.  He could see his friend out of the corner of his eye, trying his best to keep his smile hidden.  He apparently found this situation hilarious. 

“I chose
,” the demon princess spoke, revealing
crooked, badly
yellow
ed
t
eeth, drawing out her words in
a high pitched whine, “Lord Paris.”

#

This demon
was upper-class. 
Zoe recognized one of his outfits.  She h
ad seen it through the glass of a very high end clothing boutique downtown.  There were really only a handful of people that could afford things from that store, and they
were all very much upper-class
. 
She could find him there, she just knew it
.  But
finding him
would be fruitless unless she had some ammunition.  This demon was not to be trifled with, and the next time she met him, she wanted to be prepared. 

The stack of boo
ks she was carrying went tumbling
across the small library table as she set them down.  Everything she could find on demons and the occult.  There had to be something in here that would help her.

Paris tried as best he could to maintain his composure while
the spoiled demon princess
clung to his arm.  Even her scent was reviling.  It wasn’t that
becoming the Grand Elder wasn’t worth a few sacrifices
.  On the contrary, that is precisely what every demon wanted, and Paris was no different.  But he had many centuries left in his life, with many opportunities to otherwise gain that power.  He did not think putting up with Salem was a fair price to pay.

“I want a big mating ceremony,”
she
said, a
wide
smile on her face that
only served to
make her look even more hideous
.  She was completely oblivious to the fact that
everyone around her despised her
.  It wasn’t that she was too ugly to lik
e
.  It wasn’t even the fact that she was little more than a spoiled brat.  Salem was just one of those people that nobody liked.  Her aura exuded a sense of disagreeability. 
Her physical aspects only added to her
social
downfall.

It wasn’t a surprise that she would pick Paris to be her mate.  He was by far the most eligible demon bachelor
.  His dashing
good looks,
combined with his
aloof poise
, made
him the fantasy of
every Demon Lady. 
Many of th
e ladies he had obliged, further propagating his lascivious reputation.
  He was
, in short,
god’s gift to demoness
es.

“And I want it
to be soon,” Salem continued.  “I don’t want to wait long for the mating rituals.”

She wiggled her bushy brown eyebrows as she looked up suggestively at Paris.  He wanted to hurl.  His mind was going ten different ways.  First, there was no way he was actually going to go through with this.  He would have to think very carefully about how to wiggle h
is way
out of this one.  Second, he was going to kill Jackson. 
The one demon he actually counted as a friend, who was currently trying to contain his amusement, could have warned him about this.  Third, he knew he had enemies that were waiting for the
right
moment to strike.  Many of them were embittered mates, whose females
had
found
more comfort in Pari
s
’
arms than theirs.  Some of them were childhood enem
ies, made from
one slight or another. 
Still
others were blood
feuds
. 
Rivalries that ran through family lines.
  Paris’ pa
rents were no longer alive.  He had been
an only child
, and had no other family members to speak of
.  That left
the bad
blood of generations squarely upon
his broad shoulders.  And his family had a lot of
bad blood. 
The sum total of all the enemies he had made at court was just about every single person in attendance. 
He could hear the whispers going on all around him as the crowd adjusted to what had just happened.

“Are you listening to
me?” Salem said angrily, poking
a fat finger into his rib
a couple of times.  “Why are you so quiet?”

“I heard you,” Paris s
aid, looking down into her tubby
face.  He wanted to push the creature as far away from his person as he could, but he knew he had to be careful.  The Grand Elder was old, but he still held all the power of the ancestors and that is so
mething no one dared challenge.
He would have to play this very carefully.  And if there was one thing Paris kn
ew, it was how to manipulate a
situation.  He forced his most charming smile, swallowing the rising bile.  “My dear, you shall have whatever you like.”

#

It had taken her hours of reading, but she had
finally
found something.  That sneaky little bastard was going down. 
At
first, Zoe had
thought to find a loophole in her contract, something that sh
e could use to get out of
it,
o
r something
in it that
she could use against him. 
But when she unrolled the scroll to read it, she realized it was in Spanish. 
That sneaky bastard.
 
She should have figured he had more tricks up his sleeve to toy with her, but she eventually found the perfect thing anyway. 
It was in the oddest little book, no bigger than an index card.  She found it crammed between two giant textbooks on religious history and philosophy.  There was no title, or markings of any kind on the book
, o
nly a w
orn out light green cover with
a couple
of
dog-eared pages.  She almost didn’t even look
at it, b
ut as soon as she opened the little book, a smile lit her face.  This was the key, not
only to her freedom, but to
gaining the upper hand on him.
A ritual that would reverse the terms of the contract.

Zoe pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and began to feverishly copy a list of items.  Most of them were peculiar, but nothing that she would have too much trouble finding.  There was only one thing
she needed
that would present a bit of a problem. 
A
personal belonging of
the demon
.
  Fortunately, she knew exactly how she was going to go about getting it. 

Chapter Eight

Zoe had never felt more out of place.  Her torn jeans and
worn out
black tank top contrasted with the fine clothing that surrounded her.  She had never been in this store, though she had passed it many times.  It
had
looked stuffy from the outside, despite the ultra-modern décor
, and now that she was inside
her suspicions had been confirmed.  She picked up the price tag on a
plain
white, men’s dress shirt, turning it over to check the price.  She had to count the
zeros
in the number before gently setting the tag down and backing away from the table of obscenely priced shirts.  It was more money than she made in a month.

“
That is
handpicked Egyptian cotton,” a drawn out voice
said behind her.  She jumped at the sudden presence, whirling around.  Intense blue eyes
met
her from behind a handsome mask of smugness.  There was something about the way that he was looking at her that put her completely on edge. 
She had never met him before, she would remember him if she did, but there was
an odd sense of
recognition on his face.