Demons Are a Girl’s Best Friend (13 page)

The administrator of the group home sat in a corner looking relieved that her charge was being handed off to someone else.

“I won’t go.”

Courtney continued to repeat those three words as the judge signed off on the paperwork and added his good wishes to Maggie.

“We’ll pick up your things and go over to the house I’ve purchased,” Maggie said, just as happy to get out of there as Courtney was.

“Didn’t you hear one thing I said? I’m not going anywhere.”

Maggie matched her glare for glare. “Yes, you will.”

Courtney drew out her cell phone, but Maggie took it from her and tucked it in her bag. “How about we grab some lunch and get to know each other?”

“That’s mine. I paid for it.”

“And you’ll get it returned. I just want to talk, Courtney.”

“I have to get back to school.”

“You’re excused today.” She led the teen down to the parking lot.

“This is your car?” Courtney’s eyes bugged out at the sight of the Viper. “Can I drive it?”

“No.”

“I have a learner’s permit.”

“Still no. Any choice of where to go for lunch, or do you trust me to come up with something fun?”

“Gee, how noble of you.” Courtney sulked in the passenger seat.

Maggie glanced at her charge as she started up the car.

Anyone whose biological clock is ticking overtime only has to meet Courtney. Adopting a cobra would be a much better bet.

Maggie didn’t expect lunch with the girl to be easy. She was right. Courtney ordered enough food for a third-world country and then only nibbled at it. Her replies to Maggie’s questions were monosyllables.

“For someone who was convinced I was here to kidnap her, you’re not all that curious about me,” Maggie said, finishing her food.

“You’re my dad’s third cousin. You haven’t kept in touch with him for several years, and my parents never mentioned you. You don’t even look like anyone in my family. Your hairdresser makes it look natural.” She eyed Maggie’s blonde hair.

“I’m from the Scandinavian side of the family.”

“You are so full of shit,” the girl hooted. “My ancestors came from South America. Not the North Pole.”

“Sounds like you need to learn your geography. And being a third cousin doesn’t mean my bloodline is the same as yours.”

“Whatev.” Courtney slumped in the chair and looked around the restaurant.

“If you’re finished, we’ll stop by and pick up your things.” As Maggie said the words, she saw the first flash of real emotion in Courtney’s brown eyes. She caught a hint of sorrow and insecurity and wondered if it came from the girl’s troubles. Losing her parents, no hint of family members, and she would have been stuck in the system for three more years if the Hellion Guard hadn’t found her. That left Maggie wondering what would happen to the girl if they all survived what was ahead.

She took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

“Can I have my cell back?” Courtney followed her.

“Once we settle in at the house.” She hoped she’d find a large bottle of aspirin there. “I may not be used to having a teenager around, but that doesn’t mean I don’t remember what it was like.”

“Huh. You haven’t been my age in years.”

“Something like that,” she said dryly.

Maggie knew her clothing and personal items would have been moved over to the house while she was at the courthouse. Her magickal supplies would remain in her quarters at the compound.

Courtney didn’t take long to gather up her things at the group home. Maggie observed, noting none of the girls wished her well and the boys only gave her sly looks. Mrs. Whitney, the administrator, displayed the same relief she had shown at the courthouse.

“Do you know what happened to your family’s things?”

“The court appointed a guardian who sold the house and furniture and put the money in trust until I’m twenty-five.” The teen acted as if that were a hundred years away. She looked down, her dark hair falling forward to obscure her features. “The other stuff is in a storage unit.”

“I’m sure I can arrange it if you want to go through what’s in there and take anything you’d like,” Maggie offered.

“No thanks. It’s all junk.” Courtney shrugged.

Oh, yeah, a
really
big bottle of aspirin.

Maggie easily found the two-story, creamy-yellow Victorian house with blue gingerbread trim. It was part of a quiet neighborhood. The building with its wraparound porch was set at the end of the block and somewhat secluded by a row of trees along the driveway that offered a windbreak.

With colorful flower baskets hanging from the porch ceiling and wind chimes near the glass-fronted double door, it looked like something out of a storybook. The name of the street was Spinning Wheel Lane, for Fates’ sake. Maggie wouldn’t have been surprised to see a shaggy-faced dog peeking out over the back fence. She felt the strength of the wards as she drove up the driveway.

“Nice house. And you’ve got a hot car. You must be rich.” Courtney eyed her speculatively. “What do you do?”

“I’m a consultant, so I work out of the house.”

“Consultant’s a fancy way of saying you run an escort service.”

Maggie stopped the car and half turned in her seat. “Where do you get these ideas?”

Courtney shrugged as she looked away. “It’s the way the world is. Good things go away. Bad things happen.” She pushed open the door and climbed out.

“Your room is the third door on the right.” Maggie walked into the kitchen and wasted no time setting up the coffee.

“If it’s pink, I’m going to projectile vomit all over it.” Courtney headed for the stairs.

“If the room is pink, it will stink. Change to a color she will love, and look kick-ass,” Maggie muttered. “And please don’t be black.”

“You did one thing right!” floated down. “The green isn’t so bad.”

“Glad to hear that.” Maggie palmed her cell and connected with Mal. “We’re here.”

“She fell for the story?”

“Not really. She’s debating whether I’m a madam or a white slaver. She’s one troubled and confused kid.”

“She’s a teenager. They’re all like that,” he said with the authority of one who’d never been a father. “You’ll be good for her.” She could hear him puffing away on his cigar. “I’ve got Zouk Rattail tracking the dream you and the demon shared. We’re hoping he’ll have some info for us soon.”

Maggie shuddered at the thought of the troll’s job, which was finding ways to backtrack someone’s dream to the originator. If she thought her nightmare was bad, she didn’t want to think what his must be like.

She winced as loud thumps from overhead made it sound as if the ceiling would fall at any second.

“Hey! You’ve got the bigger room with its own bathroom!” Courtney shouted down.

Mal chuckled. “Yeah, the two of you are the perfect pair.” He turned serious. “I’m going to email you some updated intel on this god of destruction. That somebody’s able to invade your sleep isn’t good.”

“Gee, ya think?” She searched for coffee mugs and poured herself a cup, inhaling the rich cinnamon scent of fresh-brewed caffeine. Tea wasn’t going to help her one bit in dealing with a teenager. “They’ve got another thing coming if they assume this will make me back off.”

“There are some special sachets you’re to use in your pillow. They should keep the bad dreams away. Gotta go.” He hung up.

“Nice to talk to you, too.” She sipped the hot liquid.

“Oh good, coffee.” Courtney grabbed a mug, poured some, and took a sip. “Not bad.”

“Thanks. I gather you’re okay with your room?”

“It’s all right and not a sucky color.”

Maggie leaned back against the counter and watched Courtney prowl through the kitchen. Although they’d eaten barely an hour ago, the girl was already investigating the refrigerator contents and looking through the cabinets.

She was glad that the kitchen was bright and cheerful, painted white with bright-red accents and appliances. The knowledge the morning sun would come in the window over the sink was another plus in her mind. She realized it was something she could get used to.

But even with the cheerful atmosphere of the house, she felt darkness creeping up around them like an encroaching fog. She knew the wards were strong enough to hold it back, but she’d still never let down her guard.

“At least you don’t believe in stocking nothing but healthy food.” Courtney chose a bag of chocolate marshmallow cookies. “Mrs. Whitney was positive we were better off eating so healthy I thought I’d turn into a vegetable. She’d even make veggie lasagna because she felt too much meat wasn’t good for us. How wrong is that?” She hitched herself up onto the counter even though there was a chair nearby.

“Some people prefer it that way. As for me, I like mine with lots of meat.”

Courtney tore open the bag of cookies, took out several, and belatedly offered the bag to Maggie, who took one.

“Why didn’t you keep in touch with my dad? They’ve been gone for three years. Didn’t you think something was wrong when you didn’t get a Christmas card?” She demolished her snack in two bites and then dipped her second cookie in her coffee. “Didn’t anyone tell you about them?”
About me?
was left unspoken.

“I didn’t keep in contact with anyone while I was in Europe.” Maggie continued with her cover story. “It was one of those self-discovery journeys.”

“Wish I could do that.” Courtney looked out the window for a moment before zeroing back on her. “Why are you doing this? I mean, Dad was only some million-times-removed cousin. It’s not like you were brother and sister. You didn’t have to do this.”

Maggie saw that the girl was a lot smarter than they’d anticipated. She’d have to step carefully with her, or Courtney would easily see through her lies. If that happened, Maggie didn’t want to think of the consequences. How could she explain to the girl?

Why couldn’t she be four years old and just accept whatever I say?

“We were close as kids, and while we didn’t keep in touch as we got older, I did think about him a lot,” she lied. “When I heard what happened, I didn’t want to think of you sharing a house with basically strangers.”

“But you’re a stranger. I told you, Dad never mentioned you. The only cousins I knew were on Mom’s side.”

“After time I won’t be a stranger to you.” Maggie couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to Courtney if they all survived this. She hated to think the girl would be returned to the system.

Courtney shot her a look filled with calculation. “Are you going to let my boyfriend come over without giving me a lot of grief?”

Not in this lifetime.
“What’s he like?”

For the first time, Maggie saw joy in the girl’s face. “Mick is… he’s just fantastic. He listens to me. I mean
really
listens to me and doesn’t just say what I want to hear. He even found me my job. I work at Peach Moon at the mall. They give me an awesome discount on clothes there. FYI, I’m
not
giving up my job.” Belligerence.

Maggie understood her insistence. She thought guiltily about how Courtney was going to be laid off when she next went in to work.

She considered what she knew about Courtney. So far it was only what she’d read in reports, what she and Declan had noted at the rave the night they followed her and her boyfriend, and what little Courtney had let drop so far. Not a lot, but it was enough to tell her that what she’d expected to be a smart-mouthed teenager was really a scared little girl.

The way Maggie had been a frightened child the first day she entered the Witches’ Academy. The fears she first felt when she and her class were banished from the academy, and she had no idea what she would do to survive in an unknown world.

But she’d carried on, and she intended to see that Courtney did the same.

***

“I don’t eat eggs. Why can’t we have pancakes?” Courtney poured herself a cup of coffee.

Maggie touched her forehead where the pounding had intensified. “Pancakes have eggs in them.”

“That’s different.” Courtney looked through the refrigerator and freezer. “We don’t have any kind of toaster pastries? Or microwavable waffles?”

“Eggs and bacon. You better hurry up so we can get you to school on time.”

“Mick takes me.”

“Mick doesn’t know where you live.”

“I called him last night after you gave me my cell back.” Courtney’s phone chirped, and she dove into her pocket for it. “He’ll be here in about fifteen minutes. I guess I’ll just have toast. Do we have jam?”

“Text him back and tell him I’m taking you.”

After dropping the sulky teen off at the high school and making sure she was wearing the new necklace with the tracking spell embedded, Maggie drove back to the suburb that was part of her new life.

With more coffee in hand, she checked her email to find the additional research Mal had for her.

Every word she read sent more boulders to the pit of her stomach.

Elle skittered up Maggie’s shoulder and peered at the laptop’s screen. “Does that say what I think it says? We are doomed,
ma chere
. Or should I say, more doomed than usual.”

“No kidding,” Maggie said softly, reaching for her phone.

“You’re right. This is demon magick,” Declan pronounced after reading the report. “The worst kind.” He’d wasted no time driving to the house after Maggie called him.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Maggie’s brain buzzed from all the coffee she’d sucked down that morning. She fidgeted at the kitchen table. More proof she should have stuck with her tea. “This is absolute proof that the Mayans were—and are—demons.”

“That’s in our history books. But there’s more than I’ve ever heard before. According to what’s here, they’re a branch that’s about as evil as you can get. Some of us can be reasoned with. Most can’t. What you’re looking at here are ones who believe that blood is the only path to power. They will do whatever is necessary to obtain that.”

“The more blood, the more power.”

“Exactly.” He took the mug out of her hand and drank.

Maggie sighed and got up to get herself another mug. “I still don’t understand why they chose Courtney. She’s a kid barely out of training pants. How much power could be in her blood that they’d be so desperate to use her for a sacrifice?”

“Did you sense anything unusual during the time you’ve spent with her?” Declan asked.

“No, but to be honest, I didn’t push it. I thought I’d give her a few days to get used to me and keep this time as normal as possible. For the first time, I hate the lies, because I think lying will only make things worse in the long run.”

She picked at a loose thread on her multi-striped, linen calf-length skirt. Her lace-trimmed lime tank top matched one of the colorful stripes in the skirt, and her hair was tucked behind her ears.

“She needs stability, not the prospect of ending up as a piece of meat on an altar if we screw up.”

His eyes softened with understanding. “Have you talked to Mal about this?”

“He’d tell me to suck it up and do my job. Mal doesn’t have a speck of compassion in his roly-poly body.”

“So you called me first. I’m flattered.” He smiled and reached forward, picking up her fingers, bringing them to his lips, and nibbling gently on the tips.

She felt the heat of his mouth against her skin. It brought to mind other parts of her body where his lips could travel.

“Maybe you’ve proven to me that you’re not a nasty like most of your brethren.” She was relieved her voice didn’t betray the depth of her arousal.

“That’s good to hear.” He kept her hand in his as he moved her laptop to one side. He idly played with her fingers, rubbing his thumb over the moonstone ring on her ring finger. “Interesting choice of stone.”

“All of the banished witches have a piece of moonstone jewelry. The meaning of the stone is sanctuary, so it seemed appropriate. There’s a small mountain town in California called Moonstone Lake. Rumor has it there’s a monster in the lake.” She smiled.

“When any of us can get away, we visit there during the full moon and hold a centering ceremony at the lake. Two of my friends settled in the town years ago.” She looked down, noticing the stone glowed a soft blue under his touch. She wondered at the gem’s reaction, since she hadn’t seen that happen before.

“Stasi and Blair. I did my homework, remember?” He brought her fingers to his lips again, nibbling. “You always taste so good.” His charcoal eyes turned silver. “And now that business is over, we can move on to other things. Such as pleasure.”

“Are you sure you’re not an incubus?” She looked down at their entwined fingers.

“My cousin has that duty. I usually advise that anyone who meets Wreaker should run the other way. Something tells me you’d be more likely to create a little damage to his body.”

“It sounds like he’s devoted to his craft.”

“He does enjoy his work a great deal, but he leaves a dry husk behind. He knows I don’t approve, which is why he likes to show up now and then just to irritate me.” Keeping hold of her hand, he stood up and drew her to her feet. “When I look at you, I understand why he enjoys women so much. You’re very delectable.”

“I think you’ve picked up a few of your cousin’s moves.” She didn’t protest as he brought her flush against him. “Honestly, Declan, it’s not even lunchtime yet.”

“I don’t know. I find myself very hungry.” He nuzzled her neck.

She closed her eyes, savoring the touch of his mouth against her skin. “Be grateful you’re not a vampire. Our blood is poisonous to Nightwalkers.”

“Sounds dangerous. I like danger.” He nipped her earlobe, his tongue curling around the twist of gold that dangled down. “It adds a sexy seasoning. Just as you do.” His mouth now moved closer to hers. “We haven’t had much alone time.”

She angled her lips toward his, inhaling the slightly spicy scent of his skin with the barest hint of sulfur. “No, we haven’t,” she agreed, nipping the corner of his mouth.

When Declan kissed her, Maggie felt that zing of connection she’d felt from the moment she’d laid eyes on him. Something she couldn’t recall ever sensing, even when she’d been with men for whom she cared deeply. But that emotion was faint compared to what she was experiencing now.

Her mind loudly warned it didn’t make sense. After all, Declan had demon blood. Demons were the enemy. Mal didn’t trust him and only had allowed him access to this mission because of Anna, who insisted that Declan be part of the team.

The warning left Maggie’s mind as quickly as it had entered it. She was too caught up in the feel of the man holding her so possessively, as if nothing mattered to him more than this moment.

He trailed his hand down her thigh, inching her skirt upward until he could feel bare skin before reaching a wisp of silk. He stroked her once and felt the moisture against the fabric. He needed nothing more to know that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“Where’s your room?” he asked in a raw voice.

“Upstairs, end of the hall.” Deep down, Maggie had known this moment would come. She had alternately feared and anticipated it, since she felt once they made love, things would never be the same again.

Declan kept his arms wrapped around her and sent them upstairs in a cloud of dark smoke.

Maggie stumbled against him, coughing and waving the smoke away. “I thought you said you didn’t have any magic. That’s an interesting trick.”

He picked her up and tossed her on the bed. “It’s only the first.”

***

Maggie’s laughter as she bounced on the covers was pure music to Declan’s ears, and he knew he’d never tire of hearing it.

He stood at the end of the bed watching her sit up, ignoring the fact that her skirt was still hiked up over her thighs. The gleam in her emerald eyes was also a potent warning.

“Come on, big boy. Show me what you’ve got,” she said throatily.

He toed off his boots and then started to work on his shirt buttons. “I’m only too happy to comply as long as you know you’ll have to return the favor.”

Maggie’s smile was pure mischief—and sunshine to the demon who had lived so long in the dark. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it worth your while.”

Declan unbuttoned his shirt with sensuality a male stripper could only envy, slowly drawing it open to reveal a bronze-skinned, sculpted chest. Once the garment was tossed to one side, he worked on his black jeans, leisurely lowering the zipper and then pushing the denim down. He hid his smile as her eyes widened.

“It seems our studies of demons forgot to mention a few things.” She licked her lips. “And I don’t mean about you going commando.”

He watched her with the same hunger. “Your turn.”

Maggie didn’t climb off the bed but stood up on the covers, easily keeping her balance on the mattress. She hummed a haunting tune as she shimmied out of her skirt with a slow wiggle of hips and then stepped out of it before tossing it toward him.

“Too bad I don’t have seven veils,” she told him, grasping the bottom of her tank top. She hesitated.

“You can’t stop now.” His voice was raw with need.

“Uh, I’m not…” she chewed on her lower lip. “Well, I’m not exactly…”

Declan moved forward and gently peeled the fabric from her tight grip. He slowly raised her top over her head.

His mouth went desert dry as he looked at her wearing only a tiny blue thong. Maggie’s lightly tanned skin glowed in the morning sunlight streaming through the window over her bed. “You are beautiful,” he said softly.

“I’m sure you’ve seen women with a lot more,” she said uncertainly.

“Quality.” He palmed her breast, rubbing his thumb over her nipple until it tightened to a dark pink nub.

She had the body of an athlete, a warrior. He recognized white scars made from knife wounds and swords. Even the puckered scar of a healed bullet hole marred her taut belly. The idea she’d been injured hurt him, but that she bore the scars and hadn’t allowed magick to erase them told him what kind of woman she was.

Her shyness about her breasts was surprising, considering that she was otherwise comfortable with her body. A sense of possession welled up inside him. He experienced the need to make Maggie completely his.

This woman is mine.

He held her gaze with his as he walked around the bed and pulled her toward him. She hooked her legs around his waist as her arms circled his neck.

“Why are you smiling?” he asked even as he couldn’t help but smile back at her. To have this kind of light in his life was a new experience.

“Of course I’m smiling. You make me smile. Honestly, you need to lighten up.” She arched back so far, Declan had to quickly turn around so he would take the brunt of the fall as they tumbled backward onto the bed.

“You have such beautiful eyes,” he whispered, taking a hand to brush a lock of hair from her face. “They go from the green of a baby leaf to a deep emerald.”

“Be careful, Declan. Someone might think you have the soul of a poet.” She took a deep breath, pressing her breasts more tightly against his chest while his cock nestled against her moist center.

“I feel as if I do every time I look at you.” He brought his fingertips to her face, memorizing the delicate planes. His thumbs traced her lips, one pressing down on her lower lip, until they parted. The tip of her tongue appeared, moistening his thumb, and then wrapped around the digit, laving the skin as he ripped off her thong.

He felt his balls tighten at the sight and moved his hips under her slight frame, arching up to rub his cock against her. She moaned softly and countered his move with one of her own.

Declan rolled onto his side, keeping Maggie tight against him. She draped one long leg over his hip, angling her body in just the right position. He cupped her face with his hands, kissing her deeply as he thrust into her and stilled, experiencing emotions he’d never known existed.

He was home.

The demon race didn’t have typical families. A male and female fucked, and if the female gave birth to a boy, she gave up the child to the male to raise. A girl was usually left to the mother to take care of unless the sire wanted her.

There were no warm fuzzy memories of Mom holding you when you had a stomachache or bad dreams.

Now Declan knew that the sex he’d had before was just an empty promise. It had been nothing more than pure and total fucking. What he had with Maggie transcended space and time. She pulsed around him and drew him in tighter.

He now understood what it meant to find your other half.

***

I am so screwed. Oh well, but in a good way.

Maggie watched the colors shift in Declan’s eyes. He whispered words in his strange language and moved in and around her with a fervency that matched her own as she arched up under him. She met him with the same power while magick sparked all around them like tiny fireworks.

She’d resisted his insistence that they had a strong connection, even though she knew deep down his words were true. She’d been independent for so long she couldn’t imagine having someone in her life.

And no way would she have imagined that someone would be Declan.

It wasn’t just the heat of his body wrapped around hers or the fire in his gaze as he looked at her. It was the inferno he stoked inside her as the blaze of their joined bodies flared up to engulf her.

Her body tightened just when she felt his do the same. Their bodies were so in tune with each other it was natural they’d come at the same time.

“Now,” he whispered to her, reaching down first to stroke her clit and then pinch the ultrasensitive hooded flesh.

That was enough to send her soaring, and Declan went right along with her.

***

It took time for Maggie to find her brain, and the man sprawled beside her seemed to have the same problem. She studied his features, seeing them relaxed. It was easy to envisage what he’d been like as a little boy. She had a brief inclination to tousle his spiky hair, but she already knew there was nothing truly childlike about him.

“Better than any dream I’ve had about you,” Declan said sleepily.

“Oh, no, you do
not
do the guy thing and fall asleep.” She playfully pushed at him.

He rolled onto his back, showing himself in all his glory. Maggie suddenly felt very greedy. And happy she had this house, since it gave them a lot of privacy.

He smiled and grabbed her hand, threading his fingers through hers. He rested their hands on his chest. She stretched her fingers out, lightly rubbing the taut skin, feeling the warmth sear the tips.

“I suppose you’re waiting for me to say, ‘You were right, Declan,’” she teased. “I gave in to your manly attributes because it was meant to be.”

“No reason to.”

“Good. I hate men who gloat. I tend to turn them into potted plants.” She felt his chest rise and fall with his laughter.

“And what would you have turned me into?”

“Hmm, maybe water hemlock, since they’re found in swamps, or I could give you that color you need and zap you into a daffodil.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t say nightshade.”

“Nah, too boring.”

“Who’s the little girl in the picture on your dresser?” His voice rumbled softly against her ear.

Maggie stiffened even as Declan’s hand moved gently down her back in soothing strokes.