Demons Are a Girl’s Best Friend (2 page)

“And you looked very sexy in it, too.” Sybil, a delicate-looking elf, was perched on a corner of Maggie’s bed. Sybil’s lavender wings wafted back and forth, emitting the faintest hint of French vanilla with lilac undertones. “You had protection spells woven into the fabric, didn’t you?”

Maggie considered her friend better than any air freshener.

“The spells made the fabric stronger than Kevlar, but for some reason, they didn’t do anything to deflect this gunk.”

“You’re not the only one who’s a mess.” Elegance, Elle for short, detached herself gracefully from Maggie’s skin, scuttled down her arm, and landed on the dresser. She stopped at a delicate china bowl to gather up a scrap of blood-red silk before she moved up the wall to a corner in the ceiling where a web sparkled like diamonds.

A small square in the center glowed blue as Elle activated a teeny computer screen while she pushed the silk scrap together into a comfy cushion. In no time, she was surfing the World Wide Web. “Some of that disgusting goo ended up on me, too.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t ruin clothing, Elle,” Maggie muttered. “I’d like to know how it slid so easily off you.”

“I am special.” The black widow preened. “Ah! This could be it!” The tiny screen glowed, projecting an eerie blue against her face.

“Elle, you’ve been searching for the right hex to keep your lovers alive for centuries,” the witch told her. “And so far, every hex has been either a total bust or a hoax.”

“The perfect hex is there. I know it. And now the web can be cast worldwide. If you can’t come up with one,
I
will.” She clicked her tiny mouse and read away.

“There’s nothing like a lovesick black widow spider,” Sybil said.

Maggie half closed the bathroom door and stepped into the shower. The witch had no trouble washing off the protection sigils written on her bare midriff, but she found the thick mucus harder to deal with.

“I’ll need a blasting spell to get this crap off! For Fates’ sake, it’s even in my hair!” She dumped half a bottle of shampoo on her head and dug her fingers into the mess, yelping when the bubbles dribbled down her face and into her eyes.

“Zap it out.”

“This muck is so bad that if I did that, I could end up bald.” Maggie’s words were garbled under the strong shower spray.

Sybil examined her nails, painted a shimmery lilac to match her wings. “It’s times like this I’m glad I don’t work in the field.” Her iridescent lavender hair hung in thick waves down her back. “Although there are moments when I think you have more fun than I do working here in the compound.”

While she looked as fragile as a paper-thin china teacup, Sybil’s sweet smile and calm nature made her an effective interrogator. If the smile didn’t work, she always managed somehow to make their prisoners cry a lake of tears while making them give up whatever she wanted to know. In her own way, the elf was as strong as Maggie—and just as formidable.

The Hellion Guard was known as protectors for all creatures in this world and others. A form of supernatural military that was under the Ruling Council’s mantle, the members were based throughout the world, set up to be ready for any alert that could harm any preternatural being or human.

They may have flown under the human radar, but they were there to keep everyone safe.

This branch of the Hellion Guard lived on a compound outside Houston, Texas, near a typical American suburb. The Guard was as close to a home and family as Maggie had known since being kicked out of the Witches’ Academy with her classmates some seven hundred years ago. She’d come a long way from the frightened little girl that Eurydice, the Head Witch, had rescued from the disaster of a plague-stricken town.

“Now I’ll have to clean out the shower, because there’s no way I’m leaving that for the brownies to scrub when they come in to clean,” Maggie grumbled, walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped snugly around her clean body and her hair wrapped in a second towel.

Thanks to the brownies that performed all the domestic tasks for the Guards, she never had to worry about dusting, vacuuming, and doing laundry. But brownies were touchy and secretive—they didn’t like you to acknowledge their work, and there was a limit as to how big a mess they’d allow.

“I heard that the club has a hot-looking owner.”

Maggie ignored Sybil’s gentle probing, even though she knew she would eventually have to comment. The delicate elf had a stubborn streak that made a mule look downright malleable.

Wouldn’t you know it? I meet a cute guy, and he turns out to be demon and owner of a club that’s always been on the Guard’s watch list of shady locales.

Not exactly boyfriend material. Like she’d know what a boyfriend was.

Dating didn’t seem to be in Maggie’s cards.

If she was smart, she’d get a new deck.

“Demon.” She pulled the towel off and rubbed her hair partially dry before she ran a comb through it, leaving it hanging loose around her face. “I’d guess no more than half demon,” she corrected herself. “But even a half-demon is too much trouble.”

“All males are trouble. That’s why we females were made.” Sybil peered closely at her BWFF (best witch friend forever), who was standing there pensively. “I can’t believe it. You’re blushing! He’s that cute?”

“Am not. It’s from my hot shower. I practically had to put the water on boiling to get that cement off me.” As if she wanted a male to mess up her life. Even a hot-looking one with a face made for sin and a body obviously created for…

Don’t go there, Mags.

“The witch doth protest too much.” Sybil’s lyrical laughter rang in the room like silvery wind chimes. She stood up and raised her arms over her head in a lithe stretch. “Come on. We’ll do some yoga before you go to bed, and you’ll feel loads better.”

“I just want a night out with dancing and maybe even dinner,” Maggie muttered, following her friend out of her quarters into the hall. “I want to dress up and come home with my clothing intact.”

“I want Orlando Bloom, but that won’t be happening anytime soon,” Sybil said serenely.

“O’Malley, why are you maiming my recruits again?” The roar echoed down the hallway and seemed to bounce off the walls.

Maggie winced.

“I believe you’re being paged.” Sybil’s wings fluttered faster. “I’ll be in the fitness center waiting… with bandages.”

Maggie cursed under her breath. “Jeez, one tiny cut. Okay, more than a tiny cut, but the idiot needs to learn to move faster if he doesn’t want to get killed. I was actually very easy on him.”

She waved her hand over her head as she about-faced and headed outside the living quarters and across the compound’s central courtyard to the administration building. She jogged down the stairs to what the team less than affectionately called the Dungeon.

Except this dungeon looked more like a Grecian temple complete with white marble columns and the soft sounds of lyres in the background. In the middle of the ancient elegance was a desk piled high with papers that every once in a while fluttered on to the gold marble floor and then floated back up to reside once more on the desk’s surface.

Maggie wrinkled her nose at the harsh scent of cigar smoke permeating the air. While she didn’t mind the aroma of a good cigar or pipe smoke, she did object to something that smelled like old, wet rope. Add in the haze of magick filtering through the air in purple coils, and the boss’s office needed a good aromatherapy session.

“You shouted, old esteemed one.”

A round face edged with a mangy white beard peered over the stacks of paperwork. “Bite me, O’Malley.”

Maggie waved her hand in front of her face. “For Fates’ sake, Mal, can’t you buy a cigar that costs more than a penny? That smells worse than goat poo.”

“Whaddya talkin’ about? This sucker cost me a whole buck. They don’t come cheap anymore.” He held up the offensive item. “And don’t think you can get me off the subject, either. What the fuck did you do to Arius last week? It was his first training session with you!”

“So the wuss did come whining to you?” She pushed papers off a chair and parked her butt. “You only needed a baby-size Band-Aid for the cut. Trust me, it was way less than he’d get in battle.” If there was one thing Maggie would not allow, it was that anyone she was responsible for should go into a fight unprepared.

“He’s threatening to file a grievance.” Mal hopped out of his chair, revealing his three-foot height, and waddled around the desk. Faint wisps of white hair floated along the tips of his ears like antennae as he looked up at the witch who kicked ass and didn’t bother taking names on a regular basis. A purple cloud of magick followed him. He made a face. “And you know how I hate paperwork.”

Maggie’s gaze drifted over the papers that covered the desk, floated in the air, and eventually escaped out the door. “Yes, I can see that. Tell Arius if he files a grievance against me, I will mop up the floor with him the next time he’s in my class.”

Mal’s face, the color of aged oak, reddened to the point of explosion. “You do that, and he’ll only file another grievance.”

“No, he won’t, because he wants to be on one of the major teams. So anything else, oh great lord and master?”

Mal snorted. “Cut the shit, O’Malley. Just tell me what happened at Damnation Alley.” Dark-brown eyes peered at her with a sharpness that could cut titanium.

“I entered the club, encountered my prey, arrested said prey… and he exploded all over me. You do know this will all be in my report, don’t you?” She kept her gaze centered on him. No way did your eyes stray from Mal if you didn’t want him digging into your brain, which he had a habit of doing if he thought you weren’t telling the truth.

Mal waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “And Declan? What can you tell me about him?”

Maggie felt that warmth deep down again.
So gorgeous he’s got to be illegal. Talk about eyes that make you wet. A smile that makes you flat-out melt. He could even be better than chocolate.
“I haven’t had a chance to do any research on him. Since he’s new to the area, I don’t know if he owns the club or just manages it.”

“Then what are you doing loafing around here when you should be looking into him?” Mal didn’t blink when a towering stack of papers suddenly appeared on his already cluttered desktop. “We need to know why this Declan took the club over after Ratchet disappeared and just what Declan is, other than a run-of-the-mill demon. And we need to know it all yesterday.”

Maggie already had the answer to one of those questions. She knew just where Ratchet had disappeared to. Actually, into. There was nothing like a psychotic losing the battle to a cursed chipper to make a witch’s evening.

Blue Plate Special: Demon Burger on a toasted sesame bun with seasoned fries on the side.

“I think he’s half demon, but that’s nothing new, since whoever runs Damnation Alley has always been demon. I’ll need Kittan if you want more intel on him.” She named one of the compound’s most thorough researchers. “I’m sure he’ll come up with everything we need to know in no time.”

Mal shook his head. “No can do. Kittan is busy with another project, plus we need the personal touch here.” He grinned, displaying tobacco-stained teeth.

Maggie sat up straighter. “
We
? Whenever you say
we,
Mal, you really mean
me
. I have enough work of my own. You wanted me to go to Mexico and check on that new nest of chupacabras.”
Please let me go somewhere and blow something up. Or even cut off a few heads. Go where I can grab one of those spiny bloodsuckers and pull off their spines one at a time.

Mal smiled. Maggie knew that smile meant she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say.

“I’m sending Calaban and his team to Mexico. Arius can go with them. He needs to get out into the field.”

“Oh, no!” She shot out of her seat so fast she almost flew. “Exterminating chupacabras is one of
my
specialties, not Calaban’s. He excels in Europe, and I do better south of the border. He loves going after trolls in the Black Forest.”

“Then the next time I need to send a team to Europe, I’ll send you, and you’ll be even.”

“Yo, boss.” A two-foot streak of black fur burst into the room. “Maja wants sigs on these papers like three seconds ago.” The ferret hopped onto the desk and leaned against a stack of papers, which threatened to fall over on him.

He pulled a tiny ferret-size travel coffee mug out of a hidden pocket and swigged down some caffeine. A small, purple baseball cap with the word “Cubs” embroidered on the front in bright green adorned his head.

“And Sand asked me to drop this off.” Out of yet another invisible pocket the critter pulled a small, red silk pouch and handed it to Mal. Colors depicting a protective spell covered the pouch, indicating no one could open it except the recipient. Anyone else who tried would end up losing a few fingers at best, the whole arm at worst.

Ferret messengers populated the compound. Their energetic, sleek bodies could slide through the tightest spaces, making them excellent gofers, and the invisible pouch in their bodies was perfect for tucking away messages. All the high-octane caffeine they drank made them sound like demented chipmunks.

Mal sighed and waved his fingers over the papers. Each page fluttered as his signature scrolled across the bottom and then disappeared as swiftly as it had appeared.

“The damn paperwork alone will kill me. You’d think after all this time we could go digital, wouldn’t you?” he muttered. He glared at Maggie. “Why are you still here?”

“To explain to you why I should be the one to take out that chupacabra nest.” Maybe she could use witchflame this time. Once the chupacabras were destroyed, her team could finish up with an old-fashioned wienie roast and marshmallow toasting for s’mores. Maybe even a sing-along around the bonfire. She could really get into that. “I should be the one to go, and you know it.”

“You need to remain here to keep an eye on Declan.” Mal spoke around his cigar.

“My team can have the job done in one night. I’ll be back before you know it.” She feared she was starting to whine. She really hated whining, too.