Getting Familiar with Your Demon: That Old Black Magic, Book 4 (11 page)

BOOK: Getting Familiar with Your Demon: That Old Black Magic, Book 4
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Fuck.
Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t—
“Who?”

“Bella. Or as you were fond of phrasing it…
sweet Bella
.” The sappy way she said Marabella’s name left no doubt at how idiotic he must have sounded.

Son of a bitch.
If only the Quints had finished him off. He wouldn’t be dealing with the fallout of his damn delusion-based chattering now.

Cass’s smile returned. “I think you liked her. A lot.”

“My brain was mush. Anything I said then can’t be held against me now.”

Cass made a noncommittal noise that caused his gut to cramp. He cleared his throat. “What did I, uh, say exactly?”

“A bunch of stuff.” Her cheeks reddened. “Most of it I don’t want to repeat.”

Ah. Sex ramblings. He could live with that.

“But there was one thing that kind of surprised me. You called her
moyet
.”

The demon equivalent of mate. Shit, he really had been out of his fucking mind if he mumbled that bullshit. As a general rule, most demons didn’t partner up. It went against their nature to share living quarters day after day. Now a nice tumble in the sack whenever the mood struck—an entirely different beast. But cohabitation? The mere idea was enough to make any demon break out in a cold sweat. He honestly didn’t know how his aunt did it. Probably her only saving grace had been marrying a reaper. Because shit knows, two demons thrown into unholy matrimony would inevitably result in one strangling the other to death, and likely just for leaving the toilet seat up.

“Do you think you’ll ever see her again?” Cass asked, bringing him back to the moment.

“Who?”

Cass edged her cup safely away from her laptop. “Bella.”

He stared at her. “Are you out of your damn mind?”

“I don’t mean right now. Obviously with everything going on, that would be stupid. Not to mention it’s kind of hard to make a relationship work when you’ve got bounty hunters gunning for your ass. But maybe once things die down…”

He hefted from the stool and shoved an accusing finger in Cass’s face. “You’re supposed to be the sane and stable Lassiter sister. Don’t go all batshit crazy on me now.”

Her shoulders fell on a heavy exhale. “Is it so terrible that I want you to be happy, Sam?”

“I am. For Devil’s sake, my seal is broken, and I’m finally free of Pricilla and all those asshole council members.” He tossed his arms up. “I’m so fucking happy right now, I can’t stand myself. What more do you want?”

“We both know that doesn’t change the past. The things you were ordered to do to serve Antoinette…it affected you. Changed you.”

Remnants of memories threatened to barge into his brain, and he fought them back. He’d given Nettie forty-eight years of his life. The bitch deserved no more time in his head. “It was my job.”

“But—”

He gave Cass a hard look, silently conveying that the subject was closed. Huffing out a breath, she transferred her scowl to her laptop. He used the opportunity to return to the coffeepot and refill his mug. A phone rang—not his—and he glanced over his shoulder just as Cass lifted her cell to her ear.

“Nik, if you’re calling to ask if pizza goes with donuts, the answer is no.”

Relieved to have Cass momentarily distracted, he started to walk toward the living room. A sharp inhalation behind him halted him mid-step. He shot another look toward his cousin and noticed her staring at him, her cheeks unnaturally pale.

“Who is this? Where is my sister?”

Dread cemented inside his stomach. Even without the benefit of the other end of the conversation, he knew where this was headed. His suspicions became confirmed when Cass gulped and tightened her grip on the cell phone. Her gaze remained riveted on him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sam barely communicates with any of us.” Conviction laced her tone, but a distinct tremor ran through her arm. “So help me, if you’ve hurt my sister…”

Sam crossed the room and plucked the cell from her trembling fingers. “I’ve got a bullet with your name on it if you harm one hair on her head,” he offered to the faceless person on the other side of the line in a deadly calm voice.

“Really, Samael. Your rude manner of speaking to me is getting out of hand.” Pricilla’s chilly anger leached through the phone. It was a damn miracle the device didn’t turn to a block of ice. “I’ve been calling you for the past day and a half.”

“My line’s been disconnected. Guess that’s what I get for not paying the bill.”

As predicted, his sarcasm didn’t amuse Pris. “I don’t know how you severed our familiar ties, but count on this—the punishment I have in store for you will make you beg for the gentleness of Toran’s whip.”

He caught Cass’s eye and spotted the sheen of tears she was valiantly struggling to defeat. “Can’t say I’m much of a beggar. But I’m willing to negotiate. How about you let Nikki go and I let you live.”

A cold laugh crackled from Pricilla. “You’re in no position to barter threats with me, Samael. You might have snipped the ties, but you still belong to me. If you choose to continue this disobedience, your cousin will suffer in your place.” A heavy silence announced the line had gone dead.

He clicked the End button and handed the phone back to Cass.

She stared at him, her eyes swimming with tears. “I shouldn’t have sent Nik out.”

“Pricilla won’t hurt her. It’s me she wants.”

Cass’s mouth trembled. “Oh, Sam. What are we going to do?”

“Get your sister. The rest we’ll wing.” Hopefully, they’d even manage to make it out of this shit alive.

Chapter Thirteen

 

Finding his way to a spot he’d only been to once—via teleportation no less—was a challenge. Thank the devil Cass was riding shotgun. Plop a laptop in her hands and his cousin had scary skills when it came to pinpointing an address.

“I’m not getting any transmission from Nik’s teleport bracelet. More than likely Pricilla disabled it. But I think I’ve still got Nik’s location narrowed down. The Reaper Sat-link has locked on to five possible leads. Assuming Nik kept her cuffs turned on, she’s one of these guys.” Cass tapped a fingernail on the cluster of red sickles dotting her monitor.

A reaper’s cuffs weren’t used to track an agent, but rather the apprehended souls who’d been tagged with one. Not only did the system greatly diminish the occurrence of runaway souls remaining on the lam, it provided them their best shot at tracing Nikki.

He gave the computer screen a brief scan. “Any way you can get a better read than that?”

“Yep. Just a sec.” With a click of keys, she zeroed in on the blinking coordinates. “Three of the agents are in the same vicinity. Probably working a combined case. But we still have these two—one near Lafayette Square, and the other close to Colonial Park cemetery.” She shot him a look. “I think we can rule out that last one.”

He nodded. “Lafayette it is.” Flooring the gas, he raced in that direction, following Cass’s orders as she repeated the coordinates traced by the tracking software. Swearing beneath his breath, he darted in and out of traffic and received irate horn blares and middle-finger salutes in return. This being forced-to-drive bullshit was getting old. For fuck’s sake, he could have teleported to Pricilla’s and busted Nikki out of there by now.

“Take a right at the next intersection.”

The street appeared faster than expected, and he spun the steering wheel, veering onto the lane with an angry squeal of the GTO’s tires.

“We’re coming up on it. Sixth house down on the left.”

He spotted the dark-red gothic mansion and slowed enough that he wouldn’t be roaring onto the driveway on two tires. Once they screeched to a stop, he and Cass jumped out of the car and dashed toward the ornate metal stairway leading to the front porch. Slipping Lucy from his hip holster, he glanced at Cass. “Soon as we have Nikki, I want you two to get the hell out of here. Understood?”

“We’re not leaving you behind, Sam.”

Minus the patience—or time—to argue, he grunted and kicked the door. It shuddered and creaked in the frame. Damn thing was sturdier than it looked. He lined Lucy’s muzzle with the lock, intending to blast it open, but the door swung inward, revealing a stocky demon dressed in grungy black jeans and a leather vest. Presumably one of Pricilla’s hired goons.

Sam aimed his gun at the guy’s head. “Where is she?”

A smirk crawled across the creep’s pockmarked face. “You really know how to make a grand entrance, Gorasola.” His attention drifted to Cass, and he lewdly coasted his tongue along his fleshy lips. “Though I gotta say, it’s real nice bringin’ such tasty candy with ya.”

Sam bared his teeth before cocking Lucy’s hammer. “Keep looking at her like that and your splattered brain will be decorating that wall next to you, asswipe.”

A grating laugh chuffed from the goon. The sound was cut short a second later by Pricilla’s cold, imperious voice. “If you two are done trading pleasantries, Samael and I have matters to discuss.”

His grin cocky and annoying, the demon sidled away from the doorway, making room for Sam and Cass to enter. Sam’s focus immediately cut toward the hallway, where Pricilla stood. The fury in her eyes threatened to freeze him in place. “Did you honestly think you could break our contract and not suffer any ramifications?”

He shrugged. “Here’s the thing, Pris. I don’t give a fuck what you do to me.”

Her laugh resembled shards of ice. “Of course you don’t. Hence the reason I intend to hit you where you’ll feel it most.” She gave an almost imperceptible nod to her hired thug, and the demon grabbed the end of Cass’s ponytail, yanking her against his sizable potbelly. A chilling smile curled Pricilla’s mouth. “It’s a simple choice, Samael. Your contract or your cousin’s life.”

“You’re missing the third option. Blowing his fucking head off.” Taking bead, Sam squeezed Lucy’s trigger. A hollow click sounded rather than the anticipated
bang
of a fired round.

What the hell?
He’d loaded ammo before leaving his house. He spun the cylinders open and frowned at the chambered bullets. It took a moment for realization to hit. The damn gun was yet one more casualty of his broken seal.

Triple fuck. Slamming the cylinders shut, he met Cass’s wide-eyed stare. Apparently she’d come to the same ill-timed conclusion as him. Great. Hopefully plan B would have better results. Grasping the butt of the revolver, he swung the heavy metal at the goon’s face. The satisfying crunch of shattered cartilage and bone preceded a geyser of blood from the demon’s nose.

Bellowing in pain, he released Cass and made a wild swing at Sam. Apparently taking that as a sign to jump into the fray, Cass leapt at the goon. Clinging to him like an enraged howler monkey, she clubbed the top of his head repeatedly with her fist. The goon staggered sideways, ramming Cass into the wall. A sharp yelp broke from her as she fell to her knees. The demon swung his foot toward Cass, but before the kick made contact, Sam plowed into the creep, taking him to the floor. An elbow caught Sam in the ribs, and a burning splinter of pain ricocheted through him. Ignoring the sensation, he gripped his opponent by the ears and smacked his noggin into the hardwood floor.

“Enough.” When Pricilla’s sharp command didn’t immediately pierce the haze of fury overtaking Sam’s brain, a volley of unmistakable clicks intruded on the occasion. Sam slowly lifted his gaze and blinked into the barrel of a semiautomatic. In addition to that weapon, there were two others leveled on him. Unlike Lucy, none of the trio of guns were specially commissioned. Still, he held no doubt that they’d easily end his life if any of the demons towering over him decided to pull the trigger.

He shifted his attention to Pricilla. “You only bucked up cash for four bozos? My ego is in tatters.”

A tightening around the corners of Pricilla’s mouth was her only response. She turned her back on them and stalked toward the hallway. Two of the goons dragged Sam from the floor while their third colleague took a hold of Cass’s arm and hauled her to her feet. The five of them headed after Pricilla, leaving the demon that Sam had beaten sprawled unconscious on the ground.

Sam and Cass were unceremoniously ushered through the first door on the right. The only furniture in the small room was an end table, a loveseat and a pair of high-backed chairs—one of which held a bound and livid Nikki.

“Nik!” Cass struggled to break free of her captors but was towed toward the other seat and secured to it with rope like her sister. She was even treated to an identical strip of duct tape across her mouth.

While Cass and Nikki’s infuriated, muffled grumblings filled the silence, Sam locked stares with Pricilla. She eyed him for a long moment, the merest hint of wary confusion lurking in her gaze. And here he’d thought Nikki and Cass had been pros at making him feel like a bizarre bug under a microscope this morning. Their intent scrutiny was nothing compared to the one currently leveled on him.

Pricilla finally removed her stare from him and glanced at the goons pinning Sam’s arms behind his back. “Leave us.”

After an awkward hesitation, Pricilla’s henchmen shuffled from the room. Pricilla stepped forward and reached for something resting on the loveseat. Lucy. One of the goons must have grabbed her before coming into the parlor. Blood from the demon’s nose still smeared the metal and had consequently stained the loveseat’s cream silk cushion.

Pricilla seemed unconcerned with the fact as she weighed the hefty gun in her palm. Her focus tracked to him again. Although she kept her features carefully schooled, there was no denying the suspicious curiosity lingering in her emotionless eyes. “You were unable to fire this. Why?”

He shrugged. “It must have jammed.”

“Impossible.” Clutching Lucy in a white-knuckled hold, Pricilla stormed forward. “Take off your shirt.”

He grimaced. “Babe, you’re not my type.”

Her hot stare glinting with malice, she grasped his hair in her other fist and yanked hard. “Don’t make me call my men back in here.”

If it were just him, he’d tell Pricilla what she could do with her threat. But the damn bitch had already made it clear she was prepared to play dirty. He couldn’t risk Nikki and Cass taking a bullet for him. Growling, he bunched his T-shirt in his hands and tugged it over his head.

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