SEDUCTIVE SUPERNATURALS: 12 Tales of Shapeshifters, Vampires & Sexy Spirits (135 page)

I choked on another Samoa.

Seriously, I was beginning to wonder if the cookies weren’t out to get me.

“Can I help you?” I asked, still gasping and clutching the phone.

Her gray hair didn’t budge from its tidy curls despite the sharp, cold wind off the ocean. Her strong jaw was clenched and her icy blue eyes were fixed on me like she was trying to see inside my head.

Weird.

“On the contrary,” she said quietly, “I’m here to help you.”

“Help me do what?” Ditch Logan? Scream at Bob? Bully Leo? Have I mentioned that men are currently pains in my ass?

“Accept your
destiny.”

“Okkkkaaaayyyy...” I said, trying to be patient. Never wise to upset crazy people.

“Today you are 32 years old,” the old woman went on, and just how the hell did she know it was my birthday? “Your time has come.”

She smiled, but it wasn’t a Grandma-type-wanna-cookie?-smile. Nope, this was more like the grin on that fake shark they built for the movie Jaws.

“There is no time to waste,” she said. “The demons are here. And only you can kill them.”

More than Fiends: Chapter Two

“Kill the demons,” I said, nodding and giving her a wink like this was a little secret just between the two of us. I kept thinking, keep her calm. Don’t upset her little fantasy world. Meanwhile, I’m wondering how I can call 911 while I’m on hold with an appliance store. “Okey-dokey. I’ll get right on that.”

She frowned. “You are the chosen one. It is your duty to fight the—“

The Muzak ended and Bob answered. Holding one finger up to the strange and getting stranger by the minute woman, I said, “Hold that thought. Bob? Hi, it’s Cassidy. Look, Leo’s here with the new machine but he says you didn’t tell him to take the old one away.”

“That wasn’t part of our deal, Cass and—“

“Bob!” I cut him off, because really, once he gets going it’s hard to stop him otherwise. While I was gearing up for a fight, the old lady slipped past me into the house and was wandering around my kitchen. Sugar was no help. She was hiding under the table.

“Look Bob,” I said, frowning when weird grandma started opening my cupboards. I snapped my fingers at her, but she just gave me a quelling look and continued her snooping. Pretty snarky for an intruder. “You get Leo to take away the old machine or I tell your wife about the time you took Terri Flannery to Vegas for that ‘business trip’.”

He shrieked. Never an attractive sound coming from a man, but at least I knew I’d made my point. I’d been hanging onto that little nugget of information for two years now, just waiting for the right chance to use it. Ever since the night Terri got drunk and told me all about the trip with Bob and how he cried during sex. Though from how Terri described it,
she
should have been the one crying. God knows, I would have. Since high school, Bob had done some serious deteriorating. I hung up with Bob’s promise to call Leo, then turned to face the creeper in my kitchen.

“You know,” I said, “maybe we should get you back outside.” Where people from the home can find you.

The occasional stray whacko wasn’t exactly news around here. La Sombra is known for more than its great surf and excellent bakery. We’ve also got the biggest nuthouse in California just outside town. Excuse me, Long Term Mental Health Care Facility. Whatever. It’s a massive place, that looks more like a medieval castle than a home for the terminally weird, but there you go. In California, it’s always about appearances.

Point is, there were always a few escapees every year and sooner or later, the guys in white vans went cruising the streets to round ‘em back up again.

Of course, this was the first time one of the escapees had found her way into my
kitchen.

“I’m not leaving.”

That’s what you think, Grandma.

As if to prove her point, she pulled out a chair and sat down. She plunked her purse onto the table and I couldn’t help sneering at it. Now I was convinced she was an escapee. Only a nutball would have carried that thing.

Let me explain. There are standards, you know? Vinyl was meant to be used on booths in diners or for car upholstery. Stepping out of its sphere was just wrong.

I mean, some women have a thing for shoes. God knows I’m not one to throw stones at any woman’s personal addiction, but no way would I spend several hundred bucks on something for my
feet.
For chrissakes, streets are
filthy,
you know? Why would I spend all that money on something only to get it dirty?

Nope. Shoes were just utilitarian to me.

But a good purse was a thing of beauty.

I sighed just thinking about my small, but excellent collection. I kept the IRA up for Thea’s sake, but stashed spare cash to feed my addiction. Coach, Dooney and Bourke, Fossil, Fendi. I love ‘em all. Which was why just
looking
at the weirdo’s cheap vinyl pocketbook was nearly painful.

“Cassidy Burke,” the whacko intoned like a voice from a bad horror movie, “it is your time.”

I stiffened. This was suddenly not so funny. “How’d you know my name?”

She crossed her legs, swung one foot and almost clipped Sugar’s nose. The dog whimpered.

“My name is Jasmine,” the woman said, which was just fascinating, but didn’t answer my question. She opened her purse to pull out a large spray bottle filled with a murky, light brown liquid.

“Fabulous. But that doesn’t tell me how you know
my
name. Or what you’re doing here. Or why I haven’t tossed your bony ass out yet.”

She sniffed at that, as if she knew I wouldn’t carry through on my threat. Okay fine, I talk a good game, but there was no way I’d actually
toss
her anywhere.

“I’m here to guide you.”

“That’s really great,” I said, keeping a wary eye on her as I listened to Leo grunting and moaning over the old washing machine. Apparently, Bob had gotten through to him and convinced him to change his mind about taking the old machine away. One battle won. Now all I had to do was get psychic, crazy granny out of my kitchen. “But I don’t need a guide. Born and raised right here in La Sombra. I’m good. Really. And I’m too busy for a destiny, but thanks for asking.”

She reached into her purse again and pulled out yet another of the large spray bottles. God, it was like one of those clown cars you see at the circus. Looked small, but apparently it was bottomless.

“These are your weapons,” she said, pushing both bottles toward me.

“Right. Weapons. What am I supposed to do?” I asked, picking up one of the bottles to play along. The liquid was nasty looking and had lots of little green flecks floating in it. I
so
didn’t want to know. “What’s this for anyway, to stain the bad guys?”

She sighed. “This liquid is an anti-demon mixture, a secret recipe which has been handed down from generation to generation.”

Anti
demon
mixture?

“What? They’re allergic to dirty water?”

In the service porch, the washing machine crashed into a wall and Leo yelped. Visions of lawsuits danced in my head.

“You are an unusually stubborn woman, aren’t you?” Jasmine asked, her lip curling just a little.

“I think I’m being pretty broad minded, if you ask me,” I countered. “I’m letting you sit here in my kitchen instead of calling the home and getting you picked up, which is what I’m about to do.”

She inhaled sharply and gave me a look that I’d once gotten from Sister Alphonsus in sixth grade when I tried to sneak in on the whole altar boy lesson thing. I mean now, girls could serve in Mass, but back then, I’d been a feminist rebel and the nun who should have been an Army General had wanted to smash me like a bug.

“Your grandmother hasn’t told you anything, has she?” Jasmine asked.

That caught my attention. “Gram? You know Gram?”

“Of course,” she said, waving one hand in dismissal. “And I must say, when it was
her
time to be called she wasn’t nearly as much trouble as you are being.”

“Sure.” My grandmother knew the whacko? What? Were they best friends in high school or something? Shouldn’t she have warned me about a crazy who knew the family maybe showing up at my back door some day? As soon as I got Jasmine and Leo the hell out of my house, I was going to put in a call to Gram and try to get some answers.

“It’s imperative that you listen to me, Cassidy Burke.”

“Okay.” I wondered if she’d notice me dialing 911 if I kept my hand at my side and just talked really loud.

“The mixture will identify demons and even slow them down a little,” then she added with a saucy wink, “plus, it’s an excellent window cleaner as well.”

“Good to know.” I grinned companionably, assuring her that we were all crazy together and wasn’t life great, before wheeling my eyes to the service porch, hoping Leo would look in to say he was finished and I could signal him to strap the old biddy to his dolly and give her a ride to the curb.

No Leo.

“You
must
listen to me,” she said.

“Oh, I am,” I assured her, trying to look interested.

“You,” she said, flattening her hands on the table and leaning in to make her point, “are the latest in a long, proud line of Demon Dusters. For centuries, the women in your family, on their 32
nd
birthdays, come into their ‘gift’. Now, it is your time. You must accept your destiny.”

Okay, this was just getting weirder and weirder. She knew my name. Knew it was my birthday. How old I was, for God’s sake. She had to be a friend of Gram’s. It was the only explanation.

“This is a joke, right?” If I were rich and famous, I’d figure that Ashton Kutcher was out there somewhere with his ‘Punk’d’ crew, getting this all down on film. But since I was nearly broke, hardly famous, and the show had been cancelled, that wouldn’t fly. “I’ve seen the TV show. Everyone knows that Slayers are way younger than me. Tell you what? Why don’t you wander on down to the high school and see who you can find?”

Her mouth flattened and pinched like a librarian in a bad mood. “Don’t be ridiculous. The Fates would
never
send a child into battle with demons.”

“Oh sure,” I said, nodding again, “I’m the one being ridiculous.”

“Your mother was the chosen one before you, but she died too young to take up the mantle of responsibility.”

A, how the hell did she know about my mom? I was twelve the year my mother died in a car accident at thirty one. And B, where the hell did granny get off making my mother sound like a slacker for dying?

“Since she was not there to cleanse the demons in her time,” the woman continued, “their numbers have grown substantially.”

“Busy making little demons, huh?” Nice to know
someone
was having regular sex.

“This is not a joking matter.”

“Trust me on this, I’m no longer laughing.” For God’s sake, did I have a damn sign over the house?
Weirdoes Welcome Here?

The phone rang and I jumped, startling Sugar, who WOOFED loud enough to make the window panes rattle. The old woman didn’t even flinch. Nerves of steel and a sieve for a mind.

“Hello?” I snapped, idly shaking the spray bottle, watching those green flecks dancing around.

“Ms. Burke?” A female voice with the purr of a professional greeter. “I’m calling for Mr. Devlin Cole to confirm your appointment for this afternoon?”

Dammit.

I swallowed hard, straightened up and swung my hair out of my eyes like I was on a video phone and hey, thank God I wasn’t. How had I forgotten about this? Oh yeah. I remember. The Day of Disasters. That’s how.

“Hi, yes. Of course,” I said, slapping a smile on my face so it would hopefully come across in my voice. The old woman was staring at me, Leo was still cussing up a storm and Sugar’s whining was starting to take on a panicked edge.

“Then I can tell Mr. Cole you’ll be here at four?”

“You bet,” I assured her, glancing at the clock and nearly whimpering myself. It was already almost three and I still had to shower and change. Oh, and get rid of Jasmine, Leo and my old washing machine. No problem. “I’ll see him then.”

“We must go over our strategies,” Jasmine, (a fabulous name for a woman who looked more like a Myrtle), said.

“Nope,” I said, tossing the phone, “what we must do is get you outta here so I can shower and change and then impress the hell out of Devlin Cole so he’ll give my company the cleaning contract at his club.”

“But I must explain about the mixture.”

I held the spray bottle in one hand and had a tight grip on her arm with the other. As I dragged her up and out of her chair, I nodded and said, “Shake and spray, right? Got it. Won’t forget.”

Leo was just finishing up on the service porch, still muttering about the inequities of life, poor baby, when I hustled Grandma Ugly Purse out the back door. Ordinarily, I might have given her a lift back to the loony bin, but not today. Today I had to make that meeting if I wanted to get a contract that would keep my company floating and me and Thea eating. One thing we both really liked, was eating.

“So, thanks for stopping by,” I told her, pushing Mr. Charm out behind her at the same time. “I’ll tell all my friends to watch out for those slippery ol’ demons.”

“Demons?” Leo echoed, eyes wide, eyebrows arching up into what was left of his hairline.

“Spray him!” Jasmine screeched.

“I’m not spraying him,” I argued, still trying to get her scrawny, yet surprisingly agile body out the back door. Leo had been easy in comparison. “God knows what you put in that stuff.”

“I’ll show you!” she shouted and covered my hand with hers to squeeze the trigger on the bottle.

“Hey!” Leo shouted and leaped back.

Too late.

A stream of dirty brown liquid shot out in a wide arc. I watched as it hit the window, the wall, the door and finally, the top of Leo’s head.

He screamed and slapped both hands to the tiny plume of smoke already lifting off his scalp.

“Ohmigod!” Panicked, I peeled granny’s clawlike grip off my hand, grabbed a dishtowel and tried to swipe at Leo. But he danced back out of reach, still rubbing at his head. And now his
palms
were smoking.