The Vengeance Demons Series: Books 0-3 (The Vengeance Demons Series Boxset) Page 17

  Maybe I’d buy one for myself as a graduation gift. It would be like a mechanic getting his first toolbox.

  “You have a very nice selection of eye shadows.” Esme smiled shyly at Rosemary. My roommate beamed. Ah, the magic of compliments. Esme was getting the hang of that aspect of human interaction. They couldn’t sense impressions like us, let alone read minds, so any positive opinions should be expressed verbally.

  “So, are you going to tell me more about him?” I asked as Rosemary applied a subtle brush of color to Esme’s eyelids. I’d been biding my time for hours, resisting the urge to grill her. This was a big deal for her. I mean, the girl had come to me with even more hollow cheekbones than usual, and that was saying a lot. I wondered what it would be like when it was my turn one day. Who knew what romance awaited a hybrid of a race known for its promiscuity and another known for exclusivity?

  An image of Pete the mercenary came to mind, and I repressed the hell out of it. I squished the raw fantasy of pressing my palms against his chest into a corner so far in the back of my mind, it would need a GPS to get back out again. I so did not need a bad boy in my life, no matter how glossy and large his wings were, and you know what they said about guys with a large wingspan…

  Oh, shut up.

  Mercifully, Esme decided to cooperate and distract me from my own traitorous thoughts.

  “His name is Guillermo Cristobal Canus.” Esme peeked at her freshly painted toes sticking out from the hairdresser gown. Rosemary had decided to throw in the pedicure at the last minute, once she’d caught sight of Esme’s feet, which had never made friends with a pumice stone before. “I met him at the—”

  “Party.” I finished the sentence for her with a pointed glance at Rosemary. The average human tends not to go to balls very often. Well, the average supernaturals were the same, for that matter. But anyway, no need to have one more thing about me sticking out like a sore thumb in my roommate’s mind.

  “Party. Right. But after that night I didn’t hear from him for months. I thought…I thought he’d forgotten all about me.”

  Esme pressed her lips together and her jaw quivered slightly. A wave of unexpected protectiveness filled my heart. I felt like throttling this Canus fellow just for making her feel so insecure about herself.

  His leaving had made my strong, professionally cruel half-sibling sulk for months. Sulk and long for a guy who’d kissed her, bonded with her and then disappeared.

  Asshole.

  But as much as I’d like to hate him, he wasn’t the only one who’d disappointed Esme. She’d been hurting while I’d been stewing and assuming the worst of her. I hadn’t been very good family.

  I reached over and placed my hand on Esme’s shoulder. She brightened upon my touch and continued, “Anyway, he contacted me today and explained that he’d been called home until now. He said he missed me and wanted to ask me out.”

  “Couldn’t he have reached out earlier?” Rosemary asked the exact question I was thinking.

  It was Esme’s turn to glance at Rosemary, measuring her next words. “His home is a faraway place with not a lot of access to long-distance communication. He’s from an old family that, er, immigrated away from here a long time ago.”

  I realized what Esme was trying not to say out loud. Canus’s blood kin was settled in one of those remote planes that were popular safe havens during historical times of political instabilities. Vengeance demons had gone through their share of political upheavals through the ages, often in dispute over our role as a superior species over the other supernaturals in the Concord. The past was a pixie-taxing, goblin-dispossessing, tricksters-imprisoning mess. Believe it or not, the current power-that-be I’d been complaining about were considered rather moderate, in the grand scheme of things.

  So the guy was from an old family and as I recalled, he had on a tailored suit that looked overly expensive and formal even by vengeance demon standards… for all we knew, he might even be some long-dethroned member of royalty. A prince or a duke of something. That type was notorious when it came to arrogance and conservatism. The Council would look like naked hippies compared to them.

  That combined with the fact that he didn’t sound as destroyed by the whole separation anxiety thing as Esme suggested an imbalance of power in the relationship, and I was liking this date less and less. No way was I buying that I’ve-got-no-way-to-contact-you crap. If he’d liked her, he would’ve found a way to say hi before now.

  But seeing the way Esme’s eyes shone when she said his name, I decided to keep my mouth shut and let her come to her own conclusions, trusting that she could shrink his balls if something went wrong. It was hard, as the vengeance demon in me demanded self-control in the situation, while the trickster side craved to interfere.

  And I wouldn’t mention the kiss I’d witnessed, either. No need to embarrass her unnecessarily.

  See, I could be tactful if I wanted to be. Even when I felt like ripping the guy’s freaking head off for making Esme miserable.

  “You said his family immigrated from here? But this is the land of immigrants.” Rosemary frowned. “Immigrated from here to where? Antarctica?”

  “Something like that,” Esme said vaguely.

  “Okay, you’re done, girl.” Rosemary removed the hairdresser’s gown with a flourish. Esme looked absolutely lovely in her flowing dress and understated makeup. Her dark red hair was teased with large curls in a feminine and flirty way. “I present to you, Princess Esme.”

  Rosemary had no idea just how right she might turn out to be, empty title with a steep price tag and all.

  Esme got in front of a full-length mirror in the corner and spun around in delight. Wow, did I just hear a giggle? Esme seemed to notice it too, so she collected herself and said to Rosemary formally, “Thank you.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Rosemary waved her off as she started packing up her makeup suitcase. “Have fun tonight.”

  Then with her eyes moist with tears, Esme did something unexpected. She ran to me, hugged me, and whispered, “Thanks, sis. My own mother wouldn’t have done better.”

  Right, her absentee mom, the male genitalia specialist. We never talked about her, so I wasn’t even sure how to respond. Instead, I said, “Go get him, gorgeous.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  AFTER SEEING ESME OFF, I joined Rosemary at the shelter. It was cat-grooming day, and the hours went by about as fast as the fur was flying.

  All the trimming and nail clipping, though it had to be precise and done with care, wasn’t very mentally challenging, as all of my subjects were smart enough not to struggle. While my hands got down to business, my mind wandered over my now fulfilled freelance markers. Getting the full ten turned out to be harder than getting a complete set of collectables from McDonalds happy meals, but the Council was just about out of excuses not to reinstate my student status. With any luck, I might even get a small window between the lift of the suspension and the start of the semester. Maybe I would be allowed to spend some quality time with Dan. I’d managed to get to his lawyer. I’d tried to find those monks that were connected to him. I’d uncovered his supernatural dealings. It was finally time to use the direct approach. The thought cheered me up.

  ***

  “I’m done with the last kitten,” I announced in between coughing out fur balls and opening the door to the animal shelter’s kitchen. Ick. There was enough fur on the flat brush I was holding to create three large cats from scratch, given the correct incantation. “Do you need any help with the baking?”

  Upon hearing my voice, Rosemary hastily pushed the baking tray she was holding into the oven, shut its door and leaned against it like a mama bear protecting her cubs. The smile she threw my way had a panicky look to it. “Too bad, I’m just finished with the last batch of dog biscuits.”

  My shoulders sagged. “You’re all done? No other baking I could help out with?”

  Rosemary said just a little too quickly, “That’s alright, I’m all good.”


  I squinted my eyes and noticed that my roommate’s face had gone pale. Poor girl, she must be feeling a little lightheaded after being on her feet for hours. But wait, why was I picking up the images of soggy dough and chocolate powder in her mind? She wasn’t still worried about my baking skills, was she?

  Alright, so there was also this little incident last week when my overdose of baking soda had collapsed an entire batch of banana bread. But I blamed the bananas. They were faulty.

  “You can help me with the clean-up,” Rosemary offered.

  I grumped. “Sure, garbage duty for the girl who can’t cook. Remind me why I’m here again?”

  “Let me see, why are you here?” Rosemary started counting off her fingers. “Reason one, Esme is off on her date, and you’re feeling just a little bit jealous. Don’t deny it. We all want a little validation now and then. Reason two, you owe me because she looks fab, thanks to me.”

  Actually, there was a third reason. I was here in gratitude for the freelance leads that Rosemary, through Jordan, had unwittingly provided. I would like to be someone who remembered her debts.

  I went about picking up all the used spatulas and sniffed the air around me. With biscuits that good, I wouldn’t mind being a dog. I got called a bitch in my line of work often enough as it was. Why not get a treat for it?

  Seemingly reading my mind, Rosemary took a fresh tray out of the oven and placed it on the cooling rack. “You can have some if you want. All my products are human-grade. That means it’s suitable for human consumption.”

  And I bet it was good enough for demon consumption, too. I took a handful from the tray and wolfed them down. They were hot, but my supernatural enamel could handle it.

  Greedy much? a small voice inside me mocked.

  Oh, shut up. My trickster blood might’ve given me a bit of an addictive personality when it came to food, but it was a hundred percent under control. Totally, utterly under control, just like my other trickery tendencies.

  “More?” Rosemary held out a large tin of dog biscuits containing a previous batch cooled enough to be stored.

  “Please.” I grabbed a dozen extra and put them in my back pants pocket for later. What? I wasn’t greedy. The biscuits were kinda tiny, that was all. And they were human-grade, so I couldn’t go wrong having some around, now could I?

  I heard the door to the kitchen swing open, and Rosemary greeted her newcomer with a smile in her voice. “Oh, hi there, Bo. Coming in for another kitten? You have your friends with you. Megan, you remember Bo. I told you all about him.”

  With my body twisted back, eyes and hands focused on smoothing out the new bulge at my back pocket, I repressed a shudder and took a moment before facing the newcomer. I remembered, alright. Though I’d never met the man, his reputation at the shelter preceded him. Bo was one of those wealthy, crazy, cat dudes who had like fifty cats. He was a frequent flyer at the shelter’s feline adoption program and one of its biggest financial supporters. He was also a dog person and a long-time loyal customer of Rosemary’s awesome gourmet dog biscuits.

  I looked up, expecting to see someone with wild eyes, shapeless clothing and a cat clinging around his neck. Instead, I saw sunglasses, stylish hip-hop jeans, and a large money-sign necklace.

  And Bonaventure the Third with his cronies.

  Those three seemed to realize the jig was up the same moment I did. One of the sidekicks dropped a black metal tube onto the floor, and I only had a second to close my eyes before a blinding eruption of lights, noises, and magic surrounded me.

  ***

  It wasn’t an actual explosion, I realized as I dropped to the floor on my hands and knees, keeping my eyes tightly shut. The lights had no heat in them, the bang had no shockwave, and the magic was weaker than a baby brownie’s scratches.

  It was nothing but a supernatural version of a flash grenade, meant to be deployed before making an escape.

  Escape.

  I sent my senses out. Those three elves were gone. Likely ran from the kitchen the moment the flash grenade had been dropped. Rosemary was unconscious, but otherwise seemed fine. With my eyes still closed, I clawed out of the kitchen, resisting the instinctive urge to hide under the nearest cupboard. That was the knee-jerk reaction the flash grenade was intended to evoke.

  Refusing to hold my breath against smoke that wasn’t really there, I soldiered on.

  ***

  “Hey guys, miss me?”

  Even before I’d gotten out of the shelter’s kitchen, I could sense that the Scooby Gang was no longer on the premises. But their trail had still been fresh, and I’d used a trickery spell called Trick You Later to track them.

  With a legitimate P.O.T.O.—Point of Teleport Origin—as my guide, I’d bypassed the safeguard surrounding the Bureaucracy and had landed straight in the office of the club. I’d sealed the entrance to the backroom after I’d jumped there through a temporary portal.

  Bonaventure the Third and his sidekicks stopped what they were doing and gawked at me. I walked past them, steering clear of the floor in front of the wall, which I’d fallen through the last time, and hopped onto the small IKEA desk. That was the surface in the whole room least likely to have traps on it. Except if you counted the very fine act of bookkeeping.

  I dangled my feet off the ground, all casual like. “Well?”

  “Well, what?” Bonaventure the Third asked woodenly. He was in shock, but not overrun by fear, which was exactly what I wanted. Their own little office was becoming a boxed-in prison, and I didn’t want them desperate. Like my dad always said, if you back a hellhound into a corner, it’s gonna bite.

  “Did my absence make your poor hearts ache with longing or relief? Wait, first things first.”

  I cast the Blackout Dates spell, which ensured that they couldn’t open portals and escape at the drop of a hat, just like how humans couldn’t buy airline tickets on certain days with their mileage points. No more surprises.

  They responded by charging at me. I expected that. They had to at least try before they would listen to me.

  They came at me with staplers, rulers, and even a full package of paper. The three elves might not have much magic in them, but they were strong as oxen. Instinctively, my limbs started moving to block the hits that came my way. I gave a silent thanks to the basic combat challenge I’d had to pass as a part of my SAAT—Standard Assault Aptitude Test—for college.

  I jumped over their heads and landed where one of the sidekicks was seconds ago. Another good bet of a trap-free spot was where the enemy had just been. I grabbed onto Wistari’s boot and twisted his ankle, causing him to fall. Then I used his leg to trip Sidekick Number Two as the latter approached. Rolling myself into a ball, I landed on top of Wistari’s round belly, planting my feet hard on it. When he sucked in air again, I used the momentum to launch myself in the air. Like a graceful human gymnast, I did a cartwheel midair then kicked out my left foot to make contact with the jawbone of Bonaventure the Third.

  By the time I landed my feet on the ground, none of the three losers were left standing. They didn’t stay down for long, though. The boys scrambled to their feet and gave each other the “let’s get her” hand signal.

  The rather chaotic nature of my opponents made this situation ripe for some fantastic trickery magic. And I would use it, not just for myself, but also for all the animals that had passed from the shelter to these bastards’ hands. Who knew what had happened to them? Most valuable patrons, my butt.

  What I had in mind was called the Slapstick Merry Go Round, a confusion spell that worked best in tight spaces with multiple players. As Wistari clamped down on my shoulder with his enormous hand, I transferred the hold to Bonaventure the Third, so when that grip tightened, it was the latter who was screaming in pain. When he shot out his foot in reflex, my spell made him find aim on Sidekick Number Two’s shin.

  All in all, everyone got a little bruising, while thinking that the attack came from me. It made me look way stronger than I really was.


  The real fun began when they panicked and started using magic in their effort to subdue me. What they lacked in power, they made up for with enchanted brass knuckles and good old-fashioned blood-curdling war cries. Showers of punches, doubled in strength and at reality-bending velocity, rained down all around me. But none were able to touch me. The raw energy my attackers packed behind their pounding fed into my trickery spell, making the perception even more distorted. A little diversion here, a little switch of position there, and to their eyes, I was blocking and moving and throwing punches like a Buddha with a thousand hands. And I wasn’t even breaking a sweat.

  It wasn’t long before all three of them were moaning and wincing and pressing their hands against various sore spots on their bodies. Dammit, they’d stopped the attack. I couldn’t hurt them unless they hurt themselves.

  But they don’t know that, the trickster voice in me encouraged.

  Right. I lowered my stance and stretched out the span of my wings, the classic posture of a vengeance demon just before making a fatal blow. Fooled by my bluff, they were certain I was ready to smite them once and for all. Bonaventure the Third put up his hands in the age-old sign of surrender. “Stop. Alright, alright.”

  He was leaning heavily against the wall he’d banged into when he’d become the unwitting victim of his sidekicks’ double one-two punches. He looked like he was about to pee himself. Slowly, the sidekicks put their hands above their heads as well. They huddled together and their eyes kept darting around the room. Sensing their intention to flee, I remembered the trapdoor on the floor and had no doubt they knew quite a few ways to trigger it. I took off an enchanted bracelet from my wrist, one of the many gifts of apology from Fir for what had happened at the ball. Not that I’d officially forgiven him yet, but I’d kept the bracelet because it was so darn useful.

  I threw the bracelet towards the three guys, who’d so conveniently grouped themselves together for a single, easy catch. The bracelet expanded to become a large, thick rope. It looped around their middle and tightened like a cowboy rope around a horse’s neck.