A Fiend in Need Page 3

  “What a pig,” I muttered, glancing around the narrow living room. Even without the mess the apartment was pretty unimpressive. Beige walls, beige carpet—not counting the stains—galley-style kitchen and a tiny bathroom and bedroom.

  Even the sunlight slanting in through the partially opened blinds looked grungy. Dust motes danced in the still air, and the smell of old food and sweaty socks made breathing an adventure.

  Dirty clothes were everywhere. Pizza boxes had been tossed on the floor, empty beer bottles were on bookshelves that held more DVDs than books. I didn’t even want to think about the state of the bathroom, and made a mental note to have Carmen turn Tommy Canter’s apartment over to Olympia from now on. Let the new girl deal with the true slobs of the universe.

  I set my cleaning caddy down onto the coffee table and went into the kitchen for one of those giant trash bags most people use for lawn clippings. Tommy used them in the kitchen trash can, and still there was spillover. Empty frozen-food trays toppled over the edge of the can, and a mountain of dirty dishes lined the counter.

  “God, I’m gonna be here for years.”

  I could feel cooties jumping up from the floor to cling to me, and I wanted to scratch. Yes, I own a cleaning business because I’m good at it, and I’d wanted a job where I could make my own hours and raise my kid myself. But sometimes, like now, for instance, I really wanted to rethink the whole thing.

  I was halfway through gathering up the crap in the living room when the front door opened. A tall guy with muscles, a beard and a huge set of keys hanging from his index finger stood in the doorway and smiled at me. Not a good smile. It was more one of those Big Bad Wolf–to–Little Red Riding Hood smiles.

  “Hi?” I said.

  “I’m the building super,” he said as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

  “Okay…” That explained who he was. It did not explain why he was there. The apartment suddenly felt a whole lot smaller and a lot more cramped. This guy took up a lot of room.

  “Saw you come in.”

  “Uh-huh.” I was mega creeped out. As the building super he had keys to all of the apartments, but why was he using Tommy’s key? While I was there? Was this just your normal, everyday kind of bad guy? You know, a drooling rapist or a psycho killer? Or was he a demon? Either way, I didn’t feel good about it.

  “I’m here to kill you.”

  Now I felt worse.

  “Oh.” Well, cut me a break. What would you say to a statement like that? I still didn’t know if he was man or demon, but did it really matter at this point? Dead was dead, and I really didn’t want to be dead.

  I was just getting orgasms again on a nearly regular basis. And, hey, there was Thea to torture and Jasmine to ignore, and maybe there was a little bit of something with Logan to look into…Nope. Too many plans to be dead today.

  So I braced myself, hoped I remembered half of what Jasmine had been trying to teach me over the last month and waited.

  I didn’t have to wait long.

  He shot across the room in a blink of motion, and I barely had time to shout, “YIKES!”

  Demon, then.

  Grabbing me by the throat, he stopped me from reaching for the spray by lifting me off the floor until my feet were kicking out wildly, looking for something to stand on. So not good. My fingers clawed at his grip, but apparently my strength alone wasn’t going to be enough to pry myself loose. He was big, and he was clearly determined.

  My eyes were bugging, and air was clogged in the throat he was squeezing with a meaty hand. His fingers were curled all the way around my neck, and I stabbed at his hand with my fresh manicure and didn’t make a dent.

  Acrylic nails are not good weapons.

  Damn, that demon queen moved fast, I thought, even while my vision was beginning to narrow down to a tunnel-like scope where all I could see was his beady eyes flashing at me. Brady hadn’t even been with me a full day yet, and already three of her minions had attacked me.

  My life really sucked.

  “You’re worth ten thousand dollars, Duster,” the demon said. “Easiest money I’ve ever made.”

  Great.

  If I could have rolled my eyes, I would have.

  So this wasn’t a queenly hit man. This was a self-starter. This guy’d obviously seen the Web site and was looking to make himself a little nest egg.

  Just fabulous.

  He laughed and shook me like a big ugly dog with a very attractive bone, and I was getting a little frantic. Damned if I’d let this nasty-ass demon kill me and collect more money than I had in the bank. What kind of justice was that? I swept out one hand, jabbing at his eyes, but he pulled his head back. I kicked again, aiming wild, hoping for a miracle. Then I got one. The toe of my sneaker slammed into his nuts, and he let me go with a shriek of pain (his pain, not my pain) just before dropping to the floor and cradling his favorite part of himself.

  Apparently some demons keep their jewels in the same place as a human guy. Lucky me.

  Oh, yeah, real lucky.

  I was gasping like a landed trout and trying not to fall on Tommy’s dirty laundry. I so didn’t want to have to boil my whole body when I got home.

  I gave the big demon moaning in front of me another kick just on principle. Then I grabbed my bottle of demon spray and gave him a squirt right between the eyes. Okay, I didn’t have to squirt him. Hello? Already identified. But it made me feel better to see his skin start smoking and to hear his screams hitting higher notes.

  “Nice try,” I croaked, and winced at the pain in my throat. I jabbed my hand through the big guy’s chest, ripped out his heart and held my breath when he poofed. No way was I inhaling any of this guy.

  Just from being in Tommy Canter’s apartment, I needed a hazmat suit. Sucking in demon dust on top of that? I didn’t think so. Adrenaline pumped through me in a tidal wave, making me shake so hard I could hear my teeth chatter. Close one. But hey, score another big one for me.

  I blew out a breath and looked around, half expecting to see more demons coming out of the walls or something. This was really getting old fast. Apparently the Web site was already getting attention. Perfect. Web sites. Queens. Faeries.

  I needed to sit down. I needed sugar. I needed a new life. But I couldn’t sit down in Tommy’s apartment. God knew what might crawl onto me.

  So once the demon had added to the dust-bunny population, I got out the vacuum cleaner and went to work.

  Three hours later I was in sad shape. And it wasn’t just Tommy’s apartment and my near-death experience that had me feeling like a squashed bug.

  Nope, that’s what a half-hour meeting with Sister Mary Merciless could do for you. Squirming under that nun’s iron glare had sapped every ounce of strength from me. I needed a nap. And chocolate.

  Just walking through the halls of St. Paul made me feel like the pregnant sixteen-year-old leper I’d once been. Back then the nuns had done everything they could to either ignore my presence entirely or point me out as a cautionary tale to the remaining “good” (read: luckier) girls in my class.

  The School Sisters of Notre Dame ran a tight ship at St. Paul. And even now that they didn’t wear the black-and-white habits, they hadn’t lightened up any. Still, St. Paul was still the best school in the district. Heck, even Rachel Cohen sent her daughter, Zoe, to the Catholic school. And really, Rachel felt like I did: If we survived the nuns, so could our daughters.

  Of course, these days there were far fewer nuns and brothers and priests running the school.

  Sister Mary Mercy (Merciless the Evil) was still running the math department, even though she’d been made dean of girls. She was in charge of all detentions, God help all the little mistake makers everywhere. But she was also top dog in the honors math program, where Thea was the star student.

  I swear Sister Mercy was half convinced that I’d somehow switched babies in the hospital. The truth is, I sometimes wonder where Thea got her brain, too. I’m not saying I’m stupid o
r anything, but math is just beyond me. And I like it that way. The only reason I ever got out of algebra class was that the teacher was so beaten down and demoralized by the end of the year, he passed me for the sake of his own mental health.

  The upshot of this little meeting was, Sister Mercy was concerned that Thea’s concentration in math would be splintered, since she’d decided to try out for the cheerleading squad.

  My response to that probably hadn’t helped the situation any, either.

  “Woo-hoo!” I’d cried.

  Hey, just knowing that Thea was thinking about something besides school and/or the demon boy she’d had a crush on was good news to me. Sure, I’m proud that my baby girl is so smart. But I wanted her to have a whole life, not one devoted solely to working out math problems on chalkboards.

  Sister Mercy’s mouth froze up into that lemon-sucking pout I remembered so well. “I expected nothing less from you, Cassidy. This is why I called this meeting. You must see that for the sake of Thea’s future she should be focusing her energies on applied physics and advanced calculus.”

  Why anyone would want to concentrate on those things was beyond me, but beside the point.

  “But she wants to be a cheerleader,” I argued, though this was a news flash for me. Thea hadn’t even told me about it yet. My guess, Sister Mercy had seen Thea’s name on the tryout list and had made a move to ambush my baby girl. “Look, traditionally everybody hates the cheerleaders; I know. But this is the first time Thea’s wanted to join anything other than the Math Club. This is a good thing.”

  “Her focus will be splintered.”

  How did she talk through that pruny mouth?

  “Good. She’s a kid. She should have splintered focus.”

  “You owe it to your child to see to it that she takes all the steps necessary to ensure her success in future endeavors,” Sister told me with an audible sniff.

  “Come on, Sister.” I tried a smile that fell flat. “Thea’s grades are great. They’ll stay that way.” I picked up my second-best Coach bag off the desktop. (I couldn’t actually carry my best Coach bag around to clean houses, could I?)

  Sister Merciless stood up and looked down at me from the podium her desk sat on. I’d always believed she liked the feeling of looking down on us. And since I was only five-five and hadn’t grown a bit since high school, she still had a long way to look down.

  But times were different now. I wasn’t a kid worried about going to Hell if I backtalked a nun. Now I was going to Hell for way bigger sins.

  Funny—Sister Merciless could still give me stomachaches, but I wasn’t worried about standing up to her anymore. Duster power? I didn’t think so. It was more like I was willing to take on anybody in defense of my kid. “If Thea wants to be a cheerleader, then Thea gets to be a cheerleader. End of discussion.”

  That mouth pruned up even further, and she drew breath in through a long, pointy nose. “I will speak to Thea myself, since it’s clear you won’t uphold your parental obligations.”

  “Good luck with that,” I said, knowing darn well that Thea had her own mind, and not even a nun was going to make a dent if she didn’t allow it.

  I left the classroom with the sister’s dark eyes boring a hole in my back, and it was all I could do not to go get my demon spray and give her a squirt. Probably she wasn’t a demon—I mean, a demon nun? What were the chances? Anyway, I got out of there as fast as I could and practically ran down the long, empty hallway.

  Classes were over, but I could swear that the locker-lined hallways still echoed with the misery of generations of students. The scent of desperation and chalk dust hung in the air, and the sound of a nun’s heels clipping on linoleum could still give me cold chills.

  I stomped out to the parking lot (where the few remaining students’ cars were way more impressive than mine, and how pitiful a statement is that?). I leaned against the hood of my car, tipped my face up to the October sunlight and let the warmth ease away the last of the cold Sister Mercy had filled me with.

  I needed chocolate.

  Or sex.

  Hmm. That thought immediately brought to mind my current boyfriend. (I needed a new word for Devlin, because it really felt lame for a thirty-two-year-old woman to call her who-knew-how-old-he-really-was demon lover a boy anything.) But just thinking about him made my hoo-hah sit up and beg. Devlin was pure charm, with amazing dark eyes, broad shoulders and a truly talented mouth. He also had some seriously magical fingers and a Mr. Happy that, when at full alert, was big enough to saddle.

  As I daydreamed for a minute or two about my last Devlin-induced orgasm—on the terrace of his apartment over Magic Nights—I wondered if I could go to hell for having sexual thoughts on the campus of a Catholic high school. If I did, it’d be worth it, I told myself with a smile.

  But I wasn’t really sure just where my “relationship”—God, I hated that word—with Devlin stood in the grand scheme of things. Sure, we’d killed a bad demon together and shared a few of our own magical nights at his sex club. But what did that really mean?

  I liked Devlin a lot, but were we a couple? Or just bed buddies? The truth was, Devlin and I lived in such wildly different worlds that even if he hadn’t been a demon, we wouldn’t have had much in common. So what kind of connection could there ever really be between us?

  Was I going to totally overthink this and make myself crazy?

  Oh, yeah.

  Bottom line, though, I couldn’t go to Devlin’s at the moment, anyway. I had to beat Thea home to explain Brady’s being there. Which should be interesting, since I didn’t really understand it yet myself.

  “Don’t think about it,” I told myself, and myself really appreciated the advice. Cassidy Burke, master of oblivion. Plus, there was plenty of time to come up with a good lie later. I’m an excellent liar. Not about important stuff, you understand, but the little things in life go much easier on everyone with a little creative embellishment.

  “Besides, if I stress now,” I reasoned, “that’s just wasted stress. Better to wait and do all the stressing when I absolutely have to.”

  There. I felt better.

  Yes, I know it didn’t make any sense, but it worked for me.

  Standing in the crisp October sunshine, I speed-dialed Thea and waited. The sun felt warm, a nice ocean breeze was sweeping in off the sea, and from a distance I could hear the smack of football players practicing in full gear.

  By the time Thea answered, I was half-asleep.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  I straightened up, pushed my hair out of my eyes and said, “Hi, baby girl. You at Zoe’s?”

  “Yeeeessss, MOTHER.”

  Ah, there was that tone I’d come to know and loathe. When making a point—as in, “of course I’m at Zoe’s—where else would I be after school?”—she spoke in what sounded like capital letters. I think all teenagers do it—the better for me to understand just what a trying parent I was. Guess I was doing the job!

  After school Thea always went to Zoe Cohen’s house so the two of them could do homework together. Zoe was Thea’s best friend and the daughter of my best friend, Rachel. Good to see traditions carried on. Anyway, I wanted to make sure Thea didn’t go home until I was there. Walking in and finding a Faery might be a little traumatic. Especially finding that Faery.

  Wow, I was seriously wishing I could go find Devlin, after all. An orgasm would have helped me through what was coming.

  “Homework?” I asked, not because I had to, but more as a matter of form. Homework to Thea was like a mani/pedi to other girls. What can I say? My daughter’s a genius.

  “Almost done,” she said. “Where are you?”

  “At the school.”

  “My school?”

  “No, my other daughter’s school.”

  “Funny. WHY are you there?”

  Again with the capital letters. “Sister Merciless was worried about your math concentration, now that you’ve decided to join one of the world’s most hated in-group clu
bs.”

  There was a long pause, then, “I CAN’T BELIEVE SHE TOLD YOU.”

  At least she was mad at somebody else for a change. “I couldn’t believe it either,” I said. “When were you going to tell me?”

  “Soon. I was just…I don’t know; it felt kind of weird, you know?”

  My eyes rolled up in my head. Trust Thea to think something normal was weird and that scoring a perfect score on the SAT as an eighth grader was normal. “It’s not weird. You’ll be great.”

  “No, I won’t. I suck. I tried to do one of those high kicks with Zoe and I think I pulled something.”

  I winced. “It’ll probably get easier.”

  “Maybe I should rethink this,” Thea said.

  “Don’t give up so fast.” Digging my car keys out of my bag, I opened the car door, climbed inside and shut the door after me. “We’ll talk about it when I get home. And, um, stay at Zoe’s till I come and get you, okay?”

  “Sure, I’ll be here.”

  Great. Potential problem avoided.

  “Mom?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why’s there a Faery in our house?”

  Interestingly enough, it was much easier getting Thea to accept having a Faery houseguest than I thought it would be. Especially when Brady offered to teach her to cook. Hey, this could only work to my benefit. I mean, I can cook if starvation is the only other option. But my talents don’t really lie in the kitchen.

  It turned out it was Jasmine who took the news of Brady’s presence a touch too unenthusiastically.

  “You are the Duster. You do not have time to guard a Faery.” Jasmine, my trainer/pain-in-the-ass, looked about two hundred years old. Her steel gray hair was cut short and curled close to her skull. She had icy blue eyes, gnarled hands, a bosom that long ago gave up the fight against gravity, and she wore orthopedic shoes tied with double knots. She always wore a dress and habitually carried one of the ugliest vinyl purses I’d ever seen.

  “You know,” I said, lunging around the backyard, looking like a complete idiot, “I totally agree.”