bedeviled & beyond 07 - beset & bewildered (3 page)

We have a new client.

Excitement warred with weariness in my breast. The last client had nearly been the death of me. It had certainly been the death of my cool leather jacket. I’d hoped for a short respite from the gore and stress. Was that too much to ask? I gave a moment’s consideration to turning down the job. Whatever it was. But the adult in me couldn’t shove aside the revenue I’d lose if I passed on a client. Or the incessant and smug lecture I’d get from Astra. So I forced my voice to sound cheerful.
Good. Did he set up an appointment to meet us at the office?

Why is your voice pitched so high?

I cleared my throat.
It’s not high. It’s happy.

You sound like somebody kicked you in the crotch.

I closed my eyes, praying for patience. It didn’t come.
Which is exactly what I’m going to do to you if you don’t stop vexing me.

My threat elicited a husky chuckle from my annoying partner. Amazingly, the sound didn’t inspire me to kick him anywhere. In fact it sent heat spiraling through my weary body, energizing me. Obviously it had been too long since I’d had a date.

Send the project report to my televisual and I’ll read through it tonight.

Why can’t I just tell you about it now?

I sighed.
Because that’s not the process. We’ve had this discussion before, Slayer.
About a thousand times. Unfortunately for me and my organizational skills, my partner preferred doing things in an unstructured, seat of the pants way. He was a twentieth century guy and I was trying to bring him into the twenty-first century.
Fill out the client request form and send it to me. Then I’ll read through it and we can discuss it at our morning meeting.

Or I could just tell you about it right now and save all that digital paperwork.

Holy fried pixies the man was stubborn.
Slayer...

Our client’s a Hellhound.

My mouth dropped open and I blinked.
That’s not funny.

Yeah. It wasn’t so funny for me either when she ambled through the door and snarled at me. But a fee’s a fee, right? Isn’t that what you’re always telling me?

I frowned. It
was
what I always told him. But I realized in that moment I was stupid. Some fees were obviously less of a fee and more of an “oh hell no”.

Well, you were right about one thing, we are going to save some digital paperwork. Project declined.

I’m glad to hear that. I was really worried you’d decide a fee was actually a fee.
I could hear the smile in his voice when he responded.

Unlike my sister, I recognize a mistake when I see it and I’m not afraid to admit it
. Gawd! Was that me sounding all snotty?

So you’re going to admit it?

Huh?

Admit you were wrong?

Um.

Were you lying about the admitting thing?

I glared in my mind.
I don’t lie.

Well then?

I sighed.
Okay, I might have been a tiny...teensy...just the smallest amount...wr...

Go on.

Wro...wr...
I cleared my throat and wet my lips. They seemed to be stuck on the word I had no problem uttering.
Wr...wro...erm...less than right.

Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?
Damn him to the innermost circle of Hell, he was laughing at me.

To show him how much I didn’t care, I slammed my mind closed, leaving him in a cold and empty thought world with nobody to torture.

Until he managed to snag some other poor brain to abuse.

Good thing it wasn’t going to be me. My televisual dinged and I turned away, heading out of the room with my chin up. I was done playing thought tootsie with Slayer. If he wanted to be a jerk...well...

My stomach gurgled hopefully so I ran lightly down the wide, stone steps of the castle to the first floor. I’d find something in the kitchen to make for a quick, solitary dinner and then return to my work upstairs. After the day I’d had, the idea of a quiet, comfortable evening alone sounded like just the thing.

So why did the thought send my appetite plunging?

By the time I stood in front of the food valet, perusing the short list of items available for programming, I no longer felt like eating. I blamed it on the meager selection. “If magic could be used for something helpful like restocking the food valet, I might be more prone to using it.”

Aaaand, I was talking to myself. My night was degenerating nicely.

Programming a hot cup of coffee into the valet, I grabbed the steaming mug from under the spout and turned back to find the center of the room shimmering in a space shift. Though my brain told me it had to be my father, my demon PTSD was still riding me hard enough to bring my magic leaping to my fingertips. Sparks sizzled over the surface of the mug I clutched and I frowned. Of all the things in life I didn’t like...and there were lots of them...losing control of my magic was at the top of the list.

I soon realized my magic incontinence was probably the result of a keen sense of danger, rather than nerves. Whatever was joining me in the castle kitchen, it was
so
not my father.

The air turned opaque, darkening to gray and then midnight black before my eyes. The shape, flickering on the air, was definitely not James Phelps Seraphim-ish.

I dropped the mug, barely noticing the burn of it against my ankles as I pulled my power forward and prepared to send it sizzling toward the monster forming in front of me.

The shimmering stopped and I gasped. I was looking at a full grown Hellhound standing across the room from me, only the relatively insubstantial width of a long, wooden table between us. The thing’s eyes flashed orange and red, the colors of flame, and were glassy with something that looked like pain. Its massive, fangs were covered in pink froth and I realized the beast was wounded. The hound’s haunches, four feet high if an inch, shivered rhythmically, sending the glossy black fur rippling down its long back. Bloody sputum dripped from its open mouth around a tongue that slipped from one side of its wide snout.

It was obviously badly injured.

Please...

The eyes widened slightly and a dull roar filled my head. My fingers twitched as I stepped backward, coming up against the long, stone counter. I shook my head, feeling horror and fear climbing my larynx and sending icy shivers along my spine. I hadn’t known that Hellhounds could communicate through thought.

Please help me.

I realized then the roaring sound I was hearing was the hound’s tortured breaths through massive lungs. I frowned. “Who are you?”

The eyes brightened briefly, flashing fire, but the flame was quickly doused as the creature took a step forward and stumbled to its knees. The broken pieces of glass from my mug tinkled against the stone floor from the impact.

Despite my fear, the Unplanned Care nurse in me couldn’t keep from moving closer to peer over the table at the thing. “What’s wrong with you?”

The beast shook its massive head and, for a beat, its image shifted and I saw long, silky black hair and delicate features.

Gargoyle fang.
The hound panted wetly.
In my chest.

I let my power sizzle away and took a cautious step forward. Leaning on the table, I could just see the bloody length of a curved fang protruding from the hound’s ribs. Even as my healing energy surged forward, I knew I couldn’t help it. “You came to the wrong place. I’m not equipped to heal a Hellhound.”

The massive head shook again. Bloody spittle flew and I grimaced.
Not a hound...
The ridiculous denial ended on a long moan of pain.

I suddenly couldn’t stand it. Moving around the table, I circled the creature writhing on the floor and sent a tentative finger of energy toward the fang sticking from its side. The thing wobbled a little but stuck, wedged between two ribs. I realized I’d have to get down on my knees right next to the hound and use both hands to pry it free.
I don’t trust you.

Amazingly, a husky chuckle throbbed through my mind.
Don’t...blame...you.

That wasn’t exactly the reassurance I was looking for. Shaking my head, I stepped back, crossing my arms. My chin jutted before I could stop it. I hated when my chin jutted. It totally went against my constant denials to everyone who knew me that I wasn’t stubborn.

“As I said before. I can’t help you.”

The thing lay there panting for a moment and then attempted to rise to its enormous feet. It failed miserably, slamming back to the floor with a yelp of pain.

The healer in me grabbed hold of my lungs and squeezed, screaming at me to stop being such a tight-assed stubborn jerk.

Dang...my healer’s a bitch.

Plea...

Before the hound could even finish the request, it stiffened with a violent jerk, its eyes rolling back in its head and rigid legs flailing wildly. Huge claws ripped tracks in the centuries old wood of the table as if it was butter. I jumped back as a claw came within inches of slicing my thigh open.

The thing was dying. I suddenly realized my healer wasn’t the only bitch in the room. Sighing theatrically, I pulled energy and produced an angel chain. Lassoing the thing’s front legs with the shimmering restraint, I flung it toward a sturdy leg on the opposite side of the big table. The chain wound tightly around the table and the hound’s front limbs stopped flailing, firmly anchored by the heavy wood. I did the same to the back legs, anchoring them to the opposite leg of the table.

Then, before I could change my mind, I dropped to my knees at its belly and grasped the fang with both hands. The creature’s chest heaved so hard and fast it pulled me off the floor and slammed me back hard enough to make my teeth clank together. I skidded across the room and came up hard against the wall.

Crawling back to the hound, I grabbed the fang again and threw energy into it, only to be flung into the air so hard I flipped ass over teakettle and landed on my back ten feet away.

I lay there a moment, waiting out the pain, and realized it was going to be all I could do just to hold onto the frunkin’ thing long enough to heal it.

I needed help. I could either call Slayer or Astra. Neither one appealed.

Astra would be smug about my needing her help and Slayer would...well...he’d just be smug. And sexy. Sexy and smug.

I scrubbed a hand over my face. One look at the dying hound and I realized I was running out of time. So I did the only thing I could do.
Slayer
!

Oh, are we speaking again?

Only because we have to. I need you here. Now!

So you’ve decided to take me up on my offer of mind-blowing, life-altering sex?

God help me, I was gonna kill him.
As tempting as that isn’t... Apparently our rejected client decided not to take no for an answer. The hound showed up in my kitchen.

The air changed under Slayer’s shift, sparking with energy. When it cleared, he was standing in front of me holding his blade, energy pulsing along its length. He took one look at me kneeling beside the spasming hound and lifted a midnight black eyebrow. “It looks like you already dealt with the thing. Why’d you call me?”

“I need you to hold it while I take this fang out of its ribs.”

The other brow lifted to dance with its brother. His delectable lips parted. He cocked his head. Shifted from one foot to the other. And finally shook his head. “You’re saving it?”

Impatience tightened my chest and I knew if I didn’t take myself to a calm place quickly I’d soon be all up in his grill with my shrill self. Gritting my teeth, I spoke through lips that were stretched taut with impatience. “Slayer, we don’t have time for long explanations.”

He lowered his sword, resting the tip on the floor and leaning on the handle. “I’ll accept the short version.”

I closed my eyes, counted to ten, and pulled air into my clenched lungs. “Never mind. I’ll do this myself.” I reached for the fang and managed to send a pretty sizeable amount of power into it before the hound’s head came up on a roar of pain and the angel chain gave way on its front legs.

Slayer was a blur of movement as he leapt onto the thick limbs and wrapped himself around them, using his own energy to hold them away from me. “Do it, quick!” he grunted, his handsome face turning red with the effort of holding the hound’s legs.

I slammed everything I had into the fang and with a creak of bone against tooth, it slid slowly free. I flew backward from the resultant loss of resistance and crashed into the wall again.

Slayer’s muscles were taut with strain and his face was covered in sweat. “Quit screwin’ around Darma!”

I wanted to swear at him and smack him about the head and shoulders, but I didn’t have time for that. I had a gaping wound to heal. Crawling back to the Hellhound, I covered the four inch long hole with both hands, feeling superheated blood sizzling against my palm as it gushed outward, and closed my eyes to begin my healing process. With my internal vision I saw the torn tissue begin to knit back together again, slowly cutting off the gushing flow of blood. Little by little, from the deepest point of the torn flesh, the wound started to heal.

When it was done, the hound suddenly went still, its legs crashing back to the floor.

Slayer leaned against the table, panting. I sat back on my heels and gasped for breath. Swiping the back of my hand over my sweaty forehead, I watched my patient carefully for signs of recovery. I wasn’t at all sure I wouldn’t have to put more holes in the beast when it woke up.

“So does this mean we have a new client?”

I turned to Slayer, frowning. “I’m not sure.”

He thought about that for a moment and then grinned.

I knew in that moment I was in trouble.

“If we’re taking on the project. Does that mean you were wrong about being wrong?”