Demons Like It Hot (Demons Unleashed #2)(22)

“Do you really think I care what the Fore-Demons want?”

“You should, Ambrose, because it isn’t pretty. Especially for you.” Balthazar arched an eyebrow and traced a long finger down the thin patch of hair on his chin.

“The cryptic bullshit doesn’t suit you, Bal.”

“Balthazar. Bal is dead. Thank the Dark Master.”

Even the strongest of those not aligned would eventually turn. Their minds warped, they would fall into the dark abyss that was hell. It was only a matter of time. He’d make his decision before his thoughts were tainted.

“No, thank you.”

“Would you rather thank God?”

Matthias yanked his dagger from its sheath.

“I’d rather thank myself.” With that, he prepared to slice—old mentor or not.





Chapter 9


He had his nerve! She pushed and pulled the flimsy door. She pounded and kicked, imagining it was Matthias instead. The wood would not budge. Then again, as solid as Matthias was, he probably wouldn’t either.

“Get me out of here!”

Jangling the keys, the salesman wiggled the handle. “I’m trying, miss. The lock is stuck.”

No friggin’ shit. “Try harder,” she said through gritted teeth, pounding her fist on the door.

Sweat dampened her forehead and her breath caught. Her heart thumped in her chest. Her head was swimming as she brushed the beads of sweat from her brow. She sucked in another ragged breath.

The heat built up and the walls closed in, suffocating her. She had to get out of there. Gasping for air, she shook and rattled the door. Teeth clenched, she slammed her fists into the flimsy wood.

Bastard.

Anger boiled deep inside, warring with the fear. Not a good mix at all. She clenched her fists and closed her eyes. If only her grandmother were here. She’d know what to do. She always did. But Nonni was gone. She swallowed the lump. It was her fault.

Nonni, I need you.

She closed her eyes again and threw her head back, flinging and flailing her wrists.

She peeled an eye open and snuck a gaze at the sparkly band. Gritting her teeth, she grumbled beneath her breath. Why wouldn’t it work? Then again, it seemed to have a mind of its own. It only worked when it wanted—such was her life, a never-ending case of Murphy’s Law.

Please, Nonni.

As if it were an echo from her past, her Nonni’s voice called to her from the faint recesses of her mind.

Breathe in and out from one to five. With each count let the peace envelop you.

One. She sucked in, allowing warmth to creep into her pores.

Two. She imagined herself floating in the air.

Three. She floated higher, the air around her getting clearer.

Four. More energy surrounded her, seeping in.

Five. She fell backwards, into her own personal cloud of softness. Completely relaxed.

Warm energy zinged into her wrist. She opened her eyes. The watch glowed warm and energizing, not hot and overbearing as before.

You can do anything you put your mind to. Her grandmother’s voice faded with the breeze. With a reluctant smile, she rubbed the watch. The diamonds glistened, no longer taunting sparks, but welcome reminders of her grandmother. Nonni might not have been there in body, but her spirit was plentiful. Nonni would get her out.

She reached out and grabbed the handle of the door and yanked. With a reluctant groan, the door creaked open.

The clerk breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I thought I’d have to call a locksmith for a minute. Never seen that happen before.”

“Neither have I.” She’d seen weirder. But for the clerk’s—and her already dwindling—sanity, she kept that to herself.

Thanks Nonni. A mental breakdown averted—her own.

She grabbed the mountain of clothes and toddled toward the other items piled high on the floor. Fumbling with the other stack, she tripped over a shoe box and staggered forward.

“He is so dead.”

“He had to secure the perimeter,” the salesman said with a chuckle. Too bad he didn’t know he wasn’t far off from the truth. “Let me help you.” He scooped up the other pile and jogged to the register.

Grumbling beneath her breath, Serah trudged to the register. With an unceremonious grunt, she heaved the clothes onto the counter. The scent—scratch that—odor continued to linger in the air. Whatever or whoever this demon was, he was strong… and nearby. Screw Matthias and his one-man army. She was through playing the damsel who wasn’t quite in distress.

“An emergency came up. Do you do deliveries?”

The salesman shook his head. “Not usually.”

Flashing a smile, she reached inside her purse. She flicked open her gold lamé wallet and drew out her credit card and a crisp fifty-dollar bill. “What if good ole Ulysses helps you?”

“I’m supposed to take my girlfriend out for dinner.”

She dug around her wallet again and slid another bill across the counter. “And if Andy joins in?”

The salesman’s eyes lit up. “My girlfriend will understand.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” She pulled out a business card and scrawled her address on the back. Who needed enrapturement when dead presidents worked just as well? “I need them delivered to 1564 Creekside Drive.” She then drew him a map on the back of the business card. “Someone will be there to pick up the delivery.”