Demons Prefer Blondes (Demons Unleashed #1)(2)

“They make their decisions for a reason, Rafe.” Dominic turned to face him, blood tears threatening to spill. “In the end, everything will fall into place. I’ll see to it.”

“Where on Earth is the chest?”

Rafael grimaced. He remembered the last time he’d traveled to Earth for such a large mission. He’d been sent to quell an outbreak of Infernati possessions during the early eighteen hundreds. And those clergymen thought they’d done all the work. Earth wasn’t all bad, if you could ignore the mortals and their easily tempted ways.

Not that temptation didn’t serve a purpose. As a Paladin Demon, he was taught only to tempt when times were dire. The Infernati, however, chose to be a bit more overzealous with the skill. Money, sex, drugs, and alcohol, to name a few. He’d learned his lesson with temptation—a skill he wanted to live without.

“You know what happened the last time I was sent to Earth for such a large mission.”

Dominic shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll remind me. You always do.”

“Miss Amanda Newell.”

The other demon rolled his eyes. “So you slept with a human. Demons do that all the time.”

No matter how hard he tried to forget the past, it always came back to haunt him. The time he used temptation for his own good. “She died because I tempted her. I killed her.”

“That was two hundred years ago. Times have changed on Earth. Why, they even have horseless carriages now.”

Rafael rolled his eyes this time. “I know what the world is like. I haven’t completely closed myself off. Even with all their technology and fancy cars and airplanes, one thing remains the same.”

“Which is?”

“Humans are still human.”





Chapter 1


When Lucia Gregory became a cosmetologist, she never expected this. Here she was, sitting over a bubbling footbath, scraping the calluses off Mrs. Gunderson’s bunion-ridden feet and sandblasting her thick, yellow toenails.

Got Lamisil?

Thank goodness for the soothing scent of lavender foot scrub and the protection of latex gloves. This wasn’t what she had in mind, at all. But when your nail tech calls in sick again, what can you do? Grin and bear it. Bearing it was easy. The grinning part she still needed to work on.

“There you go, Mrs. Gunderson,” she said, a wide smile pasted on her face. “You’re all set.” With a quick pat of the towel, Lucia—Lucy to her friends—dried the woman’s feet. Feet that shouldn’t be seen in public.

“Oh dear, you’ve got it all wrong.” Her voice, high and whiny, would make fingernails on a chalkboard sound like a symphony.

“Standard pedicure, Mrs. G.” Lucy ripped off the rubber gloves, powder flying, and threw them into the wastebasket.

Mrs. Gunderson huffed and crossed her arms. “Suzie always gives me a paraffin bath.”

“That’s a deluxe pedicure,” she replied, pointing up to the pricing chart that hung on the wall.

“Suzie ain’t ever charged me extra.”

Suzie ain’t here, damn it!

“Okay, Mrs. G.”

The door jingled open. Lucy turned her head. In sauntered her 1:30 customer. Then again, was she really even a customer? In some circles, she’d be called a best friend.

“Hey Lucy, I’m home!” Serah said in her worst Ricky Ricardo accent.

Lucy stifled the urge to roll her eyes. Yeah, Serah’s jokes were lame, but she still loved her. “What up, Serah Bear?”

“I need a wax.” She paused. “Oh, I also came across the coolest chest at the antique store.”

Mrs. Gunderson shook her foot and huffed. “Where’s my paraffin?”

She wasn’t ready to have a full-blown argument with a woman who could use her feet as weapons of mass destruction, so Lucy called over to her second-in-command, who lounged in a dryer seat reading the latest in celebrity dirt. “Frankie, hook Mrs. Gunderson up with a paraffin bath, please. My appointment just came in.”

Tossing his magazine, Frankie huffed. “Appointment, my flaming ass. She visits us more than a government official visits a high-priced harlot.” The mixture of effeminacy and southern flair rolled from his mouth like honey.

With a dramatic flip of her brunette curls, Serah put her hands on her hips and whipped off her Dolce frames, her sapphire eyes sparkling. “Do not!”

Frankie mimicked Serah and sashayed back and forth. “Do too, hon.”

“Yeah, whatever, Frank.” Serah gave Frankie an over-dramatic glare. “You know you want me. When you gonna get back in the closet, big boy?”

“The apocalypse could come, and I’d still wave my rainbow flag. Sorry, toots,” Frankie smirked.

Mrs. Gunderson shook her edema-swollen cankle in front of Lucy’s face. “Can someone just dip my feet, please?”

Frankie sighed. “Right away, Mrs. Gunderson.” Glaring, he swiveled to face Lucy. With a point of his always manicured finger, he mouthed, “You owe me—big time.”

He assisted Mrs. Gunderson from the foot spa and led her to the private room where the paraffin bath was located. Poor Frankie. She did owe him. He could have tomorrow off. That always worked.

Serah shook her head. “Why are all the cool ones either gay or already married?”