Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(68)
“Julius was always more of a lover than a fighter, and was pretty content letting me do the dirty work and taking most of the credit for it. He didn’t Hunt because he loved it. He Hunted because of the money it could give him. Me on the other hand? It almost became the air I breathed. By the time I realized I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror after a Hunt, it was too late.”
Realization had her studying Damian in a different light. “The hex…”
He nodded. “Talk about a wake-up call. But during every attempt to distance myself from the Hunter life, Julius shoved me right back into the fray, chanting about embracing my inner demon. The more I did, and the more targets I hauled in, the more perks he enjoyed—including the old man’s approval.”
“But you stopped…”
“I did … eventually … and all thanks to Miguel. But the second I cut myself off from that life, Julius was cut off too.”
“Your father—”
“Denounced us. Disinherited. Whatever you want to call it. We were no longer his problem.”
“But you’ve both done well for yourself. Julius is now on the Supernatural Council, and you went to college, became a vet, and run a sanctuary for sick and abused animals. That’s not exactly a shabby life, Damian.”
“None of that would’ve happened without Miguel, and didn’t happen before I pissed off the wrong witch. So don’t let Julius’s ‘I’m a Councilman for the betterment of Norm-and Supernatural-kind’ fool you. He did it because I wasn’t the only one Ezeil cut off, and he’d become so accustomed to living the cushy high life, the Supernatural Council was the only way he could maintain it.”
The story seemed so far-fetched and yet not. No sense, and yet all the sense. Still, it baffled her mind and stole her concentration until Damian’s attention drifted beyond her shoulder. “Looks like Virginia’s ducking out.”
Rose turned, expecting an eight-foot giant with horns and a spiked tail. Something ferocious and hell-like, much like the Gryndors. Instead, the person headed their way pushed a rolling walker and wore a JBFan4Eva concert T-shirt.
She spun on Damian, who still perched against the brick wall and sported a shit-eating grin. “You find this funny? She’s not a day younger than ninety!”
He shrugged. “This is who we’ve been told to bring in. Have at it, Miss Bounty Hunter. Clock’s tickin’.”
* * *
Was it mean of Damian to serve Rose up to the demon? Yep. Was it necessary? Absolutely.
It was the quickest way to nip this latest fascination in the bud, but in case things went sideways with Virginia Cummings, he was there. Virginia’s outer, fragile Norm exterior was a ruse to blend seamlessly into the background, one that allowed the demon to get away with a whole lot of nefarious deeds.
Sometimes Faroi took the shape of kids, or gangly-limbed teens. Others—like Virginia—picked the elderly population as their muse. No matter the size or shape, they weren’t any less conniving, or dangerous. In fact, it made them more so, because when they took unthreatening guises, people’s defenses dropped, and when guards went down, the demons feasted.
Staying against the building, Damian let Rose take the lead.
She eyed the older woman’s approach. “Um … are you Virginia Cummings?”
The demon glanced up, gray eyes blinking innocently behind her thick-lensed bottle-cap glasses. “Yes, dear. That’s me.”
“You’re the Virginia Cummings who used to live in Los Angeles? In Pasadena?”
The older woman nodded. “I’ve been blessed to live all over the world throughout my many, many years. You look familiar, dear. Do I know you? Are you Audrey’s great-granddaughter? You look a little like her across the eyes.”
Muttering a soft curse, Rose glanced at him over her shoulder. “What do I do?”
“This is the job, babe. Locate the target. Subdue the target. Bring in the target.” He nudged his chin toward the elderly woman. “We located, and now you subdue. Break out those nifty magical cuffs and let’s get moving so we can move along to the third step.”
“I’m not putting an octogenarian in freakin’ handcuffs—magical or steel,” Rose hissed.
“Eighties?” Virginia chuckled. “If only I were in my eighties again. I’m actually quite a bit older.”
Rose whipped her head back toward him, finger pointing. “Did you hear that? She’s even older! Julius must’ve been smoking whatever Olive’s roommate is selling from their apartment, because there is no way this little granny is the person we’re supposed to bring in. Look at her!”
He did … right over Rose’s shoulder. All his reflexes went on instant alert, preparing to move if needed. But he kept his voice even. “You may want to get those cuffs on her before things get tricky.”
Rose propped her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I’m not hauling in an old woman and her walker to stand before your brother … or the Council.”
The air around the Faroi demon rippled as Virginia’s Norm outer layer melted away with every inch she grew. A few distracted moments later and standing in the exact place of the once-eighty-year-old woman was a red-scaled creature with Medusa-like horns and an odoriferous ooze that most definitely didn’t smell like butterscotch candies.