Were We Belong: Shift Happens Book Five
Date: 2019-01-14 14:01:08+00:00
Description: I need a new freakin' job. It's not what you think. I'm desperate to resign from the Werewolf Treaty Federation aka WTF. Don't judge. I didn't name this crew of misfit Shifters so hear me out. After investigating a deadly Jazz Cabbage outbreak, I discover we need a necromancing Demon to help solve the crime. As luck would have it, my gay Vampyre BFF, Dwayne, dated one of these gems several decades ago. Seems all we need to do is summon his evil butt into this plane of existence and poof, crisis solved. The question is, can we bring him back without causing a flesh-eating, end of the world Zomb
Publisher: Independently published
Rights: Copyright 2019 Robyn Peterman. All rights reserved.

Were We Belong

Shift Happens, Book 5

Robyn Peterman

Visit Robyn’s Website

Copyright © 2019 by Robyn Peterman

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.

This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.

Cover by Rebecca Poole of dreams2media

Edited by Meg Weglarz

Created with Vellum

About This Book

This book was a joy to write. I adore the Shift Happens series with my whole heart. Essie, Hank, Junior, Dima, Granny and Dwayne are some of my favorite people.

However, it was also bittersweet. This is the final book in the Shift Happens Series. I cried during the epilogue. It has one hell of a blowout wedding… and no, I will not tell you who gets married. Read the book, LOL.

I hope you enjoy reading Were We Belong as much as I loved writing it!

XOXO ~ Robyn

Acknowledgments

While writing may be a solitary experience, I have many wonderful people who help me get the book into the world.

Rebecca—your covers are brilliant.

Meg—your editing saved me from myself many times.

Donna—best critique partner ever.

Wanda—I’m screwed without you.

Susan—you are a dollbaby!

Kris—you are the Blurb Guru.

My husband and kids—I love you to the moon and back. Nothing is worth it without you.

Dedication

For Mina. My partner in crime!

Contents

Book Description

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

Note From The Author

by Mina Carter

Excerpt: His Runaway Lioness

Chapter 1

Robyn’s Book List

About the Author

Book Description

I need a new freakin’ job.

It’s not what you think. I’m desperate to resign from the Werewolf Treaty Federation aka WTF. Don’t judge. I didn’t name this crew of misfit Shifters so hear me out.

After investigating a deadly Jazz Cabbage outbreak, I discover we need a necromancing Demon to help solve the crime. As luck would have it, my gay Vampyre BFF, Dwayne, dated one of these gems several decades ago. Seems all we need to do is summon his evil butt into this plane of existence and poof, crisis solved. The question is, can we bring him back without causing a flesh-eating, end of the world Zombie Apocalypse?

With my hunky mate, insane Granny and flamboyant Dwayne by my side, we have no choice but to succeed. If we don’t, the reveal of our existence to the human world is imminent.

We are Shifters. Werewolves. WTF. Shift Happens all the time. But this time, we’re making sure only good shift goes down.

Chapter One

“Oh my God,” I muttered, trying to hold back the bile rising in my throat.

Outside the rain fell in torrents as if the sky cried for the senseless loss I was staring at.

“What the hell?” Hank ground out, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

The abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Chicago smelled of death—recent death. Blood and guts spattered the walls and body parts lay in mangled heaps on the cement floor. My guess—because accuracy was virtually impossible—was that we were looking at twenty or so bodies that had been torn apart. I walked slowly through the carnage and tried to figure out if anything in the cavernous room was still breathing.

Today I hated my job.

“I’ve seen a lot of ugly in my life,” Dwayne said, carefully pacing the perimeter to avoid the tragic mess. “But this is… I don’t even know what this is.”

I agreed, but was afraid if I spoke that I would scream or throw up.

What were these things? There was fur. There was skin.

And there was a hell of a lot of blood.

“I can’t even make out the species,” Hank said flatly, squatting down and examining the shredded pieces.

“Dwayne can,” I whispered. “He can scent species.”

Dwayne moaned and looked up at the rafters. “You actually want me to open my nostrils and smell this? Do you hate me, Essie?”

Nodding absently, I continued searching for life knowing it was probably futile.

Hank ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. “Dwayne is dead,” he said, stating the obvious. “He doesn’t breathe. Smelling goes hand in hand with breathing.”

“And that’s how much you don’t know about Vampyres,” Dwayne announced raising a brow so high it would have touched his hairline, if he’d had one.

My fabulously dead, gay, bald, Vampyre best friend sighed dramatically—which was truly for effect since breathing was unnecessary—and glared at my mate. If Dwayne was about to throw a hissy fit, I was about to toss his undead ass out of here.

Yes, he was a Vampyre. Yes, I was a Werewolf. However, in an act of sheer love under dire circumstances, Dwayne had made me drink his blood. He’d also told me it would leave my system in a few days. He lied. Over a year later, I still had powers I shouldn’t have and didn’t want. So did my mate. I was definitely capable of tossing his undead butt out.

However, I would never forget that Dwayne’s blood was what had saved both our lives. Hank said that when we had children, we should name one after Dwayne. While my mate had a good heart and a great ass, I was hoping we would have all girls to avoid paying that particular homage.

“Definitely supernatural,” Dwayne said, sniffing the air and then gagging.

“All Weres?” Hank asked tersely.

Dwayne pressed his temples and continued to circle the warehouse. He nodded his head but looked perplexed.

“What?” I asked, feeling a sense of foreboding in my roiling stomach.

“All Werewolves,” Dwayne confirmed while paling, which was difficult for a Vamp. “And the Devil’s Lettuce.”

Both Hank and I were silent. I was fairly sure I’d misunderstood. There was no Were species called the Devil’s Lettuce.

“Come again?” Hank said, clearly confused.

“You know,” Dwayne said with an eye roll. “The Devil’s Lettuce.”

“Umm… no. We don’t know,” I said, trying to find someplace to look that wasn’t covered in blood and gore. “Dwayne, this isn’t a real good time to screw around.”

“Not screwing around at all,” Dwayne insisted, crossing his heart—another dramatic gesture since his undead heart didn’t exactly beat. “The scent of Were is almost overpowered by the scent of Jazz Cabbage and something else very evil.”

Hank and I just stared at the undead idiot. Bringing him with us on this mission had turned out to be a very bad plan.

“Dwayne,” Hank said through clenched teeth, which made him look dangerously hot even though the situation wasn’t even remotely sexy. “Speak English.”

Dwayne glanced over to see if Hank was serious.

“Drug den,” Dwayne finally explained. “Every single body in here has come into contact with weed.”

Hank squinted his eyes in disbelief at Dwayne. “Pot?”

“Nooooo,” Dwayne said. “Its basic chemistry is pot, but this is something far more dangerous.”

“So, this is a half-assed drug deal gone bad?” I asked, unable to believe that this was all about pot.

“I’d have to say it’s a full-assed drug deal gone straight to Hell,” Dwayne muttered as he squatted down and picked up a clear baggy filled with greenish-brown crunched up leaves. However, there was something glowing in the bag. It threw off small gold sparks.

“Dwayne,” I snapped. “Put that down. If anything happens to you, I’ll kill you.”

“Already dead, Doll. But thanks for your concern,” he replied with a smirk. “I’m immune.”

“To pot?” I was still not following.

“Jazz Cabbage,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “Or Devil’s Lettuce if you prefer.”

“It’s laced pot?” Hank inquired, watching the sparks dance around the bag.

I stepped over the bodies and went to examine what my BFF held. My forward motion was halted by a swift move of Dwayne’s hand. “Laced with what?” I asked, staying back.

“Magic,” Dwayne said quietly. “Very dark magic.”

“Shit,” Hank growled. “How dark?”

“Demon dark,” Dwayne whispered as his eyes widened.

Throwing my hands in the air, I glanced around for someplace to sit since my stomach was still churning. However, every available space was covered in guts. I opted to stand. “Demons are real? I mean I know I skipped a bunch of Were history in school, but come on… Demons?”

“Very real, Doll,” Dwayne said with a shudder.

“And they’re just walking around in broad daylight killing the shit out of Weres?” I demanded.

“Apparently.” Dwayne shrugged.

“They don’t just walk around,” Hank said, as his hands fisted at his sides. “They have to be summoned.”

“Who in hell is summoning Demons?” I shouted.

“Pun intended?” Dwayne asked, with a very small smile.

I paused and went back over my last sentence in my head. “Umm… no,” I admitted with a snort of inappropriate laughter. “But if I had meant it, it would have been good.”

“I quite agree,” Dwayne said.

“Pun aside,” Hank said. “The question was a fine one.”

“And the answer?” Dwayne said, tucking the bag into his man purse.

“That’s exactly what you’re going to find out,” an ominous voice announced as the speaker and his sidekicks stepped out from the shadows.

“Oh fuck,” Dwayne muttered under his breath.

“I second that,” I whispered.

“Third,” Hank muttered.

It was the Bobs. The Bobs did not fuck around. Ever.

The three bland looking men stood side by side and took in the shit show with distaste and disgust. I stood my ground and waited to hear what they would say. I was slightly terrified of the Bobs—everyone was. As benign as they appeared, they were vicious when pissed off. And clearly this tragic mess pissed them off. Of course, since Hank and I were now members of the Governing Council, these scary Werewolves were our freakin’ coworkers.

“Did you find anything helpful?” Bob One inquired, shaking his head at the carnage.

“Pot,” I said.

“Jazz Cabbage,” Dwayne corrected me.

“Interesting. Any trace of Demon?” Bob Two asked, putting his hand out for the deadly evidence.

Dwayne handed the Devil’s Lettuce over carefully and the three men examined it. Hank glanced over and I shrugged. Being officers of the Werewolf Treaty Federation aka WTF—which seemed appropriately named right now—was fast becoming a horrible choice on our part. Not that we’d had much of a choice…

“No traces of Demon,” Hank stated. “Or none that I’m aware of.”

Bob Three brushed imaginary lint off of his impeccably pressed and wildly boring black suit and then sighed. “Have any of you ever actually seen a Demon?”

“No,” I answered.

“Same,” Hank replied.

Dwayne was strangely silent. As a Vampyre, he wasn’t part of the Werewolf Treaty Federation. The Bobs held no authority over him. However, his silence was telling. Dwayne clearly sensed a Demon.

“They’re usually discreet,” Bob Three went on, eyeing Dwayne casually. “Which makes them quite difficult to detect.”

“They look human?” I asked, trying to draw Bob Three’s attention away from Dwayne. Nothing the Bobs did was ever casual.

“Possibly,” Bob One said. “I’ve never seen one.”

“From what I’ve heard, Demons are quite small with tiny red horns and spiky tails,” Bob Two chimed in looking as serious as a heart attack.

Dwayne grunted quietly and rolled his eyes.

“Red eyes and putrid breath,” Bob Three added.

Again, Dwayne rolled his eyes so hard I was sure they’d get stuck in the back of his sockets.

“Sharp black claws, pointed ears and fangs,” Bob One announced, all the while watching Dwayne. “Some have reported that the Demons are also hunchbacked and wear tap shoes.”

I was utterly speechless. The Bobs had no sense of humor whatsoever, so I could only surmise their information was correct. However, Dwayne… Dwayne had clearly had enough.

“Are you idiots out of your minds?” Dwayne shouted and threw his hands in the air as the Bobs simply smiled. “Werewolves are not equipped to handle stressful situations and should never repeat what they hear. If you can’t eat it, chase it, or play with it, you should just pee on it and walk away.”

“Oh my God,” I gasped on a terrified laugh, quickly stepping in front of Dwayne to block the Bobs access to my insane BFF. “He didn’t mean that—at all. Right, Dwayne?”

I gave him a quick elbow to his stomach and waited for him to take back his hilariously creative insult. He didn’t.

“Meant every word. The Bobs know it too,” Dwayne huffed as flipped some imaginary hair over his shoulder, which was definitely for effect since he had none. He approached the still smiling Bobs with an evil little grin of his own. “I always thought you three were humorless turds, but now I see you’ve gained a few new skills.”

“Whatever could you be talking about?” Bob One inquired with what I think was a smirk—or constipation.

“You are most definitely aware that I know what a Demon looks like,” Dwayne said flatly.

I held my breath and waited for more. If Dwayne was about to announce he was a Demon, I was gonna pass out. The Bobs feigned surprise. Hank was the only one present with a good poker face.

The silence was killing me. It was like the electricity had gone out while I was watching a great movie on TV where they were about to catch the killer and then… nothing. Pitch-black nothing. Well, as far as I was concerned the electricity was working just fine and I wasn’t one to hold back.

“Okay, I’ll bite—no pun intended—however, it is a good pun,” I said with yet another inappropriate giggle. “Dwayne, how do you know what a Demon looks like?”

Dwayne’s put-upon sigh made me slightly nervous. I was never quite sure what was going to come out of his mouth.

“Becausssssse… I dated one a few decades ago,” he said. “How the Bland Bobs got this information makes me very curious.”

“Bobs?” I questioned. I was fully within my rights to question my fellow council members even if they frightened the heck out of me. “How do you know this?”

“The Bobs know all,” Bob One announced condescendingly, with an impressively raised brow.

Holy Hell they were annoying. “Is it fun to speak about yourselves in the third person?” I asked before I could stop myself.

The silence was deafening and both Dwayne and Hank yanked me between them.

“Actually, it is,” Bob One said with the first genuine smile I’d ever seen on his face.

It was a real smile—not one that made me think he wanted to eat a puppy. Stupidly, this made me bold. “I’m gonna have to call bullshit on that one,” I pointed out, stepping out of the Dwayne and Hank sandwich I was wedged in. “You have no idea what happened here or who’s responsible for it.”

Bob One’s smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared and I swiftly jumped back into my protective Werewolf-Vampyre sandwich. Getting cocky with the Bobs was a no-no and potentially life-threatening.

“You are correct, Essie,” Bob Two admitted. “So it’s quite fortuitous that the Vampyre is present.”

“The Vampyre has a name, Harold,” Dwayne said with a grin so wide, I started to grin too. Even Hank couldn’t hide his muffled laugh.

Bob Two--aka Harold—glared daggers at Dwayne. My cray-cray Vampyre buddy simply continued to smile. Apparently, Dwayne knew all as well—or at least he knew some. Now I wondered if the other Bobs were Bobs at all. If the three Bobs were hiding their names, what else were they hiding?

Honestly, I didn’t want to know. Bob or Harold or whatever he wanted to call himself was freakin’ terrifying.

“Fine,” Bob Harold snapped. “Dwayne. It’s fortuitous that you happen to be here today, Dwayne. Is that better, Dwayne?”

“Much,” Dwayne sang with delight. “Proper use of my outstanding moniker will prevent me from sharing that Bob One’s name is Herm and Bob Three’s name is Hiram.”

“Seriously?” I shouted on a laugh. “Harold, Herm and Hiram? Holy crap!”

“Enough,” Bob Herm grumbled as the heat from his neck rose to his face. “We are the Bobs. We will always be the Bobs. If anyone were to catch wind of our former names, remember that we know where you live.”

Since the Bobs’ threats were seldom idle, I decided to take their advice and keep my trap shut. It was doable, but difficult. However, it was still awesomely hilarious to know their weakness. What wasn’t hilarious was the carnage surrounding us. And even if Dwayne had dated a Demon in the last century, it didn’t help us now.

“Spill,” I said to the Bobs, glancing around and realizing I was more scared of this deadly scene repeating itself than I was Herm, Harold and Hiram. “Does Dwayne’s dating past help us out here?”

“It might,” Bob Hiram said.

“How?” Dwayne demanded. “Belphegor, appropriately and better known as Sloth, would never be involved in something like this. He’s far too lazy. However, his ass is nothing to scoff at.”

“Is that actually pertinent?” Hank asked, pressing the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.

“No. Not at all,” Dwayne admitted with a shrug. “He just has a bitable backside.”

“Fine,” I said, steering the ridiculous conversation back onto the right track. “If Bel the Whore isn’t a killer…”

“It’s Belphegor,” Dwayne corrected me with a burst of laughter. “Granted, his morals are on the loose side, but he might not take kindly to being called a hooker.”

I looked over at Hank. “Shit. My bad. If Belphegor isn’t a suspect, then I don’t see how Dwayne’s dating history is relevant.”

“Belphegor is not only a Demon, he’s a necromancer,” Bob Harold explained.

“Whoa, dude,” I shouted, putting my hand up. “I’m all for mutual kinky, but that is gross.”

The room went silent after my comment. Everyone was staring at me like I had three heads. What the hell was wrong with these people? I mean, I had no clue what the Bobs were into, but I knew exactly what Hank was into, which was me… not dead people.

Now Dwayne? Dwayne was anyone’s guess, but I would have laid down a ton of money that he wasn’t into that either.

“What exactly do you think a necromancer is?” Bob Herm inquired, looking pained.

“Is that a trick question?” I asked, buying some time.

“Dollface,” Dwayne said kindly, saving me from myself yet again. “Before you embarrass the living hell out of yourself, allow me to explain some things to you.”

“Umm… sure,” I said quickly realizing that I was indeed going to have to name my first born after him regardless of the sex of the baby. Dwaynda could work for a girl.

“Belphegor can raise the dead. That’s what a necromancer does,” Dwayne said.

“And he doesn’t do anything else before he raises them?” I questioned carefully.

“No, Doll, he does not.”

“Okay. Great. I thought…”

“We know what you thought,” Hank said, taking my hand and trying not to laugh.

He failed but I loved him anyway.

“Finding a Demon is almost impossible,” Bob Harold pointed out.

“And you know this because?” Hank pressed.

The Bobs exchanged furtive glances. Bob Hiram shrugged with indifference. Apparently, that was the sign for the others to share… or maybe overshare in this case.

“We tried,” Bob Herm told us, glancing around the room. “This is not the first time this has happened as of late. These kinds of mass self-destruction situations have become common in the last month. We’re at our wits’ end.”

“It’s been difficult to wipe the minds of all the human police,” Bob Harold admitted. “This kind of tragedy risks exposure of Weres to the humans.”

Such revelations would be very, very bad. We lived openly, yet in secret, right alongside the humans. If Weres were ever revealed, it would be a shit show far bigger than the one we were looking at.

“In your opinion, only Weres have been involved in this?” Hank asked.

“So far, yes,” Bob Hiram confirmed. “However, each time the numbers of dead have increased.”

“How many?” I asked.

Bob Harold shook his head. “How many dead?”

“No… well, yes. How many died and how many warehouses with Weres so ripped apart they’re unrecognizable have occurred?”

The Bobs again exchanged glances. They had better come clean if they wanted us to find a freakin’ Demon. I wasn’t an idiot, but I also wasn’t going to let the Bobs get away with withholding anything at this point. Cryptic wasn’t going to work for me today.

“Five abandoned warehouses in the last month. This makes six,” Bob Herm said.

“Were they all in Chicago?” Hank asked.

Bob Hiram sighed dramatically. “No. Two locations in Tennessee, one in Texas, two at the northern tip of Georgia, and now Chicago. No rhyme or reason. I’d guesstimate there’s been at least a total of fifty dead.”

“But no packs have reported members missing?” Hank questioned, perplexed.

“No,” Bob Herm ground out. “Very disturbing. We’ve had no success in tracing the identification of any of the dead.”

Disturbing and odd. It was unheard of for packs not to report the missing. How had fifty Weres died without any of their packs looking for them?

“So you’re admitting that the Bobs don’t know all?” Dwayne inquired with a humorless grin.

The Bobs were silent for about a minute too long for my sanity. “The Bobs know who to go to when they can’t solve a problem,” Bob Harold shot back looking smug.

“Therefore, it’s debatable how much the Bobs know or don’t know,” Bob Hiram added.

“I’d have to say this is a real win for the Bobs,” Bob Herm announced grandly.

“And I’d have to say you’ve gotten ahead of yourselves,” Dwayne countered just as grandly.

“How so?” Bob Herm asked as his eyes narrowed dangerously.

Holy Hell on fire, I did not want to witness a smackdown between Dwayne and the Bobs. Dwayne might win, but then again, he might not. While the Bobs had my loyalty because of their position… Dwayne had my love. My love was pretty dang powerful.

“Time out,” I ordered. “Dwayne doesn’t work for WTF. And although this probably isn’t the best time have a chat… I think we should go for a name change. WTF are the initials for what the fuck. I mean seriously, I know you dudes are older than dirt and not really hip to modern lingo, but I have a hard time working for a company has fuck in the title. You dig?”

“Does this have a point?” Bob Hiram inquired, wincing slightly at my language.

“I’ll get there,” I promised, running back over my last few sentences in my head. “Shit. I had a point. I know I did.”

“Babe, Dwayne doesn’t work for the WTF,” Hank said helping me out.

God, I loved him.

“Right,” I shouted, startling everyone including myself. “Dwayne doesn’t have to follow your orders.”

I had no clue what kind of terms Dwayne was on with Belphegor. This could be a deadly request for my best friend. There were many ways to get to the bottom of evil. Bringing in more evil wouldn’t necessarily be a smart move.

“Exactly whose side are you on?” Bob Harold demanded as his eyes began to glow and his fangs dropped.

Okay. That was not a good sign. However, I was kind of over the Bobs at the moment. Who exactly did they think they were?

And what kind of assholes enjoyed referring to themselves in the third freakin’ person?

There had been repeated criminal activity on the part of the WTF Council. Granted, the Bobs had taken care of all the crooked board members, but part of me refused to give them complete control. We’d been responsible for unearthing the evil in the Werewolf Treaty Federation—not the uppity Bobs.

“I’m on the side of justice,” I snapped, as my own eyes began to glow and I felt my power start to flow through my veins.

I wasn’t sure if the Bobs were aware of Hank’s and my enhanced magic due to the Vampyre blood that now permanently flowed through our veins, but they really shouldn’t mess with us.

I glared at all three Bobs. “I don’t see why we need to raise the dead—that sounds iffy to me. There have to be repercussions for that kind of voodoo. And Dwayne’s life will not be on the line for a Were issue. Period. End of discussion.”

“I’m already dead,” Dwayne said with a chuckle as he kissed the top of my head. “Does my non-beating heart good to have someone stick up for me, Doll. I can take it from here.”

“You sure?” I asked.

“Positive.” Dwayne hugged me tight and then turned a deadly glare to the Bobs. “It will cost you.”

“How much?” Bob Harold asked, tonelessly.

“Probably far more than you’re willing to pay,” Dwayne said easily.

“State your amount,” Bob Herm shot back through clenched teeth.

Dwayne’s laugh echoed through the death chamber we stood in. “I don’t want your money. I have enough of that to last hundreds of lifetimes.”

“Then what do you want?” Bob Hiram ground out.

“I want the promise of eternal safety for Bobbie Sue Harding — guaranteed. I want it in writing and I want a blood oath. No one touches her and no one questions her. Ever.”

The Bobs eyed each other warily. Clearly, they knew my granny wasn’t just a Werewolf anymore. Never in the history of our kind had anyone heard of a Vampyre-Werewolf, but that was exactly what Granny was now. It had been my choice as she lay dying to let Dwayne attempt turning her. It had been risky, but I didn’t regret my decision at all.

Granny freakin’ loved her new magical status. I had to stop myself from tackling Dwayne and hugging him so hard it would probably break all of his bones. He loved my granny as much as I did.

“Done,” Bob Harold said flatly.

“Excellent,” Dwayne replied. “However, I’m not done—not at all.”

“Your other demands?” Bob Hiram growled tersely.

“I’ll have to get back to you on those.”

“Too vague,” Bob Hiram snapped. “State your demands.”

Dwayne hissed and his fangs dropped. His eyes went red and his magic literally bounced around the room. Everyone ducked as swirls of deadly silver magic exploded over our heads. He was a scary individual at the moment. Even the Bobs appeared wildly uncomfortable. Hank was either really smart or had a death wish as he carefully put his hand on Dwayne’s shoulder to calm him.

Dwayne gently touched Hank’s hand and then brought it to his cheek for a brief moment. The glittering silver enchantment receded, but Dwayne’s fury did not.

“What you are asking of me should give me carte blanche as far as any sort of payment I require,” Dwayne snarled. “You know this as well as I do. However, since I’m fair—and not in the mood to kill any idiots with shitty fashion sense at the moment—I will leave our negotiation stating that I get five more demands. I will let you know when I’m ready to redeem them. That’s the deal, boys. Take it or leave it.”

“We’ll take it,” Bob Herm said without consulting his posse. “We have files and photos of the other scenes.”

Bob Hiram handed Hank a simple black briefcase. “What you need is inside.”

“And the crime scenes?” I asked.

“Have been secured,” Bob Harold said tonelessly. “However, I’d suggest you use this one. It’s the most recent.”

“For?” I asked, feeling even more nauseous than I thought possible.

“To raise the dead,” Dwayne whispered hollowly. “They want to raise the dead.”

With that, the Bobs turned and left. Hank was seething and Dwayne was silent. I had ten million questions, but my voice box wasn’t working.

I thought I’d hated my job earlier. I hated it far more now. If we inadvertently started some kind of Devil’s Lettuce Zombie apocalypse, I was going to kick the Bobs’ asses no matter how frightening they were.

Chapter Two

“I think these gauchos make it look like I’m trying too hard,” Dwayne fretted as he paced the cozy little home that he and my granny shared. “Maybe a wrap dress and kitten heels would be better.”

“I’m gonna vote for skinny jeans and a muscle shirt,” I said, seating myself on the plastic slipcovered couch.

My granny, a newly minted Vampyre, was going to live a ridiculously long time and she clearly planned on making her furniture last as well. Every piece of cloth-covered furniture was zipped into a clear plastic casing. It sucked wads in the summer. Every time I wore a mini-skirt I became one with the sofa. I was wearing a mini-skirt today.

It was the house I’d grown up in and it hadn’t changed a bit. Granny had more crap on her tables, walls and shelves than an antique store. Dwayne had been positively speechless when he’d first witnessed her museum of a home a few years back and that had been a good thing. Granny took her décor seriously.

And not only did she take the inside décor seriously, the outside was also unreal… and thankfully not covered in plastic.

The charming old Craftsman in Hung Island, Georgia had a front yard crawling with flowers. It was a literal explosion of riotous color and I loved it. Granny hated grass. She found the color offensive.

Dwayne halted his pacing and considered my suggestion. “Skinny jeans with kitten heels or pumps?”

“Combat boots,” I replied. “After all, we’re about to summon a Demon. Won’t there be fire?”

“Who said anything about summoning?” Dwayne asked, confused.

“Don’t you have to summon Belphegor?”

“No. We are not summoning anyone named Bel the Whore,” Granny announced as she traipsed into the living room and dumped her knitting basket on the couch.

Swallowing back my laugh, I shrugged. “I come by it naturally,” I told Dwayne.

“Come by what naturally, girlie?” Granny demanded, pointing her purple knitting needles at me.

She was the spitting image of a tiny Sophia Loren in her younger years. Granny was ninety-five pounds soaking wet, feisty, potty-mouthed, and all mine. I adored every annoying inch of my beloved Granny.

“It’s not Bel the Whore. It’s Belphegor,” I told her, peeling myself off the couch. “He’s a Demon and Dwayne is going to summon him.”

“Damn it to Hell, Bel the Whore will be here just in time for the Hung Peach Festival,” Granny said grinning from ear to ear.

“No he won’t,” I said with an eye roll. “And it’s Belphegor. We’re not summoning the hooker to Hung Island for a peach festival, Granny.”

“Why else would you summon a hooker Demon to Georgia?” Granny inquired as she began to knit up a storm on a hat with so many holes in it, I wanted to laugh.

I didn’t though. Granny had a mean left jab and wasn’t afraid to use it.

“Umm…”

I was at a loss. The mission was top secret, but Granny had been a WTF agent in her younger years. In fact, my entire family had worked for WTF. Recently I found out that my parents were still alive. They’d been agents who’d been used in a horrid WTF experiment.

Now all those responsible for making me grow up as an orphan had been eliminated.

Permanently.

“Tell her,” Dwayne said, as he sauntered back into the living room with at least twenty pairs of skinny jeans and several gold lame tops. “Bobbie Sue needs to know. In fact, I’d say all of our inner circle needs to know.”

“What do I need to know?” Granny asked as she gave up on the hat and started in on what might be a blanket… or a potholder… or possibly a noose.

“Weres are dying violently from Jazz Cabbage overdoses,” I told her. That was possibly the strangest sentence I’d ever spoken. “Fifty have died so far and the Council has no clue how or why.”

“Well, shee-ot,” Granny muttered, letting her knitted atrocity drop back into the basket. “Last outbreak of the Devil’s Lettuce I remember was about forty years ago.”

“Are you saying this has happened before?” I growled, getting pissed at the Bobs for withholding Intel.

Dwayne was no longer interested in his fashion choices. He turned his attention to Granny. “Out with it, Bobbie Sue.”

“Wasn’t as many deaths,” Granny recalled, looking grim. “Happened in Colorado. About ten Werewolves were involved. The Council swooped in and took care of it.”

“How did they take care of it?” Dwayne asked. “Demons don’t play nicely with others.”

“Don’t know,” she admitted. “You’d have to ask the Bobs.”

“I’ll be doing that shortly,” I snapped, grabbing my cell phone. “First, we’re going to have a little meeting with people we actually trust.”

“Have everyone meet at your in-laws’ compound in an hour,” Dwayne said flatly. “More room. More privacy.”

“Done,” I replied.

“I’d just like to go on record sayin’ the key ingredient to summoning a Demon is a lack of intelligence bordering on bein’ too dang stupid to breathe,” Junior announced to the assembled group.

Junior—aka Jacob—held hands with his mate Sandy who was one of my best friends. Since Junior was the Alpha of our pack, he loved to have the first word… and the last word… and lots of the words in between. It was usually something profound… or wildly confusing. He was a brilliant good ol’ boy. This time his assessment wasn’t profound or confusing. It sounded frighteningly correct.

Everyone I loved and trusted was here… well, everyone except Dwayne. He said he would arrive after everyone was gathered. I wasn’t sure if he wanted to make a grand entrance or if he was still trying on different outfits to impress Belphegor.

Hank eyed his older brother and raised a brow. “Dude, when you know the entire story, you’ll still think the same thing, but you’ll realize why we’re gonna do it.”

“Roger that, Bro-bro,” Junior said with a thumbs up. “I’ve got your ass no matter how motherhumpin’ fucked up the plan is.”

“Thank you… I think,” Hank said with a shake of his head and a grin.

The power of the group standing in the meadow was insane. We were on the Wilsons’ property. Hank and Junior's parents owned several hundred acres of the most beautiful and lush land on the island.

Magic hung thick in the air and I wrapped my arms around my waist and breathed it in.

Dima, the Queen of the Dragons, stood next to her mate, Nicolai. They’d relocated to Hung Island with their son Daniel after the shit show of removing her father from power. Thankfully the evil asshat was now ash and the Dragons were beginning to tentatively join the rest of Were society. After hundreds of years of tyranny at the hands of their now very dead King, the Dragons were wary of just about everything. This was a bad since the freaks were enormous and seriously deadly. However, with Dima running the show, things were beginning to turn around.

“Well, my nutty friend,” Dima said with a wide smile. “I’d have to say I’m in agreement with Junior on this one.”

“That you have our backs or we’re too stupid to breathe?” I questioned.

“Both,” Dima and Nicolai said at the same time.

“Fair enough,” I replied with a chuckle. “I think we’re off our rockers too.”

“Why are we all wearing black? Did someone die?” Sadie, my mother-in-law, demanded as she joined the group clad in a Prada black evening gown and stiletto heels.

Hank and Junior’s mother’s choice of Demon summoning-wear was slightly off since the rest of us were in all black combat gear, but that was Sadie Wilson to a T. She was seriously fashionable. She was also as scary as hell.

My father-in-law, Jack, was a Werewolf of few words. This was a good thing for their relationship since Sadie liked to talk… a lot.

“No one died,” I assured her.

“Yet,” Granny pointed out as she stood next to my mom and dad who took the scene in quietly. They’d been trapped in feral wolf form for decades by some now extremely dead bad dudes. My parents could take their human forms again thanks to Dima’s Uncle Lenny and Junior. Today John and Annie McGee silently watched the scene unfold. My parents didn’t speak much, due to the torture they’d endured. However, when they did, it behooved all around them to listen.

“That is not a good attitude, old lady,” I said giving Granny the eyeball she’d given me practically every day during my teen years. Now that I was thirty, I felt comfortable giving it right back. However, I took a few steps away from her just in case she felt the need to whack the back of my head.

“Granny has a point,” Hank said, taking my hand in his. “At least fifty Were are dead from the Devil’s Lettuce.”

“Also known as Jazz Cabbage for those of you that might have skipped a lot of classes in high school,” I added not making eye contact with Granny. “And Hank, everyone is mostly up to speed on what when down.”

“Excellent, baby,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Then you understand why we’re doing this.”

“Umm… gonna go with a nope on that one,” Junior said as the others nodded their heads in agreement. “Not clear on why summoning a Demon named Bel the Whore is going to solve the problem.”

“Seems to me that the Whore will only compound the issue,” Nicolai pointed out.

“Okaaay,” I said, biting down on my lips to keep from laughing. This really wasn’t a laughing matter. “Maybe I was talking too fast when I called all of you… it’s Belphegor. Not Bel the Whore.”

“You definitely said Bel the Whore,” Sandy said, not even trying to hide her laugh.

“You did,” Granny confirmed.

“Shit. My bad. It’s Belphegor. Do not under any circumstances call the Demon Bel the Whore. I just don’t see that going over real well.”

“Roger that. Is the whore the one who created the Jazz Cabbage?” Junior asked, completely serious.

I rolled my eyes. I was to blame for creating this monster of a misunderstanding. Junior was MENSA but clearly needed everything spelled out for him today. “Junior, it’s Belphegor. Not Bel the Whore. Not the hooker. No nicknames for the Demon. You feel me?”

“Got it,” he said with a thumbs up.

“And no. Dwayne says Belphegor is far too lazy to get involved with being summoned to sell drugs,” I finished.

“Which leads us back to the original question,” Dima said. “Why are we summoning a Demon who has nothing to do with the crime?”

“Because Belphegor is a necromancer,” Dwayne said as he dropped from the sky mid-flight and landed gracefully in the middle of the circle. “The Bobs want to speak to the dead.”

“Why?” Sadie demanded, paling.

“Because they’re douchebags with a death wish,” Dwayne answered, looking around at the group in surprise. “Why wasn’t I told we’d voted on wearing all black?”

Dwayne was not wearing black. His hot pink skinny jeans, sky blue muscle shirt—a size too small—and jeweled flip-flops were not what I’d suggested to our group for the summoning. Bizarrely, Dwayne somehow made his freaky attire work. The Vampyre was otherworldly gorgeous.

“I thought… you know… that it was an appropriate color,” I admitted sheepishly.

“I brought the salt,” Sandy said, holding up a large bucket.

“I’ve got some candles,” Sadie announced.

“I found a wand in my pole dancing costume closet,” Granny said, displaying a glittery lavender stick covered in sequins and feathers. “Doesn’t work any magic, but it’s pretty.”

“Brought some rope for a circle,” Junior said. “Also have a load of two by fours in the back of my truck if you think that would be better.”

“Better for what?” Dwayne asked, perplexed.

“To summon Bel the Whore,” Junior answered and then slapped himself in the forehead. “Goddurnit, I meant Belphegor.”

“We don’t need any of that,” Dwayne said with a laugh and then eyed me suspiciously. “Did you go on the internet, Essie?”

“Is that a trick question?” I asked.

“No.”

“Okay,” I said with a sigh of relief. “Yes. I did. Why?”

“Tell me this,” Dwayne inquired with a grin, examining all the paraphernalia we’d gathered. “When you research Vampyres or Werewolves on the interwebs, what do you get?”

“Umm, bullshit?” I answered, realizing my mistake.

“Yep,” he answered.

“So we don’t need any of this crap to summon the Bel the… phegor?” Granny asked, disappointed.

“Nope,” Dwayne said as he kicked off his flip-flops. “All I need is my cell phone.”

Everyone was silent. Was Dwayne serious?

“You can just call a Demon on the phone?” Hank asked, shocked.

“As long as the son of a bitch hasn’t changed his number in the last fifty years, then yes,” Dwayne replied. “I just need to remember the correct area code for Hell.”

Dwayne stared at his phone and pressed his middle finger to the tip of his nose. We all watched as he began to pace and mumble in a language none of us understood. “For the love Brazilian waxes, I can’t remember which Hell Belphegor lives in,” Dwayne grumbled.

“Call me crazy, but I thought there was only one Hell,” I pointed out wondering if skipping class was going to bite me in the ass once again.

Dwayne paused and glanced over. “Seriously?”

“Umm… yes.”

“Oh, Dollbaby, there are tons of Hells. There’s Hell, California—no creepy hotel though. Hell, Michigan—quite cute. Hell, Grand Cayman—that’s the fancy one. Hell, Norway—cold as hell. Hell’s Half Acre, Kentucky—very polite townsfolk. Not to mention Demons also like Red Devil, Alaska and Seven Devils, North Carolina.”

“Holy shit,” Granny muttered. “Maybe we should have gone to church before this little adventure.”

“Last time I went to church, it was an all nude congregation—back in the 1930s,” Dwayne mused aloud as everyone looked terrified.

Dwayne’s stories from his colorful and very lengthy past tended to leave mental scars.

“It got a little weird when Old Harvey Smarty walked in on that last fateful Sunday. The ancient human bastard had to have been at least ninety-five—nuts dragging on the carpet created so much static electricity that every time he shook someone’s hand he electrocuted them. Blew at least fifty God-fearing nudists sky-high. It was a bloody mess. And that fucker, Harvey Smarty, liked to shake hands. I was the only one that made it out alive. It’s hard to kill someone who’s already dead,” he overshared and then stopped in confusion. “Wait, what does Harvey Smarty have to do with Hell? I mean, I’m sure he went to Hell after detonating all of those Jesus Hesus worshipping folks wearing nothing but their birthday suits.”

All eyes were wide and on Dwayne. No one was courageous enough to speak. We were all too afraid there would be more to the story.

“Nothing. It has nothing to do with it,” Hank bravely assured a still puzzled Dwayne. “So you call Belphegor and he just appears?”

Dwayne sighed dramatically—purely for effect since his lungs didn’t actually function—and shrugged. “If this was a booty call—which it is not—then yes. He would poof right in. Since I’m calling to ask a favor, I have no clue if he’ll show up.”

“You banged the whore?” Granny asked with a laugh.

“Yesssssss,” Dwayne admitted with an eye roll and a delighted smirk. “And trust me, you’ll want to bang him too. Belphegor might be a cheating, devious, lazy evil-doer but the boy is hot and hung.”

“TMI, Dwayne,” I said.

“Well, it’s true,” Dwayne shot back.

Sandy, ever the one to railroad the action back on track, pulled a laptop out of her big purse and began typing away. “I have the area codes for all those places. Which one do you want first?” she asked Dwayne.

“Da-yum, my girl is a sexy nerd,” Junior shouted and smacked Sandy’s ass with reverence and affection.

“Let’s try the Caymans first,” Dwayne said, straightening his starched muscle shirt and looking nervous. “The asshole likes the beach.”

And that was when we watched a Vampyre call a Demon.

The rest?

The rest was unreal.

Chapter Three

“No, Belphie,” Dwayne hissed with an eye roll as he circled his finger in the air making the international crazy motion for our benefit. “And don’t ask me that again.”

Tension filled my body. Even the summer breeze blowing gently through the fragrant meadow did nothing to calm my nerves. The urge to shift and run until I was too exhausted to think was overwhelming.

I could feel the stress rolling off my family and friends as we watched Dwayne pace erratically. The potential for this plan to work was slim. The possibility of starting a Zombie apocalypse was large.

I’d seen the movies. That would totally suck. However, the prospect of even more gruesome deaths and the danger of revealing Weres to the human population were devastating.

The phone call had been going on for twenty-five bizarre minutes. Belphegor had finally been located in Hell’s Half Acre, Kentucky. According to whispers from a manically typing Sandy, it was about nine-ish hours away by car. If we shifted and ran, it was about five. However, if we flew on the Dragon’s backs it was only an hour.

“Is this as weird as I think it is?” Granny whispered.

“Weirder,” I whispered back. And we knew weird. We shifted into animals and lived inordinately long lives. Of course, none of us looked a day over thirty since our aging process was so slow, but Demons were uncharted territory for all of us.

“How many times do I have to explain this to you?” Dwayne snapped into the phone. “This is not about whether I’m wearing underwear or not. I never wear underwear, but that is none of your business.”

“Sweet Jesus Hesus on a motor scooter,” Junior said quietly. “Startin’ to feel like we’re listening to a one-sided erotic audiobook.”

I bit back my groan with effort. However, I agreed. Dwayne had already explained in great detail what he was wearing… twice. Not to mention, he’d been giggling like a teenage girl after almost everything “Belphie” said. Clearly, Belphegor should be named Bel the Whore. And he didn’t seem scary at all if Dwayne’s behavior was anything to go by.

“Ixnay slovalopa bomp cushky wanamamahama bomp… bomp bomp,” Dwayne insisted and then waited for the answer.

I think.

The screaming from the other end of the conversation was loud and clear. Being shifters, all of us had razor sharp hearing. Belphegor didn’t sound pleased. Of course, I had no clue what he was saying since he was speaking the same gobbledy goop Dwayne was shouting.

“Slompa bomp whompa bomp skitzhazza,” Dwayne snarled. “Blockus nexmus bomp bomp.”

“What the heck?” I muttered looking around to see if everyone was as confused as I was. I was gonna be seriously pissed at myself if this was something else I’d missed in high school because of my class skipping habit.

Nope. Everyone looked perplexed… except my mom and dad.

“Dwayne is speaking Demon,” my father whispered.

“Do you understand it?” Granny asked.

“Only a few words,” my mother chimed in quietly. “And don’t ask how we know. That information is best left unspoken.”

“Roger that,” Junior said. “What can you understand?”

“Extusmiss noxia bomp bomp butulli, motherfucker,” Dwayne shouted as he began to levitate off the ground in fury.

Grabbing Dwayne by the pant leg, Granny yanked him back down to solid ground. “Well, I understood that part,” she said with a grin. “Don’t think it’s going the way Dwayne wants it to with Bel the Whore.”

“Belphegor,” I corrected her, hoping the Demon was too busy hurling insults at Dwayne to overhear Granny’s faux pas.

My dad gestured for us to back away from Dwayne. Only Granny stayed with him. Someone had to make sure Dwayne didn’t float away.

Quickly huddling around my parents, we waited. My dad continued to focus on Dwayne and his one-sided conversation. Granny reached over Dwayne’s hand and hit a button on his phone. She was brilliant. Belphegor was now on speakerphone.

“Floxger bomp bomp yetiwhompas bulzixness,” Belphegor’s irate and high-pitched voice growled over the line.

“Sheetoxis. Bomp fleupixness,” Dwayne countered, trying to bargain with the Demon.

There was a long pause while the Demon seemed to consider Dwayne’s request… or ultimatum… or possible threat.

“Bulifitexi bomp wannamampo exnicisis,” Belphegor said flatly as Dwayne began to pace again.

“Fwagotti lululana bomp,” Dwayne replied, looking up at the sunny sky.

“Something about a jailbreak,” my dad whispered.

“Well, shit,” Hank said, running his hand through his hair. “We sure as hell don’t need to get involved with breaking the law more than we’re already about to.”

“Amen to that shit,” Junior added.

“A jailbreak in Hell?” I questioned. I didn’t like the sound of it either, but we may as well know what we were dealing with.

My mom shook her head. “Not sure, but I think he said Louisville.”

“Louisville is in Hell?” I asked, surprised.

“According to some,” Junior said with a chuckle. “But I’m guessin’ he means Louisville, Kentucky.”

“Which makes sense since Belphegor is in Hell’s Half Acre,” Dima pointed out.

“I don’t think any of this makes sense,” I muttered.

“Glopususis magdeloopa bomp bomp bomp, Hung Island, Georgia,” Dwayne said and then hurled his cell phone.

The splash as it hit the water sounded distant. However, our hearing was outstanding.

“We’re near a creek?” Nicolai asked, glancing around.

“No,” Sadie replied. “The ocean. Of course, it’s a mile away, but Dwayne clearly has a good arm when he’s pissed off.”

Dwayne closed his eyes and let his chin fall to his chest. His knees buckled and he sank to the ground. Granny patted his bald head affectionately. Dwayne leaned into the woman he considered his mother.

“Is Belphegor coming?” I asked, squatting down in front of my best friend.

“He is,” Dwayne said in a tired voice.

“Is that good?” I pressed, worried for my usually jovial partner in crime.

Dwayne looked up and gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “That remains to be seen. He’s not coming alone.”

“Explain,” Hank demanded.

“Belphegor is in Kentucky to break his pappy out of the pokey.”

“Because?” I asked as my stomach clenched.

Dwayne eyed all of us with an expression I couldn’t decipher. “You don’t want to know.”

“Want and need are two entirely different things,” I pointed out. “The question here is, do we need to know? I can say with assurance none of us want to know.”

“No,” Dwayne said with a slight gag. “No one needs to know. However, I would like to advise staying away from Zeernebooch’s mouth.”

“So Bel the Whore’s pappy’s name is Weiner Hooch?” Granny inquired with a laugh and a wink. “It’s no wonder those bastards are so pissy with names like that.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Dwayne said as he stood up and scanned the group. “And there is a small-ish wrinkle.”

“How small-ish?” I asked, knowing the ish was not going to be small at all.

Dwayne popped all ten of his knuckles and then twisted the diamond studs in his ears as he contemplated how to share the ish. “Belphegor’s pappy isn’t aware of his true orientation.”

“Okaaay,” I said, not following. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“The bastard has agreed to help us if we help him.”

We waited for Dwayne to be a little more forthcoming. He wasn’t. That’s when Granny decided to use a little corporal punishment.

“Out with it, peckerhead,” Granny demanded, whacking Dwayne on the back of his hairless noggin and sending him flying. Now that she was both Vampyre and Werewolf, her strength was absurd. “I have a pole dancing engagement tonight and you’re performing Cher while I change costumes. I have no time for nonsense.”

The irony. Oh, the irony.

“Fine,” Dwayne huffed, ducking Granny’s left hook. “Belphegor needs a beard.”

“I am so lost,” Junior said, scratching his head. “The Demon wants us to find him some facial hair so his pappy doesn’t find out he’s gay? That’s a new one to me. But I got no problem-o with it. Jimmy Joe Jim Bub, the Lion Shifter, has a ZZ Top beard. If we get him drunk enough, he probably wouldn’t know if we hack off some of his gnarly beard for Bel the Whore.”

I didn’t have the energy to correct Junior since I was so flabbergasted by what he’d just said. Everyone was silent as we digested his plan—and his stupidity.

“Umm… thank you,” Dwayne said to Junior. “However, we’re not talking that kind of beard.”

“He wants you to procure a fake girlfriend for him?” Dima asked with a laugh.

“Yessssssss,” Dwayne hissed. “I told the son of a bee-otch that in drag I’m more beautiful than any woman, but he said his pappy would sense it. Which in turn could lead to a Demon bloodbath that no one would survive.”

“Holy shit,” I shouted. “I’m gonna tear the Bobs a new asshole that will make it impossible for those shits to sit for a year. I don’t care if they are terrifying. This has gotten completely out of hand.”

“Hang on, Miss Sphincter Expander,” Granny said. “Dwayne, is this permanent or temporary?”

“Essie’s ass rip?” Dwayne inquired, perplexed.

Granny rolled her eyes and belted Dwayne again. “No, dumbass. The beard. We only have to provide a beard until the Demon raises the dead and we get the info we need about who’s behind the Jazz Cabbage outbreak. After that, all we can do is hope like hell we don’t have a Zombie Apocalypse on our hands.”

“Yes. Sounds about right,” Dwayne said, eyeing Granny suspiciously.

“Fine. I’ll do it,” she announced.

“Nope,” I said, getting up in her face. “You will do no such thing. I’ve already watched you almost die once. Not in the mood to see it happen again.”

Granny laughed and kissed the tip of my nose. “Who else is gonna do it, girlie? All the rest of you are mated to Weres—Alpha Weres. Even if you were to pretend to belong to another male, all Hell would break loose—pun very much intended.”

“Dangit, Bobbie Sue has a point,” Junior lamented. “I wouldn’t be able to control myself if the Whore put his hands on my Sandy.”

The tension was again rolling off of everyone.

Granny was correct. However, it went both ways. I’d gut another woman who touched Hank—even if I knew it wasn’t real. Mated Weres were almost psychotically possessive… both male and female.

Granny shrugged as she stared at me. “So, I win. I’m not mated. Still have nice hooters though—even if the right one is slightly bigger than the left—and it’s damned hard to kill me now that I’m undead.” Granny raised her arms over her head in victory.

“I don’t like this,” Dwayne said, hesitantly. “But I also don’t disagree.”

“Granny will never be left alone with Belphegor,” I insisted.

“Belphegor would never harm a hair on her head,” Dwayne said with complete conviction. “He’s not a fighter.”

“But he’s a Demon,” Hank said, narrowing his eyes at Dwayne. “That’s what Demons do.”

“Normally, I’d agree with you,” Dwayne admitted. “But not this time. Belphegor is basically a failure as a Demon. He’s gay. He adores puppies—most Demons eat them. He loves Barbra Streisand and has a fabulous fashion sense—unlike most Demons.”

“Why haven’t the Demons eliminated him?” Dima asked the logical next question.

“Because he’s valuable,” Dwayne explained. “One of the very few who can raise the dead.”

“So then they all know he’s gay?” I asked.

Dwayne nodded. “Everyone knows Belphegor is gay.”

“But not his pappy?”

“Well, yes and no. Belphie was sent to conversion therapy in Hell to become straight,” Dwayne said with a snort of disgust that was echoed by all in attendance. “His pappy thinks he’s cured.”

“Well, I can’t even imagine conversion therapy in Hell,” Sadie snarled. “What kind of parent would do that to a child—even an evil, raise the dead kind of child?”

“A very bad parent,” Granny said with a sad shake of her head. “We can make this work for Bel the Whore. I know we can. It’s just a simple matter of not getting anyone killed by Weiner Hooch. Stakes are high, boys and girls. We have a Jazz Cabbage shit show of our own happening. The risk of being exposed to the humans is no joke. If the Whore can help us, we can help him.”

“I seriously don’t know how you made that make sense, old woman,” I said, squinting my eyes at her. “But you did.”

“ʼCause I’m brilliant,” she shot back with a cackle of glee.

“And I love you,” Dwayne said, hugging Granny close. “You are my hero.”

“I love your dead ass too,” she said and gave Dwayne a kiss on the cheek. “I’d say we get moving on the plans now. Essie, I believe you have some sphincters to elongate.”

“I’d suggest everyone go home and get laid tonight. Tomorrow is a new day that I’m not entirely sure any of us will live through,” Dwayne advised.

I wanted to laugh, but it got stuck in my throat. Shit was going to get serious, fast… like it wasn’t already serious. “On that lovely note, I have to go to Chicago to tear up some butts.”

“I’m with you,” Hank said.

“We can fly you there in an hour,” Dima said.

“It would be our pleasure,” Nicolai said with a small bow and a wink. “I’d quite enjoy seeing Essie in action with the Bobs.”

Hank nodded gratefully to our Dragon friends.

Junior raised his hand as Sandy tried to yank it back down. Her adorable face was bright pink and she was not happy with her mate.

“Yes, Junior?” Hank asked.

“I’m in for all of the shit. However, I want Sandy out of it.”

“Why’s that?” Dima raised her brow at Junior as she limbered up to shift to her Dragon. “You think she’s not tough enough? Because if that’s the case you’ve got another thing coming, mister.”

“It’s not that,” Sandy assured everyone, still blushing. “We were going to wait… but…”

“But what?” I asked, now getting worried that something was wrong with one of my favorite people in the world. “Are you okay?”

Junior’s grin was as wide as it could get without cracking his face in two. “In the midst of some bad shee-ot going down with our people, I want to announce my gal is a miracle with great hooters. And… she’s knocked up. My swimmers are some powerful motherhumpers! We’re gonna have a baby Werewolf.”

“Oh my God,” Sadie squealed with delight. “I’m going to be a grandma—no… a Mimi! I shall be called Mimi—sounds younger. I will be the most stylish Mimi alive.”

Sandy’s look of horror as Sadie basically tackle-hugged her and kissed her made me laugh. We were both terrified of our mother-in-law and with good reason. Of course, Sandy was now winning the daughter-in-law game since she was pregnant. Hank and I would get there eventually, but I wasn’t ready quite yet.

It amazed me that with all the bad in the world we’d witnesses lately, and with what was on the horizon, that there were still things which reminded me the life was precious and beautiful. It was all the more reason to go ahead with the insane plan we were hatching.

Hank slapped his brother on the back and hugged Sandy. “I agree with Sandy being no part of the physical fight if there is one, but there’s a piece of the puzzle that I hope both of you can solve.”

“Shoot,” Sandy said, still slightly pink in the face.

“None of the dead Weres have been reported missing,” I explained, realizing where Hank’s line of thought was headed. “Can you and Junior do some research and see if you can find anything?”

“Any stats?” Sandy asked.

“Only what the Bobs have given us—crime scene photos, dates, approximate times. We’ll get the briefcase to you,” I told them.

“Locations?” Sandy pulled her laptop out again and began typing.

“Georgia twice. Tennessee twice. Texas one time and once in Chicago. Very random,” Hank said.

“Maybe or maybe not,” Junior said, looking over Sandy’s shoulder. “Is this a legal search or can we play iffy?”

“Iffy is completely acceptable,” I said, thinking about how I was about to rip into the Bobs for omitting intel. “And hacking into the WTF database is more than okay. I think they know more than they’ve told us.”

“On it,” Sandy said with a naughty gleam in her eyes.

My buddy was a hacker extraordinaire. Junior and Sandy together were just about as good as it got as far as digging up anything in the cyber world. If there was even a trace of scandal or info, they could unearth it… or they could create it.

“So how are we going to play it tomorrow when the Demons arrive?” Sadie asked.

It was a great question and needed to be dealt with before we all separated.

“A party,” my mother said quietly. “We will have an intimate party to celebrate Junior and Sandy’s beautiful news.”

“That way we will all be present when Bobbie Sue is pretending to be Belphegor’s girlfriend,” my father added. “It will be safer.”

Like I said… my parents might not talk much, but when they did? It was freakin’ brilliant.

“I’ll host,” Sadie insisted, wildly excited.

My mother-in-law lived to throw parties.

“What shall I serve?”

“Not puppies,” I mumbled on a gag. “Just don’t serve puppies.”

Chapter Four

Sadly, Hank’s excitement was not contagious. I wasn’t crazy about airplanes. Flying on the back of a Dragon was about twenty times more unnerving.

“I’ve wanted to ride a Dragon since I was a kid,” Hank said as we watched Dima and Nicolai prepare to shift.

“Me too,” I lied, feeling queasy. Honestly, I would have preferred to drive but time was of the essence. And we didn’t have time.

“Goddamned amazing,” Hank whispered in awe.

He was correct. It was. However, I still wanted to drive. I was no one’s weenie, but we were talking Dragons here. Huge Dragons.

Magic filled the air and iridescent sparkles rained down from the sky. It was mesmerizing and beautiful. It was also slightly terrifying.

My gorgeous red-headed buddy was now a sparkling golden Dragon roughly the size of an enormous freakin’ tour bus. Her tail was as long as half a football field and she had the wingspan of a couple of SUV’s parked back to back. Tendrils of glittering pink and peach smoke wafted from her nose. If she wasn’t one of my closest friends, I would have shifted to my wolf and run like the Devil himself was on my heels.

“I really hope she’s smiling at us,” Hank said with a chuckle as Dima revealed a row of massive and very sharp teeth.

Her giggle of delight rocked the ground underneath us. I grabbed Hank so I didn’t hit the deck.

“My turn,” Nicolai said, stripping out of his clothes as shimmering black smoke engulfed his strong body.

“Are you checking out his ass?” Hank asked with a raised brow and a grin.

“Nope,” I shot back with a laugh, patting his very fine butt. “Your crazy ass is about all I can handle.”

“Good. Keep it that way,” Hank ordered.

“Back at ya,” I said with a wink.

For Weres—all kinds—nudity wasn’t sexual. Well, unless it was your mate. For us, nudity was part of life and I found all bodies beautiful and magical.

Nicolai’s Dragon was ginormous. He was sleek and jet-black with silver markings that twinkled like diamonds in the sunshine. His wingspan was twice Dima’s. I was seriously glad that we’d chosen to meet on the expansive Wilson property. Dragons needed a hell of a lot of room to shift.

Nicolai eyed us with amusement as we craned our necks to look up at him. Silver smoke drifted ominously from of his snout and his eyes glowed a brilliant green.

“Ready?” he asked in a voice that was clearly recognizable as his, yet a whole lot louder and deeper.

“Nope,” I said, shielding my eyes from the sun and all the shiny magic. “But that’s never stopped me yet.”

“That’s my girl,” Hank said as he planted a quick kiss on my lips and then climbed aboard Nicolai.

“Hop on, Wolf,” Dima said with another giggle that knocked me on my butt.

“You did that on purpose, Dragon,” I accused her with a grin and a raised middle finger.

“Yep.”

“You suck,” I muttered as I sprinted up her wing and settled myself on her massive back. “Do you have something I can hold onto? Falling out of the sky isn’t really in the plan. You feel me?”

With a quick and graceful flick of her massive tail, both Hank and I were secured to their backs with silky silver and gold ropes.

“Wait,” I said, running my hands over my smooth bindings. “Is this really going to hold us?”

“Absolutely,” Nicolai confirmed. “The ropes are alive, so to speak. They know to keep you safe… even if we fly upside down.”

“Don’t even think about it, Dragon Boy,” I snapped. “Payback is a bitch.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied with a snort of laughter as he shot off the ground like a bullet.

“Hang on,” Dima shouted as she too took to the air with glee.

Hank was whooping it up like he was on a fabulous roller coaster ride at a freakin’ amusement park.

I, on the other hand, was chatting up a storm with my live ropes making sure we were on really, really, really good terms.

The flight on the Dragon’s backs had been both quick and hellacious. I was sure my skin had a greenish tint to it and that my innards had shifted. Dima’s power was insane. She was able to cloak us in invisibility for the entire trip. Not one human was aware that we’d landed right in the middle of Michigan Avenue in broad daylight.

Hank’s appearance had fared much better than mine. He looked like he’d just walked off a GQ photo shoot where they’d used a few fans on him for a sexy windblown look. He was laughing and slapping Nicolai on the back. Me? I looked like I’d been through the dryer cycle on high… with a bunch of cats thrown in for fun. I was a freakin’ mess.

However, we were here and all in one piece. They’d only flown upside down twice. I’d kept my terrified mind occupied by developing my own evil plans to get even. Dima was seriously lucky I hadn’t puked on her back.

“Question,” Dima said as she watched me twist my long, wild, brown hair into a messy bun.

“Ask,” I said to Dima.

“Did you call ahead or is this a surprise visit?”

“Total surprise,” I said with a smile, checking myself out in a store window. Thankfully, I didn’t look as horrible as I felt. Airsickness had a whole new meaning when it came to riding Dragons. “Never give the enemy time to prepare.”

Dima grinned and checked her weapons. “I like your style, girlfriend.”

I felt for the dagger hidden in the back of my pants. Check. I had a revolver tucked into my combat boots and a stun gun in my jacket pocket. Hopefully, we wouldn’t need weapons. We were going into Hank’s and my place of work after all. But right now? Right now, I didn’t trust the Bobs as far as I could throw them.

“What’s the plan?” Hank asked as he copped a quick feel of my butt.

“We’re gonna wing it,” I replied, returning the favor.

“I’m good with that,” Nicolai said, grinning. “However, I think we should split up. Dima and I will find Seth and see if he knows anything valuable. You take the Bobs. However, if you are going to disembowel them, please text me first.”

Nicolai was a violent bastard and I was glad we were on the same side. Seth was his brother and a seer. After the Dragon King was put out of everyone’s misery, Seth was asked to join the Council. It was the first time in history that a Dragon Shifter was helping to govern. It was about time too.

“That’s a plan,” Hank said, holding open the thick glass front door of the building. “Let’s do this.”

Security, in the form of Werewolves armed to the nth degree, greeted us as we entered. Since Hank and I were on the Council, we breezed right through with our Dragon guests. The guards had given the side eye to both Dima and Nicolai. However, the glare I shot them kept them from uttering a word.

“You da man,” Dima said, impressed as we went through a second set of doors.

“Nope.” Hank shook his head and grinned. “She’s the wo-man. The woman every single person in the building is terrified of. My baby has balls bigger than any idiot in here.”

“Are you terrified of my balls?” I asked a still grinning Hank.

“I think your balls are hot.”

“Mmkay,” Dima said with an eye roll. “Before this degenerates into something that’s going to send me to therapy, let’s split up and get this shit done.”

“Seth knows we’re here,” Nicolai told us. “My brother’s on the tenth floor in his office. We’re to wait by the bank of elevators until he comes for us.”

“Perfect,” I said. “Try not to kill anyone unless you absolutely have to.”

Dima nodded and chuckled. “Roger that. Dragons already have a bad rep. We won’t add to it. Just get what you need and we’re out.”

“If Seth has heard anything, take notes,” Hank instructed. “Even if it seems useless.”

“Will do.” Nicolai said as he nodded.

He and Dima walked to the left. Hank and I walked to the right. The hallways were unusually empty.

“What gives?” I asked as we moved at a quick clip down the corridor.

We’d skipped the elevator in favor of the stairs. The Bobs had a bank of TV screens in their shared and obnoxiously large office. The cameras in the elevators were outstanding. The stairs? Not so much. Plus, we stayed close to the walls, which would only give them a shadowy view.

And the electrified state of my hair should throw them off as well. I suppose looking a mess could pay off. Who knew?

“It’s lunchtime,” Hank speculated. “Hopefully the Bobs brown-bagged it today.”

“Shit,” I muttered, realizing he was correct. “Well, if they’re not in we’ll make ourselves comfortable until they get back.

“Maybe a quickie on their desk,” Hank suggested with a panty melting grin that made we want to slam him up against the wall and boink him until neither of us could walk.

“God, I hope they’re out to lunch.”

The shouting from within the Bobs’ office didn’t bode well for a quickie. It also didn’t bode well for whoever was inside.

“Essie. Hank. It’s nice to see you,” Reginald said dryly from behind his desk, not meaning a word of it.

Reginald was an imposing man. He’d served as the assistant to the Bobs for a century or two… or ten. I had no clue how old the Werewolf was, but I’d never seen him crack so much as a smile in the entire time I’d been in the WTF.

Reginald knew everything. I was pretty sure the entire Federation would fall to pieces if he ever quit. However, that didn’t stop me from giving the man shit. It was sort of a perverse mission of mine. Hank didn’t like it. Of course, my mate wasn’t as into playing with fire like I was. I’d been able to throw Reginald off his game a few times in the last several months which had provided some interesting info.

“Liar, liar, pants of fire,” I replied with a smile. “You have egg salad in your stash, dude.”

Reginald’s hand quickly went to his handlebar mustache and he swiped at it. His eyes then narrowed as he growled at me. “I didn’t have egg salad for lunch.”

“Whoops,” I said as I sat on the edge of his desk. “Maybe it was snot.”

“Essie,” Hank said with a warning in his voice.

“What? I’m just helping him out,” I shot back lightly. “What’s been happening, Reggie? Anything interesting?”

“It’s Reginald. And no.”

“My bad. Reginald. And you’re lying.”

He shrugged and went back to his paperwork. Dumb move. As much as he didn’t like it, I was now his superior. If the Bobs weren’t going to keep me up to speed, someone else was going to have to.

“Who’s in the Bobs’ office?”

Reginald was silent.

“Who am I?” I asked casually as I picked up a glass paperweight in the likeness of Cher and eyed it with curiosity.

“Put that down,” Reginald snapped.

“Answer my question,” I replied as I tossed the Cher head in the air and noticed there was also a Lady Gaga paperweight and a Barbra Streisand one too. Interesting. I had long suspected Reginald played on Dwayne’s team. That fact didn’t bother me a bit but his blatant disrespect did.

“Essie McGee Wilson.”

“Correct. And my position?”

Reginald’s eyes narrowed and he growled low in his throat. “You are on the WTF Council.”

“Correct again, Reginald.” I gently put his bizarre choice of paperweight back on his desk and got up in his face. “Who is in the office with the Bobs?”

“Clark and Jones.”

“Why?” I demanded. Nothing at this point was going to get by without Hank’s and my knowledge.

“They fucked up,” he said flatly.

Before I could find out why, a very pale Clark and Jones exited the Bobs’ ridiculously formal office. I used to be just a regular WTF agent. Clark and Jones had been part of my team. They weren’t incredibly fond of me then… and the feeling was mutual.

They’d always gotten the good cases because they were men. Gender bias wasn’t flying at WTF anymore. We had a new sheriff in town. I was the first woman ever to serve on the Council and I was now instrumental in spreading the love. Women at WTF now got equal pay and equal rights.

Times… they were a-changin’.

Of course, this didn’t make anyone at WTF any fonder of me.

“McGee,” Clark said with a curt nod.

“Clark,” I replied coolly. “Problem?”

“Not at all,” Jones mumbled shakily as he pushed Clark towards the door.

We were no longer on the same playing field but I wasn’t in the mood for half answers at the moment. I’d had enough of that from the Bobs.

Hank stepped in front of the door, blocking their exit. He didn’t say a word and didn’t have to. It was common knowledge that Hank had defeated a Dragon single-handedly. No one wanted to mess with him—not to mention he was also a member of the WTF Council.

“I do believe I asked you a question, boys,” I said calmly.

Clark and Jones stiffened. If I wasn’t mistaken—and I wasn’t—Reginald chuckled. My former co-workers clearly didn’t know what to make of my placid demeanor. I was usually a fight-first and talk-after kind of gal. That was then. This was now. I was a far different woman than when we had worked together several years ago.

“We’ve been demoted,” Clark admitted with great reluctance as his fists clenched at his sides.

If his fangs so much as dropped even a little bit, I was going to smack down on his arrogant ass. They’d caught me on a bad day.

“Why?” I demanded.

Their silence coming directly after Reginald’s was the last straw. My kind understood violence. It was archaic and stupid, but it was what it was. Proving myself repeatedly was getting tiresome, but a girl had to do what a girl had to do.

Hank grinned. His fangs peeked out from his full lips. It was incredibly hot. My man was all kinds of crazy. He got turned on when I went apeshit on idiots. Well, he was about to get really horny. I was going to get some respect… the Werewolf way.

Faster than a human eye could track, I disarmed both Clark and Jones. With a swift and brutal kick to Clark’s knees, I knocked him to the floor. His legs now bent in the wrong direction. He would heal in a few hours. Shifters recovered quickly. I wasn’t going for the kill at all. I was just sick and tired of the disregard shown by these idiots.

They were part of a problem. I liked solving problems.

As he rolled around in agony, Jones tried to best me. He lost. A well-placed right jab to his stomach had him coughing so hard it sounded like he had an enormous hairball caught in his throat. I finished him off with a knee to his junk that made him scream in an octave that made both Hank and Reginald gasp in phantom pain.

Tossing Jones on top of Clark, I pulled up a chair and sat down in front of them. “Have you had enough?” I inquired politely.

“Yesssss,” Clark hissed. “You broke my damn legs.”

“Better than your neck, don’t you think?” I asked.

“I think so,” Hank chimed in supportively.

My mate always had my back.

“Tell me why you were demoted,” I demanded. “Now.”

“What an unpleasant surprise,” Bob Harold said, stepping out from his chambers and taking in the now destroyed lobby of his office suite. “Was this entirely necessary?”

“Yep.” I stood up and approached the imperious man. Strangely with each encounter, I became less afraid of him. “I asked a question. Jones and Clark didn’t answer it. I nudged them a little.”

“A little?” Bob Harold asked with a raised brow.

“Trust me,” Hank said, stepping up next to me. “That was a little nudge. There would be no office left if it had been a big nudge.”

“This is true,” I confirmed, glaring straight at Bob Harold. “You see, I’m getting really tired of not getting answers when I ask questions. Makes me antsy. But do you want to know what makes me want to kill shit?”

“I’m quite sure I don’t,” Bob Harold stated, glaring right back at me.

“Oh, but I think it would be to your benefit if you knew,” I replied with sarcasm dripping from each word.

Again, I was fairly sure that Reginald chuckled.

“Half answers. Omitted information. You know… general bureaucratic bullshittery. Those are the things that make me want to do so much damage that no one would survive it. You feel me, dude?”

“Why don’t you step into the office,” Bob Hiram said, joining the party. “Unless this is a social visit and then we can go to the cafeteria.”

“Are you freakin’ serious?” I asked.

“Completely,” Bob Hiram replied.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I shot them a look that made most cringe and run for cover. “Does this look like a social visit?”

“I’d vote no to that,” Reginald chimed in, seeming to enjoy the shit show that was unfolding.

“Your office. Now,” I snapped at the strangely calm Bobs. “Reginald, please put Clark and Jones in my office. Cuff them, tie them up and gag them.”

Reginald looked to the Bobs for approval and I rolled my eyes.

“Fine. I’ll do it myself,” I said as I moved to the moaning pile of Clark and Jones.

“Not necessary,” Bob Herm said. “Reginald will take care of it. Please blindfold them as well.”

“Yes, sir,” Reginald said as he jerked Jones and Clark up and dragged them from the lobby.

“Please join us,” Bob Herm said. “We were about to partake in lunch.”

“Not hungry,” I said rudely as I marched ahead of them into their office. “I’m here for answers. Period.”

And I had no intention of leaving without them.

Chapter Five

“For such an exquisitely beautiful woman, you are quite violent,” Bob Herm pointed out as he offered Hank and me a cheese tray.

“Thank you,” I replied, ignoring the cheese. I loved cheese. However, the sneaky bastards were not going to distract me with brie.

“It wasn’t a compliment,” Bob Harold said as he gestured politely for Hank and me to take a seat.

“Ahh, but it was,” I shot back. “You knew exactly who I was when you basically blackmailed me into joining the WTF Council. My looks are hereditary, so I can only guess that you’re impressed with my prowess. And might I add… pot, kettle, black about the violent part?”

“Touché,” Bob Hiram said with a shrug. “To what do we owe this surprise visit? I believe you’re supposed to be supervising the summoning of a Demon.”

“Oh my golly gee, you’re right,” I said as I slapped myself in the forehead. “How could I forget something sooooooo important? Crazy isn’t it?”

“I’m not following,” Bob Harold said, watching me warily.

“Of course you are,” I replied as I gave in and grabbed the entire block of brie. “Everyone forgets. Right? Maybe even the Bobs forget?”

“State your complaint,” Bob Harold snapped, glancing over at the others.

“State the fucking facts, gentlemen,” Hank countered, joining in as he propped his combat boot-clad feet on the priceless coffee table much to the Bobs’ dismay. “All of them. Like the last Jazz Cabbage outbreak for starters.”

Again, glances were exchanged.

“It’s not related,” Bob Hiram stated flatly. “It was forty years ago.”

“I want to bash their heads together,” I told Hank telepathically. As mated Werewolves, we could communicate in this nifty way.

“Not your best idea,” Hank replied.

“It would feel sooooo good,” I whined.

“Things that feel great in the moment don’t always work out well in the long run. It’s about the long game, baby.”

“What about sex?” I asked.

“Sex doesn’t count. Sex is always good.”

“So sex is good and don’t go apeshit on the Bobs?”

“Bingo.”

“What if they don’t come clean?” I questioned.

“Then we both go apeshit on the Bobs.”

I considered Hank’s advice. It was solid. However, I still wanted to bash the Bobs. But I’d grown smarter over the last few years. As much as I wanted a go at the Bobs, there was a fine chance I wouldn’t come out of it alive.

“Deal,” I said.

“That’s my girl. Keep them talking. And if we get out of the building without killing anyone, we can go to the amazing taco joint on the outskirts of Chicago.”

“Oh. My. God. That might be the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I told him, trying not to laugh. It wouldn’t do to have the Bobs know we were conversing. However, the taco joint Hank was referring to was positively orgasmic.

“Well, shit,” Hank shot back with a chuckle. “I’m gonna have to step up my game. Go back to work, baby. Clock’s ticking.”

“How do you know the last outbreak isn’t related?” I demanded of the Bobs, slapping the cheese down on a brocade table runner that was probably hundreds of years old.

All three of the Bobs winced in pain as they watched the cheese become one with the irreplaceable piece of fabric. I felt a little bad about that. I now knew why Granny covered everything in her house with plastic. I was kind of messy.

“Sorry,” I said, trying to peel the cheese up which only made it worse. Instead, I dropped a monogrammed napkin over it. Out of sight, out of mind. “However, I repeat. How do you know it wasn’t related?”

“There were no Demons involved,” Bob Hiram said. “It was an experiment.”

That floored me… and horrified me. “Run by who?”

“Scientists.”

“WTF scientists?” Hank ground out as he stood up.

Bob Hiram sighed and sat down. “Yes,” he admitted with what I thought might be regret. “They were able to create Jazz Cabbage in a lab—no Demons involved.”

“Why?” I asked, wondering how sick and insane the Council really was.

“Because knowledge is power,” Bob Harold said without a shred of emotion.

“And death of innocent Weres was just a silly byproduct?” I snarled. “What is wrong with you people?”

“Is it wrong to kill a few to save millions?” Bob Herm asked.

“When did you become God?” I snapped. “Your logic is appalling.”

I sat down heavily, picked up a banana and then thought better of it. I needed something that wouldn’t cause property damage when I threw it or squashed it into the furniture. I settled for some crackers.

“We knew about Devil’s Lettuce. We didn’t believe it was a real threat,” Bob Hiram said.

“Short-sighted on our part,” Bob Herm added. “We created it to see if there was an antidote—a way to render it impotent. We needed a way to fight the Demons if it became necessary.”

“And?” I asked, knowing what the answer would be.

“And we failed,” Bob Harold said in a hollow tone. “The Weres in the experiment had to be destroyed. They became so violent we couldn’t control them.”

“So you killed them?” Hank growled.

“Not exactly. We let them kill each other.”

The silence was deafening. I felt ill.

“How do you know this isn’t some kind of experiment again?” I fired out, furious.

Bob Harold ran his bland and deadly hands through his nondescript brownish hair. “The Vampyre sensed a Demon in the warehouse. We felt the Demonic presence as well.”

“Plus the Were scientists who developed the batch of Devil’s Lettuce are with us no more,” Bob Herm informed us.

“Do I want to pursue that one?” I asked.

“No. No, you don’t,” Bob Herm assured me. “Suffice it to say, that chapter of our history has been put to bed.”

“Six feet under?” I asked.

“More than that,” Bob Herm confirmed. “There was no reason to bring it up, so we didn’t.”

I silently mulled over what they had just revealed. It made me sick and ashamed to be part of an organization that would do what they had done. I wasn’t exactly alive or in charge when the heinous experiment had gone down, but it was part of the legacy of this place. I needed a new damned job.

“What else have you omitted?” If they said nothing, I was going to have an accident with the four open bottles of red wine that were perched on the full-service bar. I’m sure they would look beautiful splashed all over the wildly expensive rugs we were standing on. If I couldn’t bash their heads in, I could certainly leave a few ugly reminders of my visit.

“You have the files,” Bob Herm said. “Everything we know is in there—pictures, locations, dates, approximate times of death. What more do you need?”

I was at a loss. I didn’t know what I needed… except my head examined for staying part of this organization. I needed to know everything I didn’t know. However, the Bobs were very literal and I didn’t have the correct questions. Shitshitshit.

“Why were Clark and Jones demoted?” Hank asked.

Bob Harold sighed and poured himself a glass of wine. “They made decisions that weren’t theirs to make.”

“Would you like to be more specific?” I picked up the cheese tray and held it over my head.

“Are you serious?” Bob Harold asked in an astonished tone as he took in what I was about to do.

“Quite,” I replied with a smile. “Since it would be bad and potentially deadly form to rip you idiots new assholes, I have to go with a simpler plan.”

“Ruining priceless antiques is your plan?” Bob Hiram squeaked.

“Do you have a better one?” I asked.

They were silent as they tried to come up with an answer. There was no way in Hell they would kill me for throwing cheese. Besides, if they tried, I would unleash everything I had on them. And the love of my Lupine life would be right beside me.

“Boys, you have a choice,” I explained. “Answer the questions and the cheese stays on the tray. Be cryptic and… well, you know…” I smiled and winked at the pissed off trio.

“They moved several elite teams to guard the death sites from the Jazz Cabbage outbreak,” Bob Harold finally admitted.

“Why is that worthy of a demotion?” I shot right back, beginning to tip the tray. “Sounds logical to me. Not that I’m crazy about Jones and Clark, but that action doesn’t merit a demotion.”

“The teams already had other assignments,” Bob Herm, choked out as he watched me in horror.

I was dangerously close to what I assumed was a very expensive painting that would look excellent smeared in blue cheese.

“The assignments?” Hank asked as he watched me with amusement.

“The teams were tracking the shunned,” Bob Harold told Hank with his eyes glued to me. “It wasn’t Clark’s or Jones’s place to make the call to reassign them.”

Shunned Weres were non-people in our community. I’d seen it happen twice in my life—three women from my own pack who’d been in cahoots with the Dragons and then the former Alpha from the Alabama pack. All four had been deeply involved with the viciously corrupt and now dead side of the WTF Council.

It was a punishment worse than death to our kind. To be shunned, the crimes had to be beyond heinous. An excommunication from our world was serious and had to be approved by the Council. The punishment was irreversible and devastating.

Without a pack, a Were had no real power or reason to live. The most concerning issue was that they didn’t reveal themselves to the human world—which was why they were tracked. Most of the shunned usually ended up going into seclusion and dying lonely deaths. It was incredibly hard to exist as a Were without the support of one’s kind. As pack animals the socialization of our community was necessary to our sanity.

“How many shunned are there?” I asked, finally putting down the cheese tray, much to the relief of the Bobs.

“Alive or dead?” Bob Harold asked.

“Jesus Hesus, are you people killing the shunned?” I choked out, wondering if the Bobs had a conscience at all.

“No. We are not. Most shunned don’t live long after they are banished. The solitary life in exile from our world does the trick,” he replied.

“So how many has the Council lost track of?” I pressed.

“Twenty,” Bob Herm said. “It’s not like we keep constant tabs on them, but we do get monthly reports. However, it’s been solved. New teams have been assigned.”

“Clark and Jones simply need to know their place. They are not decision makers. They are underlings,” Bob Harold stated with a shrug of indifference.

“I’m going to go a little off subject here,” I said with a humorless smile that made the Bobs grow nervous. “Aside from a name change, the WTF needs to do a little soul searching.”

“You’re new to the Council, Essie,” Bob Hiram pointed out as he quickly grabbed the cheese tray and placed it out of my reach. “You don’t understand the inner workings of our government.”

“While this might be true,” I admitted, picking up a large bowl of vegetable dip, “I’d be remiss if I didn’t remind you of a few things.”

They stood silently and waited. Hank grinned and made himself comfortable on the couch—feet up and all. They wanted new blood on the WTF Council? Fine. They were going to have to listen to what the new blood had to say.

“The Council is a shit show—all the time. Before I joined, you had members in cahoots with the Dragons. You had members funneling massive amounts of money out of the accounts to cover up illicit sexcapades. You even had members who experimented on agents, trapping Weres in their animal forms for over twenty years— which included my parents. Don’t you find that problematic, boys?”

“The guilty have all been eliminated. Permanently eliminated,” Bob Harold stated flatly. “Your point?”

“My point is that power corrupts, dude. You’re running a damned archaic kingdom and we’re not living in the 1500s here. You didn’t even know about the Dragons, the experiment or the sexual shit. Your heads are so far up your own asses that the WTF is falling apart. Me. Me and my friends are the only reason any of these crimes were brought out in the open—Dima, Nicolai, Junior, Sandy, Hank and me. We led you to the three Tinas and the disgusting Giles Giles who were all working with unscrupulous WTF Council members. We killed the freakin’ Dragon King and exposed all the double-dealing of the supposedly untouchable Council. All of the bullshittery would still be happening if it wasn’t for us,” I said in a furious tone. “That is my point.”

“And that is why you are now on the WTF Council,” Bob Herm shot back as his eyes glowed with displeasure.

I wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill me or was simply horrified that I’d shed a glaring light on all of the disastrous happenings in the WTF recent history. I didn’t care.

It was time to make some real changes.

I didn’t need to hurl the ranch dip at the antiques. That was childish. I wasn’t going to win by destroying their office. It would be fun, but Hank was correct. I needed to take the long game into consideration.

“We’re changing our name,” I announced as I put the dip down. “It can go up for a vote, but the acronym cannot have the word fuck in it.”

“Fine,” Bob Hiram ground out.

“We will not have retreats in Wisconsin ever again. It’s cold there and it sucks.”

“Do you have any more demands?” Bob Harold inquired, looking as pissed as his cohorts.

“Dude, I’m just getting started,” I shot back. I was positive I heard Reginald chuckle from the other side of the door. “We’re going to have full disclosure. Open files. Lie detector tests on the remaining Council members. Checks and fucking balances will abound in place. There need to be ramifications for anyone caught operating on the shady side and we abolish the lifelong terms.”

“Impossible,” Bob Hiram ground out. “It will be chaos.”

“Like it’s not chaos right now?” Hank inquired, still sitting on the couch.

Hank’s body appeared relaxed, but I could sense his power begin to float around the room. The Bobs could feel it too. It was menacing and freakin’ sexy. Well, to me it was. The Bobs just seemed perturbed.

“Your system is broken, jackasses. You can agree to fix it with us or my friends and I can do it without you,” I explained, talking to them like they were three years old. “We’re in danger of being revealed to the humans. That would be all kinds of awesome. Can’t you just imagine Shifters of all species being incarcerated and experimented on by the humans? Sooooo fun! The time of pitchforks and being burned at the stake would do wonders for our morale—not to mention our lifespans. Demons are infiltrating our secret world. And all I see you boobs doing about it is having lunch meetings in your fancy office. Get your boring heads out of the sand or we’re gonna be done.”

“Fine. We’ll make changes,” Bob Harold said as the other Bobs gasped in shock. “Solve the Devil’s Lettuce issue and then we will take all your suggestions under consideration.”

I shook my head. They really didn’t get it. “It’s not a negotiation or suggestion. You put Hank and me on the Council. We have as much power and say as you do. If that’s not the case, we resign,” I said and then looked quickly to Hank to make sure it was okay that I was speaking for both of us. He gave me a thumbs up and a sexy lopsided grin.

“No one can resign from the Council,” Bob Harold snapped. “It’s never been done.”

“There are a lot of things that have never been done… yet,” I countered coldly. “And we’re about to do them.”

The Bobs digested my words unhappily. However, it was clear they’d finally heard me. They might not have enjoyed what they’d heard, but I’d said my piece.

“As you wish,” Bob Herm said quietly.

“Blood oath,” I demanded as all three of them raised their brows in surprise.

“You don’t trust us?” Bob Hiram inquired with the smallest beginnings of a smile I’d ever witnessed.

“Nope,” I said with a tiny smile of my own. “You haven’t given me much reason to, dude.”

Without another word, Bob Harold pulled a wicked looking dagger from his coat pocket and sliced his palm. The two other Bobs followed suit and a blood oath was born. I was shocked and secretly delighted. Maybe… just maybe… we could make this work.

The times… they were definitely a-changin’.

Chapter Six

“Seth believes there might be more to the photos of the crime scenes than the naked eye can see,” Nicolai said with a mouth full of taco.

“Explain,” I said as I pulled my pile of tacos closer to me. If anyone so much as looked at one of my tacos, they would lose an eyeball. “Did he see something we missed?”

“No,” Dima said, also hoarding her tacos. “But he has a feeling. He’s studied the pictures for days and he doesn’t see anything more than we do.”

Since Seth was a seer, I took his observations seriously.

“The files are in Hung. We can look them over again in a few hours,” I said, wishing I’d brought them with me.

We were holed up in one of Dwayne’s houses in Lincolnshire, Illinois. Dwayne owned more real estate around the world than anyone I knew. Dima, Hank and I had used this house before as a safe house. It was charming and right smack in the middle of a human residential neighborhood.

“So what does Seth suggest?” Hank asked, quickly shoving tacos into his mouth before someone tried to pilfer one.

Yes. The tacos were that good.

Dima swallowed before she spoke. She had better manners than any of us. “He said to make sure Junior takes a good look at them. He might be able to enhance the photos and find something.”

“I have a burner phone,” I said, reaching into my back pocket while still keeping my body positioned over my tacos. I loved my friends and my mate, but no one was to be trusted where tacos were concerned. “I’ll text him and get him and Sandy on it. Anything else?”

“Not really,” Dima said, licking the hot sauce off the wrapper. “He likes his job so far, but he’s still being treated like the enemy. Although, Seth is so chill and likable that people are starting to come around.”

Maybe her manners weren’t so great…

“Sadly Dragons are going to have a rough time joining the rest of the species,” Hank said with a shake of his head. “It’ll take time, patience and probably a few challenges from other Weres until you’re on more of an even footing.”

Nodding, I agreed. “However, Seth is the perfect person in the position.”

“I concur,” Nicolai said. “My brother is the epitome of peace and goodness. I would have incinerated the building by now.” He paused, and an evil little smirk began to pull at his lips. “I’d like to say something controversial.”

“Will it make me gag?” I asked.

“No,” Nicolai promised with a chuckle. “But it might cause a fist fight.”

We mulled over the possibility of a friendly smackdown.

“I’m fine with that as long as no weapons are used, no one shifts and no one uses excessive magical force in the brawl,” I stated diplomatically. It might be a nice way to blow off a little steam from today.

“Sounds fair to me,” Hank said, eyeing my last taco.

“I’m cool,” Dima said, watching her mate with amusement.

“Okay, hear me out before you attack,” Nicolai said with a huge grin, obviously enjoying the build-up to whatever horrible thing he was about to share. “I’m going out on a limb and saying that these tacos might be tastier than Juju’s pizza.”

The gasps from all—including me—almost made me choke on my Mexican feast.

Eating Juju’s pizza was as close to a religious experience as I’d ever come. Nicolai was being blasphemous. However… he might have a point. The tacos were damned heavenly.

Juju was a Rabbit shifter back on Hung Island who made the best pizza known to man and Shifter. It was so damned good that all Weres of every species in the tri-state area had voluntarily given up eating rabbit in their animal form. No one would take the risk of accidentally eating Juju. No one.

“Duuuuude,” I said, choking back a laugh. “That is an intense statement.”

“Right?” Nicolai said with a laugh. “But go with me here. I’d be willing to duke it out with my own woman if she went for my taco.”

“I feel you,” Dima said with a giggle. “I’d knock you out cold.”

“I bloodied Junior’s nose over these tacos,” Hank said slowly, clearly putting a lot of thought into the dilemma. “However, I’ve also kicked his ass over a large Juju’s pepperoni. I think I’m going to have to call it a draw.”

“I’m with Hank. It just feels too traitorous to dis the Juju,” I said, now grinning as well.

“So no fight?” Nicolai asked, disappointed.

“Nope,” I told him. “Dwayne had to do a major renovation after the last time we were here. I don’t think he would be thrilled if we destroyed his house again.”

“Speaking of destruction,” Dima said with a raised brow as she popped the last of her taco pile into her mouth. “The Bobs are still breathing?”

“Yep. At least they are for today. Tomorrow is anyone’s call.”

The fight back home to Hung Island was no less terrifying than the flight to Chicago. I seriously regretted eating the fourteen tacos I’d inhaled. We made it back alive, but my hair would probably never recover.

“Day-um,” Junior shouted as we landed on the Wilson’s property. “I wanna Dragon ride too.”

“No, you don’t,” I muttered as I tried to find my land legs without hurling up my tacos. “Did you discover anything odd in the crime scene photos?”

“Possibly,” Junior said as he and Sandy and the rest of the gang oohed and ahhed over the Dragons. “I can’t make it out. We need someone with x-ray vision.”

“Like Superman,” Sandy chimed in. “Although, the first person with x-ray vision in a comic book was Olga Mesmer in the 1937 Spicy Mysteries. And in mythology, it was Lynceus of the Argonauts who possessed a similar ability.”

We all just stared at her. Sandy’s brain worked like no one else’s.

“That was too much, wasn’t it?” she asked, blushing in embarrassment.

“Baby, that was so freakin’ hot if there weren’t people here, I’d strip you nekkid and make you see Jesus Hesus right now,” Junior shouted joyously, bent over at the waist in pain from his member’s appreciation of his mate’s innate knowledge of everything nerdy.

“TMI, Junior,” Hank said, swatting the back of his brother’s head.

“My bad, bro,” Junior replied still jackknifed forward. “I blew the photos up and something is off. I just can’t put my finger on it. And I think there might be something important to the locations.”

“God,” I muttered with a shudder. “Having to stare at the normal sized photos is gut-wrenching. I don’t know if I can look at them enlarged.”

“We have to,” Hank said, growing serious. “If there’s a clue in them, we need it. If we can avoid having Belphegor raise the dead, that would be a very good thing.”

“A freakin’ Zombie apocalypse would let the world know we existed,” Granny pointed out, playing Scrabble on her phone.

“Possibly. Possibly not,” I countered, thinking about what Granny had said. “Dwayne, if Belphegor raises the dead… can he make them dead again?”

Dwayne had changed outfits in the five hours we’d been gone. He was now in the requisite black that we were all wearing. However, his choice of battle wear was a black off the shoulder knit top and matching gauchos with sparkly black kitten heels. It was appalling, yet he made it work.

“Tricky question, Doll. And honestly, I’m not sure,” Dwayne said, snapping pictures on his phone of the Dragons in all their glory. “Technically, as Zombies, they’re still dead. Awfully hard to kill something dead. I know this first hand being that I’m a fashionably dead bloodsucker.”

Shit. This was a wrinkle that hadn’t been considered yet. And I’d bet my perky B cups that the Bobs hadn’t thought about it either.

“Is there any non-comic book kind of supernatural that has x-ray vision?” I asked as I watched Granny drop kick her phone into the woods.

She got pissed off at the computer-generated Scrabble player on a regular basis. Granny went through phones like Dwayne went through outfits. Shouting at the flying phone, she marched off into the woods to retrieve it.

“Vampyres have it,” Dwayne said. “Well, certain Vamps have it.”

“Do you?” I asked.

“No, I don’t,” he replied and then turned his attention to Granny who was still cussing up a storm at her phone as she rejoined us. “But there’s someone else here who might.”

“Why in Dwayne’s pink panties is everyone staring at me?” Granny demanded, narrowing her eyes. “Haven’t you ever seen anyone punt a phone before? Very satisfying—especially when the dang computer bastard cheats at Scrabble.”

“I don’t wear panties,” Dwayne reminded Granny. “Although, if I did, I would look fabu in pink.”

“Whoops, my bad. Next time I’ll be more accurate,” she promised with a wink.

“Wait. The computer cheats?” Sandy asked, still mulling over the second half of Granny’s diatribe. “Do you think the Scrabble site got hacked?”

As Sandy was a superb hacker herself, everything electronic fascinated her.

“Must have,” Granny griped, swinging her phone in the air. “I mean, it’s just a fucktangle of hairless cats. I was winning and then I wasn’t.”

“Did you use that word?” Sandy asked, wincing.

“What word?”

“Umm… fucktangle,” she whispered.

“No. But I will next time,” Granny replied, typing it into her notes.

“That’s not a word recognized by the official Scrabble dictionary,” Sandy pointed out gently.

“Dangit,” Granny grumbled. “If the cheater used a fake word, why can’t I?”

“What was it?” Sandy asked.

“Zymurgy. Can you freakin’ believe that crap?”

“Okaaay,” Sandy said, patting Granny on the back. “That means the chemistry of fermentation.”

“Are you shitting me?” Granny demanded.

“I shit you not,” Sandy told her, trying not to smile.

“What about qanat? That can’t be real.”

“A tunnel for irrigation,” Sandy explained.

“Wagyu?”

“Japanese cattle.”

“Well slap my ass and call me Sally,” Granny shouted. “Muzkjiks?”

“Russian peasants.”

“Peezing?” Granny demanded.

Sandy paused and wrinkled her adorable nose. “Now that is a definite cheat. I have no clue what that means.”

“It’s when you sneeze and pee at the same time,” Granny explained. “Peezing.”

Sandy tilted her head to the side in confusion. “The computer got away with that?”

“Hell no. That’s my word and the bastard computer wouldn’t let me play it.”

“While this is wildly fascinating—not,” I said with a groan. “We have more important issues to handle.”

“I can’t take it,” Junior shouted, rolling on the ground in agony. “That was so goddanged hot I’m gonna explode.”

Without missing a beat, Hank whacked his brother in the back of the head and dragged him to his truck. “Sandy, we’re gonna need you to take Junior home. He’s useless at the moment. You might want to refrain from saying anything remotely smart on the drive.”

“Will do,” Sandy said, blushing furiously while grinning from ear to ear. “Sorry guys. Call me if you need me.”

“But give us a couple of hours,” Junior called out from the truck. “We’ll be fine in a few hours… or days.”

Watching in silence as the car drove away, I grinned. I wanted a couple of hours… or days… with Hank too. I saw Dima eye Nicolai. Hank’s mom winked at Hank’s dad. Even my mom and dad were now standing closer together. Junior had started something.

Dwayne rolled his eyes and laughed. “As Bobbie Sue and I are the only ones unmated here, I’m going to suggest that she and I work to see if she actually does have x-ray vision. Leave your damned phones on,” Dwayne instructed with a smirk. “If we find anything, you will answer your phones. I do not give a rat’s hairy ass what you might be doing. You feel me?”

“Yep,” Dima said as she and Nicolai sprinted to their SUV.

“Wonderful,” Sadie trilled as she grabbed Hank’s very willing father by the collar of his shirt and literally dragged him up the hill to their sprawling mansion.

My mom and dad gave us a silent wave and quickly made their way to their vehicle.

That left me, Hank, Granny and Dwayne.

“Whatcha waiting for, girlie?” Granny asked with a cackle. “Go on home and have a little fun before the Zombie apocalypse.”

“You sure?” I asked, feeling Hank’s hard body right behind mine. My girlie parts were screaming to leave, but as the people in charge of this mission, it didn’t feel right. “I mean, we could stay and help.”

Hank growled low in his chest. It was all kinds of sexy. What I wanted to do was jump him and play tonsil hockey. What I did instead was elbow him in the gut. His grunt of surprise almost made me laugh. However, it did sober him up.

“Essie is right,” Hank admitted glumly. “We’ll stay and help.”

“You will do no such thing,” Granny announced, giving me the evil eyeball. “I do not need mopey, horny Werewolves hanging around while I figure out if I’m more fabulous than I already am.”

She meant business. Bobbie Sue Harding was tiny and gorgeous and packed a punch that no one wanted to be on the receiving end of. I glanced over at Hank who shrugged and grinned. Who was I to say no to my granny?

“Fine,” I said, unable to hide my smile. “You will call us if you figure anything out—even if it’s small.”

“Nothing small about it,” Hank muttered under his breath.

Since all of us had basically bionic hearing, Hank’s comment was missed by no one.

“Out of here. Now,” Granny commanded, pointing at Hank’s motorcycle.

She didn’t need to say another word.

It was nookie time.

Chapter Seven

“Get naked. Now.”

“You’re awfully bossy,” I said with a delighted laugh as I yanked my shirt over my head and kicked out of my black combat boots and pants. My bra and panties quickly disappeared in a frenzy of groping hands and toe-curling kisses. My inner wolf was a very happy camper.

“You’re so damned sexy,” Hank muttered with a wide grin and lust filled eyes. He stalked me like prey and backed me into the corner of our living room.

My stomach clenched with excitement. It was so freakin’ hot I was pretty sure I had a mini orgasm before he’d even touched me.

“Come and get me, Big Bad Wolf,” I challenged.

He didn’t need a second invite. Hank plastered his rockin’ hot body against mine and I sighed happily. He was my home. Sometimes when we were together like this, I forgot where I began and he ended. It was like we were one single being

“I am so in love with you,” I whispered against his lips.

“Right back at ya, baby,” he said running his hands over my body with such reverence and need, I giggled.

Hank pulled back, cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes playfully. “You think this is funny, little missy?” he asked with a chuckle as he scraped his fangs along my neck sending a shudder of desire shooting through me.

“Hilarious,” I purred as I greedily skated my hands over his broad chest and ridiculously defined abs.

My fangs descended and I felt my eyes turn icy blue with desire. The cinnamon scent of lust unique to Werewolves laced the air. Our breathing became labored as Hank’s hands molded my breasts and sent happy zings of pleasure through me.

“Wait,” I choked out, squishing Hank’s face in my hands. “Should we be doing this?”

Hank’s utter confusion and smooshed face almost made me forget my point. His massive erection didn’t help either.

“Is someone here?” Hank demanded, glancing around wildly. “If they are, I can just kill them real quick. Not a problem. Well…” He paused and tried to get his lust-addled brain to work. “I won’t kill your parents… or my parents… or any of our friends. But if it’s Junior, I’ll do some major damage.”

“No one’s here,” I assured him. “It’s just that…”

“What?” he asked, calming down and pressing his forehead to mine.

“How can we have sex when the world is falling apart? I mean, we might cause a Zombie freakin’ apocalypse in the next few days.”

Hank sighed and smiled. Taking my hand in his, he led me to the couch and pulled me down on his lap. Gently running his hand through my hair, he pressed my head to his chest.

“Do you hear my heart?” he asked quietly.

“I do.”

“Do you know what it’s saying?”

I smiled and peeked up at him. “Probably the same thing my heart is saying.”

“And that would be?” Hank asked with a lopsided grin that made my insides melt.

“My heart says it loves you.”

“As does mine, baby,” Hank said, pulling me closer. “Tomorrows are never guaranteed. The world will always be a beautiful and horrible place at the same time.”

“Shouldn’t we be solving the horrible part?” I questioned, feeling guilty.

“We are,” Hank replied, kissing the top of my head.

“We are?”

“Yep. We’re solving the horrible by making it more beautiful. There is nothing in my life more beautiful than you and the way I love you, Essie.”

I was quiet for a moment as I made little circles with my finger on Hank’s chest.

He was right. Again.

And it was a dang relief… I was some serious horny.

“You ready to get back to business?” Hank inquired politely as his hands began to wander.

“I believe that can be arranged.”

I straddled the love of my life and feathered his face with kisses. However, it got serious fast.

“How does this keep getting better?” I moaned as Hank’s open mouth made its way from my neck to other overheated places on my body.

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” Hank muttered as his mouth took possession of my breast.

My body tingled and I arched my back, wantonly begging for more attention. Tangling my fingers in his dark hair, I held on for dear life as his hands joined the party. I was the happiest rag doll alive. Every part of me was weak with insane desire. His talented fingers found my most sensitive spot. An explosion of lust claimed me and I came with a scream.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he whispered.

Aftershocks continued to rock through me as Hank gently laid me on the couch.

Hank’s touch went from wild to careful. My lover stroked every inch of my still trembling body. His hands led and his mouth followed. Every part of me tingled with delight as he nipped and kissed his way down my body.

“Wait,” I gasped out as my hips undulated under his expertise. “It’s your turn now.”

“Baby, if you so much as look at my dick, this will be over,” Hank said with a sexy laugh that I felt right down to my toes. “Not that I don’t love a blow job, but I plan to come inside you.”

“Sounds like a solid plan,” I said on a shriek as his fingers did magic on me that set me right on the edge of another orgasm. “Pun intended.”

His laugh made me so happy that I almost felt guilty again. But he was right. Our love was a beautiful thing. I loved him more than I thought it was possible to love anyone. I was so lucky… and so was he.

“Forever,” he whispered as his eyes blazed such an intense crystal blue, my breath caught in my throat.

“Forever,” I promised.

He plunged into my welcoming body, filling me completely. His thrusts were deep and wild. My legs wrapped around his strong body and I joyously met each thrust with abandon. It was every kind of perfect.

“Bite me,” I begged as I felt myself begin to go over the edge.

Arching, I offered him my neck.

“Together,” he hissed as his eyes hooded with desire and our lovemaking turned frantic.

My fangs sunk into his neck as his sunk into mine. The pleasure was so immense I was sure I would black out… or possibly die. However, death by sex would be a great way to go. Hank’s shout of ecstasy was all I needed to fly to places I could only go when he was inside me. My need for him increased to the point of absurd.

“Are we dead?” I choked out as powerful aftershocks continued to rock through me.

“Nope,” Hank said with a very, very satisfied grin. “But we could try again and see if we live through it.”

I didn’t even have to think.

“I’m in.”

“That’s my girl.”

“What does one wear to greet a Demon and his jailbird pappy?” I asked as I pulled outfit after outfit out of my closet.

“Armor?” Hank suggested as he slid the enhanced crime scene photos back into the black briefcase the Bobs had given us.

We’d spent most of the day dissecting the photos and trying to find a clue. Granny did indeed have x-ray vision, but she wasn’t able to find anything more than we could. But she too felt like something was in the pictures that we were all missing. Dwayne thought we should have Belphegor and Zeernebooch look at them, but none of us felt right about that.

After five long depressing hours, everyone had parted ways to get ready for the party. Dwayne was a bundle of nerves—more so than usual. Even a call from his eight adopted Were Cow daughters did nothing to calm him down.

“Do you think Granny will be safe?” I asked Hank, deciding on a colorful Alice and Olivia patchwork mini-dress with kick-ass combat boots. It was sexy and ballsy. Plus, I could hide several daggers in my boots.

“We’re all going to be there. If something goes wrong, the Demons die,” Hank said in a matter of fact tone.

“Well, that would suck all kinds of butt to have the Underworld on our ass,” I said with a shudder.

“Agreed,” Hank said as he pulled on a sport coat over his t-shirt.

His jeans hugged his ass to the point I really considered suggesting a quickie. However, with us, there was no such thing as a quickie. It was marathon or nothing. I was surprised either of us could walk today.

“Do you want kids?” I asked before I realized the question was going to come out of my mouth.

Hank froze and looked at me strangely.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” he inquired with so much hope in his beautiful eyes I already had my answer.

“Umm… no,” I said with a giggle. “I mean, I know you want kids—and so do I. I was just wondering when you wanted… you know, kids.”

Hank grinned wide and pulled me close. “Considering I want at least ten, we can get started anytime.”

“Duuuude, I am so not blowing out ten little Werewolves. You’re nuts.”

“I’m in love,” Hank countered. “I want ten beautiful little girls who look just like their mama.”

“And what if we have ten little boys that look just like you?” I demanded with a laugh, pushing at his chest.

“Interesting,” Hank said.

“What’s interesting?”

“I didn’t think you wanted ten.” His eyes sparkled and he bit down on his lip to keep from smiling.

“I don’t,” I shouted and punched him in the shoulder. “I was just making the point that we could have boys.”

“I’m good with that,” he said, pulling me toward the door. “How about eight.”

“No.”

“Six?”

“Umm… not unless you can give birth to some of them.”

“Four,” he tried again, lowering the threshold.

“Let’s start with one,” I told him with an eye roll. “Cool?”

“Cool. Wanna start tonight?” Hank asked, waggling his brows.

That sobered me. We couldn’t start tonight. With the jobs we had, I had no clue when we could start our own little family unit. Hank read my mind.

“Soon,” he promised, gently kissing my lips. “Someday soon.”

I nodded and swallowed back the lump in my throat. I probably wouldn’t have even thought about having kids if it wasn’t for Sandy and Junior’s amazing news.

The timing was wrong.

And timing was everything.

Chapter Eight

“Since my momma—God rest her Wolfy soul—raised me to be a lady, I know which fork to use at a formal dinner party,” Granny snapped, getting right up in Zeernebooch’s face. “And because she didn’t raise a dummy, you bet your evil ass I know which artery to stick the fork into to so you’ll bleed out in one minute flat, peckerhead.”

“Holy shitballs,” I muttered to Hank as we entered his parents’ house for the baby shower. “This certainly seems to be going well.”

“I find your aggression and appalling manners very arousing,” Zeernebooch said to a seething Granny as he checked her out from head to toe in an obnoxious and undeniably sexual way. “I have no clue how my son was able to attract a hellion like you. You don’t quite seem like his type.”

“He’s hung like a horse,” Dwayne volunteered in Belphegor’s defense.

“Not helping,” I whispered to Dwayne.

“My bad. You’re right,” Dwayne said, paling—which was difficult for a Vamp considering how pale he was to begin with. “I have no prior knowledge of the enormous size of Belphegor’s spectacular package. At all. Never seen it… or touched it. And I’m completely unaware that he favors Brazilian waxes.”

“You should really stop,” I told him, wincing in embarrassment for my BFF.

“You really should—stop, that is,” Zeernebooch said, rolling his eyes at both his son and Dwayne.

Granny did not like that. In her eyes, Dwayne was practically perfect—violent and wildly inappropriate—but perfect. The Vampyre was the son she’d never had—he’d also saved her life. And if Dwayne loved Belphegor that meant Granny automatically loved him as well.

“You wanna know what else my momma told me?” Granny hissed at Zeernebooch.

“I’d love to hear it,” he replied smoothly, pulling his gaze from his son and Dwayne and eyeing Granny with delight.

“She said it’s better to let someone merely think you’re a douchebag dumbass than to open your mouth and prove it.”

Zeernebooch’s delight was short-lived.

Shit.

Hank and I had been the last to arrive. Everyone was present and appeared completely transfixed by the impending smackdown about to occur between Granny and Zeernebooch. Dima and Nicolai stood on the left side of the festive pink and blue decorated room with their mouths agape. Sandy and Junior were on the right with Sadie and Jack looking very uncomfortable.

My parents were silent and slightly obscured in the far corner of the room. Being with Weres in human form was still new to them. The Demons probably freaked them out.

Dwayne, dressed as butch as I’d ever seen him in non-skinny jeans and a polo shirt, stood near an overly dressed Belphegor. And Granny? She was front and center with Zeernebooch who had to have been more than a foot taller than my tiny beautiful granny.

I was definitely worried for Granny’s safety. Actually, I was kind of concerned for Zeernebooch’s immortality as well. I hadn’t seen Granny this fired up since the time she’d found out I’d gotten my belly button pierced without her permission. She’d ripped that cubic zirconia right out of my stomach. Of course, I was thirty years old at the time, but Granny wasn’t the most rational of Werewolf slash Vampyres on a good day—and this obviously wasn’t a good day.

“Wonderful weather we’re having,” Dwayne announced in his outdoor voice, as he began to levitate with stress.

Nicolai and Dima quickly crossed the room and yanked Dwayne back to the floor. It wouldn’t do to have a Vampyre plastered to the ceiling during this bizarre get-together.

The Demons were otherworldly gorgeous—both dark-haired, built like brick shithouses and had eyes as golden as I’d ever seen. There was a slightly twisted menace in the air, but I wasn’t sure if it was the presence of the Demons or Granny’s ire. Ol’ Zeernebooch was playing with fire in messing with Granny. Poor Belphegor simply looked terrified.

“Sooooo,” Sadie trilled nervously as she pulled Granny a safe distance from Zeernebooch and shoved a platter of tiny finger sandwiches in front of him. “I hope you like turkey and brie. I refuse to serve puppies.”

Dwayne gasped and almost passed out at Sadie’s gaffe, but Zeernebooch laughed. “Gave up puppies centuries ago—too squirmy. Turkey shall be fine.”

“Well, that’s a goddang relief,” Junior said, grinning as he slapped the Demon on the back. “It’s against the law on Hung Island to eat puppies. I’d have hated to incarcerate you again so soon after your boy busted your sorry ass out of the pokey.”

Again, Dwayne almost fainted. You could dress us up, but you really shouldn’t take us anywhere.

“I’m Essie and this is Hank,” I cut in before anyone else could stick their foot in their mouth and yank it out of their ass. “Thank you for agreeing to raise the dead.”

That’s when Dwayne hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. Guess I shouldn’t have spoken either.

“Dwayne,” Belphegor squealed in alarm, sounding more like a woman than I did. “Darling lover, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Granny bellowed wrapping her arms around Belphegor, trying to distract from the fact that Belphegor had kind of sort of outed himself to the room.

Zeernebooch rolled his eyes and snorted in disgust.

There was no doubt that Belphegor was as gay. If his voice didn’t give him away, his outfit surely did the trick. The Demon was wearing leather—pink leather. He was packed into bright pink, skintight leather from head to toe. Even his shit-kicker boots were pink leather. I wondered briefly if we wore the same size. I would rock those boots.

“Okay then,” Sadie announced, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. She stepped over Dwayne and began handing out diaper pins. “Everyone put one on. The rule is that if you say baby during the party, someone can steal your pin. At the end of the evening—as long as we’re all still alive—the person with the most diaper pins wins a prize!”

“A baby?” Zeernebooch inquired, looking at the pin in confusion.

“Of course not. We do not give away babies as prizes,” Sadie practically shouted, taking Zeernebooch’s pin back. “Do you eat babies?”

“I do not eat babies,” he answered, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “But thank you for asking.”

“You’re welcome,” Sadie said, cautiously handing the Demon back his diaper pin. “And we’ll also be playing Dirty Diapers! As you can see, the buffet is lined with dirty diapers. The object of the game is to lick the gooey poo in the crotch of the diaper and identify the flavor. Whoever gets it right will…”

“Puke?” I volunteered, trying not to gag. I made a mental note to never let Sadie throw me a baby shower.

“Oh dear God,” Sandy choked out and slapped her hand over her mouth.

“Jesus Hesus,” Dwayne said as he came to. “What’s happening here? We’re going to lick poo?”

“And you people are offended that I used to eat puppies?” Zeernebooch muttered under his breath.

“I am not licking poo,” Nicolai said firmly, eyeing the exit. “I draw the line at eating fecal matter. Is this how Werewolves have fun?”

“NO,” every Werewolf in the room except a horrified Sadie yelled.

“It’s not real poo,” Sadie screeched, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s melted chocolate with nuts and caramel. Do you really think I would poo in diapers and serve them at a party? I’m the hostess supreme on Hung Island. I would never serve poo.”

“Well, that’s a fucking relief,” Hank muttered and let out an audible sigh. “Mom, how about we skip the poo game?”

“Fine,” Sadie snapped. “We can play Tinkle in the Potty then.”

“Dare I ask what Tinkle in the Potty is?” Zeernebooch inquired, looking as alarmed as the rest of us felt.

“It’s fun!” Sadie insisted, realizing she was losing the crowd fast. “Pregnant women have to pee a lot. Right, Sandy?”

“Umm… I’m only a month pregnant,” Sandy said.

“Of course,” Sadie said with a warm smile. “Well, soon you’ll be peeing like a racehorse. Trust me on this.”

“Okay,” Sandy whispered, looking very uncomfortable.

“So I thought it would be fun for everyone to experience the living hell that all pregnant women have to go through. There are pickle jars lined up at the far end of the Great Room. I chose pickle jars because that is what pregnant women eat with ice cream. It’s required. We all need to grab a balloon and stuff it up our shirts.” She paused and glanced over at Belphegor’s skintight pink ensemble. “Belphegor, you can tape your balloon to yourself since your clothes are so tight I can see your religion.”

“Thank you,” Belphegor replied shyly.

Sadie nodded and went on. “We will all place a quarter between our knees, and then waddle-walk across the room and drop the quarter in the jar.”

“So it’s like a pay toilet?” Granny asked, perplexed with the instructions.

“No,” Sadie wailed. “The quarter represents the uncontrollable urine stream of a pregnant woman. When you successfully drop the quarter in the jar, it means you have peed.”

“Do you get extra points for not hitting the side of the jar when it goes in?” Junior asked.

“Why would you get extra points?” an exasperated Sadie barked.

“Cause it means you didn’t pee on the seat,” Junior replied.

“Seems logical to me,” Hank chimed in. “Unless you’re gonna put little seats on the jars that we have to lift first.”

Granny scrunched her nose and took the floor again. “I don’t lift the seat when I pee. Dwayne, on the other hand, does lift the dang seat. I don’t rightly know why he does that since he has no bodily functions anymore being that he’s dead and all. Well, wouldn’t you just know, I fell right into the commode the other night at two in the morning. Gave Dwayne a titty twister that he will never forget for that one.”

“She did,” Dwayne confirmed with a wince.

“Wait,” Zeernebooch growled, having what appeared to be a jealous fit. “You live with the Vampyre and are having relations with my son… who is also having relations with the Vampyre?”

“That’s disgusting, you pervert,” Granny shouted and whacked Zeernebooch in the back of the head so hard that the Demon flew halfway across the Great Room. “You will apologize to me right now, Weiner Hooch.”

“What did she just call me?” Zeernebooch demanded, getting to his feet and looking confused.

The gasps were loud and the fear was real. Messing with Demons was a huge no-no. Granny clearly didn’t get the memo.

“Weiner Hooch,” Belphegor said with wide and frightened eyes, stepping in front of Granny to protect her. “You will not lay a hand on my… umm… girlfriend. I will protect her with my life, pappy.”

“Aren’t you just a darlin’ little thing,” Granny said as she sweetly kissed Belphegor’s cheek. “Just step your pink, leather covered ass back. I’ve got this.”

“Bobbie Sue,” Dwayne warned.

“It’s fine, Dwayne,” Granny assured a concerned Dwayne as she began to stalk Zeernebooch like he was prey. “Piece of cake.”

“Did you seriously just call me Weiner Hooch?” Zeernebooch demanded as he began to back away from my unhinged Granny.

The Demon obviously had a healthy sense of self-preservation.

“I did. Whatcha gonna do about it?” Granny asked as her eyes began to glow red and she levitated slightly off the floor.

Zeernebooch paused and squinted his eyes in surprise at Granny. “What exactly are you?”

“Your worst nightmare,” she snapped as her fangs dropped and everyone moved to take cover. “You are a homophobic jackhole. I don’t like homophobic jackholes. Your boy broke your sorry ass out of the pokey for God only knows what, and you treat him like scum because he listens to Barbra Streisand and likes sausages better than muffins?”

“Sweet Jesus Hesus. She did not just say sausage and muffins,” I choked out, trying not to laugh. The situation wasn’t exactly a laughing matter.

“You are completely insane,” Zeernebooch said with a wide grin.

“And you’re a shitty father,” she shot back, flipping the Demon off. “A father loves his son no matter how much pink he likes to wear or how hairless his privates might be.”

“Is this helping?” I whispered in a terrified voice to Hank.

“No clue, but it’s damned better than licking poo.”

“Word,” Junior agreed.

“It’s not poo,” Sadie whisper-hissed at her sons and slapped the back of their heads.

And that’s when Granny began to scissor kick Zeernebooch. As horrifying as the sight was, the Demon seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. However, as he dodged and ducked Granny’s assault, all the furniture and food in the room went flying—including the poo diapers.

“Looks like a monkey cage,” Dwayne gasped out, shielding Belphegor with his body.

Sandy squealed as she rolled away from a glob of chocolate poo. “What are you talking about?”

“You know,” Dwayne said as he too tried in vain to avoid being pooed. “Monkeys like to sling their feces.”

“You are terrible people,” Sadie snapped as a caramel peanut blob landed on her head. “I will never throw another baby shower again in this lifetime. The disrespect for my creativity is appalling.”

Inwardly, I thanked God for her decision. Outwardly, I said nothing because I for damn sure wasn’t stupid. However, something was going to have to give shortly. Granny was titty twisting Zeernebooch within an inch of his evil existence.

“STOP,” Belphegor shouted. “ENOUGH.”

Everyone froze, including Granny and Zeernebooch. Belphegor’s voice had dropped at least two octaves and magic vibrated from his large body. A black and red crystal mist now hung in the air and floated around menacingly. Dwayne sighed like a besotted middle school girl and fluttered his hands at the sight.

“I like dick, Dad,” Belphegor said.

“Jesus Hesus in a jock strap. I am so dang confused,” Junior said. “I thought you liked Dwayne.”

“Oh my God,” I choked out with a laugh. “For being really smart, you are so dumb.”

Everyone waited a beat for Junior to catch up. He chewed his bottom lip for a brief moment and then slapped himself in the head. “My bad. I get it. Carry on.”

Belphegor nodded to a clued-in Junior and took Dwayne’s hand in his. “Bobbie Sue is not my girlfriend. Dwayne is the man I have always loved. However, he refused to date me until I was totally out of the closet.”

“I think you’re out now,” I said, patting Belphegor on the back.

“I think I am,” he replied with a giggle that rivaled any teenage girl. “It feels great!”

“You think I don’t know that you’re gay?” Zeernebooch questioned, scratching his head, perplexed.

“You sent him to conversion therapy in Hell,” Dwayne snapped, getting all Vampy as his fangs dropped and his eyes went red.

Zeernebooch glanced over at Granny for a brief moment and laughed. “Impossible. A Vampyre Werewolf?”

“In the undead flesh, butthole,” she snapped, narrowing her blazing red eyes. “And I repeat… you are a shitty father.”

“I didn’t have the boy sent to conversion therapy,” Zeernebooch snarled as his own deadly magic rose to the surface. A gust of black glitter blew through the Great Room covering all the pink and blue decorations in the sparkly dust. “I don’t care if you like sheep, son. I don’t care for your outfit, but I don’t give a damn who you poke.”

“Then who had me sent to conversion therapy?” Belphegor demanded. “And a side note here—I don’t like sheep and I think I look wonderful in pink.”

“Who do you think?” his pappy shot back. “And another side note—I’m delighted to hear that you don’t like sheep but I still say pink is definitely not your color.”

There was a long pause. I realized I was holding my breath—as was the rest of the company. Belphegor paled and closed his golden eyes.

“Obizuth?” Belphegor whispered in horror.

“Whoa Nelly,” Sandy shouted, going as white as a sheet. “The female Demon who wanders the globe finding women in childbirth and strangling their children in front of them?”

“Yesssssss,” Zeernebooch hissed in disgust.

“What the heck?” Junior shouted. “A gay-hating baby killer Demon sent you to be cured of your gayness?”

Zeernebooch nodded curtly. His fury was more than obvious. Maybe he wasn’t homophobic.

“And how do you know this Obizuth atrocity?” I asked, getting up off the floor. This conversation was going to Hell quickly. Hiding under a table covered in caramel poo wasn’t going to accomplish anything.

The two Demons exchanged wary glances. “She’s my mother,” Belphegor admitted with a shudder.

That was certainly a conversation killer… for everyone except Granny.

“What the ever-lovin’ hell?” Granny bellowed. “You mean to tell me that you’ve been hitting on me for the last hour and you’re married? Unbelievable.”

“Wait. What?” I asked, incredibly confused. They’d been beating the crap out of each other for the last ten minutes.

“Ahhhh,” Zeernebooch said with a grin as he gamely shielded his titties from Granny’s wrath. “I wasn’t sure you’d noticed.”

“I am so danged confused right now,” Junior mumbled.

“Join the club,” Nicolai concurred. “And I thought Dragons were crazy…”

“I’m just telling you all right now, I’m gonna kick his ass,” Granny shouted, cracking her knuckles and doing a few jumping jacks.

“Bad idea,” I said, going to grab my granny only to be halted by my mom and dad who had finally stepped out from their hiding place.

“It’s okay,” my mom said with a smile pulling at her lips.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“Totally,” my dad promised with a chuckle as he stepped between Granny and Zeernebooch.

“Do I know you?” Zeernebooch demanded of my father, looking alarmed. “I think I know you.”

My father shrugged and ignored the question. “Here are the ground rules. No excessive magic can be used. No death blows and no irreparable damage inflicted.”

“Quick question,” Granny said, raising her hand. “Do Demon limbs grow back like a Shifter?”

“They do,” my dad assured his mother-in-law.

Zeernebooch was still staring strangely at my father, but he gasped in shock when he noticed my mother.

What the heck?

“Fine,” Granny said. “I’m in. I’m gonna kick the homophobic jackhole’s butt.”

“I’m not homophobic, you tremendously attractive she-devil,” Zeernebooch protested. “I just don’t like the pink ensembles.”

“You gonna fight?” Granny demanded. “Or are you chicken?”

With an enormous, put-upon sigh, Zeernebooch pressed his temples and glanced over again at my mother. “You’re condoning this?” he questioned.

“As long as you stick to the ground rules, I am,” my mother replied, staring straight at the Demon.

Okay. Now I was a little confused.

“Why?” Zeernebooch asked, still looking wary.

“Because Bobbie Sue is my mother,” she said with a wink to the Demon. “And she wants to kick your ass.”

“Of course she’s your mother,” Zeernebooch said sarcastically. “It all makes sense now.”

My parents had some explaining to do but talking would have to wait. The smackdown had begun.

Chapter Nine

When it was done, the Wilsons’ Great Room looked like it had been trampled by a herd of blind elephants. Granny had lost her left arm in the shit show but Zeernebooch lost both legs, making Granny the winner on a technicality.

The Demon could have cared less—in fact, he was downright ecstatic. He’d copped at least ten feels of Granny’s perfect little butt during the melee. And if I wasn’t mistaken, he’d also latched on to her knockers a few times. Pretty sure it was the last time he went for her ass that he lost his second leg.

All in all, it was a semi-pornographic smackdown of epic proportions.

The formerly pink and blue themed baby shower decor now looked like a bloody crime scene covered in black Demon glitter. However, from the laughing and conversation of the guests, you’d never freakin’ know it.

“Amazing,” Dima said, watching Granny’s arm grow back. “Much faster than a Dragon. Werewolves are incredible.”

“Werewolf Vampyre,” I reminded her with a grin. It really was incredible.

“I gotta say, it kinda tickles when you grow another arm,” Granny observed as her arm continued to regenerate right before our eyes.

Zeernebooch’s legs had reformed just as rapidly.

“As long as there’s no major organ involved, it’s not bad at all,” Dwayne explained, patting Granny lovingly on the head. “Fifty years ago in Pamplona, Spain when I was doing the naked run with the bulls, I lost the entire left side of my body. It was a mess. It all would have been fine if I hadn’t paused to admire a fabu sequined mini-skirt in an adorable shop window. Normally, I’m far faster than a pissed off bull, but I just love sparkly things.” Dwayne shook his bald head fondly at the memory. “The son of a bitch naked gnomes I was running with were so drunk they were positively useless. Word to the wise… never do anything even semi-risky with gnomes. The tiny bastards suck in an emergency. So anyhoo… I had to regenerate in front of hundreds of human spectators—vomit and screaming everywhere. Hurt like a motherfucker. I had to sell my castle in England to buy off enough Vampyres to mind-wipe the masses. However, I did go back and buy the mini-skirt. I look completely fetching in it. As a matter of fact, I still have it.”

The conversation hit a momentary lull after that doozy.

“This is your choice of a life partner?” Zeernebooch inquired of Belphegor with a flabbergasted expression on his face.

Zeernebooch had just been Dwayned.

“It is,” Belphegor said proudly. “He’s wonderful.”

“Right back at you, snookie pants,” Dwayne said, taking Belphegor’s hand in his and squeezing it.

“The pizza will be here any moment,” Sadie announced as she reentered the room with Hank and Junior’s dad—who hadn’t uttered a word the entire evening and didn’t seem like he was going to talk any time soon.

“Even though the party was ruined…” Sadie eyed Granny and Zeernebooch accusingly. “I still have to feed you heathens. I will not lose my reputation as the Hostess with the Most-est.”

“Juju’s pizza?” Hank asked with a grin.

“Is there any other kind?” his mother inquired as she attempted to straighten the room and then gave up.

“What’s a Juju’s pizza?” Belphegor asked.

“Only the best pizza known to man or Shifter,” Dima chimed in. “Juju is a Rabbit Shifter. Every single Were in the tri-state area has voluntarily given up eating rabbit in their animal form so no one mistakenly eats Juju.”

“It’s that good?” Belphegor asked.

“It’s that good,” Junior promised as he gently cleaned the chocolate poo off of Sandy.

Zeernebooch cleared his throat and tried out his brand new appendages. “So, to clear the air—and because I’d like to keep these legs for a few centuries—I am going on record that I’m not homophobic. There was no need to present me with a false girlfriend. I’ve known you were gay since high school, Belphegor.”

“How?” Belphegor asked, surprised.

“I read your diary.”

“Well, that’s evil,” Granny accused the Demon, while studiously avoiding eye contact with anyone… especially me.

“I’m a Demon,” Zeernebooch replied with a shrug. “What do you expect?”

“Have you ever read anyone’s diary, old woman?” I asked, narrowing my gaze at Granny.

“Don’t believe we’re talking about me,” she replied vaguely.

“Oh my God,” I shouted. “You totally read my diary.”

“It’s okay, baby,” my mom said with a laugh. “She read mine too. I caught her red-handed.”

“Hmmm,” Zeernebooch said with an evil little smirk aimed right at Granny’s face… or maybe her boobs. “Seems like we might have a bit in common, Bobbie Sue.”

“Bite me,” Granny snapped.

“I’d be delighted to,” he replied. “And since I’m on a roll here. I would like the permission of the Demon Hunters to court the foul-mouthed, she-devil hellion.”

“I don’t care what the Demon Hunters have to say,” Granny shouted. “No married bottom dweller will court me unless he wants to lose his tiny pecker.”

“My pecker is not tiny,” Zeernebooch roared. “And I am NOT married.”

“You’re not?” Granny asked, eyeing the Demon warily.

“I might be evil, but I’m monogamous, you disgustingly gorgeous specimen of womanhood.”

“Well, then the Demon Hunters will be fine with it,” Granny shot back, flipping him off. “Me? I’m not so sure. You’re gonna have to work for some of this.”

Wait. A. Minute. There were freakin’ Demon Hunters here? WTF?

Without a second thought, I threw myself at Belphegor. We hit the floor with a loud thud. I quickly covered his body with mine. Who in the hell had invited Demon Hunters? Zeernebooch could more than likely take care of himself. However, Belphegor seemed like he could get his ass handed to him. That wasn’t going to happen on my clock.

“Help me protect Belphegor,” I hissed at everyone as I pulled a dagger from my boot. “He’s kind of a weenie.”

“I am?” came the muffled voice of Belphegor from beneath me.

“You are,” I confirmed. “While I’m all for self-expression, I have to agree with your pappy on the pink thing.”

“Pink makes me look like a weenie?” he asked.

“Well… umm… yes. But your boots rock. What size are you?”

“Ten,” he told me.

“Shit. I’m a seven.”

“What are you doing, Doll?” Dwayne asked, calmly.

“There are Demon Hunters here,” I growled while wondering why in the heck everyone wasn’t freaking out. “I’m protecting the love of your undead life, dumbass.”

“Sweetie, that’s not necessary,” my mom said, squatting down beside me and removing the dagger from my hand. “He’s talking about your father and me.”

That took me a minute to absorb. My parents were Demon Hunters? Why was I the only one surprised here? “So you’re not going to harm the weenie… I mean, Belphegor?” I asked, slowly easing off the Demon.

“No, dear. Your dad and I don’t hunt Demons anymore. And even if we did, we wouldn’t hunt Belphegor. He’s quite sweet.”

“I’m not a weenie,” Belphegor insisted, looking crestfallen.

He seemed very sensitive for a Demon. “Sorry. My bad,” I told him, giving him a quick hug because I wanted to make him feel better. “I hear your skills as a Necrophiliac are unrivaled.”

The silence was deafening. However, I was sure I heard Hank chuckle.

“For the love of everything diabolical and illegal. I am not homophobic, but even I draw the line at that,” Zeernebooch grunted, looking ill.

“Doll, it’s Necromancer. Not Necrophiliac,” Dwayne said with a wince. “But nice try.”

Holy shit,” I groaned. “I am sooooo sorry.”

“So you don’t…umm…” Zeernebooch questioned his son.

“No. No pappy, I don’t,” he replied with a shudder.

“Thank Hell for small favors,” Zeernebooch muttered, wildly relieved. “And while we’re on the subject, why are you going to raise the dead?”

“Dwayne asked me to,” Belphegor replied.

“And if Dwayne asked you to jump off a bridge would you do that too?” he demanded with an eye roll that could have earned him an Oscar.

Belphegor looked stymied for a second. “Yes. Yes, I would. I love him.”

Zeernebooch’s head dropped back and he sighed dramatically. “It’s a damned good thing I’m here,” he muttered. “Who do you want my boy to raise?”

“Weres,” I replied in an official tone, trying to redeem myself from suggesting that his son did dead people. Though technically, Dwayne was in that category, but this wasn’t the time for arguing semantics. I cleared my throat and got down to business. “Weres have summoned a Demon and overdosed on Jazz Cabbage. We need to figure out who’s responsible and stop them.”

“Are you insane?” Zeernebooch demanded.

“Occasionally,” I shot back, still mortified that I’d implied his son popped corpses. “But not right now.”

“Do you have any idea what will happen if you raise people who were completely out of control and violently inclined at the time of their deaths?”

“Umm… no,” I told him truthfully, not liking the direction of the conversation.

The older Demon groaned and sat down on a broken chair. “You will cause a Zombie apocalypse—an unstoppable one. You have to convince the raised to die again. There is no convincing entities hopped up on the Devil’s Lettuce of anything.”

“That would certainly suck all kinds of ass,” I replied, sitting down on the broken chair next to him.

“Huge ass,” he said. “How many times has this happened?”

“Six,” Hank answered. “About fifty dead. It’s bad enough that it’s happening, but the threat of exposure to the human world is what could end us.”

“Can the families of the missing Weres be trusted to keep quiet?” Belphegor asked, joining the conversation.

“Well now, that’s the farked up part. None of the dead have been reported as missing,” Junior explained. “Sandy and I have hacked into every single pack site in the United States. Nothing.”

“That’s odd,” Zeernebooch said.

“You got that right.” Junior shook his head and sighed.

“What about the WTF site?” my father asked.

“Nada there as well,” Junior said, frustrated over it.

“We need to see the crime scene,” Zeernebooch said flatly.

“I have pictures,” Hank replied.

“No.” Belphegor glanced over at his father with concern. “We need to go to the site.”

“Can I ask why?” I questioned, feeling ill at ease.

Neither Demon spoke. They avoided my gaze and looked off in different directions.

“Because if there is a trace of Demon left, Zeernebooch and Belphegor will know the Demon who cast the spell to create the Devil’s Lettuce,” my father said quietly.

Well, that was certainly news. I wasn’t sure what kind of news… but it was news.

“You guys ever gonna share the story as to why you know all of this?” I asked my mysterious parents.

“Only if the need arises,” my mother said. “It’s best that way.”

“So you really have met Zeernebooch?” I asked.

My mom sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and nodded. “Let’s just say I might have spared his life.”

I was unsure if she was trying not to smile or regretted sparing the Demon.

“Why?” Zeernebooch inquired. “I’ve always wondered why?”

“Because you remind me of someone,” my mother replied cryptically. “And this part of our conversation is over.”

“However,” my dad chimed in. “If you can find the Demon responsible, you can solve the crime and get your answers without raising the dead.”

“Maybe,” Zeernebooch said under his breath.

We mulled the turn of events silently. The original plan was a terrible one. We needed a Plan B and, thanks to my parents, we just might have it now. It sucked almost as badly as Plan A, but a half-assed Plan B but better than no plan at all.

“I just wish we knew who the damned dead were,” I said.

“We’ll stay on it,” Junior promised as Sandy nodded. “If it can be found, we’ll dig it up.”

“Nicolai and I are going to take a little trip up the East Coast and question some Dragons,” Dima said.

“You think Dragons are involved?” Hank asked.

Dima shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t. Most are simply trying to acclimate to a world where my father isn’t terrorizing them.”

“There are a few who enjoy gathering questionable knowledge and gossip,” Nicolai added. “I believe my mate’s plan has merit unless we’re needed in Chicago.”

“No,” I told him. “It will just be Hank, Belphegor, Zeernebooch and me in Chicago.”

“And Dwayne,” Belphegor said.

“And Bobbie Sue,” Zeernebooch insisted. “I can’t be expected to woo the evil wench if she’s left home alone.”

“Won’t be alone,” Granny crowed. “I pole dance and strip three nights a week.”

“For the love of everything erection building,” Zeernebooch bellowed. “No man shall see your rack except me. Those perky knockers are mine. AM I CLEAR, WOMAN?”

“Umm… Pappy?” Belphegor cut in with a grin.

“Yesssssss? What is it?”

“That’s not the way to woo a woman.”

“It’s not?” he asked, truly surprised. “What do you know about wooing a woman? You told me you like dick.”

“He likes Dwayne,” Junior reminded Zeernebooch, and then whacked himself in the head for being slow on the uptake… again.

“I don’t think yelling about her mammaries is the best plan,” Belphegor gently told his dad. “Maybe try being nice.”

“Nice?” Zeernebooch choked out, appalled. “I’m not nice. I’m a Demon. I say we let Bobbie Sue be the judge of my wooing skills.”

“You suck,” she replied with a laugh as she pulled out her phone and began to play Scrabble. “However, my knockers are fabulous even though the left one is slightly bigger than the right.”

“Actually,” Zeernebooch announced with a huge grin and great pride to the increasingly uncomfortable crowd. “The right is slightly bigger if memory serves… and it does.”

Granny quickly felt herself up and then cackled with delight as everyone closed their eyes in horror. “Well, I’ll be goddanged if the jackhole isn’t correct. Point to Weiner Hooch!”

“See? I’m doing fine with the wooing,” he whispered to his son. “I earned a point.”

“Whatever,” I huffed out, with an eye roll that rivaled Zeernebooch’s earlier masterpiece. “We are not going to Chicago for wooing. We’re going for a reason. A reason that could keep all of Were society safe from extinction. You feel me?”

“Yes,” came a chorus of guilty yesses from the Demons and the Vamps.

“I don’t want to hear about knockers, erections, gnomes—drunk or sober, and I really do not want to catch any of you in any kind of state of undress. I will open an enormous can of whoop ass and you won’t sit for a year when I’m done. Am I clear?” I snapped.

“She’s a little harsh,” Zeernebooch muttered.

“She’s my granddaughter,” Granny whispered back.

“That certainly explains it,” he said.

“We leave in an hour,” I instructed our crew as Hank nodded and winked at me.

“Do you need us to fly you up?” Dima inquired with a grin, knowing how much I’d enjoyed the recent flight aboard the Dragons.

“Unnecessary,” Belphegor said. “As Demons, we can transport the team in a matter of seconds.”

“That sounds horrifying,” I said, turning a little green at the thought.

“Oh pish,” Zeernebooch replied with a smirk that didn’t assuage my fear or roiling stomach. “It will be fun.”

“Define fun,” I snapped.

“Get cleaned up and I’ll show you,” he promised with a laugh.

I needed to have my head examined for not insisting we drive. But when in a hurry, bad decisions were the best way to go.

Chapter Ten

“Shitballs on fire,” Granny wheezed as she landed with a thud on the asphalt. “I’d rather have my fingernails yanked out with pliers than transport with Demons.”

Belphegor raced over to Granny and gently helped her to her feet. With a wiggle of his nose, he repaired her torn clothes and lovingly smoothed out her wild dark brown curls.

The Demon was clearly working the loving son angle to help out his jackhole dad… or maybe he was just truly sweet.

“I’ll do you one better,” I gasped out and groaned as I untangled myself from Dwayne and Hank. “I’d rather have all the hair on my legs pulled out individually with tweezers.”

“If I could hurl, I would,” Dwayne moaned, trying to stand.

“I kind of liked it,” Hank said with a pained chuckle as he gingerly got to his feet. “Felt like a rollercoaster that jumped the track.”

“Five million times and then crashed,” I grumbled, raising my middle finger to a grinning Zeernebooch. “You suck, dude. That was not fun.”

“I’d consider it a win,” Zeernebooch countered.

“How’s that?” I took Hank’s outstretched hand and glared at the Demon.

“Are we here?” the Demon inquired.

“Yes.”

“Are you alive?” he went on.

“Barely, but yes.”

“Then as I see it, you have nothing to complain about,” he said with an obnoxious bow. “Most supernaturals can’t live through a Demon transport.”

“Are you serious?” I shouted, wanting to belt the idiot. “That would have been good info to have had before we took the ride from Hell. Literally.”

“You just lost a point Weiner Hooch,” Granny announced right before she kneed him in the nuts.

He went down like a screaming sack of potatoes. It was awesome.

“Holy Hell woman, do you have a metal knee?” Zeernebooch squeaked, as he rolled on the ground in agony.

Granny just laughed and stepped over him. “Is that the warehouse?” she asked pointing to the large dilapidated building surrounded by a shitload of armed Werewolves.

“Yep. You have to hand it to the Bobs,” I said with a frown of disgust. “They clearly know the meaning of inconspicuous. They may as well have taken out an ad in the paper to announce that something bad was going down.”

“The WTF has been living in the Dark Ages for centuries,” Zeernebooch pointed out, eyeing the guards and keeping his man jewels out of Granny’s knee range.

“That’s all about to change,” I muttered. He was correct, but I didn’t like hearing it.

“Umm… question,” Belphegor said, raising his hand.

“Ask,” I replied, spotting Clark and Jones at the front door of the warehouse. Great. I was going to have to deal with the douche canoes sooner than I’d thought. Honestly, I thought they might still be tied up in my office since I’d forgotten about them the other day. I’d been very focused on getting to the tacos. Whoops…

“Are the guards aware that we’re Demons?”

“Nope and there’s no reason to share,” Hank said. “The less they know…”

The shouts and drawn weapons made the hair on my neck stand up. What the hell was going on here? I knew Hank and I were recognizable to the idiots—all thirty of them. We were on the damned Council.

“Okaaaaay,” Zeernebooch muttered, sounding guilty. “Someone probably should have given me a heads up.”

“Heads up on what?” I asked as I turned to him and almost screamed.

He was full on Demon—horns and everything. His skin glowed an otherworldly silver. He’d grown at least a foot and now stood over seven feet tall. The claws protruding from his hands and his sharp fangs were positively nightmare inducing. Zeernebooch’s golden eyes flashed in the moonlight and narrowed dangerously. It was pretty freakin’ cool and also terrifying. The drawn weapons and expressions of fear and shock on the Werewolves’ faces now made sense.

I shook my head and sighed. “You might want to tamp that shit down. I’m pretty sure they’ve never seen a Demon before. I’d really like to live long enough to solve the crime, dude.”

“My bad,” Zeernebooch said with a wide smile and morphed right back to the far more beautiful version of himself.

“That was kind of hot,” Granny observed casually as if what the Demon had just done was no big deal.

“Did I earn my point back?” Zeernebooch asked hopefully.

Granny nodded her head, grinned and flipped him off. “You did.”

“Excellent,” Zeernebooch bellowed with delight, sending the guards running for cover. “Then putting everyone’s life at risk was well worth it.”

“This is gonna be so much fun,” I muttered sarcastically.

“Define fun,” Hank shot back with a chuckle.

With an eye roll and a quick grab of his butt, I raised my head high, threw my shoulders back and became Essie McGee Wilson, the WTF Council member… otherwise known as Scarier than Hell Essie.

The walk across the parking lot felt like a movie. Hank and I led our deadly crew through the dark deserted area. The moon was high in a cloudless sky and the air was strangely still. As we advanced, the guards moved to block. All we needed was a soundtrack and Bruce Willis.

“Move, Clark,” I said through clenched teeth as he and his team obstructed the entrance to the warehouse.

“You don’t have clearance,” Clark informed me condescendingly, standing his ground.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shouted as my eyes began to glow and my fangs dropped.

“Impressive,” I heard Zeernebooch whisper.

“Just wait,” Granny whispered back. “My girl is just gettin’ started. Essie can tear up some major ass.”

She was correct, but I really didn’t need a running commentary.

“You might want to check that out,” Hank said, smiling at an increasingly nervous Clark and Jones.

Jones moved forward. “Essie McGee and Hank Wilson have clearance. No one else here does.”

“That’s a problem for me, boys,” I replied flatly. “You really want me to call the Bobs on this? I hear they’re fond peeling the skin off of people that don’t follow orders.”

“Wait,” Zeernebooch whispered again. “I thought Essie and Hank were part of the WTF Council. Why would she have to call the dumbass Bobs?”

The play by play had been annoying, but now it was infuriating. Mostly because the Demon was correct. Hank and I were on the WTF Council. My word should be as good as the Bobs. Actually… even better, considering that I’d never been involved in a scandal.

Hank took his phone out. I quickly put my hand up to stop him from calling the idiots who Clark and Jones clearly believed were our superiors.

“I will give you until the count of three to clear the pathway to the door,” I explained calmly. “If by that time any of you are standing in my way, I will maim you.”

“And it will hurt like a mother humper. My Essie is a crazed killer,” Granny chimed in with pride.

“Thank you,” I told her. As a Southerner, I never ignored a compliment.

“Welcome,” Granny replied.

“Council orders are Council orders,” Clark said, glaring at me.

“Well, I’m Council and I say move,” I told the idiot. “These people are with me. You do not want to fuck with me, Clark, and you seriously do not want to screw with the people on my team. One.”

All twenty-eight guards stepped down and bowed their heads to me in respect. That left Clark and Jones as the only deterrents to getting into the warehouse.

“Two. Three.”

Clark and Jones refused to move. Too bad. So sad. I never made idle threats. Their memories clearly weren’t serving them well. Had they already forgotten our pleasant—for me, not them—exchange in the Bobs’ office the other day?

“You guys are gluttons,” I said right before I cartwheeled and kicked both of their heads so hard they flipped over and landed on top of each other.

Disarming them and tossing the weapons to Hank, I used their own belts to secure them to each other.

“Here’s the deal,” I hissed in their ears. “I consider this strike two against you imbeciles. One more strike and you’re out. I may have been your team member at one time, but that is no longer the situation. You feel me?”

Neither spoke. They were pissed. But so was I.

“Zeernebooch. Can you transport people without going with them?” I asked.

“I can,” he said grinning from ear to ear. “I simply need an address.”

“Not. A. Problem,” I said, as I pulled a marker out of my pocket and printed the address and suite number on Jones’ forehead. Clark got a lovely little message to the Bobs written on his face—Bobs… your asses are mine. Hide the cheese, buttholes. Love Essie. I was careful to send the bastards right to the Bobs’ office suite. They could explain themselves to the men they assumed were in charge. I was just sorry I wouldn’t be there to witness it. “Zeernebooch, I was hoping Clark and Jones could take a small-ish detour on the way.”

“What exactly did you have in mind, granddaughter?” the Demon asked with an evil little smirk.

“Duuuuuude,” I said with an eye roll. “I’m not your granddaughter.”

“Yet,” Zeernebooch said with a grin. “Your wish is my command. Where would you like to send your delightful friends?”

The Demon was every kind of insane, but I was beginning to like him. Belphegor was a no- brainer because I already adored Dwayne’s true love. Zeernebooch was a bit tougher, but he was growing on me… and he was definitely earning points with Granny.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I replied, feigning deep thought as Clark and Jones began to sweat. “How about the top of the Eiffel Tower, then the North Pole, and then maybe a quick stop in Tokyo.”

“It would be tragic if they didn’t see Stonehenge—it’s a must-see,” Hank pointed out with a laugh.

“This is true,” I replied, nodding my head.

“And Alcatraz,” Granny added with a wicked giggle.

“And the Mall of the Americas in Minneapolis!” Belphegor said. “I love shopping.”

“This man is perfect for me,” Dwayne announced with pride.

“Wait,” I said, remembering the doozy that Zeernebooch had mentioned. “I want Clark and Jones to live. Can they survive it?”

“Of course,” Zeernebooch replied with a shrug. “I was shitting you earlier.”

“Are you serious?” I shouted at the grinning Demon.

“Lost your point, jackhole” Granny grunted as she head butted an unprepared Zeernebooch.

“Sweet Hell on fire,” Zeernebooch choked out as he flew forward. “The rules here are wildly unclear.”

“Pappy,” Belphegor said with a barely disguised smile, helping his father back to his feet. “Try being nice—for real.”

“Nice is not in my wheelhouse,” he complained rubbing his backside as all the guards watched in fascination. “Wooing is very dangerous.”

“Only gonna get more dangerous if you keep that shit up,” Granny told him with a cackle of glee.

Zeernebooch eyed her with great appreciation. “I LOVE IT,” he bellowed, causing all present to slap their hands over their ears. “For every time I’m naughty, I will attempt a try at something nice.”

“Go ahead,” Granny demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and waiting.

Zeernebooch scratched his head and wracked his evil brain. “Okay. I can do this.”

The Demon was so clearly uncomfortable coming up with a pleasantry, I almost laughed. However, he was so earnest in his attempt I bit it back.

“I’ve got it,” Zeernebooch announced. “Bobbie Sue, you must be a beaver… because damn.”

The silence was loaded. I was pretty sure there were a few groans from the guards.

“What?” Zeernebooch demanded. “I thought that was clever.”

“It was gross,” I told him. “You just called Granny a vagina.”

“I did?” he inquired, appalled.

“You did,” Belphegor said with a sigh. “Try again.”

The elder Demon paced back and forth while he tried to come up with something better. However, anything would be better than calling Granny a hoo-ha.

“Bobbie Sue,” Zeernebooch bellowed, looking slightly unsure of himself. “Are you a cake? Cause I want a piece of that.”

Again, there was silence.

Again, there were a few groaning chuckles.

“No?” Zeernebooch inquired.

“Nope,” I told him.

“Bobbie Sue, is your body from McDonald’s? Because I’m lovin’ it!” he tried another.

“Umm… definitely a nope,” I told him, trying not to smile. He was pathetic.

“Shit,” he muttered, glancing over at an amused Bobbie Sue. “If you were a fruit, you would be a fineapple.”

“Holy hell, you suck at this,” Dwayne said with a groan. “Try wooing her with your manly virtues.”

“I’m not exactly virtuous,” Zeernebooch pointed out. “However, I do have some excellent characteristics.”

“Let’s hear ‘em, jackhole,” Granny said with a grin. “Time’s tickin’.”

“My pleasure, you sexy little hellion,” he said as he puffed out his chest and prepared to wow her. “My man tool is so impressive it has its own zip code.”

“NO,” Belphegor said, choking on a laugh.

“Okay. Umm… how about… my package is so big, I entered it in a mammoth rod contest and it came in first, second and third,” Zeernebooch announced, starting to sweat as he observed our open-mouthed reactions. “Or… my member is so enormous I could wear it as a tie if I wasn’t so afraid that looking at Bobbie Sue would give me an erection that would cause my pecker to choke me to death.”

“You should stop,” I wheezed out, giving up on trying to hold my hysterics back. “That was horrifying.”

“But it’s true,” Zeernebooch said, perplexed at the muffled laughter.

“I liked it,” Granny announced to gasps from everyone present. “You get half a point back, jackhole. But if you ever call me a va-jay-jay again, you’re gonna lose that award-winning pecker.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Zeernebooch replied with a relieved expression. “And just because I’m on a roll, I’d like to add that my schlong is so tremendous, it has an agent.”

Belphegor shook his head and closed his eyes. “Pappy?”

“Yes, son?”

“Zip it.”

With a curt nod and a gallant bow to Granny, Zeernebooch zipped it.

Thank God… or Satan in this case.

“I do believe that Clark and Jones are ready for a ride,” I said.

“Fuck you,” Clark muttered under his breath.

“That’s my job. And I’m very good at it,” Hank snarled as his magic ramped up to a point that Jones and Clark began to whimper. “And if you ever speak to my mate again like that, it will be the last words that pass your lips. Zeernebooch, can you add a quick stop in Hell for these boys?”

“With pleasure,” the Demon replied with a chuckle so evil even I blanched a bit.

Raising his arms to the sky and speaking Demon in low rumbling tone, Zeernebooch slashed his hands through the air. Clark and Jones disappeared with a scream in a blast of black glitter.

“How long will it take before they arrive in the Bobs’ office?” I asked, staring at the spot where the idiots had been only moments ago.

“An hour, give or take a few minutes,” Zeernebooch replied. “Is that satisfactory to you?”

“It is.” I nodded to him and then turned to the remaining guards. “I’m in charge here. You will remain at your posts. However, I want you in the shadows. We’re drawing too much attention. Am I clear?”

A chorus of yesses came from the team as the men jumped to their feet and obeyed immediately.

“Can I add something?” Zeernebooch inquired.

It was very polite of him to ask. At least someone respected my authority. The fact that it was a Demon was bizarre.

“Is it about your dick?” I asked with a wince.

“No, but I can also expound on my manhood if you’d like.”

“I would not like,” I said. “Add what you want, but if it even remotely refers to your thingie, I will take your half point away.”

“Can she do that?” a shocked Zeernebooch asked Granny.

“Yep,” Granny told him with a raised brow. “Essie and Hank are the bosses here. My baby can do what she wants.”

“Roger that,” he said, winking at my smiling Granny. “If any of you on patrol do not follow the orders of your fearless and somewhat insane leader, I will do to you what I did to Clark and Jones. And I’ll enjoy it.”

“Thank you,” I told the crazy Demon.

“You’re welcome, and I do feel that I deserve another half point for that one,” he said, side-eyeing Granny.

She paused and eyed the nutbag right back. “Fine. You have one whole point, Weiner Hooch.”

“How many do I need to get into your pants?” he asked, completely serious.

“Nope,” Belphegor said to his father. “Just nope.”

“Sorry. My bad,” Zeernebooch said quickly, not wanting to risk losing the point he’d gained.

“Are we done?” I asked.

“We are,” he replied.

“Good. Let’s do this.”

And that’s when the next level of Hell began.

Chapter Eleven

“Feels like a fridge in here,” Granny said as we entered the chilly warehouse.

Not a thing had been changed or moved as far as I could tell. Blood and guts still spattered the walls and body parts lay in mangled heaps on the cement floor of the cavernous space. The scene was as gruesome and sickening as the first time I’d witnessed it. It was just a heck of a lot colder.

“Magic was used,” Zeernebooch commented as he began to circle the travesty. “A chill spell has been cast to preserve the bodies.”

“Who did it?” I wondered aloud as I glanced around for clues we might have missed.

Zeernebooch halted his pacing and placed his hands on his hips. “My guess is the Bobs. Seems like your boys might be practicing a little voodoo.”

“That’s possible?” I demanded. If it was, the Bobs had a whole lot of explaining to do.

“If they’re in cahoots with Witches, it is,” the Demon said as he examined the blood covered wall on the far side of the warehouse.

“Witches don’t deal with Shifters. Ever,” I said.

“Normally, no,” Belphegor agreed as he too carefully made his way to the far wall and stared at it. “However, blackmail works wonders with the Witches. Well, blackmail or gift cards to Red Lobster.”

“Wait. What?” I asked, sure I’d heard him wrong. “Red Lobster?”

“Yep,” Belphegor confirmed. “Witches love buttery seafood.”

That was a head-scratcher that I didn’t have the time to pursue. We had a shit show in front of us. My curiosity about Witches’ dining preferences would have to wait for another time.

“You think the Bobs are blackmailing Witches?” I asked, ignoring my need to discuss shrimp three ways.

Zeernebooch shrugged. “I think the Bobs would do anything to keep the Weres from being discovered by the humans. And personally, I’m quite pleased they had the foresight to chill the crime scene. Otherwise, it would have smelled like Hell.”

“Holy shit, Hell smells like rotting cadavers?” I asked with a shudder.

“Only Hell’s Cave in Slovenia,” Belphegor enlightened us. “Hell, Michigan is a bit iffy. But the worst is Hell, Norway.”

“I’d have to disagree,” Zeernebooch countered. “Hell Creek, Montana is quite pungent. Although the most eye-watering stinky of all time is Satan’s Kingdom, Massachusetts.”

“What about Hooker, Oklahoma?” Belphegor reminded his pappy. “I find it extremely rank.”

“Fine point, well made, son.”

“Hang on a second. What about the real Hell?” I asked, forgetting for a moment we were here for an actual reason. “You know, the fire and brimstone one—with Demons and Satan and really bad dudes burning in fiery pits.”

“Wouldn’t know. Never been there,” Zeernebooch replied.

I paused and realized my mouth was hanging open. “I am so confused.”

“I second that,” Hank said. “Exactly which Hell did you send Clark and Jones to?”

Zeernebooch eyed us for a long moment. Twice he began to speak and then stopped himself. It wasn’t until Belphegor nodded his encouragement did the elder Demon talk. “Hell is more of a state of mind than an actual place,” he explained.

“I don’t get it,” I said, wondering if the finer points of Hell had been taught on a day I skipped in high school. Skipping class was seriously kicking my ass.

“What is your worst nightmare, Essie?” the Demon inquired, staring at the ceiling.

The question was loaded. I wasn’t sure if he was looking up to avoid the carnage or me. Whatever it was, it was unnerving.

“Are you screwing with me?” I asked, a little worried to share what scared me the most with a Demon—even one that was growing on me.

“Not at all.”

“Losing the people I love,” I told him truthfully.

“There you go,” he replied with no emotion. “Multiply that feeling times a million. Relive it for eternity and you have your Hell.”

I mulled that over and wondered if he was shitting me again. But I didn’t think he was.

“So Hell is a state of mind?” Hank asked, trying to pin down the definition.

Belphegor nodded slowly. “To a certain degree, it is. Do not underestimate the power of the mind.”

“And Heaven?” Dwayne asked.

“Not that I enjoy speaking of Heaven,” Zeernebooch said with a put-upon sigh. “But reverse what I told you about Hell and there you have it.”

It was heavy and mind blowing information—if it was true. We were dealing with Demons here—not the most trustworthy of species. Zeernebooch had no reason to lie though. He had nothing to gain. However, there was a tremendous amount left unsaid. And unlike the buttery seafood conversation, I couldn’t let this one go.

“What about Satan?” I questioned. “Is everything I thought I knew wrong?”

“Soundin’ like it,” Granny muttered.

“Florida,” Zeernebooch replied with an eye roll. “Orlando. The evil bastard loves Disney World.”

“You are shitting me,” I choked out on a laugh. I was now certain that the dumbass was playing me. The baddest of all bad dudes loved the Happiest Place on Earth? No. Freakin’. Way.

“I shit you not,” the Demon replied with a crooked grin. “He rides Small World daily—even has one of those Fast Passes.”

That rendered me mute. It took a lot to leave me speechless, but the Demon had succeeded.

“G,” Granny whispered, pointing at the same wall the Demons had been staring at. “I see two G’s.”

“The letter G?” Zeernebooch asked. “Where?”

“There, jackhole,” she said, still pointing. “In the middle of the big O.”

“Like an orgasm big O or just a big O?” Zeernebooch asked her, waggling his brows.

The dude was an idiot or he had a death wish. And that’s when Granny belted the Demon. “No points for you. This is not the time or place to discuss gettin’ into my pants, Weiner Hooch.”

“But I…” Zeernebooch protested and then froze. “Fuck. You see the letter O?”

Granny squinted her eyes and focused on the wall. “Could just be a circle around the letters. There are more letters, but I can’t make ’em out.”

“I don’t see it,” Belphegor said, in a tone that made me uncomfortable. “Are you positive it’s an O?”

The chill in the room was now compounded by the feeling of mice skittering down my spine—frozen mice with pointy cleats. Something was playing out and it was not going to be pretty.

“Not sure,” she admitted. “I’m not real used to my x-ray vision yet. Might be my mind playin’ tricks on me.”

The two Demons exchanged wary glances. I’d had enough. Cryptic wasn’t working for me today or tomorrow or the next day…

“Stop with the loaded stares and spit it out,” I snapped, running my hands through my hair and preparing for something awful to be revealed. “You two are obviously thinking something. Say it.”

“Demons tend to leave a calling card,” Zeernebooch replied. “We’re not exactly humble. We like to be appreciated for our work no matter how appalling.”

“Who is the calling card from?” Hank cut in, clearly as hyped up as I was. “Do you recognize it?”

“Pappy,” Belphegor said, taking Granny’s hand in his and leading her to his father. “Touch Bobbie Sue. She might be able to see more clearly with some extra magic.”

Zeernebooch winced slightly and my unease increased.

“Nope. She’s already a Werewolf Vampyre,” I said in my outdoor voice, pulling my granny protectively back to me. “If you put black magic in her what will happen? And if you shit me even the tiniest bit, I will rip you up until you’re unrecognizable. I’ll start by shoving your head up your ass and pulling it back out of where your mouth used to be right before I tear it off of your body. Permanently.”

“That was fairly graphic,” Zeernebooch shot back with a grin.

“It was accurate,” Hank informed him flatly. “Explain any and all ramifications of putting dark magic in Bobbie Sue.”

As Zeernebooch started to speak, Dwayne lifted his hand to stop him. My BFF placed his fingers under Granny’s chin and examined her lovely face. Gently kissing her forehead, Dwayne smiled. “Bobbie Sue can handle it. Her Vampyre side is far stronger than her Werewolf side at this point… and it grows stronger every day.”

“I would never have suggested it if I thought there was a chance it would harm Bobbie Sue,” Belphegor insisted, fluttering his hands nervously. “Plus, I’m quite sure that during the disturbingly violent and strangely sexual altercation at the baby shower earlier, there was magic exchanged between Pappy and Bobbie Sue.”

“I don’t like it.” My stomach clenched and I wanted to throat punch both Demons. Losing my loved ones was my own personal Hell. There was no way I was going to give my permission to make it a reality. If there was even a small chance that Granny would be harmed, it was a no freakin’ go.

“You don’t have to like it,” Granny said, squeezing my hand that still grasped hers tightly. “I’m a grown-assed undead woman with a great rack. I’ve been around long enough to know what I should and shouldn’t do. Anyhoo, I already felt the jackhole’s magic and I’m still standing.”

“But I didn’t use magic,” Zeernebooch said, baffled. “The Demon Hunters said no magic. And let me tell you something, those Demon Hunters are scary. Even scarier than my she-devil soon-to-be girlfriend.”

“Might have pilfered some of your voodoo, Weiner Hooch,” Granny admitted with a sly smirk. “Call me curious.”

“Well, Curious,” Zeernebooch said, grinning like an idiot. “You are a cunning hellcat. I didn’t even notice.”

“That’s because you were too dang busy coppin’ a feel of my ass.”

“And a fine ass it is,” the Demon bellowed with a thumbs up.

This was getting ridiculous. “So you’re telling me that while you were wailing on each other—losing limbs, mind you—that you were stealing Demon magic?”

“ʼBout right,” Granny said with a chuckle. “I figured the idiot owed me since he was tryin’ to feel me up the entire time. Figured I might need a little of his Demon dust to best him.”

Zeernebooch gasped in admiration and bowed low to Granny. “I have to admit I was slightly taken aback at how easily you removed my legs with such bloody and vicious accuracy. Quite impressive—very boner-worthy. I was sure it was my obsession with your outstanding hooters that made me careless.”

“Pappy,” Belphegor cut in. “Hooters is not the best choice of word for wooing.”

“Boner-worthy wasn’t stellar either,” I muttered under my breath.

“Hooters isn’t a good term?” he asked, immediately covering his man jewels with his hands in anticipation of getting nailed again.

“Nope,” Dwayne said.

“Melons?” Zeernebooch suggested.

Granny shook her head and did a few deep knee bends as the Demon began to sweat.

“Umm… luscious scoops of flesh?”

“Better,” Granny told him. “But not quite right.”

“Cadillac bumper bullets? Or how about perky pillows of love? Or possibly humpty dumplings, odes to joy, or traffic stoppers?” Zeernebooch ended on a shout, doing his very best.

Which wasn’t all that good…

Granny laughed like the loon she was and slapped her knees. “I’ll take traffic stoppers for one hundred, Alex.”

“Sweet Hell in July,” Zeernebooch shouted in relief. “Traffic stoppers it is, my violent, Jeopardy-loving nightmare.”

Again, I almost forgot what we were doing due to the unconventional wooing style of my granny and her satanic paramour. But with one quick glance at the shredded body piles, I was jerked back into the gruesome reality of our situation.

“So you truly believe that giving Granny a hit of Demon juice will help her x-ray vision?” I asked, wanting all the facts before we did this.

Dwayne nodded. “Doll, do you remember how you felt after drinking my blood?”

“I do,” I answered. “Terrified and unsettled—but totally appreciative,” I added quickly so he knew how much he and his help meant to me.

Dwayne’s smile was sad. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me close. “It’s because Vampyres have dark magic as well. When both you and Hank took my blood some of the darkness entered you. Now, let me be clear, I had no idea it would stay. However, I’d do it again in a heartbeat to keep you safe.”

I gently broke out of Dwayne’s embrace and stared at the bloodstained wall. Right now the blood belonged to Weres who had gotten involved in some dicey and deadly business with Jazz Cabbage. But soon it could be the blood of the innocent if the humans discovered we existed. My mind raced with images of Junior and Sandy’s baby who would join us in eight months. I could clearly picture Dima and Nicolai’s beautiful son, Daniel. And I thought about my ten babies that would become part of our world someday. Wait one farking minute… I was not blowing out ten little Werewolves. Hank was rubbing off on me in a big, bad way.

I stared hard at the wall, trying to see letters. I saw nothing but dried blood. A good leader knew her limitations. A good leader surrounded herself with people who could do things that she couldn’t.

I was a good leader. “Let’s do this,” I said. “If there’s a message on the wall, we need it.”

“As you wish,” Zeernebooch said, approaching Granny.

“Hang the Hell on,” Granny grunted with a laugh. “Are you freakin’ kidding me, Weiner Hooch?”

“What?” I demanded, concerned. I glanced over and realized that Zeernebooch was standing behind her with one hand on each of Granny’s traffic stoppers. “Is that really necessary?”

“I’m supposed to touch the hellcat to transfer the magic,” Zeernebooch pointed out with incredibly iffy logic.

“And you’re supposed to touch her boobs?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the horny idiot.

“Well,” he began, looking somewhat guilty but completely delighted at the same time. “As I see it, it will take me years to earn enough points to properly get into Bobbie Sue’s pants. So in the interim, while I gather these elusive and painful points, I feel it necessary to my sanity to cop a feel whenever I can get away with it.”

“Logical,” Granny said, adjusting his hands so they were right where she liked them.

Closing my eyes, I said a quick prayer that this wouldn’t degenerate into something that would require bleach to sanitize my eyes. What we needed was information. How we got it was immaterial. I could feel it in my gut that time was of the essence. If I had to watch my granny get felt up by a randy Demon… so be it.

I seriously needed a new job.

“Do it,” I ground out. “Transfer the magic and let Granny try to read the wall.”

I held my breath. Zeernebooch closed his eyes and began to chant in a dissonant and unrecognizable language. A glittering black mist floated through the room and landed silently on the sad and tragic scene surrounding us. Granny’s soft giggle was the only sound to be heard as the magic entered her system. The hushed sound bounced throughout the enormous room and brought a needed lightness to the somber setting.

“Focus and read,” Zeernebooch instructed with his hands still firmly attached to her traffic stoppers.

I was pretty sure his hands on her knockers were unnecessary at this point, but I stayed quiet. If Granny didn’t have a problem being groped by a Demon with her family and friends present, who was I to ruin her fun?

Granny narrowed her eyes and began to levitate slightly. Her eyes went red and she seemed to go into a trance. “Two G’s and three T’s,” she said in a hollow sounding voice.

“And the O?” Belphegor questioned.

“Large circle around the two G’s and three T’s. Could be an O or a circle,” she replied in the same voice as her body came back down to the floor.

“Illinois is missing,” Hank said.

“Missing from what?” I asked, not following.

“The states,” he replied grimly. “Georgia, Georgia, Tennessee, Tennessee and Texas—the locations of the Devil’s Lettuce outbreaks. But there’s no Illinois.”

My mate was all kinds of brilliant. “Oh my God,” I said, staring at him in wonder. “You’re amazing.”

“I like word puzzles,” he replied with a tight smile.

“Could the O stand for something else—maybe another state? Oregon? Ohio? Oklahoma?” Dwayne suggested.

“Possibly,” I said. “Hank, can you get Junior on the line and have him communicate with the Alphas in those states? Have them keep watch over their people and report immediately on anything unusual.”

Hank paced back forth as he called Junior. The call was quick and curt. Junior was on it and wasn’t surprised that the locations had been somehow instrumental. He’d said that from the beginning.

“I’m still not comfortable that Illinois isn’t in the mix,” Hank said. “Something isn’t right.”

“Maybe because we’re in Illinois they didn’t feel the need to include it,” Granny said with a shrug. “Weiner Hooch, you can remove your hands now.”

“Do I have to?” he inquired politely.

Granny shook her head and sighed. “You can touch my traffic stoppers for three more minutes,” she told him, setting the timer on her phone. “A second longer and you lose your salami.”

“Roger that,” he said with a laugh. “My hellcat has claws.”

Ignoring the freak show, I joined Hank in his pacing. It helped me think.

“Okay, even if the initials stand for the states minus Illinois, it still doesn’t help us,” I said.

“But if the next outbreak is in a state starting with O, we can be somewhat prepared,” Dwayne pointed out. “With Demon transport we can be anywhere within seconds.”

“Now there’s a puke-inducing thought,” I said, still wearing out the cement beneath my feet. “But you’re also correct.”

“Here’s what I think,” Granny said with Zeernebooch’s hands still cupping her bosom. “Even if that’s the case, we still don’t have answers. The only way I see us gettin’ answers before this happens again on an even larger scale is to raise a few of the dead.”

“Bad idea,” Zeernebooch said as Granny’s phone timer went off and he reluctantly let go of her traffic stoppers. “And I’m not sure that we need to do that.”

“Because?” I pressed.

“Because I do believe that the O is the calling card of the Demon responsible for this,” he said.

“You know the Demon?” Hank asked, tersely.

Zeernebooch nodded his head sharply and grunted in disgust. “I think I might.”

“And you can summon this Demon?” I asked.

“What is it with this summoning crap?” Zeernebooch asked, obviously confused. “Where do you people get this ridiculous information?”

“Umm… the internet,” I volunteered, sheepishly.

“For the love of everything unholy,” he groused. “When an idiot does a summoning, all you get is a ghost—a pissed off wanna-be-Demon ghost. A real Demon has a cell phone.”

“Today has been an information overload,” I muttered and then paused in thought. “Wait. What did you do before cell phones?”

“Homing pigeons,” Belphegor explained. “Took a while, but it did the trick.”

“Who is the Demon?” Hank asked, getting back on track after our hundredth conversational detour.

“I believe the O stands for Obizuth,” Zeernebooch ground out through clenched teeth as his horns popped out on his head.

“Oh shit,” I shouted. “Your mother? The baby killer?”

“I’m afraid so,” Belphegor said.

“So your ex-wife is responsible for this shit show?” Granny hissed, glaring at Zeernebooch.

“I was never married to the horrid woman,” he growled. “Demons aren’t into that kind of thing. It was an affair that produced the only thing I’m proud of in this long tedious life of mine.”

“Me? You’re proud of me?” Belphegor whispered as his golden eyes filled with tears.

“Now don’t go getting all weepy,” Zeernebooch bellowed, turning away from his son.

I was pretty dang sure he wiped a tear from his own eye, but I wasn’t about to point that out. I had a keen sense of self-preservation.

“I’m not a disappointment to you?” Belphegor asked, still sniffling.

Zeernebooch threw his hands up and rolled his eyes. “How could a son that has broken his pappy out of the pokey over a thousand times in the last century be a disappointment? That took big balls, son. I don’t care that you like dick. I love you even though your fashion sense is appalling and I’d rather claw my own eyes out of my head than listen to Barbra Streisand. I think Dwayne is an interesting choice for a mate—he’s alarmingly weird, but then again, so are you. I love you, boy. However, I won’t repeat my feelings. I’m not a weenie—even though my weenie is enormous. Maybe we can take a quick selfie to remember this historic moment. You can look at it when I’m an asshole to remind yourself that I have a huge schlong… no, wait… I meant, remind yourself that I love you.”

“You have certainly been incarcerated a shitload of times. And you are as windy as a sack full of farts,” Granny said, eyeing Zeernebooch like she wanted to jump his evil bones.

“Is that good?” he inquired cautiously.

“Yep,” Granny told him with a chuckle. “It’s real good, Weiner Hooch.”

“Do I earn a point?”

Granny considered the request and then shrugged. “You get five points for that one. And before you ask again… the answer is six.”

“This is fantastic,” Zeernebooch shouted, pumping his fists in the air. “My erections awaits you with great anticipation. You will not regret this decision, spitfire hellion of my dreams. I will bone you like you have never been boned.”

“Pretty sure I just puked in my mouth,” I mumbled with an eye roll.

“You still have to earn another point, jackhole,” Granny reminded him as she walked toward him, her hips swinging like a hooker on the prowl.

“So you just call Obizuth and she shows up?” I asked, looking away from my hot to trot Granny.

“Not that simple,” Belphegor admitted as he leaned his head on Dwayne’s shoulder. “We have to prepare. She is not a nice woman—at all.”

“Understatement,” Zeernebooch added with a shudder. “If your parents are willing, I’d suggest we have the Demon Hunters present when we do this.”

“They don’t hunt Demons anymore,” I reminded him.

He shook his head and laughed. “Once a Demon Hunter… always a Demon Hunter.”

“Fine,” I said as I sent a text to my parents. “Right now, I want to have a word with the Bobs.”

“You gonna to elongate some sphincters?” Granny asked with a wink.

“Possibly,” I told her.

“Can we all come?” Dwayne asked with a naughty little smile playing on his lips.

“Be my guests,” I replied, taking Hank’s hand in mine. “You ready, babe?”

“Born ready,” he replied with a sexy grin.

“Let’s do this shit.”

Chapter Twelve

“I’m assuming you’re responsible for the tied-up Clark and Jones? The very same ones who are whimpering and blubbering about Stonehenge in the Bobs’ office?” Reginald inquired with a raised brow, glaring at me.

I smiled and gave him a thumbs up. He loved me.

Honestly, I was surprised Reginald was in the office. It was 2 AM.

The only reason I hadn’t waited until morning was because I knew that the Bobs literally lived at headquarters. Their very ornate apartment was connected to their ridiculously fancy office. I planned on yanking their uppity asses right out of their beds.

“What the FUCK?” Zeernebooch shouted and purposely banged his head against the wall. “For over fifty years I don’t see one Demon Hunter, and in the space of twenty-four hours I just happen to run into three?”

Well, that was certainly some interesting news. Reginald was full of surprises. I wondered if he knew my parents.

Hank shot me a covert look and I shrugged. Shit kept getting stranger.

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you again, Zeernebooch,” Reginald deadpanned. “But it’s not. How was your last little jaunt in the pokey?”

“Lovely,” Zeernebooch lied. “They had cable.”

“Excellent,” Reginald replied and then turned his attention back to me. “How can I help you and your motley crew?”

“You’re a Demon Hunter?”

“Apparently,” he said with an eye roll.

Holy hell, Reginald was more obnoxious than I was. However, his newly discovered skill could possibly come in handy.

“Can I ask you a question, Reggie?” I inquired as I made myself comfortable on the edge of his desk.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope. Why are you here? It’s the middle of the freakin’ night, dude. Do the Bobs make you work 24-7?”

Reginald sighed and closed the file folder he’d obviously been working on. I glanced down and read the tab. SHUNNED. He was clearly still cleaning up the hot mess that Clark and Jones had made.

“I’m here because I was made aware that you and your illustrious mate were back in town,” he replied flatly, eyeing Hank and me with distaste. “Where you two go, trouble follows. That is why I’m here.”

I tilted my head to the side and picked up the folder on his desk. “I think you’re fibbing, Reginald. This folder has nothing to do with Hank or me. If you were concerned about us having a good time in Chicago, you should have been looking for us.”

He put his hand out for the folder and feigned a yawn. “That is not yours.”

“Is it classified?” I shot back.

He paused and considered his words. Reginald choked out the next sentence because it was clearly appalling to him. “Nothing is classified to a WTF Council member.”

“That’s what I thought,” I told him as I opened the folder and perused it. Holy cow. If what I was seeing was accurate, Clark and Jones were going to be demoted for a very long time. Cases A, B, C, and D were still on the loose. “So not all of the shunned have been located?”

“Four haven’t been found—yet,” Reginald confirmed curtly. “However, there is a fine chance they’re dead. They’ve been missing for a few months. I’m quite sure your visit isn’t about the shunned.”

“You are quite right,” I replied in a tone just as snippy as the one he’d used on me. “I’ve come to wake up my buddies.”

“You’ll have to come back then,” Reginald told me. “The Bobs are out.”

That was an unwelcome surprise. I’d always assumed they went to bed around 8 PM if they weren’t out peeling the skin from people’s bodies.

“Not buying it,” Hank said, sitting on the other side of Reginald’s desk. “I’d think the old farts need a whole hell of a lot of beauty sleep.”

The beginnings of a smile pulled at Reginald’s lips but quickly disappeared. As much as he pretended not to like Hank or me, I knew he did… kind of. Like a father loved his wild, out of control toddlers who had put his TV remote in the toilet to see if it would float.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll play. If the Boobs aren’t here, where are they?”

“It’s the Bobs,” Reginald corrected me with a smile he couldn’t hide.

His smile made his eyes twinkle and his handlebar mustache curl up higher on his cheeks. It was freakin’ adorable. Not that I would tell him. He’d probably kick my ass. And now that I knew he was a Demon Hunter, I should probably be more careful… Nah. It was too much fun to give him shit.

“Whoops,” I said, smacking my forehead. “My bad. Where are the Bobs?”

“Red Lobster.”

And now it was all coming together.

Well… a small part of it was. The big stuff was still a mystery, but the details were creeping out into the open.

“With Witches?” I asked, casually. “To pay them back for icing down the crime scene?”

Reginald was silent as he squinted at me in surprise.

“Ohhhhhhh,” Dwayne squealed as he noticed the glass paperweight on the desk. “You have Gaga’s head! It’s beyond gorge and soooooo sparkly. Where did you get this? It’s completely fabu!”

Reginald blushed and preened under Dwayne’s over the top admiration. With a complete and shocking change of personality, the man pulled out nine more heads from his desk drawer. Cher’s head now sat next to Gaga. The rest—Barbra Streisand, Bette Midler, Joan Crawford, Bette Davis, Judy Garland, Diana Ross, Madonna, and Liza Minnelli were lined up accordingly.

I was now positive that Reggie played for Dwayne’s team.

Dwayne literally screamed with delight over all the heads. Belphegor had to stabilize him so he didn’t hit the floor in his rabid excitement.

“I’m gonna pass out. The beauty is so overwhelming my knees can’t take it,” Dwayne cried out as he reverently ran his pinky finger over Joan Crawford’s face.

The heads twinkled and sparkled in the light cast from the overhead chandelier. Even I had to admit the likenesses were uncanny.

“I made them,” Reginald announced.

Dwayne shrieked again causing all of us to slap our hands over our ears in pain. I was surprised one of the glass heads didn’t explode since the pitch of Dwayne’s scream was so freakin’ high.

“Shut the front fucking door,” Dwayne whispered, realizing he’d possibly caused a few ruptured eardrums. “I mean, how? The artistry is incredible. I feel like Joan is in the room and about to whip my hiney with a wire hanger.”

“Umm… ewww,” I said.

“Too much?” Dwayne inquired.

“Yep,” Granny told him with a chuckle.

“But seriously, Reginald,” Dwayne went on, caressing Cher in an almost sexual way. “You are a genius. I would pay good money to have Bette Midler eyeing my goodies on a regular basis.”

“I use a combination of hot sculpting and cold working,” Reginald shared, greatly pleased with his new and loud fan club of one. “Very time consuming, but very satisfying.”

“Are there more?” Belphegor asked as he too almost slobbered over the tiny lady head sculptures.

“A few,” Reginald said, cryptically. “I only sculpt women that fascinate me… and family.”

“Have you sculpted Sophia Loren?” Zeernebooch inquired, examining the glistening works of art.

“As a matter of fact, I have,” Reginald said, reaching into his desk.

It was the spitting image of a young Sophia Loren. However, it was also the spitting image of Granny.

“I’ll buy it!” Zeernebooch announced grandly. “Until I have earned enough points to properly bone Bobbie Sue, I’d like to place her tiny head in my pocket, so it’s nestled close to my enormous pecker. This will make me happy. Will you take a check?”

That was a showstopper. No one said a word. Zeernebooch glanced around in alarm and then quickly hid behind a large chair to protect his enormous pecker.

“Was that not good?” he whispered.

Again, no one spoke. It wasn’t until Granny began to cackle that everyone started to breathe again.

“Demon, if you weren’t beginning to grow on me like a fungus, I’d cancel your dang birth certificate,” Granny told him. “However, I think it’s kind of hot that you want my glass head near your salami.”

“Does that mean I get another point?” Zeernebooch asked, pushing his luck.

“You get a quarter of a point, because while that was flattering—it was also disgusting,” she told him.

“I’ll take it,” Zeernebooch bellowed. “That is, I’ll take the partial point and the head. How much?”

Reginald shrugged and began to put the heads back in the drawer. “I don’t sell them.”

Zeernebooch was devastated… but only briefly. “Okay, how about this? You turn away for a moment and I steal it. I’d be happy to go back to the pokey as long as Bobbie Sue’s luscious lips are near my man rod.”

And once again there was silence.

“Pappy,” Belphegor said with a sigh. “You should stop. Now.”

“Seriously?” he asked, not realizing there was anything even remotely wrong with his plan.

“Seriously,” Belphegor confirmed.

“Reginald, you really should sell these,” Dwayne said as he began to carefully help return the heads to the drawer. “You’d make a killing. I’d buy all of them and… Oh my GOD.”

Dwayne froze and stared into the drawer.

“What?” I demanded, feeling very ill at ease. What the heck did he see?

“So you only make heads of women who fascinate you?” Dwayne asked, narrowing his eyes dangerously at Reginald.

“That and family,” he replied, glancing down at the drawer with a horrified gasp.

Reginald quickly shut the drawer and fiddled with his mustache nervously.

“Would you care to explain?” Dwayne asked in a don’t fuck with me tone.

“I suppose I have to,” Reginald said with a sigh. “However, it’s not prudent that she knows. Life will become insufferable for me.”

“That who knows?” I demanded.

“You,” Dwayne said, opening the drawer and pulling out a shimmering head that was the exact image of me.

“What the…” I gasped out, staring in shock at myself. “You’re fascinated with me?”

“No. God, no,” Reginald said and then shook his head. “You’re family… of a sort… kind of… in a roundabout way.”

“That’s news to me,” Granny said, warming up to have a go at Reginald.

“Reggie, you’re about as clear as mud,” I said, still staring at my tiny sparkly self. “Spit it out so I don’t think you’re a weirdo stalker and have to go apeshit on your ass.”

Hank growled low in his throat. Shit was about to get serious.

“Fine. You’re my goddaughter,” he snapped, handing me the glass image. “This is a gift for your parents. When I learned they were still alive… I made it.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Granny said with a laugh. “I never did get to meet you. Is your last name LaScootermanschitz?”

“It used to be,” he replied with a slight wince. “I dropped it and just go by Reginald these days.”

“Like Madonna,” Dwayne said with an approving nod.

“Yes,” Reginald agreed. “Or Beyoncé.”

“Or Cher,” Belphegor added.

“Exactly,” Reginald concurred. “I’m Reginald, the Mysterious Godfather of Essie McGee Wilson.”

“But you’ve always been such a dick,” I said and then slapped my hand over my mouth. “Sorry.”

“Not to worry,” Reginald said with a resigned chuckle. “You are quite correct. I am a dick. I will always be a dick. However, I’ve watched over you from afar for years. It was my duty to your parents… and my pleasure.”

“So you do like me,” I shouted and pointed at him.

“Against my better judgment, I do,” he conceded with a small smile. “And your parents? I trust they are doing well now?”

I nodded and looked at Reginald. I was so tempted to tell him he was super cute when he smiled, but I didn’t. He really was a dick. But now he was my godfather dick. Life got more bizarre by the minute.

“They’re getting back to normal, slowly but surely. You should go see them.”

“Eventually,” he replied in a clipped tone. “Are we done with the pleasantries? I have work to do. The Bobs will be back tomorrow evening sometime.”

“That’s not gonna work for me,” I said, thinking he really was dick-ish. “How long does it take to eat at Red Lobster with Witches?”

“They’re in California,” he replied.

“At a Red Lobster?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Weird,” I said and then paused. My answer was right in front of me.

I didn’t need the Bobs at all. Reginald knew everything and he was a freakin’ Demon Hunter to boot. Also, he liked me… mostly.

“We found clues at the crime scene,” I told him, getting right to the heart of the matter.

He sat up straight and began to take notes. “Go on.”

“The states where the Jazz Cabbage outbreaks happened are represented on the wall,” I explained.

“Georgia—twice, Tennessee—twice and Texas?” he asked, taking it all down.

I nodded and went on. “And we think the Demon left a calling card.”

Reginald’s eyes narrowed to slits of fury and his fangs dropped. His growl was terrifying. Zeernebooch and Belphegor were taking no chances. They ducked under the couch.

“And the Demon’s name who did it?” Reginald inquired.

“We think it’s Obizuth,” Hank said, watching Reginald with great interest. “Have you come across her before?”

“Haven’t had the displeasure. She’s a mean one though,” he replied. “You have a plan?”

“Umm… hello? Is it safe here?” Zeernebooch called out from under the couch.

I glanced at Reginald who gave me a curt nod.

“Do not harm Zeernebooch or Belphegor,” I warned my godfather. “They are not the bad guys.”

“Define bad,” he shot back.

“Look,” Zeernebooch said, tentatively crawling out from under the couch. “I’ll freely admit to cheating and stealing.”

“And tax evasion,” Belphegor reminded him as he shimmied out of hiding and stood next to his father.

“Of course,” he acknowledged.

Belphegor wasn’t done yet. “And streaking on national television… and illegally fixing all of the gambling machines in Vegas so that you walked away with billions.”

“Correct,” Zeernebooch agreed with pride.

“And grand larceny. Ohhh, and stealing over ten thousand identities and opening up limitless credit cards with them,” Belphegor added.

“Are you done?” I asked with an eye roll.

“Actually, I could go on for weeks, but I think we hit some good highlights,” Belphegor replied, patting his pappy on the back.

“So as I was saying, while I’m a sticky-fingered bastard with an enormous man tool, I do not deal in drugs or physically harm the human population,” Zeernebooch finished.

“Ohhh, can I tell one more?” Belphegor asked.

“Sure, son.”

“There time you illegally repossessed twenty-five asshole millionaires’ estates and set the homeless up in style! Gave them cars that you’d stolen and sent over three hundred to college with money you underhandedly procured from Washington lobbyists who were jacking up the prices of medication for the poor! You spent a whole year in lockdown for that one.”

“Boy, that’s enough. Are you trying to humiliate me here?” Zeernebooch bellowed as he stomped around the room in a panic. “You are messing with my dastardly reputation. I’m trying to woo an insane hellion with tremendous traffic stoppers. I do not need you sharing embarrassing stories about me, for the love of everything evil.”

Zeernebooch was as nice as his son was… and he was mortified about it. It was all kinds of awesome. And adorable. The idiot grew on me even more.

“You earned yourself another fourth of a point for that one, jackhole,” Granny announced.

“I did?” he asked, flabbergasted.

“Yep. Keep that shit up and you’ll be in my pants in no time.”

“This is FABULOUS,” Zeernebooch shouted. “Shall we go to dinner now? I’d like to wine and dine my hellcat.”

“Umm… no,” I said with a groan of disbelief. “We have a mission and it’s now 3:00 a.m., dude. Not many restaurants open.”

“Right,” Zeernebooch said. “I got a bit excited that I’m half a point away from boning your grandmother.”

“There is so much wrong with that statement that I’m not sure what to say,” I muttered, trying not to laugh. The Demon courting Granny was every kind of crazy.

“Anyhoo,” he went on, oblivious to how wildly inappropriate he was. “Obizuth presents a problem.”

“Why?” I asked.

“She won’t tell us a thing and she’ll probably try to kill everyone,” Belphegor said. “She hates me and she hates Pappy even more.”

“Accurate point,” Reginald said. “Did you try raising the dead and questioning them?”

“No can do,” Dwayne said with a shudder. “If we do that, we’ll have a Zombie apocalypse. If you raise Weres who were violently out of control when they died, that is exactly what you will have to deal with.”

“Interesting,” Reginald said, reaching beneath his desk and pulling out what appeared to be an overnight bag. “Well then, Obizuth will have to talk. The threat of exposure is looming close. That is far more dangerous than an unhinged Demon.”

“How close?” I asked, wondering what he knew.

“According to Seth, the Dragon Seer, it is imminent unless we take action to stop it—twenty-four hours is his educated guess,” Reginald said. “I ask again, do you have a plan?”

“I was thinking we would wing it,” I replied, feeling my stomach clench at this new and horrible news.

“Of course you were,” Reginald said with yet another impressive eye roll. “Are we leaving Clark and Jones here?”

I gave him a thumbs up. “You bet your Cher head we are. The Boobs can take care of that hot mess. I’m done with them. And I’d like to point out it’s awfully irresponsible for the Boobs to be in California with the Witches when we are about to get wiped off the map of the Universe.”

“Do you have foot in mouth syndrome?” Reginald asked.

“Is that a trick question?”

“Not at all,” he replied.

“Not that I know of,” I answered, feeling chastised for something I had no clue I had done.

“Then think before you speak, child,” he snapped. “The Boobs, as you so fondly and somewhat accurately call them, are trying to cut a deal with the Witches that could save us. They are currently risking their lives and racking up one hell of a bill at Red Lobster.”

“Whoops. My bad,” I muttered contritely.

“I should say so,” my dicky godfather said. “So unless we want to be beholden to the Witches for centuries—which would almost be as bad as being revealed, we should try and solve this ourselves. Quickly.”

“Okay. Let’s go find another Demon,” Hank said.

“Beware of what you wish for,” Zeernebooch muttered as we filed out of the office.

I had no clue how correct Zeernebooch was… but I was about to find out.

Chapter Thirteen

“Junior believes it’s the goddamned Alabama pack,” Hank said tersely as he shoved his cell phone back in his pocket.

“The Alabama pack?” Reginald asked as he meticulously examined the blood-spattered wall where the clues were. “And I see nothing but dried blood here.”

“We can’t see it,” I told Reginald while watching Hank’s jaw work in frustrated fury. “Only Granny can. She has Vampyre x-ray vision. Hank, explain the Alabama pack. I’m not following.”

Hank began to pace and his magic ramped up, filling the cavernous room with his ire. It was menacing and made me feel lightheaded. “It’s the Alabama pack that’s in pieces around us,” he ground out, staring at the dead. “After Giles was found out and punished, his pack scattered before anyone could step in and protect them. That disgusting motherfucker is somehow still causing death and destruction.”

“He’s the Alabama Alpha?” Zeernebooch asked.

“Was,” I snarled, feeling ill. “He was removed. Permanently.”

“As in dead?” Belphegor asked, trying to get the facts straight.

“As in shunned,” I clarified. “His people were under-educated and destitute—probably thought they were going to be put to death for his crimes. I can’t even blame them for going into hiding.”

“They were vulnerable,” Reginald said sadly as he took in the mass carnage with a shudder.

Something wasn’t connecting here, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. “How many more of the Alabama pack are alive? Could this happen again?”

“Most likely if the goal is to reveal the Weres to the world,” Reginald said. “All it would take to reveal us is a Devil’s Lettuce outbreak on a larger scale. This has already caused the human authorities to start investigating.”

“Do you need some Vampyres to mind wipe?” Dwayne asked. “My Were Cow daughters’ rat-bastard husbands need jobs.”

“At this point, nothing is off the table,” Reginald said with a long uncomfortable sigh. “How much will it cost?”

“Money?” Dwayne asked with a laugh. “Not a cent. The lazy sons of bitches are loaded. Plus, my girls have enormous inheritances. However, if you’re willing to add a Vampyre to the WTF Council, I do believe they would play ball.”

Reginald paled considerably. It was unheard of.

But times… they were still a-changin’.

“Done,” I said. “Make the call.”

“You can’t do this without the Bobs’ approval,” Reginald hissed.

“Who. Am. I?” I ground out. “What. Am. I?”

Reginald looked at me. He truly looked at me. And he smiled. “You are Essie McGee Wilson. My Goddaughter. A walking nightmare and a full-fledged member of the WTF Council.”

“That’s right motherhumper,” I said, taking a small bow. “Dwayne is now officially a member of the WTF Council.”

“I’ll back that decision,” Hank said with a grin.

“Oh my GOD,” Dwayne squealed. “This is so exciting. I’ll have to get a new dress for my initiation.”

“And I shall make note of it,” Reginald said with a nod of approval. “You do realize the Bobs will have a shit fit of epic proportions?”

“About me wearing a dress?” Dwayne asked.

“No,” Reginald said. “About a Vampyre joining the government.”

“I know the Boobs’ real names,” I shot back with a wink. “Don’t think it’s gonna be a problem.”

Reginald’s grin grew wide. Again, I was tempted to tell him he should smile more, but this wasn’t the right time. “Hank, how many of the Alabama pack does Junior think are still alive?”

“Junior said the bookkeeping is as shoddy as shit, but his guess is that possibly two hundred are holed up all over the southern US. Most likely in Alabama and the surrounding states,” Hank said, yanking his phone back out of his pocket.

“Dragons,” I said automatically.

“You read my mind, baby,” Hank said with a tight smile. “Best damned bloodhounds alive. I’ll get Dima and Nicolai to gather their troops and find the rest of that pack.”

“You think Giles is behind this?” Granny hissed as her eyes went blood red and she began to float.

“He’s stupid enough to do it, but he’s been shunned,” I said. My heart ached for all of the people who lay dead and destroyed around me. It was senseless and cruel. “It doesn’t seem probable that a weak, shunned Were would have the power to make this happen.”

“We’re pack animals. We can’t survive without others of our kind. He’s probably dead,” Hank stated flatly, tucking his phone away. “Dima and Nicolai are on their way with seventy-five Dragons to the old Alabama compound to get the scent. Nicolai says they will find the remaining members by sundown.”

I glanced quickly at my watch. It was now 6 AM. “That’s in about fifteen hours. He’s kind of cocky,” I pointed out, not really able to believe they could do it.

“Cocky is damned good at the moment,” Hank replied with a shrug. “If he succeeds, I’ll buy him the damned taco place.”

My laugh was inappropriate, but it felt good. “Did you tell him that?”

“Hell to the yes I did,” Hank replied with a chuckle. “I’m no dumbass.”

“So this Giles character has been shunned and that makes it impossible to for him to have called on Obizuth to wreak havoc?” Zeernebooch asked.

“I think so,” I replied, carefully. I was not cocky and I wasn’t about to give a definitive answer to anything unless I was absolutely sure of what I was saying.

“Where is he now?” Zeernebooch inquired.

That was a fine fucking question. He might be dead. He might not.

“I have no clue where Giles Giles is,” I admitted as yet another half-assed plan began to hatch in my brain. “Or the other three shunned Weres that I personally know.”

“Tina, Tina, and Tina,” Dwayne muttered in disgust. “I still say you should have let me mind-meld those horrid bee-otches. Their brain explosions would have been wildly satisfying.”

“His name is Giles Giles?” Zeernebooch asked with an odd expression. “And there are three Tinas?”

“Yep. Horrible name. Horrible man. The Tinas? Disgusting beyond words,” I told him.

“Call me crazy,” Zeernebooch said as his horns popped out and his golden eyes flashed.

“Crazy,” Granny chimed in.

“Thank you, my demonic soon-to-be-lover.”

“Welcome, Weiner Hooch.”

“Enough,” I snapped at them. “Does Crazy have something pertinent to say?”

“Crazy does,” Zeernebooch replied. “We might not need to bring in Obizuth, which by the way, would be a very good thing to not have to do.”

“I will second that,” Reginald said.

“Why don’t we need to call on Obizuth?” Hank demanded, as frustrated as I was.

“Because I don’t believe the letters on the wall are the initials of the states—albeit they are the states the atrocities occurred in. I believe the states may have been chosen for another reason. G, G, and T, T, T don’t stand for Georgia, Georgia, Tennessee, Tennessee and Texas,” he said with an evil smile that made me glad he was on my side. “They stand for Giles Giles, Tina, Tina, and Tina.”

And everyone froze.

The Demon was brilliant in his deduction.

Possibly.

Hopefully.

“Names,” I shouted at Reginald. “I need the full names of the four missing shunned. If they’re working together, they won’t be weak.”

Reginald swore and yanked on his mustache. “Dammit to hell and back,” he hissed. “I only know them by the file letters. I was just getting started on sorting out the mess.”

“Are the names in the files?” Hank demanded, grabbing Reginald by the lapel his jacket.

Reginald nodded curtly. “I’ll go get them.”

“Are they online?” Hank pressed. “If they are, Junior can hack it.”

“No,” Reginald admitted with a shake of his head. “Only on paper.”

“Oh my GOD,” I shouted and wanted to belt my dicky godfather. “The WTF is living in the dang dark ages. Things have got to change.”

“Be that as it may,” Reginald snapped, “the fact is that the files are not electronic. I will retrieve them immediately.”

“No time,” I insisted as my stomach roiled. “I’m all kinds of sure I will live to regret this… Zeernebooch, can you transport all of us back to the Bobs’ office?”

“No detours?” he inquired with a naughty grin.

“No detours,” I said, giving him the middle finger salute.

“As you wish,” he replied, raising his hands high. “Hang on, boys and girls. Demon Airlines is ready for takeoff.”

“That was bile inducing,” Reginald grunted as he got to his feet shakily. “I think my intestines are lodged in my chest.”

“They probably are,” Zeernebooch said with an unapologetic shrug. “I’m shocked your balls aren’t in your throat.”

“Is he serious?” Reginald demanded, appalled.

“He is,” Belphegor said, patting Reginald gently on the back. “However, your innards should be fine in a few minutes.”

“Define fine,” Granny grunted as she struggled to her feet.

I didn’t have any time to bitch or complain even though I was so close to hurling my mouth was watering. “Dwayne, please get Clark and Jones. Untie them and bring them in here.”

“Roger that, Doll,” he said as he literally flew into the Bobs’ office, scaring the hell out of my two idiot former teammates if their screams were anything to go by.

“Files,” I said to a still wobbly Reginald.

“Top left drawer.”

Quickly, I yanked them out and opened them. Hank was right by my side. As we opened files A, B, C and D our worst suspicions were revealed.

“Giles Giles, Tina, Tina, and Tina have been missing for four months,” I said, reading aloud. “Last known whereabouts… Alabama.”

“Shit. Looks like they were together,” Hank said and immediately dialed Junior.

Clark and Jones watched the flurry of activity in fear and confusion.

“I should skin you alive right now,” I hissed at them as they backed away. I could hear Hank getting Junior up to speed in the background. We were the perfect team. Clark and Jones? Not so much. “Who was supposed to be on Giles Giles and the three Tinas?”

Neither answered. They simply stared at the floor.

“Was it you two?” I asked so quietly they had no choice but to lean in to hear me.

Again, no answer.

“I will ask once more. If you don’t answer me, I will have you shunned like the idiots you were supposed to be keeping track of. And you can bet your disrespectful asses I will never lose track of where you are. I will make your existence a living hell. I promise. Who was supposed to be tracking Giles Giles, and the three Tinas?”

“We were,” Clark admitted and then hastily backed up as my eyes turned, my fangs dropped and my magic amped up making it difficult for all in the room to breathe.

“Why? What’s the issue here?” Jones demanded, still arrogant despite the circumstances.

My laugh wasn’t pretty. Zeernebooch quickly made his way forward so he got the best view of what might or might not go down. Pulling a box of Milk Duds from his pocket, he settled himself in a chair.

“Sooooo exciting,” he whispered, patting his lap for Granny to join him.

“The four shunned Weres you lost track of are responsible for the Devil’s Lettuce outbreak, you assholes,” I snarled as both men paled dramatically and glanced at each other. “The files state the last time they were spotted was in Alabama four months ago. Is this accurate?”

“Think real hard, boys,” Hank said, slowly circling the useless men who had slacked on their jobs and made it possible for Giles and the Tinas to destroy the lives of all of our kind. “It’s kinda important. You see if we don’t find these bastards and soon, Were society as we know it is over. And it will all be thanks to you.”

“You can’t possibly think this is our fault,” Clark insisted, glancing around the room wildly for an exit… or maybe the Bobs.

“Actually, we can,” I shot back. “Puzzles need all of the pieces to make a picture. If one piece goes missing, it ruins the whole thing. Teams need all of their players to hold up their end of the mission or people die. You feel me? You lost four pieces of the puzzle. Four. Pieces. Dozens of Weres have died—violently. And these pieces have summoned a Demon named Obizuth—and a really freakin’ evil Demon.”

“Oh my God,” Jones mumbled.

“God’s not here. And I don’t think he would claim you at the moment anyway,” Zeernebooch said, popping some candy into his mouth. “I believe he’s in Disney World visiting Satan. However, I’m here. Essie, would you like me to disembowel these men? It would give me great pleasure to be at your service and it might earn me another point.”

Clark and Jones were literally cowering. They had no clue what I was going to say. They didn’t know me at all. In the entire year we’d been a team, they’d barely ever spoken to me. I was a useless woman. Oh, the irony.

I had no intention of letting Zeernebooch do anything to them. It wasn’t my style and it wasn’t right. Justice would be served when they were charged and brought in front of the entire Council. Their blood would not be on my hands. However, the blood of our entire species would be on theirs if we didn’t find Giles Giles and the Tinas.

“Thanks Zeernebooch. I’ll have to get back to you on that one,” I said, letting the idiots stew.

“As you wish,” he said as he offered me his box of candy. “Milk Dud?”

“Sure,” I said, popping one in my mouth.

“Not a problem. I have more where that came from,” he replied with a smirk.

“And where did that come from?” I asked, now wondering what the hell I’d just shoved in my mouth. At least it wasn’t Sadie’s poop in a diaper.

“I purloined all the candy from the vending machine in the lobby of this lovely building,” he admitted with a delighted grin.

“When?” I asked.

“A few minutes ago. I’m quite fast.”

Ignoring my desire to learn how he’d pilfered candy when I hadn’t seen him leave the room was hard but doable. We had far bigger issues.

“Okay,” Hank said, going over the files again. “We know who the Weres responsible are and we know who the Demon involved in the deaths is. But we’re still slightly fucked here.”

He was right. The information was good but useless if we didn’t have them in custody. If Clark and Jones had done their damned jobs, we wouldn’t be in this situation. But that was old news. Blame would accomplish nothing right now. We needed action. I just didn’t have a plan.

Thankfully Hank did. My beautiful man was brilliant.

“You’ve been trained to track. Correct?” he growled Clark and Jones.

“We have,” Clark confirmed, terrified to make eye contact with a furious Hank.

“Did you memorize the scents of those you were assigned to?” Hank went on.

“Affirmative—it’s part of the job,” Jones said.

“Then you’re gonna do a little tracking, boys. See if you can redeem yourselves,” Hank announced coldly. “Zeernebooch, you can send them someplace you’ve never been. Right?”

“Just need an address,” he replied, rubbing his hands together with glee.

“And they can survive a second transport?” I asked.

“Why do you care?” Jones hissed. “I’d think you’d be pleased if we perished.”

The anger came over me so quickly I couldn’t hold it back. The Vampyre blood in my system now owned me.

“Ohhhhh shit,” Zeernebooch squealed with delight as he popped more Milk Duds in his mouth and angled for the perfect view.

My eyes had gone Vampyre red and my hair blew wildly around my head. Clark and Jones looked like they wanted to piss themselves.

“You don’t know me, asswipes,” I snarled in a voice that sounded possessed even to my own ears. “If I wanted you dead, you would be dead. You feel me? I am not like you. I believe in my people and justice… and I do my job. You are sexist, worthless, arrogant losers. My mate is far kinder than I am and his ass is to die for. He’s giving you a second chance to dig your way out of the hell you’ve created by putting our kind in mortal danger. I was actually looking forward to watching the Bobs peel the skin off your bodies.”

“You go, guuuuurl,” Dwayne shouted.

Nodding to Dwayne, I continued. “So here’s the deal. You will transport to Alabama and search for the fugitives. You will be given till sundown. You will report to Reginald hourly. If we don’t hear from you, we will let the Dragons know that you’re fair game. Trust me, boys. You don’t want the Dragons on your asses. They make dealing with me look like child’s play.”

Clark and Jones bowed their heads in respect and assent. I didn’t like it. It was as old school as the rest of the antiquated WTF. However, some things would never change. Weres had been around for a very long time and habits were hard to break. If I could break their habit of treating women as second-class citizens, then I’d accomplished something. If they needed to bow, they could bow.

“I’ve got the address of the former compound,” Hank said, handing a piece of paper to Zeernebooch. “I’d suggest shifting as soon as you arrive, boys. Move fast and tie your cellphones to your necks before you shift. Junior Wilson and the Georgia pack will be in the area as well as the Dragons. He’s been made aware that you will be arriving shortly. Don’t fuck up. Pissed off Dragons are one thing. My pissed off brother is entirely another.”

“You people are so much fun! Soooo violent,” Zeernebooch gushed as he eyed the piece of paper. “Son, I need your help here. Let’s try to transport these douches without castrating them.”

“Shit,” Jones muttered, going as white as a ghost.

He’d played right into Zeernebooch’s happily evil hands.

“Can’t guarantee that the weenies won’t shrink in size… dramatically,” Belphegor said, doing his best to look and sound evil.

The use of the word weenie wasn’t exactly dastardly. He kind of failed, but Clark and Jones didn’t seem to notice.

“And can you do a counter spell so they don’t develop D cup mammaries, son?” Zeernebooch inquired.

“I think I remember it, but I’m not experienced enough to ensure that they won’t end up with five testicles and male patterned baldness,” Belphegor replied in a very serious tone.

Maybe he was a little bit evil… Clark and Jones were terrified. As gratifying as it was to watch them panic, it wasn’t conducive to them actually being ready for the mission.

“They’re shitting you,” I told them. “Your tiny weenies will be fine.”

The sighs of relief from the asses would have been comical if the situation wasn’t so dire.

“Party pooper,” Zeernebooch mumbled as he raised his arms over his head in preparation to send Clark and Jones to Alabama.

“Send them,” Hank said flatly. “The clock is ticking.”

In a blast of sparkling black magic, Clark and Jones disappeared.

“What do we do now?” Granny asked.

“We wait,” I said. “It sucks, but we wait. And Hank?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Ten works for me,” I whispered.

Hank stared at me like I was the most precious thing in his life. He certainly was the most precious thing in mine. I wanted to bring more beauty into this world. I wanted to make it better and I wanted our kind to live to see tomorrow. Nothing I could think of would be more important than a child of ours created in love. Nothing.

Hank’s smile made my heart melt. “We’ll get started on that tomorrow.”

“Promise?” I asked.

“I promise.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Waitin’ doesn’t feel right,” Granny said as she perused the selection of stolen candy—compliments of her deranged Demon.

I agreed with her assessment, but staying put was the smartest thing to do right now. With the Demon transport, we could be anywhere in the world within seconds. We’d be nauseous, but we’d be there. Splitting up was not the way to go. We were far stronger as a single unit.

“The Bobs are on their way back from California. The Witches wouldn’t strike a deal… thank God. However, we owe Red Lobster a hundred thousand dollars,” Reginald announced as he too chose some candy.

“That’s a lot of buttery seafood,” Zeernebooch commented as he dug into his third box of Milk Duds.

“Agreed,” Reginald said with a chuckle. “The Bobs have been appraised of the situation and commend both Essie and Hank.”

“That’s a joke, right?” I asked. Had Hell frozen over?

“Not at all. The bill was enormous, and the Bobs are pleased with what you and Hank have done thus far,” Reginald replied. “I believe the word they used was impressed.”

“Wait. You told them I’m on the WTF Council now?” Dwayne asked while twisting Belphegor’s dark hair into crazy little braids.

“Umm… no. I saved that tidbit so Essie could tell them in person. I was thinking it might be fun to video her speech.”

“Are you getting a sense of humor?” I asked my godfather. “Because it really sounds like you are.”

“Of course Reginald has a sense of humor,” Dwayne said with an appropriately sized eye roll. “He’s gay. All gay men have wonderful senses of humor. It’s a requirement.”

“I have to agree with my love,” Belphegor added with a giggle. “Reginald is simply a gruff ol’ teddy bear. I’d say he either needs to get laid or watch a Judy Garland marathon to loosen up.”

“Reginald is standing right here,” Reginald said with an eye roll that beat Dwayne’s by a long shot. “And yes. I have a sense of humor. I usually leave it at home. As far as my private life goes… it’s private. And a Judy Garland marathon is an outstanding idea. I officially invite you and Dwayne to spend an evening at my home for the viewing. As long as we’re still alive.”

“I’m already dead,” Dwayne said with a thumbs up. “So I’ll be there. Name the date and the place. I’ll even come dressed as Judy in her later years.”

“Just don’t ask him to sing,” I muttered, wondering how we could be talking about movies and eating candy when we might not see tomorrow. “We need a Plan B.”

“Essie’s right, there’s not much time and too many unknowns,” Hank said. “If Giles and the Tinas can’t be found we’re in trouble.”

“They can be found,” Zeernebooch said as he reached across the candy array and accidentally on purpose grazed Granny’s left traffic stopper.

“I see what you did there, Weiner Hooch,” Granny said, giving him the evil eyeball.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” the Demon lied and placed a little distance between him and the nutbag he was obsessed with.

“Next time you better give both girls the same attention,” she admonished him with a laugh. “If you play favorites with my knockers, you’re gonna lose another point.”

“My PLEASURE,” he bellowed as he seated himself even closer to Granny.

“Nope,” I told the two dummies. “There will be no public groping. And why are you so sure that Clark and Jones will find the fugitives?”

Zeernebooch tilted his head to the side and looked at me. “I don’t believe I said that Clark and Jones would find them. I said they could be found.”

“How?” Hank asked.

“Obizuth,” Zeernebooch replied with a shudder. “Since she has worked with them, she has most likely taken their souls. That’s a hobby of hers.”

“She sounds awesome,” Granny commented sarcastically. “A real fun gal.”

“Oh dear,” Belphegor said, sitting up and wringing his hands. “If we call on her, she can’t know about Pappy and Bobbie Sue.”

It was kind of difficult to take anything he said seriously since he had about thirty little braids sticking out of his head, but his expression was deadly serious.

“Why?” I asked.

“She’ll eat her,” Zeernebooch spat. “The disgusting wench from Hell hates me, but would rather die than see me happy.”

“Again, she sounds like a barrel of laughs,” Granny muttered.

“This is not a joke,” Zeernebooch insisted. “If we have to bring her in, you must act as if I’m a disgusting pig. Am I clear, Bobbie Sue of the fabulous traffic stoppers?”

“Not a problem,” she told him with a grin. “You are a disgusting pig.”

“Thank you,” he replied proudly.

“Welcome, Weiner Hooch.”

We all sat in silence for a bit as we considered this new plan of attack.

“How long do we give Clark and Jones before we go with the sucktastic Plan B?” I wondered aloud.

Again, there was silence. Calling on a vicious she-Demon could be the end of us all anyway. The choices were not stellar.

“Ohhh, Hell’s bells,” Belphegor said. “I don’t have her number. Do you?” he asked his Pappy.

“No, I don’t have her damned number. It’s taken me years of therapy to get over the fact that I poked the heinous hellbag in a drunken stupor,” Zeernebooch snapped.

Belphegor looked crestfallen. Zeernebooch immediately went to him and pulled him into a bear hug.

“Son, you are the only good thing that came out of that nightmare-inducing poke,” he said lovingly as he tried to stroke his son’s hair, only to get his fingers caught in the myriad of tiny braids. “At this point, I would rather lop my own majestic schlong off than poke that dog again, but I’m glad it happened once.”

“And I’m glad you didn’t let her kill me,” Belphegor told him, trying to help him dislodge his fingers from his hair. It took Dwayne’s intervention to separate them.

“Okay, that was really sweet in a weird way, but did I just hear that neither of you have Obizuth’s phone number?” I asked.

“Why do you need a phone number?” Reginald asked, perplexed. “Why can’t you simply summon the demonic hag?”

“Duuuude, you call yourself a Demon Hunter?” I asked, squinting at him in surprise. “Everyone knows that when you summon a Demon all you get is a pissed off ghost.”

“This is correct?” a shocked Reginald questioned the Demons.

“It is,” Belphegor said, smiling. “Everyone knows this.”

Reginald was silent as he digested the new information. He was dick-ish, but he was my Godfather. I couldn’t ride him like this.

“Fine,” I conceded with a laugh. “We just learned that tidbit. However, it’s true. And from the sounds of it, we don’t have a Plan B now if no one has Obizuth’s number.”

“Can Junior hack it from somewhere?” Hank asked.

Zeernebooch glanced over at Belphegor who was getting his braids repaired by Dwayne. “I suppose he could try,” he said. “But it would be a very long shot.”

“Pigeons,” I shouted, startling everyone. “Homing pigeons. If we can’t call her, we can send a pigeon to retrieve her.”

“Haven’t used a Pigeon since the late seventies,” Zeernebooch said. “Those bastards are violent and mouthy. Lost several fingers back in the day.”

“Homing pigeons talk?” Hank asked, confused.

“They’re actually Were Pigeons,” Belphegor said. “Very rare and very violent. Haven’t seen one in ages.”

My grin was so wide it hurt my cheeks. Hank’s eye met mine and he laughed. “You guys are in luck. I might just happen to know where the illusive Homing Pigeons live.”

“Do we need to transport?” Granny asked looking a little green.

“Nope. It’s a ten minute walk.”

“Lead on, leader,” Reginald said, standing and gathering up his bag and the files.

His praise gave me a rush of happiness. I was fearless when it came to the people I loved. I was definitely insane. But mostly, I was a leader. I was a leader who would save her people…

Or die trying.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Birdie shouted in an excited squeal as she hopped out of her golf cart and jogged over. She was wearing bright green coveralls and was a very welcome sight on this bright sunny morning that could turn out to be our last day breathing. “Was hoping I’d see you again!”

“Lookin’ good, Birdie,” I said with a wide grin.

“Right back at ya, Essie.”

Birdie’s laugh was musical and her tiny stature was adorable. However, she was one of the most deadly Weres I’d ever had the pleasure of knowing.

“Your name is Birdie?” Granny asked as she shook the delightful woman’s hand.

"You can laugh," she said with a put-upon sigh. "Everyone else does. My Mamma was a little out there and very literal—hence the name. My brother’s name is Chicken.”

“I like it,” Granny announced. “I’m Bobbie Sue, Essie’s Granny.”

“Pleased to meet ya,” Birdie said as a few more Pigeons joined the crowd.

I’d known Were Pigeons existed, but I'd never seen them until a year ago when they’d helped save our butts. There were only three known Packs of Were Pigeons in the world—Chicago, New York and London. In their Were form, they looked like Pigeons on steroids—about four times the size of a normal pigeon. However, the razor-sharp and unnaturally long fangs were a dead giveaway that they were not typical birds.

They lived openly, yet in total secret right in the Lincoln Park Zoo. In fact, they owned the Zoo and plenty of other real estate in the Chicago area. I’d made a deal with Birdie that I’d teach her to shoot if she taught me some of her insane moves. Sadly, I hadn’t had the time to take her up on it yet.

“While I’m hoping this is a social visit, I’m guessing it’s not from the company you’re keeping,” she said, eyeing the Demons with curiosity. “Is that you, Zeernebooch and Belphegor?”

“It is,” Zeernebooch said, bowing to Birdie.

Belphegor wasn’t as formal. He sprinted forward and wrapped the small women in a giant hug. The other Pigeons joined in and it was a literal Demon-Pigeon hug fest. Zeernebooch was even pulled into it, much to his mortification.

“Was wondering what happened to you big boys,” Birdie said, wiping a tear from her eye and slapping Zeernebooch in the head. “Missed ya and your evil asses.”

Weird was my normal. Never thought I’d see a Pigeon smack a Demon and live to tell about it. But Birdie was not a normal Pigeon—not even close.

“Alrighty then,” she said, pulling an industrial-sized street broom from the back of her golf cart. “It’s not every day that ya see Werewolves, Vampyres, Demons, and a Demon Hunter together. Is this about the deaths in the warehouse?”

“You know about that?” I asked. Again, thinking the Bobs should have been more subtle in their actions as far as guarding the place.

“Heard there were a bunch of Weres dead in there, but that’s about it,” she said as she began to beautify her park. “Is it true?”

I nodded and grabbed another broom. Hank grabbed some clippers and the rest of our group followed suit. Dwayne, Belphegor and Reginald took pruners and went to work on the flowers. Granny and Zeernebooch strapped on some leaf blowers and began to clean the walkways.

“It’s true, but there’s a lot more to it,” I told her as I swept the sidewalk alongside her.

“Spit it out, friend,” she said. “I’m guessing you need my help, so get me up to speed.”

I did.

She was shocked. And pissed.

“Break time!” Birdie shouted and then whistled so shrilly that I was sure I was now deaf in my right ear. “We have some business to discuss. Everyone follow me to the monkey cages.”

“Dear god,” Dwayne whispered with a laugh. “Monkey cages remind me of Sadie’s baby shower.”

“Word,” I said with a giggle. “At least we won’t be expected to eat anything.”

“So you want us to bring you Obizuth?” Birdie choked out with such distress my stomach started to hurt.

Exactly how bad was this particular Demon?

“Even Satan wants her eliminated, if the rumors are true,” Birdie’s brother, Chicken, shared with a shudder of repulsion.

Okay… she was really bad.

“They’re true,” Zeernebooch said, darkly. “Apparently, she destroyed Cinderella’s Castle in Disney World. Satan tried to smite her on the spot, but she escaped.”

“Heard about that,” Birdie said. “Too bad he didn’t get her. She’s some seriously bad business.”

“Obizuth is the one creating the Jazz Cabbage,” I said. “We’re not sure we can find the Weres who called on her. But we know she can find them.”

“And we need them so we can stop another outbreak,” Hank explained. “One more on this large scale and Weres are no longer a secret. The human authorities are already investigating. Our Dragon Seer, Seth, thinks we have twenty-four hours before everything goes to Hell in a handbasket.”

“Shee-ot,” Birdie muttered, looking worried. “So I’m not following about how we can help you fine yet insane people.”

“No one has Obizuth’s phone number,” Dwayne said.

Birdie digested this news silently. I heard several of the other Pigeons gulp loudly.

“We want to know if you would be willing to bring the hag to us,” Reginald said, stepping forward. “The WTF will be willing to pay a hefty sum for your services.”

“We don’t need money,” Birdie said. “We got all the money we need. Hell, we just keep giving it away. You can’t take that shit with ya.”

“What is it that you would like in return?” Reginald asked.

“I don’t rightly know,” she replied, glancing over at her comrades who just shrugged. “We live a pretty simple yet violent life here. We’re quite happy.”

“How about Were Pigeon representation on the WTF Council?” I offered as I heard Reginald groan and then sigh dramatically. “It’s about time that it wasn’t the Werewolf Treaty Federation anymore. It should be the Were Treaty Federation—all Weres.”

“I’d vote for a name that doesn’t mean what the fuck,” Birdie said with a chuckle.

“You are my kind of chick,” I shot back with a laugh. “I’m looking to add more women to the Council and I would be honored if you would consider it. Even if you choose not to go after Obizuth, the offer still stands.”

The Pigeons again exchanged glances. Slowly, Birdie smiled.

“I knew you were special, Essie McGee. I will accept your offer—all of it. But I want to go to the warehouse. If we’re bringing her back here, we’re gonna need some space. She likes to go big, if you get my drift. The less populated the better. Plus I need her signature to find her. You said she left a calling card?”

“Yep. There’s an O on the wall,” I said.

“That’s Obizuth,” Birdie growled. “Likes to take credit for her debauchery.”

“The warehouse isn’t too far,” I told her.

“We could transport,” Zeernebooch offered with a smirk.

“Hell to the NO,” Birdie said as she walloped him in the head again. “Transporting sucks all kinds of turds. We’ll fly.”

“Umm… most of us can’t fly,” I pointed out politely.

“We can. You just grab on and we’ll go! Pigeons, close down the Zoo today. We have an emergency mission.”

“On it,” they yelled and began to chirp like a flock on steroids.

It was all kinds of awesome and unsettling. I’d honestly rather walk, but I didn’t want to be rude. And anyway, flying with Pigeons had to be better than transporting with Demons.

Chapter Fifteen

Okay, I was wrong. Flying with the Pigeons was not better than transporting with the Demons. It sucked all kinds of butt.

I was sure I’d swallowed a hundred bugs and Birdie had neglected to tell us they liked to poop while flying. We were all a freakin’ mess. Well, all of us except Dwayne and Granny. As Vampyres, they had the gift of flight. I should have jumped on Granny’s back for the ride. Hindsight was 20-20… and, evidently also poop free.

“I’m wearing bird shit,” Zeernebooch announced, wrinkling his nose. “Not working for me.”

With a wiggle of his fingers and a blast of black glitter, we were all clean and spiffy. He’d even fixed my hair that had only moments ago looked like a bird’s nest—which was apropos considering the company we were keeping.

“Sweet bird feathers on fire,” Birdie said softly as she saw the piles of dead. “This is not right. These people need a proper burial. No one was meant to go on to the afterlife like this.”

She was right. I glanced over at Hank who nodded tightly.

“We’ll bury them when this is over,” I promised her. “We will take them back to Alabama and do it right.”

“Are they evidence?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears.

For being so violent, Birdie was a sensitive soul. But I understood. These victims were not bad guys. They were innocents who’d been led into a deadly trap.

“They’re not evidence anymore,” Hank told her. “We just haven’t had the time to do right by them yet.”

Birdie cleared her throat and swiped at her tears. “They were broken in life by that bastard Giles Giles and now they’re broken in death. They didn’t do anything except get born into the wrong pack. It’s a damned shame,” she whispered as she knelt down and gently placed a dismembered arm on top of a torso. “If they’re not evidence, do you mind if I let my flock take care of this? We can get them delivered back to Alabama in no time flat.”

“I’m getting emotional here,” Zeernebooch muttered with an eye roll. “I don’t really enjoy getting emotional.”

“That would be a lovely thing to do,” I said as I knelt down next to her and ignored the Demon’s discomfort.

She nodded and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her bright green coveralls. “Me and my brother Chicken will stay with you since you might need to call Obizuth. We’re the best there is as far as Demon retrieving. The rest of my flock will remove and bury the dead.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hank said softly, putting his hand on Birdie’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Reginald’s phone rang as Birdie signaled to her flock. Within five minutes, the warehouse was filled with at least a hundred Pigeons all dressed identically to Birdie and her brother, Chicken. They were swift and reverent as they placed the torn apart bodies in tarps and carefully loaded them into a Mack truck that had appeared at the back entrance of the warehouse.

“Don’t drive over the speed limit,” Birdie warned her people. “Getting pulled over with this load means explaining a lot of shit that can’t be explained.”

Chicken patted his sister’s back and addressed the flock. “About twenty-five of you fly ahead and watch for cops. The address has been put in the GPS. You know what to do when you get there.”

“We do,” the flock chirped, bowing their heads to both Birdie and Chicken.

“Be safe,” Birdie said. “Your leaders love and respect you.”

The Pigeons exchanged hugs and good wishes, and then they were gone. The entire removal had taken about an hour. Unreal.

“For such a violent species, they’re awfully lovey-dovey,” Zeernebooch commented as he watched Birdie hug the last to leave.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Belphegor said, sniffling.

“If I had bodily functions, I’d be sobbing,” Dwayne said, leaning on Belphegor.

“I feel better,” Birdie announced as she checked her watch for the time. “It’s noon. What the plan?”

“We’re waiting,” I told her. “We need to give the Dragons and the Werewolves time to see if they can find the missing pack, Giles Giles, and the Tinas.”

“Be a damned good thing if they could,” Chicken said. “Obizuth is not a demon that we really like to mess with.”

“Agreed,” Zeernebooch said. “She’s evil. And trust me, I know evil.”

“Clark and Jones just checked in,” Reginald said as he put his phone back into the breast pocket of his suit. “Nothing yet.”

“Are they onto anything?” I asked in frustration. With all the talk about how horrifying Obizuth was, I really wanted to avoid having to call her in. Clark and Jones finding the fugitives was our best bet at living till tomorrow.

“No. Not yet,” he replied, clearly texting the Bobs with the updates.

Shitshitshit.

“I’ve got Junior on the line,” Hank said, pressing his speakerphone so we could all hear.

“Goddurnit, it’s a ball-eatin’ shit show here in Alabama,” he bellowed through the line. “The Dragons have rounded up about a hundred and the Georgia pack has found about fifty.”

“Are they okay?” I asked, wondering about the state they’d been found in.

“Define okay,” Junior said with a snort of disgust. “All of ‘em are starving and disoriented—bags of bones. We’re trying to get some food in ’em, but they keep chattering about the next meeting point.”

“Meaning?” Hank demanded.

“Not quite sure,” Junior said. “Said they’re waitin’ for the word from their master for the next location to go to Paradise. Pretty dang fucked up if you ask me.”

“Oh my god,” I said as the bile rose in my throat. “Giles Giles is telling them that the Devil’s Lettuce is the path to Paradise. He’s killing his own people outright.”

“It’s like a farked up cult led by the scum of the earth,” Granny hissed. “The sumbitch isn’t just gonna kill his own pack. If he succeeds in revealing us, we’re all goin’ bye-bye.”

“Unacceptable,” Zeernebooch shouted. “I haven’t boned Bobbie Sue yet.”

“I’m a little bummed about that myself,” Granny admitted.

“There’s still time—to find them—not to get laid,” I clarified just in case Granny and Zeernebooch misunderstood and decided to go at it in public. I had to be positive even though I felt anything but.

“Once we find the bastard and his gal pals, I would be seriously delighted to deliver them to Satan,” Zeernebooch announced as his horns popped out. “He’s wonderful with punishment.”

“Understatement,” Belphegor said.

“Maybe,” I told Zeernebooch. “We have to find them first. Have you come across Clark and Jones?” I called out to Junior.

“ʼBout two hours ago,” he confirmed. “Those boys are on the hunt like their lives depended on it.”

“Their lives do depend on it,” I muttered, running my hands through my hair. “Could any of the Alabama pack tell you where the next meeting place is?”

“Nope,” Junior said. “But we’ll keep asking. We’ve got human FBI crawling around all over Alabama—kinda like they know something’s up. Avoiding ʼem is gettin’ dicey. Need to find the remaining fifty or so, but those crazy-assed Dragons will do it. Nicolai keeps going on about tacos. Think the boy has lost his mind. No matter though, he’s one hell of a motherhumpin’ bloodhound.”

I let myself smile for a brief moment. I, too, would love a taco. If that’s what it took to motivate Nicolai, then that was cool. I would do a lot for one of those tacos right now.

“Dwayne, can you send the Vampyre crew to Alabama?” Reginald asked, texting like a madman on his phone. “Seems like the FBI have been given some kind of heads up on a supernatural phenomenon. We will need some massive mind-wiping there.”

“On it,” Dwayne said, pressing his fingers to his temples and levitating all the way to the top very high ceiling.

As he chanted in a melodic tune, crystals of silver magic rained down over us. The formerly blood encrusted floor now looked like it was in a castle for a princess. The more he chanted the more magical the warehouse became. I closed my eyes and let Dwayne’s enchantment surround and comfort me.

“Done,” my BFF said as he floated back down to solid ground. “They’re quite excited and I was very clear that the FBI is not on the snack list.”

“Excellent,” Reginald said with a wince.

“No worries,” Dwayne assured him. “Much to my horror, I’m their father-in-law even though some of the sons of bitches are older than me. Luckily, I terrify them. It’s wonderful.”

“Good work,” Granny said, giving Dwayne a kiss on the cheek. “You’re such a good boy.”

“What about me?” Belphegor asked, pointing to his own cheek with a giggle.

Granny didn’t disappoint. She gave Belphegor a sweet peck on the cheek. “You’re a good boy too.”

“And me?” Zeernebooch inquired, going to unzip his pants for his smooch. “Am I a good boy?”

“Stop,” I shouted. “Do not pull your wiener out. Do you understand me?”

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, completely oblivious to his almost pornographic blunder.

“Umm… you almost lost a point, Weiner Hooch,” Granny said, smacking him on the right side of the head as Birdie snacked him on the left.

“For the love of everything illegal,” he bellowed as he ducked the next round of smacks. “I just don’t understand the rules here.”

“Clearly,” I muttered, relieved not to be treated to the Zeernebooch Schlong Show. There was only so much I could take.

“What the ever-lovin’ hell is goin’ on there?” Junior asked with a laugh.

“You don’t want to know,” Hank told his brother. “Keep the line open, Junior. Let me know when you find the others and if anyone is clued into the next meeting place.”

“That would save some time and lives,” Birdie said with her hand still raised to belt Zeernebooch if he got out of line again. “If we could ambush the bastards this would be over quick.”

“Is that you Birdie?” Junior asked.

“Sure is, boy! How ya doing?” she said with a warm smile on her lips.

“Been better,” Junior replied with a humorless laugh. “But dang happy that you’re on the team.”

“Honored to be a part of it. You on for gaming next week?” she asked.

“You bet your feathered butt I am,” Junior shouted. “Don’t go gettin’ killed. I plan to win your money next Tuesday. You hear me, Pigeon?”

“I hear ya, Werewolf,” she shot back with a laugh. “Good luck on getting a penny out of me, sucker.”

Junior’s belly laugh bounced through the cavernous room. His joy was like a light in a very dark tunnel.

“All right, I’m out, Bro-bro. I’ll keep you posted and you do the same.”

“Will do,” Hank said, smiling despite the tension he was feeling.

“Soooo, what do we do now?” Birdie asked.

“We wait,” I said, pulling on my hair in frustration. “We wait to see if Clark and Jones come through. At least we’re finding the pack. Even if another Jazz Cabbage shit show was planned for tonight, Giles Giles won’t be able to murder his own people.”

“How long we gonna wait?” Granny asked as she took Zeernebooch’s hand in hers.

I was just glad to see that his fly was zipped.

The Demon was positively ecstatic to be holding hands. He had it bad for my granny and it was looking like she had it bad for him. For a brief moment, I wondered again why my mother had spared Zeernebooch’s life. It didn’t matter, but I was sure as hell glad she did. I’d never seen Granny so happy.

And the wait began.

Chapter Sixteen

1:00 p.m.

Twenty-five more members from the Alabama pack had been found.

Twenty-five were still missing.

The Vampyres were in Alabama.

Clark and Jones still hadn’t found a thing.

We waited.

And waited.

And waited…

Chapter Seventeen

3:00 p.m.

All the Werewolves from the Alabama Pack had been found and were safe.

No word as to where the meeting place to go to Paradise was.

Nicolai let Hank know that he owed him the taco joint.

Hank was delighted to have to shell out for it.

Clark and Jones briefly thought they had found the fugitives.

They were wrong. It was a dead end.

We considered sending Birdie to retrieve Obizuth.

Sundown wasn’t until around 9:00 PM.

We decided to give Clark and Jones another few hours.

We waited.

And waited.

And waited…

Chapter Eighteen

5:00 p.m.

Zeernebooch had been belted at least twenty times by Birdie and Granny for inappropriate behavior.

The Demon lost ten points but gained them back by providing dinner.

Apparently, he stole the meal.

He lost a few points for that but we ate it anyway. We were hungry.

The Alabama pack didn’t know where the meeting place was.

Said they were waiting for their master to send a message to them telepathically.

Junior was sure it had to be somewhere in Alabama since that’s where the entire pack had been found.

The Vampyres had snacked on one FBI agent. He wasn’t dead but Dwayne was pissed.

Jones and Clark were still searching.

The Bobs were due back in a few hours.

We waited.

And waited.

And waited…

Chapter Nineteen

7:00 p.m.

Zeernebooch had lost a few more points and was suffering a headache from being smacked repeatedly. He deserved it.

Tension was so high it was palpable.

The Vampyres had gone into high gear. There were hundreds of FBI agents in the area.

Jones and Clark missed their hourly report to Reginald.

They were either on the trail of Giles Giles and the Tinas or something had happened to them.

We were fucked.

Sunset was approximately two hours away.

It was time to call the Obizuth.

No more waiting.

Shit.

Chapter Twenty

“You can really do this without knowing where the Obizuth is?” I asked nervously as I watched Birdie touch the wall that the O and the initials were on.

“I can,” she said, tightly. “Bobbie Sue, am I in the right spot?”

“Let me help you,” Granny said as she took Birdie’s hand in hers and traced the Pigeon’s fingers over the O.

“Got it,” Birdie said, paling a bit.

“How long do you think it will take?” Hank asked, pinning Birdie with a concerned stare.

“An hour,” she said flatly.

“She’s that close?” Zeernebooch asked.

Birdie laughed and shook her head. Chicken joined his sister.

“My sister can fly over a thousand miles an hour,” Chicken explained. “Her landings are a bit iffy at that speed, but she’s a sight to see… or not see.”

“Yep,” Birdie said with pride. “I zip along so fast it’s impossible for the human eye to spot me. And it takes a Were with super-duper vision to be able to see even a hint of me. But that’s not even the real kicker.”

She was grinning from ear to ear. It was contagious. We were all now grinning—even Reginald.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What the kicker?” I asked.

“Chicken can fly two thousand miles an hour! And his landings don’t suck,” she crowed.

Chicken blushed and gently punched his sister in the shoulder. “My landings do suck and you know it.”

“Call me Crazy,” Zeernebooch began.

“Crazy,” we all shouted in unison.

The Demon rolled his eyes and laughed. “Anyhoo, as I was saying before I was interrupted, why isn’t Chicken going if he’s faster?”

“You don’t know much about Homing Pigeons, do ya?” Birdie asked. “And ya should, ya idiot. You used our services for centuries.”

“Umm…” Zeernebooch was at a loss.

Thankfully Belphegor wasn’t crazy. “Pappy, the faster Pigeon always stays behind so Chicken can get to Birdie if the plan to Obizuth changes.”

“That’s freakin’ incredible,” I said with complete admiration for my brilliant feathered friends. “So if Clark and Jones aren’t dead—which I hope they’re not even though they’re assholes—we can get to you if the fugitives are found? Like before you retrieve Obizuth?”

“In theory, yes,” Chicken replied, tracing the O so he too had the Demon’s signature. “It’s saved us quite a few times.”

“Amazing,” Hank said. “I’d love to take a ride on a Pigeon going two thousand miles an hour.”

“Duuuuude,” I said, gaping at the love of my life. “You’re crazy.”

“Nope,” Hank shot back with a crooked grin that made me melt. “Zeernebooch is crazy. I’m hot.”

“I’m hot, too,” Zeernebooch protested.

“You are,” Granny told him with a wink. “I’ll do ya as soon as you earn enough points.”

“Aaaaand we’ll stop right there,” I said. “This conversation is over.”

“But I am hot,” Zeernebooch whispered, having to get the last word in.

He was worse than a two-year-old—an obnoxious, ancient two-year-old… with horns.

“Let’s do this,” Birdie said, hugging her brother tight.

“I’ve got your back, Sis,” he said. “Obizuth is a vicious one, but remember she has no choice but to come if she’s been called. Do not let her play you.”

“Been around the block a few times,” Birdie said, grinning at her concerned brother. “Line up everyone. I’m taking hugs from all of ya. That’s the Pigeon way!”

“She’s serious?” Reginald asked.

“Completely,” I said, yanking him into the hug line. “Time to loosen up, dude.”

“I suppose I can do that,” he said with a small smile. “This has to be the strangest day in my long life. I’m enjoying it.”

“If you’re enjoying this, you really need to get out more,” I said. “When today is over and we’re still alive—which we will be—you’re coming to Hung, Georgia. You can see my parents. And Dwayne is a fabulous drag queen. He does three shows a week and Granny pole dances.”

“She means strips,” Granny cut in with a cackle. “Essie is trying to make my hobby sound socially acceptable.”

“There will be no more stripping for anyone but me once I properly bone you, Bobbie Sue,” Zeernebooch informed my Granny.

“Lost a point, jackhole,” Granny snapped, glaring at her demonic boyfriend.

“But…” he went on.

“Lost another,” she informed him.

“If I say you can strip do I earn them back?” he asked in a panic, trying to make sense of the rules.

“Possibly,” she said.

“Umm… can I maim all the men who ogle your traffic stoppers?” he inquired.

“We can discuss that at a later date,” Granny said, taking Birdie in her arms and hugging her.

“You stay away from Zeernebooch when Obizuth arrives,” Birdie told Granny. “If she catches wind that Zeernebooch wants you, she’ll eat you.”

“No one will eat Bobbie Sue except me when I earn enough of these elusive points. And she will love it. I’m very talented at oral,” Zeernebooch roared as his horns popped out and bursts of black magic exploded around him.

And yet again, the Demon had appalled all of us to silence.

“What?” he asked, looking alarmed. “Did I say something bad?”

“Umm… yes. Really bad,” Belphegor told him, biting down on his lip so he didn’t laugh. “Maybe you might want to try the silent game for a while.”

“Ohhhhh,” Zeernebooch said, protecting his jewels with his hands just in case Granny racked him. “You mean the one where I don’t say anything… at all… for at least ten minutes?”

“Yep, that’s the one, Pappy,” Belphegor confirmed.

“I can do that,” he replied, making the international zip the lip motion.

“Hug me, you big dummy,” Birdie said, putting her arms around the silent Zeernebooch. “Bobbie Sue is a good one. You deserve a little happiness. Don’t fuck it up.”

Zeernebooch said nothing as he was playing the silent game, but nodded his head spastically.

“Be safe,” I whispered in Birdie’s ear when it was my turn to hug her. “I adore you.”

“I’ve got this, Sugar,” she said, cupping my cheek. “You people just be ready. Have you banished a Demon lately?” she asked Reginald.

“Last week,” he replied with a raised brow. “Godspeed, Birdie. I will be ready for the Demon when she arrives.”

With one last group hug, Birdie took off like a bullet out of a gun. She was right. I couldn’t even see her.

“Guess we’re waitin’ again,” Granny said.

“I guess we are,” I replied.

Although, now we were waiting on a Demon.

The game had changed. And the rules were unknown.

“Any word from Clark or Jones?” I asked as I looked at my watch.

Birdie had been gone for twenty minutes. It had been the longest twenty minutes of my life.

“No,” Reginald said tersely, going through the items in his bag as Zeernebooch and Belphegor stayed a healthy distance away.

“Umm… there’s no chance that you could banish Zeernebooch and Belphegor when you do the voodoo on Obizuth… is there?” I asked, wondering exactly what a Demon Hunter did.

“No,” Reginald said, looking up from his bag. “Not a chance.”

The sighs of relief from the two Demons in the room made me smile, but my smile didn’t last long. Chicken paced the room incessantly, waiting for his sister’s safe return. I was starting to feel ill that I’d sent her on the mission. If something happened to her, I would never forgive myself.

Hank’s phone rang.

And all hell broke loose.

“You’re kidding,” he shouted into the phone. “When? How?”

He was silent as he listened to Junior talk a mile a minute. I wanted to tell him to hit speakerphone, but his expression was so intense I stayed quiet.

“How long? All of them?”

Again, he waited.

Again, Junior had a lot to say.

“Great work, man. I love you.”

“What?” I yelled as Hank let his head fall back on his shoulders and he let out a whoop of relief.

“They’ve got them,” he said and then froze. “Chicken. Go. Go. GO! Bring Birdie back. We don’t need Obizuth. Clark and Jones found Giles and the Tinas. They are on their way right now.”

Chicken didn’t wait to hear more. In less than a second, he’d shifted and was out of the warehouse with such speed that we all got blown over by his tailwind.

Crawling back to my feet, I felt my heart pounding in my ears. Could it really be over? Could it be this easy?

“Are they driving?” I asked.

“Nope,” Hank said, pacing like a madman in his excitement. “The Dragons are flying them as we speak. They should be here in ten minutes.”

“Why were we just now notified?” Reginald demanded, confused. “To arrive in ten minutes, they’d have to have been flying for about fifty.”

“Correct,” Hank confirmed. “When Giles and the Tinas realized the gig was up, they shifted right in front of about fifty FBI agents. Well, Giles didn’t shift. That was taken from him, but the Tinas did. There were cameras and videos taken.”

“Oh shit,” Dwayne said. “Were my sons-in-law on hand?”

“Yep, but it was a shit show. About twenty in the Georgia pack got shot with tranq guns and several with bullets—thankfully not silver. They’ll be fine.”

“Thank Jesus Hesus,” I muttered. “Did the Vamps mind-wipe all the agents?”

“That was part of the issue,” Hank explained. “As soon as they realized what was happening, the Feds scattered. Took a bit to round them up. Hence the late call.”

“Since my ten minutes are up, can I ask a question?” Zeernebooch inquired.

“Ask,” I said, as I joined Hank in his pacing.

“Do we have a plan or are we winging it?” he asked.

“Half and half,” I told him. “I want to question them, but we’re going to turn them over to the Council for punishment.”

“But you’re Council,” Zeernebooch pointed out. “I say kill them.”

I paused and glanced over at Hank. We were Council. And by all rights, we could kill them. The question was… should we?

“No,” I said slowly. “No. We need to know everything so this never happens again. We need to figure out how they were able to go off the radar so easily. I don’t like Clark or Jones, but they are damned good agents—or they used to be.”

Hank nodded and put his strong arm around my shoulders. “Essie is right. If there’s a hole in the system, or if it was Clark and Jones’ arrogance, we need to know. Killing them will leave us with unanswered questions. That is unacceptable.”

“Can we at least rough them up a bit?” Dwayne asked.

“Oh, absolutely,” I agreed immediately.

The applause was unnerving. Mostly because it came from behind us and I hadn’t realized anyone else had entered the warehouse.

“What the…” I shouted as I spun around the prepared to go apeshit on the intruders.

“Hello, Essie. Hank… and the rest of you,” Bob Harold said. “Your people skills have improved.”

“Not really,” I said, eyeing them cautiously. “I can prove I’m still lacking in the skills department if you happen to have some cheese on you.”

“Sorry,” Bob Hiram said, with the merest whisper of a smile. “No cheese.”

“We will be taking the fugitives in for questioning when they arrive,” Bob Herm informed me. “You’ve done excellent work.”

“You have seafood butter on your lip, dude,” I told him. “And just to clear the air with everyone present so you don’t go off on my ass… Dwayne and Birdie are now Council members.”

I’d shocked the Bobs to silence. It was awesome.

“Since when?” Bob Herm choked out.

“Since today when they put it on the line to help us,” I shot back, waiting for the smackdown to begin. “And just as a reminder… I know your real names.”

Strangely, the smackdown didn’t happen and I didn’t think it was because I knew their names. The old farts were clearly ready to change with the times. The Bobs were every kind of freaky and weird, but they knew what they were doing. I knew in my gut they would question Giles Giles and the Tinas within an inch of their soon-to-be-over lives. Honestly, it was a relief. I wanted to go home. I wanted to crawl in bed with Hank and start working on our ten little Werewolves. I wanted normal even it was only for a little while.

“I’ll be wearing a dress and bringing my husband to my induction,” Dwayne announced grandly. “A strapless dress because my collar bones are simply to die for.”

“Wait, we’re getting married?” Belphegor asked with wide eyes. “How did I miss this?”

“Oh shit,” Dwayne shouted and smacked himself in the head. “It was going to be a surprise. I’m such an idiot.”

Dwayne then smiled at the man of his dreams and got down on one knee. Belphegor squealed and began to cry—happy tears. Zeernebooch rolled his eyes.

“I have loved you for centuries, Belphie. And now that you’re out of the closet, I want to make an honest Demon out of you. Living forever gets lonely. It wasn’t until Essie came into my life and gave me a real family that I even knew what I was missing.”

Belphegor was now screaming with excitement and jumping up and down like a child on Christmas morning.

“You won’t just be marrying me,” Dwayne went on, smiling with a joy I’d never seen on his beautiful face. “We have eight Were Cow daughters and eight Vampyre asshole sons-in-law, but those fuckers don’t count.”

“Do I answer now?” Belphegor asked in a high-pitched screech.

“Not done yet,” Dwayne said.

“Of course he’s not,” Granny said with a smile. “He’s Dwayne.”

“This reminds me of the time I went naked skydiving with twelve Amish break dancers. It was glorious and almost everyone survived. Clem was seriously drunk and never pulled the cord. It was a hot mess. But that’s not the important part.”

“I certainly hope not,” Reginald muttered.

“The important part is that jumping out of a plane naked with a dozen drunk and hairy Amish was terrifying. Ohhh, and on a side note, I taught all eleven survivors to manscape later that day. But I digress… On that fateful day, I was sure I felt my dead heart beating. Hurtling through the sky with the Amish can do that to a man. I never felt my heart beat again until the day I met you. Belphie, you make my dead heart beat as much as a dead heart can beat. And you’re far more appealing to look at than a hairy Amish break dancer. Will you marry me?”

“YES!” Belphegor screamed and laid a kiss on Dwayne that was so full of love and adoration my eyes started to water.

Dwayne was finally gonna get his wedding. His daughters had eloped and my wedding was a quickie, much to my BFF’s disappointment. However, now he was going to get his very own. Today had turned out to be a great day after all.

“Incoming,” Granny yelled as Dima and Nicolai in full Dragon form busted through the ceiling of the warehouse with passengers on their backs.

Six were expected. Two were not.

“Everyone clear,” Hank shouted as the Dragons landed, kicking up all the silver magic Dwayne had created earlier.

The three Tinas and Giles Giles were bound in silver and had clearly been roughed up already. They were pretty much knocking on death’s door, but they could clearly still speak as they were hissing and cursing up a storm.

“You fuckers are gonna pay,” Giles Giles grunted. “The world knows about Shifters now. You’re all gonna die like pigs.”

“It’s YOU,” Tina #1 hissed, staring daggers at me. “I despise you.”

“Feeling’s very mutual,” I replied tonelessly.

“You ruined our lives,” Tina #2 hissed so viciously she had spittle all over her face.

“Pretty sure you did that all on your own,” I shot back, not feeling an ounce of sympathy for any of them.

“We’re out of here,” Dima said and then snarled at the bound idiots. “We’re needed back in Alabama. Cool?”

“Cool,” I told my gorgeous Dragon buddy.

“You own me that taco joint, asshole. Go buy it,” Nicolai said to Hank with a huge grin, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.

“Tomorrow, my man. Tomorrow the taco joint will be yours,” Hank replied with a joyous laugh.

The Dragons left the same way they’d arrived but without passengers.

“You’re all gonna DIE,” Giles Giles continued his rant.

In perfect symmetry, the Bobs approached the evil pieces of crap. All four sets of eyes went wide with terror. The Bobs’ reputation preceded them. They’d earned it.

“You will shut your mouths,” Bob Harold said in a tone that made the hair on my neck stand up.

“You will speak when you are spoken to,” Bob Herm added with a smile so benign it was positively horrifying. “And you will answer each and every question. Am I making myself clear?”

They nodded mutely.

“You see,” Bob Hiram said pleasantly. “If you play nice… justice will be swift. And if you don’t…”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. I didn’t even want to hear the rest of that sentence.

“Clark and Jones,” Bob Harold said. “Take these sacks of shit back to headquarters. Place them in lockdown. We will be there shortly.”

Clark and Jones looked worse for the wear as well, but they were alive and they’d come through in the end. It didn’t make me like them any better, but I respected them now. They would have to earn my affection. I wasn’t so sure that was possible.

“Yes, sir,” Clark said as he yanked Giles Giles up and Jones grabbed the Tinas.

They both gave Hank and me respectful nods and we returned the gesture. Pomp and circumstance would never die in our world.

The guards surrounding the building came in as if they’d been called. Hell, they probably had been. The Bobs had tricks up their sleeves that I would never know. The fugitives were loaded into a van and driven away. It was seriously anticlimactic.

However, that was a good thing.

The surprise guests smiled as they walked directly toward me.

“Mom. Dad,” I said shaking my head. “Why are you here?”

My mom grinned and shrugged. “Heard you might be calling a Demon to you and we thought you could use a hand.”

“Annie. John,” Reginald said, moving forward and staring at them in awe. “I …”

“Reginald,” my mom said, opening her arms to the man that had been so important to them so many years ago. I mean, they did ask him to be my grouchy godfather, for the love of everything weird.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” Reginald said as he laid his head on my mom’s shoulder and reached out to my dad.

“Actually, we have,” my dad said, shooting a look to the Bobs. “But it does my heart good to see you.”

“Reggie’s got Essie’s head in his drawer,” Dwayne gushed to my confused parents. “You’re gonna LOVE it!”

“And on that strange note, we shall take our leave,” Bob Harold said.

“Wait,” I called out as the three mysterious men walked across the warehouse. “What are you going to do the Giles Giles and the Tinas?”

I didn’t want to know… and yet I did. Maybe. Kind of.

“Nothing,” Bob Herm said.

“Nothing?” Hank snapped. “You’re going to let them go free?”

“I don’t believe I said anything about them going free,” he replied coldly.

“But you said you’re not going to do anything to them,” I said, in shock.

“Do you really want to know, Essie?” Bob Hiram inquired.

“Umm…yes?” I whispered.

“After they have answered all of our queries satisfactorily, they will be given a dose of their own medicine.”

“Not following,” I said, wondering why the Bobs always had to be so dang cryptic.

With the minimum amount of movement needed, Bob Herm reached into his ever-present briefcase and pulled out the bag of Devil’s Lettuce. “As I said, we won’t have to do anything. They will take care of it themselves.”

Why did I ask? When would I learn to leave well enough alone? Never. That’s when.

“So as I said,” Bob Herm continued. “We do nothing. They will perish the very same way they murdered their own. Poetic, I think. Don’t you?”

I couldn’t speak, so I gave them a small curt nod instead.

“Have a lovely evening,” Bob Harold called out as they exited the building.

“And I thought I was evil,” Zeernebooch muttered.

“You are, Weiner Hooch,” Granny told him.

“Thank you,” he replied.

“Welcome.”

“So are we out of here?” Dwayne asked.

“Sure, go home,” I told him. “I’m gonna wait for Birdie and Chicken to get back.”

“We’ll see you in a few days,” Hank said. “Everybody get out of here.”

“Sooooo, Bobbie Sue, how am I doing in the points department?” Zeernebooch inquired as he put his arm out for Granny to take it.

“I’d say as long as your springin’ for an expensive dinner, your odds are pretty damned good for gettin’ boned tonight.”

“EXCELLENT!” Zeernebooch shouted.

And then in the blink of an eye, the best day ever turned into the very worst day of my life.

I should have known. Nothing was ever that easy.

Chapter Twenty-One

Chicken blasted through the sidewall of the warehouse like a bomb. Enormous steel girders fell from the ceiling and the entire building swayed ominously. Plaster and metal flew as did every single person in the room.

Pulling a long sharp piece of metal from my thigh, I struggled to stand and make sure everyone had survived the blast.

“Roll call,” I shouted, waving my hands to clear the dust storm that made the warehouse seem like a tornado had ripped through it.

“Chicken. Shift back. NOW,” Hank bellowed as he pulled heavy steel off of my parents and Reginald. “NOW.”

With a loud pop of orange magic, Chicken shifted back to human form.

“Roll call,” I yelled again. “Need to know if everyone is okay.”

“Reginald and your dad are okay. I’m not too bad either,” my mom said with a pained chuckle as Hank checked her over for injury.

“I’m good,” Granny choked out. “Zeernebooch is buried here though.

“I’m fine,” he grunted in a muffled voice as he dug himself out.

“I’m good,” Dwayne shouted. “If you can call a one-armed Vampyre good. How am I supposed to get married with one damned arm? It will completely ruin the line of the dress.”

“It’ll grow back in ten minutes,” I told him with a small giggle that was in direct contrast to everything around us. Leave it to Dwayne’s vanity to bring a little levity to a deadly explosion.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, staring with dismay where his arm used to be. “It’s just that I’ve had that arm for a hundred and fifty years.”

“I’m okay,” Belphegor said, helping a shaken Dwayne to his feet. “Didn’t see that one coming.”

“Chicken. Speak,” Dwayne said, holding the Pigeon still with inhuman effort.

Chicken’s eyes were wild and he kept glancing behind him. “Birdie already found the bitch. On their way.”

“Here?” I asked, digging through the rubble to help my mom and dad find the bags they’d brought. They were similar to the bag Reginald had and I was fairly sure we were going to need the items inside.

“When?” Reginald asked tersely. “How far out?”

“Minutes—maybe five—ten at the most,” Chicken gasped. “I intercepted them and then turned around and flew back to warn you. It’s not good.”

“Why?” Hank ground out.

“The Demon you called on is pissed. Blowing black fire—very bad. Obizuth knows about her,” he said, dropping to his knees in exhaustion. “Get Bobbie Sue out. Please.”

“Granny, GO,” I shouted in a panic. “Fly your scrawny ass out of here.”

“How in the hell could she know?” Granny growled. “Don’t make sense.”

“Chipped. The boy was chipped with a device during some kind of gay-con—or that’s what I think I heard. Obizuth knows everything,” Chicken explained, looking around the warehouse in mortification. “Sorry about the landing, friends. Didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

“We’re fine,” Zeernebooch snapped as he grabbed his son and began to chant over him.

Glistening black magic joined the dust and debris floating in the air. Belphegor immediately repeated his father’s demonic chant. The sound of their two voices in tandem was macabre, beautiful and frightening.

“Back up,” Reginald warned. “Give them room.”

He didn’t have to ask twice.

The chanting became frantic. Father and son held intense eye contact. It was bizarrely loving, but I was certainly glad I wasn’t a Demon. Weres didn’t love quite as violently. Zeernebooch growled a spell that caused the floor underneath us to shake. Belphegor screeched in a deafening pitch and jerked forward like a rag doll in agony. Zeernebooch placed his clawed hand on his son’s shoulder and ripped through his skin like it was paper. Blood spurted everywhere. Belphegor gritted his teeth and took it.

Mentally, I took back every time I’d called Belphegor a weenie. He was not a weenie—at all.

Dwayne’s scream of fury was only muffled by the fact that Granny and I tackled his ass to the ground before he could attack Zeernebooch. “Down, boy,” Granny hissed in his ear as he fought us like an animal. “Has to be done.”

“Found it,” Zeernebooch said as he ground the homing chip to dust between his claws and gently held his bleeding son in his arms. “Reginald is correct. Bobbie Sue must leave.”

“Nope. Not leaving you,” Granny said. “If we’re gonna poke together, we’re gonna fight together.”

“As much as that warms my black heart and makes my Roger quite jolly, you have to go, woman,” Zeernebooch commanded, sounding every bit a Demon. “Belphegor and Dwayne will go with you. If the bitch has been listening in, she will eat both my boy and his boyfriend as well.”

“She’s a sick motherhumper,” I muttered, pushing Granny towards the door.

“Correct,” Zeernebooch snarled. “She clearly already knows that her conversion therapy didn’t take on the boy.”

“Pappy, I’m gay. It’s who I am. I was born this way.”

Zeernebooch rolled his eyes. “I know that. You know that. The hell-hag doesn’t. You were born gay and I was born with a tremendous schlong. Facts are facts. Conversion will not change your sexual preference or the size of my rod. You should be as proud that you like dick as I am of my dick size.”

For the briefest of moments, I forgot we were in danger of dying. Zeernebooch had one hell of a gift.

“Go, Mom,” my mother told Granny. “We’ve got this.”

“Can’t Zeernebooch kill her?” I asked, growing uneasy that my parents were going to be the front line of defense.

“Demons can’t destroy other Demons,” Reginald said as he pulled salt, candles and crystals from his bag. “It’s why Demon Hunters were created.”

“Dude, have you been cruising the internet?” I asked, unable to believe the crap he was yanking out of his bag. “That shit doesn’t work.”

With a quick and expert eye roll, Reginald kept working. “These are the tools to banish a Demon—not summon one.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Zeernebooch asked in surprise. “How did I not know this?”

“You’re far too obsessed with your pecker to notice much,” Reginald said as he gestured to my parents.

“That might be true,” Zeernebooch surmised thoughtfully. “Are you going to sacrifice something or someone?”

“No,” Reginald said flatly. “That’s unnecessary. However, if you’d like to volunteer, I’d be more than happy to sacrifice you.”

“Umm… no. I’m good,” Zeernebooch replied, backing away. “However, it’s time for Bobbie Sue, Belphegor and Dwayne to leave.”

“Say please, Weiner Hooch,” Granny called over her shoulder as she slowly meandered across the warehouse.

At the pace she was walking, it was like she had no intention of leaving at all. If she wasn’t out of here in one minute, I was going to kick her Scrabble lovin’ ass.

“Please,” Zeernebooch said, blowing a kiss to his love. “Please.”

But it was too late.

Time was up.

Obizuth had arrived and the inevitable shit show hit the proverbial fan.

The explosion of her arrival could probably be seen for miles. Thankfully the warehouse was located in a fairly deserted area on the outskirts of Chicago. But with this shit show, we could end up being revealed even without the help of Giles Giles and the Tinas.

“What an unpleasant and fortuitous surprise,” Obizuth hissed like a poisonous snake as she landed in a ring of black fire and tossed Birdie across the room with a flick of her finger. “Who knew that providing Devil’s Lettuce to some imbeciles would lead to such a delightful reunion?”

She was stunningly beautiful on the outside, but her insides were rotten. Her golden eyes and dark hair matched that of Zeernebooch and Belphegor, but her attitude and demeanor were straight from the bowels of Hell.

“This was a mistake,” Zeernebooch growled. “You may leave. You are not wanted here, Demon.”

“There are no mistakes, lover,” she said, scanning the room with her glowing demonic eyes. “Everything happens for a reason.”

“There’s never a reason to kill newborn children,” I snapped before I knew I’d spoken. Oh well, couldn’t take it back now.

Her head whipped to me so fast I felt slightly dizzy. I stood my ground and glared at her. She was freakin’ terrifying, but for some completely insane reason I wanted a go at her.

“It’s fun,” she purred, looking me up and down and baring her sharp fangs. “What’s your name, pretty little thing?”

The dark magic inside me roared to the surface. Right now I was very happy that violent Vampyre blood raced through my veins. I tamped the power down with an effort I didn’t know I was capable of. If I could do that with my power, what else could I do? Seemed I was about to find out. Seeing Granny almost die once was enough for me. I wasn’t going to see it again—at least, not today.

“My name is Bobbie Sue,” I said, lifting my middle finger to the hag and hoping like hell that my parents and Reginald were indeed skilled Demon Hunters.

“Fuuuuuck,” I heard Hank swear as he quickly appeared at my side. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Debatable,” I said, keeping my eyes glued to Obizuth.

“Actually, my name is Bobbie Sue,” Dwayne said, shoving Granny into a corner and joining Hank and me.

“Guys, quit fooling around,” my mom said with a light laugh. “My name is Bobbie Sue.”

Her hands were deep in the pockets of her jacket. Her voice may have sounded carefree, but her eyes told an entirely different story. My mom was a freakin’ badass.

“Do I know you?” she demanded of my mother, staring at her askance. “You look somewhat familiar to me.”

“Can’t say we’ve been formally introduced,” my mom shot back without an ounce of fear in her tone. “It’s quite the displeasure to meet you this evening.”

Narrowing her eyes, Obizuth shrugged and laughed. “No worries. I’m hungry. If all of you claim to be this Bobbie Sue whore-slut then so be it. I’ll eat all of you.”

“None of them are Bobbie Sue,” Birdie said, stepping out in front of all us. “I’m Bobbie Sue. You will deal with me.”

And that about said it all. We were all insane and all willing to die for each other. I loved every person in this room except for the vicious hell-hag in the center of the fire ring.

“Hang on a second,” Granny shouted as she marched out of her corner and right up to the edge of the fire surrounding Obizuth. “What in the ever-lovin’ hell did you just call me, you glowing hussy?”

Obizuth’s nightmare-inducing cackle bounced through the warehouse and she pointed a razor-sharp claw at Granny. “And the real Bobbie Sue finally stands up. To answer your question, I called you a whore and a slut.”

“Well, now,” Granny began with a wide smile. “That’s just rude, you ho. I’m a lot of things—a stripper,” she said with a little shimmy. “A pole dancer,” she added grabbing on to a steel girder that had impaled itself into the floor and busted out an impressive move. “A knitter,” she continued with a gleam in her eye as she pulled out two long purple knitting needles from her big purse. “And a grandma, but I ain’t no whore, and I ain’t no slut.”

My mother gasped quietly and shot a covert look of alarm at both my dad and Reginald. They were positively flabbergasted. What the heck was happening?

“Is that so?” Obizuth inquired smacking her lips together hungrily. “You’ve bewitched what is mine. You will die for that. Can’t have anyone enjoying my sloppy seconds.”

“You will leave now, Mother,” Belphegor snarled as he pulled Bobbie Sue back from the edge of the crackling black fire. “You are not wanted here.”

“And you were never wanted at all,” she said coldly.

“Actually,” Zeernebooch said, pushing Granny back even farther as he took his place next to his son. “Belphegor was and is very wanted—by me and his very odd husband-to-be, Dwayne. The way my son was produced was vile and vomit-inducing, but this boy is my pride and joy.”

“Hundred points for that one, jackhole,” Granny said with a delighted laugh.

“I’ll take them,” he replied with a grin.

“You’ll take nothing,” Obizuth screamed as black fire spewed from her eyes and mouth. “You’ve already taken from me and then you left me.”

“You kill babies,” Zeernebooch roared back.

“So?” she countered. “You steal.”

“Umm… there’s a big damn difference,” I pointed out, only to be yanked back against Hank’s chest.

“Shhhh,” he hissed. “I need you alive. Can’t live without you.”

“If you leave now, you will be spared,” Belphegor said, not sounding girly at all. He was all Demon.

“You’re a faggot,” she spat in disgust. “You sicken me.”

“Right back at you, egg donor,” Belphegor said with a laugh. “And the term is homosexual. Faggot is not PC, it’s very old school and repulsive—like you.”

“You can’t talk to me like that. I’m your mother,” she screamed. “I will eat you as well, you worthless piece of shit. I should have killed you the day you were born.”

“Why didn’t you, mother?” he asked, truly curious.

With a wild glance to Zeernebooch, she growled low in her throat. It was really freakin’ scary. “Your father loved you. I thought he would stay.”

“You thought wrong,” Belphegor said. “You are not lovable.”

“I’m done,” she snapped. “And so are you.”

With a scream that would live in my nightmares for the rest of my life, Obizuth lunged at Belphegor. Her mouth had grown obscenely in size and her teeth elongated. She was a horror show come to life. As Belphegor fought her off, out of the corner of my eye I saw Reginald pour a thick circle of salt around the fire ring. With speed that almost rendered her invisible, my mom lit at least twenty-five white candles. My dad, not to be left out, dove over the ring and quickly drew symbols that were foreign to me—yet weirdly familiar. I was pretty sure he was using his own blood, but with the battle raging, I couldn’t be sure.

“We’re getting married, you skank. You better not hurt my man,” Dwayne bellowed as explosions of silver popped in the air around him. His eyes went blood red and his fangs were crazier than I’d ever seen them. He dove into the fray without a second thought.

“Get back,” Granny hissed at Hank and me. “I need a clear shot.”

“What the HELL are you doing, old woman?” I demanded, grabbing her by the arm.

“I’m gonna send the bee-otch back to Hell,” she said, trying to pull away.

“Leave it to the Demon Hunters,” I snapped as my panic began to rise.

Granny was wildly overconfident. I wasn’t going to let her go rogue today… or ever. She needed a damned leash.

“How do you think Demon Hunters are created?” she questioned.

“Umm… school?” I answered. Again, skipping class was biting me in the butt.

“Nope. They’re born, girlie,” she informed me. “Born from other Demon Hunters.”

I had to pause and repeat her sentence inside my head. If she was shitting me, she was going to get her ass handed to her.

“You’re a Demon Hunter?”

“You bet your bippy I am… and so are you,” she said, shaking me off. “Now get low. This shit is gonna get fugly.”

“Oh fuck,” Hank muttered as he pulled me away from my now glowing Granny.

She was a Werewolf-Vampyre-Demon Hunter. That was some heavy stuff. My mom and dad were Demon Hunters, and apparently I was too. At least some of the weirder things I was feeling made sense now—not that I was thrilled about it.

Zeernebooch had joined Dwayne and Belphegor in the fight, but a woman scorned was a tough adversary. Plus, she really did look hungry.

“Dust or Hell?” Granny called out to my parents and Reginald over the hissing and gnashing of fangs.

“She’s pretty damned evil. I say Hell,” my mom yelled back as she chanted over the candles causing the flames to turn icy white. “You sure you’re up to this, Mom? It’s been awhile.”

“One a Demon Hunter, always a Demon Hunter,” Granny crowed as she pulled out her knitting needles and levitated off the ground.

“Ahhhhhhhhh,” Dwayne bellowed as he lost the arm that had just regenerated and watched in abject horror as Obizuth ate it.

“Tasty,” she hissed in a voice that made me want to hurl. “Want moooooooore.”

“Not today,” Zeernebooch roared as he threw spell after spell at her. However, nothing seemed to affect her. She was a killing machine.

“MOVE,” Granny bellowed as her eyes went red. Her voice sounded like it had come through a giant sound system. It caused everyone to pause… even Obizuth.

“GO,” my mom commanded.

All Granny needed was an opening… and she got it.

Flipping through the air like a tiny gymnast on crack, she flung herself at the female Demon and shoved a knitting needle into each eye socket. Granny quickly twisted the long needles and tackled Obizuth to the floor.

“Help me move her to the circle,” she demanded. “Move your slowpoke asses!”

It was a sloppy ballet as we moved clumsily under the direction of the pole-dancing stripper. I may be a Demon Hunter, but I had no clue what I was doing. If there was a school for this particular skill, I wasn’t going to skip a single day of it.

As Obizuth lay screaming and writhing in the middle of the fire circle, I noticed that Belphegor had been wounded badly. Dwayne had the love of his undead life in his arms and was rocking him like a baby. Zeernebooch was seething in fury. He was clouded in so much black glitter I could barely make him out.

“Essie,” my dad yelled. “Take my hand. Join us.”

With a gentle push from Hank, I ran forward and then stopped dead in my tracks. “I have no clue what to do,” I cried out as Obizuth successfully pulled one of Granny’s needles out of her eye socket.

“Doesn’t matter,” Reginald said, taking my hand and pulling me forward. “It’s in your blood.”

“You knew?” I asked him.

“Of course,” he replied with a tiny smirk. “I’m your dicky godfather.”

“Join hands now,” my mom instructed as she reached into her pocket and tossed something that looked like flower petals into the fire.

It went from black to icy white.

“NOW,” she shouted.

My mom, my dad, my godfather and my granny and me, all joined hands. I felt the power shoot up my arm immediately. My vision grew foggy. I gripped Reginald and my dad’s hands like my life depended on it… which it probably did.

“Burn her to ash,” Zeernebooch growled as he watched dispassionately.

“No. We will send her to Hell. Hell is more fitting,” my mom said.

“But there is no actual Hell,” I volunteered just in case she didn’t know. I mean they had to be out of practice. They’d been stuck in feral wolf form for decades.

“It’s actual,” my dad corrected me. “It’s just not physical. Trust me, Obizuth’s own personal Hell is a far worse fate than turning her to ash.”

My family began to chant. I didn’t understand it, but I felt it deep in my bones. I found myself humming to the strange tune.

Obizuth’s eyes grew wide with fury and hatred as she finally realized her fate. She fought it like a caged animal, but the circle was too strong. The pure white light of the fire coupled with the white candles and the white salt outweighed the darkness that the vicious She-Demon had brought with her.

“Goodbye, bitch,” Zeernebooch growled as Obizuth’s flesh began to mottle and melt.

I wanted to turn away, but I didn’t.

“When the evil comes out from within, it destroys the beauty,” my father whispered as the Demon’s sharp fangs fell from her mouth.

“Are we doing this?” I asked, horrified as she began to throw up black bile.

“No, child,” Reginald said with a slight shudder as he squeezed my hand. “The true evil from within her is consuming her. I’ve never seen a hunt end like this.”

Obizuth’s end only took ten minutes, but it felt like ten hours. As soon as my hands were free, I ran to Hank and buried my face in his strong chest.

“Not sure I wanna take up Demon Hunting any time soon,” I whispered.

“Good plan,” he replied, holding me like he would never let me go.

A bloodied Belphegor limped over to the circle with the aid of his beloved Vampyre. The fire had gone out and his mother was gone.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” he said flatly.

Birdie and Chicken looked shell-shocked. I felt terrible.

“Birdie, I am so sorry about this—about getting you and Chicken involved,” I told her.

She glanced up at me in surprise and smiled. “I’m not, my friend. Obizuth was right about one thing and one thing only. Everything happens for a reason.”

I sighed and leaned into Hank. Maybe Birdie—and Obizuth—were right.

“We leave for a half hour and this happens?” Bob Harold said as he and his cohorts seemed to appear from out of nowhere.

“Yep. Shit happens, dudes. I think we’re gonna need a clean up here and possibly a mind-wipe or three hundred,” I said.

“We’ve already covered it,” Bob Herm said as he walked to the edge of the circle and stared at the goopy pile that was formerly Obizuth.

“Yes,” Bob Harold said. “The massive fireworks explosion in the abandoned warehouse was quite the talk on the news this evening.”

“You bastards are fast,” I commented with a smile.

“Yes… well, we are the Bobs, after all,” Bob Hiram said. “Birdie, can your crew get a handle on this mess before the human authorities check it out?”

“On it, Hiram,” she said.

“Shiiiiiiit,” I said with a laugh. “Guess I’m not the only one who knows your names.”

All three Bobs rolled their eyes in unison.

“Whoops, my bad,” Birdie said with a grin and an adorable blush of embarrassment. “I’ll get my people right on it.”

With a quick curtsey from Birdie and a bow from Chicken, the Pigeons flew away to gather a crew. Birdie’s slip made me wonder just how well she knew ol’ Bob Hiram though, honestly… I didn’t really want to know.

“I’m calling in a few favors,” Dwayne said, still supporting a healing Belphegor on his good arm. “As of this day forward, Essie McGee Wilson and Hank Wilson will be moving their Council offices to Hung, Georgia. Their job will mainly be desk duty unless they choose of their own free will to take a mission.”

All three of the Bobs grumbled with displeasure. I didn’t give a poop.

“Is this what you want?” Bob Harold demanded of Hank and me.

I looked at Hank. Hank looked at me. He held up ten fingers and waggled his brows. My grin grew wide and I’m pretty sure Hank’s pants grew tight.

“Yep. That’s exactly what we want,” I told the Bobs while still staring deep into Hank’s beautiful eyes.

“Fine,” Bob Herm groused. “Dwayne, your other demands?”

Dwayne smiled and shrugged. “I’ll have to get back to you on those. And now that I’m on the Council, we’ll be seeing each other more often.”

“Yes,” Bob Harold said stiffly. “Lovely.”

“Bobbie Sue,” Zeernebooch said, looking a little pale. “When were you going to tell me you were a Demon Hunter?”

“Umm… probably during a poke,” she replied with a grin. “You got a problem with that, Weiner Hooch?”

“With a poke? Or the fact that you’re a Demon Hunter?”

“Both,” she shot back, obscenely adjusting her traffic stoppers for his benefit.

“Nope,” he said with a laugh. “No problem at all. However, I do have a question.” He turned to my mother and eyed her with curiosity. “Why did you spare me all those years ago?”

My mom raised her brow and pursed her lips. “You remind me of someone.”

“Who?” he asked.

She looked to Granny. Granny’s expression was pure gold. She had put the puzzle together and she laughed. I still had no clue what was happening, but they did.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” she whispered, staring at Zeernebooch. “You remind her of her father. He was a wonderful man.”

“And this is a good thing?” Zeernebooch asked carefully.

“It’s a good thing,” my mother assured him. “It was that and the fact that you’re actually not that evil.”

“Can you keep that last part to yourself?” Zeernebooch inquired, appalled. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Will do,” my mom promised with a laugh.

“Wait,” Zeernebooch said, looking so forlorn I felt bad for him. “So you’re going to let me into your pants because I remind you of your former mate? Not because of my magnificent schlong?”

Granny slapped him upside the head and he went flying. “My mate’s been gone for forty years, jackhole. You’re the first dork I’ve let touch my hooters in that entire time. If you ever insult me like that ever again, you’ll be sleeping in the doghouse. You feel me?”

“Doghouse, as in a metaphorical doghouse?” he asked, getting to his feet, but keeping a healthy distance.

“Nope,” I told him with glee. “Granny has a doghouse in her backyard. No dog, but she has the house.”

“I see,” he said, casually working his way back to Granny’s side.

“Are we done here?” Bob Harold inquired.

“We are so done here,” I said. “Everybody, go home. For real this time.”

Hank and I watched as some of the people we loved the most slowly filed out of what was left of the warehouse. It had been a long few days. We hadn’t slept and I was starving.

“Tacos?” I asked with a giggle when it was only Hank and me left.

“I was thinking about sex,” he shot back with a grin that made my insides tingle.

“How about taco, sex, taco, sex, taco, sex, sex, sex?” I suggested.

“I can work with that,” he said. “You ready?”

I was born ready, baby.”

“That’s my girl.”

The tacos were great, but the sex was better.

Sex was always good with the man of my dreams.

Always.

Epilogue

An August evening had never been so beautiful. A light breeze blew through the leafy trees and the scent of roses filled the air. I leaned over to Hank, rested my head on his shoulder, and sighed with total contentment.

“I love you,” he whispered against my hair.

“Love you more,” I whispered back and then sat up straighter. We were finally getting to the good part.

“Dwayne, do you take this Demon to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Preacher Moongie, Sandy’s dad, asked a blubbering and highly bejeweled Dwayne.

Dwayne’s gown really was to die for—strapless and only a hint of beading. His arm had grown back perfectly. You’d never be able to guess that he’d lost it twice in one day only a month ago. The wedding gown hugged Dwayne’s tall, muscular body beautifully. Of course, he’d made up for the simplicity of the gown with an obscene diamond and ruby choker, huge diamond studs in his ears and a tiara on his bald head that would rival the Queen of England’s. He’d opted to go with no veil. He said they were tacky… oh, the irony.

“I do,” he said gazing into Belphegor’s eyes with so much love I felt my own eyes fill.

“And do you Belphegor take this Vampyre to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Belphegor had chosen leather wedding attire… white leather—the tightest white leather pantsuit I’d ever seen. I had no clue how he’d been able to squeeze into it. It looked like it was painted onto his body. Since the color scheme was red and white, he’d chosen fabulous red combat boots to go with the skintight ensemble. Again, I was sad that we didn’t wear the same sized shoe. I would so rock those boots.

“You bet I do,” Belphegor shouted to laughs from the small crowd gathered in Sadie and Jack’s beautifully decorated back yard.

My mother-in-law had outdone herself. She was, hands down, the hostess with the most-est. Since Sadie didn’t get to throw Hank’s and my or Junior and Sandy’s weddings, she went all out and over the top for Dwayne’s. This was appropriate since Dwayne was all out—pun intended—and over the top.

Several elaborate tents, covered in blood red roses, dotted the lawn. Gorgeous white parquet floors had been laid out in the tent that was reserved for dancing. Silver candelabras, surrounded by roses, held white candles and sparkled on the tables. And twinkling strings of white and red lights rimmed the peaks and gables of the tents. Long tables with pristine white tablecloths groaned under the weight of so many Juju’s pizzas, I couldn’t count them.

Sadie had a shit fit when she realized Dwayne had secretly fired the caterer and replaced her elaborate ten-course menu with pizza, but it was Dwayne’s wedding and Dwayne got what Dwayne wanted. Since eating wasn’t his thing because he was dead, he felt like he’d get bored if dinner took three hours. Plus, everyone loved Juju’s pizza and Dwayne wanted happy guests.

“Dwayne’s girls look… umm… clean,” Hank whispered in my ear with a chuckle.

“Yep,” I said with a soft giggle.

Hank was correct. They were impeccably groomed—I was fairly certain they’d even brushed their hair. Dwayne’s eight Were Cow daughters sat in the front row blubbering harder than Dwayne. They adored their adopted daddy. The gals would dismember and gore anyone who even looked cross-eyed at Dwayne—and they had some serious tusks when shifted. Of course, the rabid loyalty went both ways, as Dwayne would happily mind meld anyone who spoke ill of his babies. It was alarmingly beautiful.

Each of the girls were dressed in white jean gauchos, flowy white tops and brand spanking new red tennis shoes. It was a sight to see. At least you could tell they were girls for the most part. Their other halves—or “the fuckers” as Dwayne liked to refer to his Vampyre sons-in-law—were all wearing red kilts and white shirts. That could be a serious problem once the dancing started.

“If even one of those freaks turns a cartwheel and shows their junk at the reception, Dwayne will go apeshit on them,” I whispered to Hank.

“Should be an interesting reception,” he shot back with a smirk so sexy, I wanted to jump his bones.

We’d been back home for a month and I’d pretty much jumped his bones everyday… like several times a day. We were working on our own little pack. Hopefully, we would join Sandy and Junior in the parents-to-be club soon.

“Can he kiss him yet?” Granny asked in her outdoor voice as she stood on the altar next to Dwayne as his best woman.

Granny had gone all out and was sporting a red sequined low cut gown that covered her traffic stoppers… kind of. She looked like a high-class stripper—which was strangely appropriate. I just hoped she’d been joking about doing part of her act after the ceremony. But, knowing Granny, she wasn’t. Dwayne had a full-on Lady Gaga drag show planned for the reception. Even Reginald was in on it and slated to perform a Cher set. I wasn’t sure how Cher would look with a handlebar mustache, but I was looking forward to it with morbid fascination. I had my cell phone charged up and planned to video it for future blackmail purposes. My dicky godfather was coming out of his shell.

Zeernebooch, stood up for his son but had not taken his eyes off of Granny’s partially exposed knockers for the entire ceremony. The fact that he was wearing a white leather pantsuit like Belphegor was slightly unsettling, but at least it wasn’t as tight as his son’s. However, his obsession with Granny’s traffic stoppers made it a little awkward when he had to find the rings, but the horny Demon somehow made it work.

“Does the best man get to make out with the best woman when the groom and groom go at it?” Zeernebooch inquired of Preacher Moongie.

“Umm… no,” Preacher Moongie told him with a polite smile as he tried not to laugh. “That’s not how it usually goes.”

“My bad,” Zeernebooch said, smacking himself in the head before Granny could do it for him. “Not used to these religious ceremonies, being a Demon and all.”

“Weiner Hooch, we can make out at the reception behind the bushes,” Granny assured him.

“Works for me,” he bellowed, giving her a thumbs up.

Zeernebooch had asked Granny to marry him four hundred times in the last month. She’d refused to answer him until he could get some of his outstanding warrants settled up. Turns out he was wanted in forty-nine states. Luckily Georgia was the only state that wasn’t currently holding a manhunt for him. Granny liked to travel. Having the FBI, CIA and every law enforcement unit in the country on her ass wasn’t her idea of a good time.

Zeernebooch was working on it. Junior had caught him hacking into the FBI database. Even though he was the Sherriff of Hung, Junior usually let stuff like that slide—especially when family was involved. However, when he realized he was Zeernebooch was replacing his own name on the warrants with Bob Herm’s, Bob Harold’s and Bob Hiram’s, he put a quick stop to it. Zeernebooch and Junior had good laugh over it and then Junior locked him up in the pokey for five days.

Zeernebooch was never going to change. Amazingly, Granny was just fine with that. She loved him, illegal activity and all. I suspected she would say yes to his many proposals soon. I knew she didn’t want to steal any of Dwayne’s thunder. She loved Dwayne like a son.

“Oh my goodness,” Preacher Moongie said. “With all the excitement, I forgot one of the lines.”

Dwayne patted the preacher on the back. “No worries. Just shove it in.”

“Very well, if anyone of you has a reason why these two men should not wed, speak now or forever hold your peace,” Preacher Moongie said.

“What kind of fucked up question is that?” Zeernebooch demanded, looking out at the crowd to see if anyone dared to say something that would ruin his son’s big day. “Because I will smite any bastard that says a word. DO YOU HEAR ME, PEOPLE?”

“Pappy,” Belphegor said, shaking his head and grinning.

“Did I say something wrong?” Zeernebooch asked, wildly unsure of himself.

“No, Pappy. I appreciate your violent concern,” Belphegor replied. “But that’s just a normal part of the ceremony. It’s okay.”

Zeernebooch mulled that one over for a moment in confusion. “Bobbie Sue, would you be opposed to living in sin?” he questioned. “These religious rules are alarming.”

“We’re gettin’ married, Weiner Hooch,” she told him with a delighted laugh. “While livin’ in sin is nice, I want to own your evil ass.”

“EXCELLENT, I want to own your traffic stoppers as well. However, I vote we get married in Georgia since I’m currently not wanted here.”

“Of course you’re wanted here,” Sadie chimed in. “As long as you don’t go back to eating puppies, you are more than welcome on Hung Island.”

“Mom,” Junior said with an eye roll. “He meant by the authorities.”

“Whoops,” she said. “My bad. But I’m quite serious about the puppy thing.”

You could dress us up, but you still couldn’t take us anywhere.

“So no one has an objection?” Preacher Moongie asked, getting the wedding back on track.

No one said a word. Zeernebooch eyed the crowd menacingly, just in case anyone was dumb enough to protest. For an evil dude, he had a very soft spot for his boy.

“Then I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss the groom!”

The crowd whistled and cheered as Dwayne and Belphegor kissed for the first time as husbands. It was all kinds of wonderful and every kind of right. There really was a happily ever after for everyone.

“Let’s party!” Dwayne shouted as he came up for air and held his Demon close.

And we did. Dima and Nicolai won the limbo contest and their adorable son, Daniel danced like a mad man with each of Dwayne’s Were Cow daughters. The Vampyre sons-in-law did indeed show their goodies, much to Dwayne’s displeasure, but he was having such a good time, he decided not to behead any of them.

“This is waaay better than the baby shower,” Sandy said as she came up behind me and rested her chin on my shoulder. “Sadie didn’t serve poop.”

“This is true,” I said with a giggle as I turned around and hugged her.

She was just starting to show and she was gorgeous. “How are you feeling?” I asked, touching her small tummy.

“Fantastic,” she said. “Do you want to know a secret?”

“Will it make me puke?” I asked squinting at her.

“Possibly,” she said with a laugh. “But it’s a really good one.”

“Okay… hit me.”

She whispered in my ear and my knees almost buckled. “Are you shitting me?” I demanded, feeling light-headed.

“I shit you not,” she replied with a wide grin.

Junior grabbed Sandy and pulled her away to dance. I was left standing on the sidelines with my mouth open.

“You really should close your mouth,” my mom said as she and my dad danced happily by me. “You’ll catch flies.”

Quickly I closed my mouth and searched the crowd for Hank. Where was he?

“Hey friend,” Birdie called out as she and Chicken approached and hugged me warmly. “Love it down here in Georgia.”

“And Georgia loves you as well,” I told her.

Birdie and Chicken were dressed in the requisite red and white. They’d opted for coveralls. It was perfect.

“So what’s the deal with you and Bob Hiram?” I asked because asking questions I didn’t want the answers to was one of my hobbies.

“Awwww,” she said with a cute giggle. “Hiram and I go way back. He’s a real cutie, that one.”

I simply nodded and tried not to puke in my mouth. The Bobs were anything but cute. They were here but had shown up not in line with the color scheme. Sadie had an absolute shit fit. The Bobs quickly gave in and donned the red suits she’d provided for them. They were ill-fitting but the Bobs didn’t utter a single complaint. Sadie was scary as Hell when pissed off. My mother-in-law was the first and only person I’d ever seen the Bobs terrified of. It was awesome.

“We’re gonna dance,” Birdie said. “Do you want to join us?”

“Save me one,” I said as I watched her pull a very uncomfortable Bob Hiram onto the dance floor.

Chicken followed his sister onto the floor with his umpteenth partner of the evening. He was wildly popular with the single Werewolf gals and had been dancing up a storm. There was even a line of giggling Weres waiting their turn to dance with the Pigeon. His specialty? The Chicken Dance… I wanted to stay and watch Bob Hiram bust a move, but I needed to find Hank. Immediately.

He was standing across the tent staring at me with such an expression of love and adoration on his face I almost couldn’t breathe. His smile melted my heart. I had to get to him.

We met in the middle of the floor just as the music changed to a slow dance. Couples joined up and swayed to the music.

“May I have this dance?” Hank asked.

“Always,” I whispered as I fell into his strong arms and sighed with happiness. “I have a secret.”

“I have one too,” he said as a smile of wonderment pulled at his lips.

“Who’d you hear your secret from?” I asked, reaching up and wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Junior,” he said. “Who’d you hear yours from?”

“Sandy,” I whispered. “Do you think it’s the same secret?”

“I think it might be,” he said as his hands lowered to my stomach and he placed them protectively over it.

“Do you think they’re right?” I asked, hoping so hard they were.

“A pregnant Were can scent another pregnant Were,” he said, pressing his lips to mine.

I was so excited I wanted to scream. Instead, I kissed my mate for all I was worth. I had a tiny baby in my belly—a baby that Hank and I made together with love. It was insane and fantastic and wonderful and scary. But most of all it was perfect.

“One down. Nine to go,” Hank said with a laugh.

“You’re crazy. You know that. Right?” I said as he scooped me up in his arms and headed for our car.

“Let go celebrate.”

“With sex?” I asked, snagging a whole pepperoni pizza from the table as we passed it.

“Pizza then sex then pizza then sex and sex and sex,” he said as he grabbed a sausage pie to go.

“Works for me.”

And it did. Pizza and sex with my guy for the rest of time was a good life.

We were Shifters. Shift happened all the time. Good shift and bad shift.

But today? Today was a damned good shift.

— THE END —

Note From The Author

If you enjoyed reading Were We Belong, please consider leaving a positive review or rating on the site where you purchased it. Reader reviews help my books continue to be valued by resellers and help new readers make decisions about reading them.

You are the reason I write these stories and I sincerely appreciate each of you!

Many thanks for your support,

~ Robyn Peterman

Excerpt: His Runaway Lioness

by Mina Carter

Chapter One

Was it still called paranoia if they really were out to get you?

Renae Brogan studied the street carefully as she drove along, alert for the slightest change from the norm. Well, normal for Devil’s Gap, anyway. Since the town was a refuge for the weird and wonderful of the paranormal world, “norm” meant something very different from everywhere else on the planet.

Here, outcasts from shifter clans lived side by side with half-breeds which all clans liked to pretend didn’t exist. She’d even heard there was a wererabbit in town. That had raised an eyebrow. Wererabbits didn’t hang out around predator types often, not unless they had a few screws loose, or a death wish.

Shifters or not though, people were people.

They got up in the morning, fetched the mail, drank too much coffee, and went to work like regular people. In the evening, they came home, cooked dinner, relaxed, fucked…all the normal sort of things. Unless they’d gone furry, in which case they headed off for a run in the wild or whatever else they liked to do when furred up. (She wasn’t adding fucking to that list because with some inter-species shifter relationships the mechanics were mind boggling.)

Regardless, the point was shifters had routines like humans, and that was what Renae learned to watch for. She was always alert for any change in the routines of those who lived around her. Changes were dangerous, not because she was some freakazoid OCD type, but because the slightest deviation could mean her ex-husband had found her. Since he’d made it very clear the only way she was leaving him was in a coffin, she was eager to ensure he didn’t find her.

Like, ever.

Slowing the car, she pretended to fiddle with the rearview mirror, using it to scan the street behind her in an extra check. Sometimes looking from a different angle revealed things her eye had slid past at first glance.

Nothing. Everything looked normal.

A small sigh of relief escaped her lips and she shared an amused glance with her own reflection as she turned the mirror back into position. The long blond hair was gone, cropped shorter and covered by a dark dye she meticulously maintained. She missed her hair, but liked breathing too much. Like, really way too much.

Her eyes were the same green-gray, mainly because she couldn’t get on with the dark contacts she’d bought. Her inner lioness hated them and growled at the thought. Besides, she’d never figured out what to do with them in a shift, and the good ones she could just about tolerate were damn expensive. With the way her shifts could hit, often out of the blue, she couldn’t afford to ditch that many pairs.

Satisfied nothing was out of the ordinary and the street was clear, she pulled her car into the drive next to her house. A small two-bed rental on a corner plot, it was cute and homey. The kind of place she could see herself settling into long term. Despite its unusual nature, Devil’s Gap was a nice place to live; maybe bring up a family…

She sighed and switched off the engine. She couldn’t afford such dangerous thoughts. There was no settling down for her, not unless Lance keeled over and died. Heart attack maybe… Actually, couldn’t people die of constipation? Her ex was so full of shit that would be a fitting end. Too quick for her liking though. She’d rather he get hit by a truck, dragged for miles before being struck by lightning. Oh, and after contracting something nasty from all the whores he slept with.

I’m an alpha lion, baby. I gotta spread this goodness around, it’s natural.

She heard his excuse in her head as clearly as if he sat in the car next to her, and her cat snarled in response. He’d always had an excuse; every time she challenged him about his sleeping around. Until he’d run out of excuses and gotten angry. Then he’d just used his fists.

Pathetic. Can’t control your shifts. Weak. How did I ever find you attractive? You’re nothing without me. No one will want you. You should be grateful I look after you.

Lance’s taunts and insults were etched into her soul so deeply, some days felt like she’d never be free of them. But she had managed it, she escaped. Sure, she was alone and in exile, but that was better than the alternative. Her lip quivered and she controlled it ruthlessly. She wasn’t pathetic or weak. She was a strong, independent—and yes, she told herself fiercely—a damn attractive woman.

Now if she could make herself believe all that, she’d be golden.

Dragging in a deep breath, she grabbed her camera bag and got out of the car. At least money wasn’t an issue. Since leaving her pride, she’d done something she always wanted and picked up a camera. Her wildlife shots were in demand and the pay was excellent. Thankfully enough to fund her careful fugitive lifestyle. After being treated as a burden for so long, standing on her own two feet was a source of immense pride and strength.

More relaxed now, she reached the door and put her key in the lock. After a day out shooting, all she wanted to do was to open her laptop and upload her shots. After that she had plans for a long, hot bath. And ever the carnivore, she had a steak resting in the fridge and a nice bottle of wine to go with it. She might even push the boat out and finish off the half tub of rocky road, her deepest vice, while she edited the photos she’d taken today.

Excitement filled her as she turned the key. Some were excellent, she’d felt it as soon as she’d taken them. The back of the camera view had confirmed that but she couldn’t wait to see them on a bigger screen to make sure. Photography was like that for her. A voyage of discovery each and every time. Some shots were obvious but some she hadn’t thought would work in the field surprised her, coming to life when she got them onto her laptop.

Anticipating a pleasant evening, she pushed the door open and took a step inside.

Hale Roark was the best tracker in the paranormal bounty hunting business. An experienced warlock with a weather specialty (hail, as it happened. The fates had a hell of a sense of humor) his reputation was built on delivering the goods fast.

Well, that and he was a mean son of a bitch who could get the job done despite… opposition. It was cheaper for the client to send one man in rather than a team, so Hale got a lot of jobs that would otherwise go elsewhere. He didn’t care. All was fair in love and the tracking down people for money business.

Plus, it kept him sharp. Something every warlock needed. A slow warlock was a dead one, if he was lucky. With the magic Hale wielded, there were much worse things than being dead. Being in a reality show for example. The shudder rolled through him before he could stop it. He couldn’t think of anything worse.

Sitting in his current mark’s living room waiting for her to return, he looked around. Tracking Renae Brogan had been the easiest job he’d taken in a long time. Most para bounty hunters tended to be wolf shifters, something with a good sense of smell and innate tracking abilities. Hale wasn’t a shifter and his sense of smell was shit, so he used magic. Not just any magic either.

High-level tracking spells took some serious magical mojo, the sort that usually required the blood of seventeen chickens and a virgin. The lore was a little hazy there. Hale had never been sure why seventeen chickens in particular, and whether one of them should be the virgin. That, of course, opened a whole new avenue of inquiry and it wasn’t like he could ask the chicken, now could he?

So, he went old school and used blood magic. His own. He drew the line at sacrifice. Besides, he didn’t need it. From a long line of witches and warlocks, he had enough of the good stuff coursing through his veins to power some seriously nasty casting.

He wasn’t a pure-blooded warlock though, so he was looked down upon in magical circles. Thanks to some randy ancestor who couldn’t keep it in their pants, Hale had been saddled with a little something extra, something feral hidden within him that made him yearn for the wilderness and to run. To feel the wind through a mane he didn’t have and the dirt beneath paws he’d never walked on.

He wasn’t a shifter. The thing within wasn’t that developed, but it was powerful. Powerful enough to juice up a tracking spell and bring him right to Renae Brogan. He rubbed his thumb over the photo in his hand, the silver of his thumb ring glinting in the low light.

The casting had been easier than he’d expected. Almost like the spell knew the woman and where to find her.

That bothered him.

Magic should not be easy. As a rule it was damn difficult to perform even the simplest of spells. As it should be, or all those human idiots trying to summon things they couldn’t control would have brought down the apocalypse. No, to perform magic, a caster needed patience, training, and a shitload of strength.

And a familiar… A little voice in the back of his head added.

Hale ignored it. He always did. He didn’t have a familiar because unlike every other freaking warlock on the planet, he couldn’t bond to one. He’d tried; really he did. Cats, dogs (and he was so not a dog person), rats…hell, he’d even tried toads and snakes, but nothing doing. All that happened was the beast that lived in his blood stirred, yawned, and broke the connection. It didn’t matter though. He was powerful enough not to need a familiar.

Diverting his train of thought to the job in hand, he looked at the photo. It was old, showing a young woman. Masses of tawny blond hair fell to shoulders bared by a strappy top, surrounding a face with delicate features. Obviously a candid photo, she looked away from the camera with a smile, but the warmth in her feline-tilted eyes said she shared a joke with someone she loved.

A pang of… something speared Hale’s chest. Rubbing a hand across his breastbone, he concentrated on the image, feeling the tug of the spell. She was close by, but not here yet. Perhaps a few minutes more.

He relaxed minutely, his gaze still on the girl in the photo. What would she look like now? Brogan had said his ex-wife was a lying harpy who’d caused so much damage in his pride that he had to bring her back and make an example of her to the people she’d hurt. That Hale could understand.

Shifter rules were near primal and absolutely brutal. To fuck with the group was to fuck with every member and they dealt with issues in-house. If this woman had hurt kids, as Brogan had intimated, then she deserved everything she got. Nothing to do with Hale, even though by serving her up to her pride there was a good chance he’d be sentencing her to death.

Not his circus, not his monkeys.

So why couldn’t he take his eyes off the photo? Why did the more primal instincts inside him want to snarl and reject everything Brogan had said? The guy was an asshole, yes, and he’d all but announced that Hale could “have a little fun” with his target, but did that mean he was wrong about the woman in the photo? Hale frowned again, the prickles of unease about this job dancing along his spine. Perhaps before he handed the girl over to Brogan, he’d check in with his side-job peeps. The PPA were a good bunch from what he could see and he did occasional jobs for them, but they were a little too squeaky clean for him to go full time, even though they’d asked him plenty enough times.

The sound of the key in the lock brought Hale’s head up.

Time to find out if Brogan was on the level or not…

Shit. There was someone in her house.

Renae froze on the doorstep, her lioness on alert and all her senses extended. The house was silent, but it wasn’t a welcoming, comfortable silence. Instead, it was an absence of sound that told her someone inside listened as well.

She took a deep breath and the scent of virile male hit her hard and fast, wrapping around her. The moan welled in her throat as her body responded, heating instantly. Need surged through her, her limbs weak, and a quivery feeling in her stomach she’d never felt before.

Lion. Alpha. Male.

The three words blazed like wildfire through her mind and her lioness wanted to roll over in submission. Panic caused her human half to seize control before the cat could make its needs a reality. Without pausing to think she dropped her bag to the floor and ran.

No time to get into her car. Despite being half human, she’d lived around lions all her life, so she knew how damn fast they were. Heart pounding in her chest, she ducked around the side of the house and sprinted for the garden.

Who was he? The scent had been alpha, and powerful. Her ex-husband, Lance, was an alpha, but nothing compared to the scent in the house. It wasn’t one she recognized. Not a Brogan lion…she’d have recognized it. Shit. He must have called in help from another pride. No way would he allow a male that powerful to join the small Brogan pride.

She hit the back gate and crashed through it, taking it off its hinges. It slammed against the side of the house as she raced through the back garden. Her property, like many in town, backed onto wilderness, a fact that she’d considered when renting the house and might, just might, save her life now.

The living room window exploded outward behind her, and she got a vague impression of a tall, powerful male figure leaping through it, out the corner of her eye. A startled cry erupted from her lips and she found an extra burst of speed from somewhere.

Hurtling through the tree line, she stumbled a little but kept on running. Her body ached to change, her cat roaring and fighting against her control. She held her human form with iron control. Other shifters might have been faster on four paws, but not Renae. The car accident that had robbed her of her parents as a child should have killed her, her injuries so bad the doctors didn’t expect her to survive.

Shattered pelvis, damaged hip joint, femur broken in three places including just above the knee damaging the growth plate… she should never have walked again, but her cat, although not fully formed, had internalized the damage. She healed as a human, but when her cat had manifested at puberty she had a bad limp. Bad enough that running was slow and leaping was out of the question. She simply didn’t have the power in her hindquarters. A physical weakness made her an easy target for the bully that Lance was.

So she ran as a human, although no one would mistake her for one. She might be slow for a shifter, but she was way faster than any human ever could be as she tapped into her cat’s strength to power her human body. It was a weird solution, but it worked for her. Kinda.

The forest was dense and crisscrossed with well-trodden paths. The town was full of shifters, half-breeds and all kinds of oddities, so there were plenty to choose from. She raced down them, changing paths at random in a dizzying display of speed that would have impressed even her, if she didn’t have one of Lance’s bully boys on her tail.

He was a constant presence behind her. Never far enough that she could relax, nor confident that she’d lost him, but neither was he closing in. Breath coming in short pants, she pushed her body to the limit.

A glance over her shoulder gave her another glimpse. He ran in a steady lope, easily keeping up with her. Fast and near silent as he tracked her.

Tears of frustration filled her eyes. His scent said lion, so why was he chasing her as a human? Unless he didn’t think her worthy enough prey to warrant a shift? The taunts filled her ears again.

Pathetic… Weak… Useless.

Her body started to shake, the shivers bone deep and radiating out over her skin. Fur poked through her pores and she moaned. Not now. She couldn’t shift now. If she couldn’t shake him as a human, there was no way she’d manage it in her slower cat form.

Terror tore through her like a pyrotechnic display, pinging through every cell in her torso. She swerved left at a fork and dug deep for more speed. She had to reach safety before the oncoming change hit or she was done. As it was, she only had one chance. She needed to get somewhere the cat’s one advantage, its claws, could come into play.

She hit the clearing and skidded to round a fallen tree. Struck by lightning years ago, it was hollow and long. Still half buried in the earth, the only entry point was a small split in the trunk where the lightning ripped through to the heart, burning it from inside out.

Heart in her throat, she twisted and dropped to the ground to slide, feet first toward the gap like she’d done it every day of her life. The darkness of the trunk surrounded her and she surrendered herself to the change, fire arcing through her as fur raced over her skin. Bone snapped and cracked, forcing her body into contortions as they morphed and slid into different configurations. She closed her eyes as her face changed. Teeth aching, her jaw reshaped, pushing into a muzzle as she panted.

Then it was done, her body reformed into the shape of her lioness. She waited in the dark, eyes fixed on the light spilling through the opening in the trunk just ahead of her.

Her paws flexed, heavy talons biting into the dry wood beneath.

Let him try to get her out now.

She’d show him what a pissed-off cat was capable of.

— Click Here For More! —

Robyn’s Book List

(in correct reading order)

HOT DAMNED SERIES

Fashionably Dead

Fashionably Dead Down Under

Hell on Heels

Fashionably Dead in Diapers

A Fashionably Dead Christmas

Fashionably Hotter Than Hell

Fashionably Dead and Wed

Fashionably Fanged

Fashionably Flawed

A Fashionably Dead Diary

Fashionably Forever After

Fashionably Fabulous

More coming soon…

MAGIC AND MAYHEM SERIES

Switching Hour

Witch Glitch

A Witch in Time

Magically Delicious

A Tale of Two Witches

Three’s A Charm

SEA SHENANIGANS SERIES

Tallulah’s Temptation

Ariel’s Antics

Misty’s Mayhem

Madison’s Mess

SHIFT HAPPENS SERIES

Ready to Were

Some Were in Time

No Were To Run

Were Me Out

Were We Belong

HANDCUFFS AND HAPPILY EVER AFTERS SERIES

How Hard Can it Be?

Size Matters

Cop a Feel

If after reading all the above you are still wanting more adventure and zany fun, read Pirate Dave and His Randy Adventures, the romance novel budding novelist Rena was helping wicked Evangeline write in How Hard Can It Be?

Warning: Pirate Dave Contains Romance Satire, Spoofing, and Pirates with Two Pork Swords.

About the Author

Robyn Peterman writes because the people inside her head won’t leave her alone until she gives them life on paper.

Her addictions include laughing really hard with friends, shoes (the expensive kind), Target, Coke Zero Cherry with extra ice in a Styrofoam cup, bejeweled reading glasses, her kids, her super hot hubby and collecting stray animals.

A former professional actress with Broadway, film and TV credits, she now lives in the South with her family and too many animals to count.

Writing gives her peace and makes her whole, plus having a job where you can work in your underpants works really well for her. You can leave Robyn a message via the Contact Page and she’ll get back to you as soon as her bizarre life permits! She loves to hear from her fans!

Want More Info About Robyn? You can find her here…

www.robynpeterman.com
robyn@robynpeterman.com

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