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THE PRICE OF MAGIC
A Reverse Harem Tale

Pizza Shop Exorcist

Book Three

by

Dakota Brown
 THE PRICE OF MAGIC
A Reverse Harem Tale

Pizza Shop Exorcist, book 3

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2021 by Dakota Brown
Cover Design © 2021 by Camila Marques

All rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be
reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written
permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book
review.

Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's
imagination and or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published by Untold Press LLC

114 NE Estia Lane
Port St Lucie, FL 34983

www.untoldpress.com

PRODUCED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

 Dedication

To Jen and Sean

Without you my dreams would still be dreams and not reality.
 Acknowledgments

First off, Becky Hodges, my PA. You've really outdone yourself this
summer keeping my schedule managed for me while I've been dealing with
one of the worst freaking summers of my life... Just...rattlesnakes...as I
write this, my colt is recovering and my dog is fully healed, but holy crap...
I mean, the summer hasn't been all bad, but the horrible events have kind of
outweighed the good at this point. Thank you for keeping one aspect of my
life from being full of stress. You are the best.

I can't go without acknowledging the super hard work that my publishers

Jen and Sean go through to get these books into your hands as fast as we
can while still maintaining a high quality of editing. Thank you so much.
You two mean the world to me.

I gotta acknowledge my significant other. I don't talk about him much

because he prefers to stay anonymous around the internet, and he'll
probably never read this (that's okay, really) but he stepped up hard core,
putting off a lot of his projects to help me care for animals and move
forward with some heavy-duty rattlesnake mitigation. I've also never seen
him agree to a new animal so quickly as when I proposed we get guinea
hens and geese after one of my dogs was bitten. He loves her nearly as
much as I do. Also, we discovered that certain types of geese will weed
and...that's cool. I'll touch base with everyone in a year and we'll see how
that went. LOL.

Shout out to Aeryn Havens, my hetero life mate author friend. Pretty sure
that phrase came from a drunken revelry I missed but I'll take it. I'm so
proud of your accomplishments this year. Check out her debut RH! It's the
best.

Katelyn Beckett, also a fantastic RH author, you've been a rock this year,
too. Thank you for all the brainstorming and everything else.

And you, fantastic readers, thank you for your notes asking very nicely for
the next book. Here it is. Hope you love it.
 Chapter 1
Price

"Thanks for helping, Boss Lady," Billy said, sinking down next to me at
the open table in the dining area of my pizza parlor.
"Felt good to get back in the kitchen," I admitted. "Simple after
everything else that's been going on. Ready for dinner, though." I grinned at
my manager. We had a strict call-off policy if employees didn't feel well or
needed a mental health day. It usually wasn't hard to get someone to cover,
especially if overtime was involved. We provided about a week of sick
leave a year and I'd always work with a long-term employee if something
serious happened. The people who worked at Price's Pizza Parlor were
good, loyal, happy, and well compensated.
Billy nodded. "What do you want?"
I shrugged. "Surprise me."
He chuckled. "That could be dangerous, Chris."
Someone loudly clearing their throat interrupted my snarky reply. I
thought about ignoring the rude behavior, but I was the owner, so I sighed
and twisted around in my seat to see if the noise was directed at me. I
looked like one of the line cooks at the moment, wearing one of our logoed
T-shirts with the upside-down pizza pentagram on it and Price's Pizza Parlor
written in all its eighties-themed neon glory. I was fairly certain I still had
flour all over me from a drastic spill that had been my fault.
A man sitting nearby at one of Mandy's tables was looking at me and
Billy.
"Yeah, mate?"
His eyebrows climbed. Some of my ink was visible through the shirt,
though the most interesting bits were hidden. My hair was now freshly
bleached, and the sides were shaved close. I had enough on the top for a
short mohawk, but it was currently slicked back to stay out of the way while
I cooked.
This guy was not a regular. Probably not even a local. Looked like just
your average, overly important dude. Easy enough to deal with if he didn't
settle down. I did not tolerate rude behavior toward my staff. Even if it was
our mistake. I'd make any mistake right with no fuss, but you had to be
polite about it.
"My water glass is empty."
Automatically, my gaze darted to his glass. It was at least half full. What
the fuck was wrong with people?
"Your server is helping another table. She'll be by in a minute. You have
plenty of water."
I could get him some water, but I'd be tempted to dump it on him. My
strengths were not in the dining area, unless it came to handling unruly
customers. To be clear, if he hadn't been an ass and just asked for more
water, I'd have gotten it right away.
His eyebrows rose further. "I'm sure your manager would love to know
you're sitting around talking instead of helping a customer." He sneered.
Billy and I glanced at each other, a faint smile across his lips. Mayhem,
my Pomeranian-shaped hellhound, perked up, but I wasn't going to have
him get involved with a human dispute. He was currently playing "invisible
dog" at my feet, a trick he did to go around unnoticed.
I was about to instruct the guy on the errors of his ways when the wards
around the shop shivered. I straightened in alarm. The dude with the water
problem smirked, thinking I was worried about him.
"What's up, Boss?" Billy asked quietly.
"The wards."
The door chimed before I could elaborate, and I turned my attention to
the demon who looked like a walking wet dream who sauntered casually
into my pizza shop. His named? Lucifer—yes, that Lucifer. A thrill of fear
rippled through me, and my poker face must not have caught up in time.
Water dude's smirk widened like he was going to win the lotto or
something. Screw him. Mayhem glanced up at me but didn't look
concerned. I dropped my hand to the top of his fluffy head and gave him a
quick scratch.
 Lucifer, who had casually disregarded my wards, just happened to be
wearing a leather jacket nearly identical to the one I typically wore. Instead
of the anarchy symbol on the front of mine, I'd subbed out for the pizza
shop logo, and it kind of looked like he could be the owner. No one would
mistake him for a mere manager.
"That the big boss?" Water dude smirked.
You know what? Fuck it. I shrugged, not actually willing to say he was
the owner because words did have power when dealing with the
supernatural, but not denying it, either. This could be entertaining. Or it
could get me killed. We'd see in a minute.
Billy's eyes were as wide as saucers and he glanced between me, our
guest, and water boy.
I leaned back in my chair, a grin spreading across my face as water boy
surged to his feet and stomped over to the demon.
"Chris," Billy whispered urgently.
I waved my hand. "Just let it happen, Billy. Somethings are too good to
worry about the consequences."
"Your service here sucks." Water boy got right up into Lucifer's face.
Lucifer's eyebrows rose and he glanced at me.
I smirked and shrugged.
He seemed to catch some idea of what was going on and I swear I just
made the ruler of hell roll his eyes.
"I assure you, the service here is far superior to any you will experience
in the future."
Well, that wasn't ominous or anything.
"I'll have you know my water is empty, and my server is a lazy bitch, and
that lazy twat right there won't even help me." He punctuated each word
with a jab of his finger.
Mandy, done with her other table, had come back over to check on water
boy just in time to hear that last bit.
"Chris, what's going on?" she whispered.
I put up my hand for silence. Hopefully, the evil smile on my face was
enough to let her know she wasn't at any fault.
"I'll have you know, I'm a very important food blogger and I'll ruin this
dive."
Okay, it was on. If Lucifer didn't set him straight, I was going to lay
some serious smack down. No one called my place a dive.
 "Food bloggers are the worst," Billy muttered.
"Only the ones who act like this," Mandy replied quietly. "Most of them
are great."
"Shh," I cautioned.
The demon's gaze wandered around the pizza shop before refocusing on
water boy. "It's hardly a dive, and you are out of line. Tell me, what is your
desire?"
Lucifer's voice went from casual to seductive and I could feel him
drawing on his powers. Shivering at the not entirely pleasant sensation of
his magic washing through me, I did my best to keep my reaction from
showing.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Best guess, Mal could feel the
disruption in his wards and was checking in.
We were all enraptured by Lucifer's power, and I decided to answer later.
"I want to ruin restaurants," water boy replied, a nasty grin on his face.
"Any excuse for a bad review...gets me ratings and free food."
"Well now, that's not very nice, is it?" Lucifer tutted. "You should rethink
your passion before it lands you in an unfortunate afterlife."
Water boy sneered. "What would you know about it?"
"Oh, far more than you might expect." Lucifer's power spiked and water
boy froze, captured by the demon's gaze. "Now, pay your bill, leave a large
tip and a nice review online, then find a new line of work."
Water boy didn't reply, simply pulled out his wallet, handed Lucifer a
whole bunch of money and left.
I finally took a breath, then froze as Lucifer turned his attention to me.
"Was that necessary, Chris Price?"
"When you ignore my keep-out signs, you get to deal with the unruly
customers," I replied, relying on snark to cover my fear.
He chuckled. "The wards are clever. They gave me a moment of
trouble."
"I'll be sure to tell Mal. He probably won't take it as a compliment,
though."
Lucifer shrugged. "Most occultists are perfectionists. I imagine he's no
different."
"No." My vampire boyfriend was the definition of meticulous, and
perfectionist described him perfectly.
 The demon finally came the rest of the way over. Billy and Mandy were
both quietly freaking out. They knew what our guest being able to get
through the wards meant.
Lucifer handed the cash to Mandy and, hand shaking, she took it.
"Thanks," she squeaked.
"You're quite welcome."
"So, nice jacket. What brings you to the desert? Get tired of the Big
Apple?"
If anything, Billy's eyes widened even further. He'd probably just put
everything together. I'd had him mail the jacket once it had arrived, and he'd
addressed it to Mr. Morningstar. I'd probably have addressed it
inappropriately, which is why I'd had Billy do it for me. A few weeks ago,
when I'd needed to get to hell to rescue my incubus boyfriend, Sabian,
Lucifer had been the one to let me through the gates. It had cost me a
demon mark, which I now bore on my chest, nestled between my breasts,
but I could get in and out of hell whenever I wanted. He'd seen my jacket
and decided he wanted one of his own.
"Yes, I quite like the jacket. I thought I'd drop in and try some of your
famous pizza. Maybe enquire about a franchise."
I burst out laughing at that. "You're hilarious."
"Occasionally. I did need to talk to you, and I do want to try your pizza."
I sighed and climbed to my feet. "Sure. Mandy, you mind?" I glanced at
her.
Eyes still glued to Lucifer, she shook her head rapidly. "I'll get some
menus!" She practically yelped and ran for the hostess station. She was
getting a huge bonus for today.
Billy pointed at a booth that was in Mandy's area and I glanced at the
demon. He nodded and followed me over.
"Do you, uh, need anything else, Chris?" Billy asked.
"No, you can go hide in the office if you want." I winked at him.
"Great!"
"Call Mal, tell him to stop freaking out," I added when my phone buzzed
again.
"Sure thing, Boss." Billy didn't quite run toward the kitchen, but he
would have won a speed-walking competition.
"How much does your staff know?"
 "Mandy knows just about everything. Billy, nearly as much. Everyone
else was present or heard about the exorcism I had to perform here before
Mal put the wards up. And I think they all either saw or heard about Mal
fighting off the angels. So, they know what it means when you casually
disregarded the wards." I almost wished for the days of simple exorcisms.
Now I was tangled so deeply in the occult there was no way I was getting
out again. Not that I wanted to. I was pretty happy with my collection of
boyfriends, and I was finding I didn't mind dealing with the increasingly
more terrifying aspects of the supernatural as much as I would have thought
only a few months ago.
"I see." He didn't look especially pleased.
"Billy has probably figured out exactly who you are. Mandy just knows
you're a powerful supernatural."
He shook his head. "I'm surprised they are sticking around."
I gestured to the new décor. "They're responsible for the rebrand."
Mandy came over just then with a menu for Lucifer and some waters.
"Do you know what you want to drink?"
Turns out Lucifer was a beer drinker, and I had my normal ginger beer.
"Be right back!" She bolted.
"What do you recommend?" He looked at my menu.
"They're all good. You pick."
He studied the specials before laughing. "How about Dante's Inferno?"
"Always a good choice." It was normally a little spicy for my taste, with
jalapenos, hot sauce, spicy cheese, and green chilies, but now that I had
access to my demon prince boyfriend Ezra's demonic magic, I could
mitigate some of that.
Mandy came back with our drinks, took our order, and ran toward the
kitchen.
"Is she going to be all right?"
"Yeah, Mandy will be fine." I hoped.
"Very well. I suppose there's not much to be done about it."
I nodded. "So, what did you want to talk about, mate?"
"You're in danger."
"Seems to be the theme over the last couple of months." From fighting
off demons captured in charms giving drug runners extra power, to having
to go to hell to get Sabian back, and having angels attack Mal and Aaron, I
hadn't truly felt safe outside of my house in quite some time. Oh, did I
mention literally dying? And the demonic possession that had saved my
life? I'd ended up with a demon mark from that experience, too. An exorcist
—that would be yours truly—with two demon marks was unreal. Lucifer's
mark allowed me access to hell and I wasn't sure exactly what else. I
basically didn't want to know.
Ezra's mark had originally been intended as a binding of sorts to protect
me after he'd been in possession of my body. The binding between us hadn't
been what he'd expected, however, and it had tied us tightly together
because of a quirk of my blood. I had old magic in my bloodlines and that
gave me a great deal of control over Ezra, should I have tried to use it. If
nothing else, I had access to his powers.
Of course, an exorcist with two demonic boyfriends was even more
unreal than all of that.
We had made a lot of enemies in a very short space of time, and we
weren't safe. Even when we were in my house our protection was only as
good as the wards Mal and I had put up. If Lucifer could get through the
ones on the shop, I suspected the ones on my house weren't going to stop
my more powerful enemies. Maybe Ezra might have some ideas.
"Mammon has put out instructions that anyone who can bring him your
dead body will reap great rewards. I have countered this, by offering my
favor to anyone who helps keep you alive. However, it is currently
impossible to know who is loyal to who. I've also heard rumors that the
angels are interested in your neutralization. Their way of saying they want
you dead."
I burst out laughing.
Lucifer tilted his head.
I managed to get my outburst under control and wiped a few tears from
my eyes. "Damn, I've managed to piss off a lot of people in the past, but
this certainly takes the cake."
Mandy came over with our drinks. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, Mandy. It's all good."
"Okay. Your pizza will be up in a few minutes."
"Thanks."
"Yes, thank you." Lucifer added an extra touch of seduction to his voice
and Mandy blushed.
I shot him a dirty look.
"Behave," I hissed once she was out of earshot.
 "Me?" He gave me an innocent look.
"I will end you if you harm my waitstaff."
He smiled. "Duly noted. I was simply being charming. I hear I am good
at it."
Taking a deep breath and shaking my head, I tried to relax back into the
booth. "Okay, so a bunch of powerful people want me dead. Great. What do
we do about it?"
"Do not go anywhere alone. Continue to develop your powers. Help me
end the threat Mammon poses."
Mammon was his rival in hell. A powerful demon who seemed to be
after Lucifer's position as ruler of hell. There was also a running theory that
someone was trying to start an apocalypse and the two were clearly
connected, although none of us had figured out all the details yet. I was
guessing the angels wanted the apocalypse, but I didn't know that for sure.
They'd come after Aaron, my half-angel boyfriend, and tried to kidnap him.
They claimed they were simply offering him training. Fortunately—no,
really—the four horsemen had shown up in time to save me and had offered
to train Aaron instead. Seemed Death was actually an angel, and War had
angelic blood, so they knew what they were doing, and they were totally
against the idea of having an apocalypse. Crazy, right?
"Okay, so you're here to ask me for help?"
"No, I'm here to warn you and eat delicious pizza." He turned his
charming smile on me.
Fear twisted through my gut. I ignored the completely rational feeling.
"You're totally here asking for my help."
His reply was interrupted by the arrival of our pizza.
In an attempt to keep from having to save my life again, Ezra had
dropped a whole bunch of demonic knowledge in my head to help quick
start my magical learning. One of these spells would allow me to eat crazy
spicy food without immediately hating life. I almost forgot to apply the
spell before taking a bite of the cheesy deliciousness that was in front of
me, but I remembered at the last moment.
Lucifer made an appreciative sound that would have been a total turn on
if I hadn't been mostly terrified of him.
"This is delicious."
"Glad you like it, mate." I slipped a little to Mayhem, who had hopped
up on the seat next to me. He wagged his fluffy tail happily.
 "Price?"
"Yes, Lucifer?"
"Why is your hellhound shaped like a Pomeranian?"
"I have no freaking idea. He showed up that way."
The demon chuckled.
We fell into a somewhat companionable silence while we devoured our
pizza. Mandy refilled our drinks, and once I had eaten my fill, I leaned back
in the booth and waited for Lucifer to finish.
"So, you want my help. What's next?"
"I'm not asking you for your help, Price. I'm telling you that the only
way to keep yourself safe is to take on Mammon."
"Isn't fighting rival demons your job?"
"Yes, of course. I am working on it, as well." His expression soured.
"You're splitting hairs."
He frowned at me. "Price..."
"Seriously, what did you think I was doing? Sitting on my ass? I'm not
exactly going demon hunting, but we're working on our abilities to protect
ourselves so we can be prepared. I already know Mammon is coming for
me. He told me himself he wanted me dead. I had no reason to expect he
was lying." I shrugged. "If he comes after me, he's going to get a fight. It is
good to know that he put a hit out on me, but being in danger is nothing
new. The news about the angels is unwelcome but also basically
unsurprising."
"Very well." His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed.
"Look, you can ask me for my help without having to owe me anything.
I'm a human, not a demon. Your general good will toward me and mine is
more than enough repayment. Besides,"—I tapped my chest over his mark
—"if what Ezra said holds then the normal rules you have to work under
don't apply to me anymore."
Lucifer inclined his head slightly in agreement.
"So, if you want my help, ask me. If you are just here to deliver a
warning, I appreciate it, though you could have called me and saved
yourself the trip. If you really did want pizza, well, I hope you liked it. Lots
more to try." I shrugged. "There's too much crazy shit going on to beat
around the bush. You want something, just ask."
"Be wary of attacks, Price. You are a key player in this conflict."
"Goody," I muttered.
 That brought a smile back to his face and some of the tension eased from
my shoulders.
"If I need something specific, I will ask. Until then, keep yourself and
your men alive and do your best to distract Mammon while I work on
things from my end."
"Pretty sure that was high on our priority list, anyway."
"They know you won't go down easy in a fight, Price. Watch for trickery.
I do not know what the angels have planned, nor what they are capable of
under these circumstances. Normally an angel wouldn't even consider
harming a human. To do so is to fall. Clearly the stakes are such that at least
some are willing to risk that fate. Perhaps promises from Mammon have
made them bold. Perhaps the angels wish the apocalypse because then the
rules change. I do not know. We do know Mammon wants hell and he will
likely do anything in his power to get it."
"I think Azrael is looking into things, if that helps."
"Good. Be careful who you trust, Price."
"Gee, thanks for the obvious there."
He sighed.
"Wait, are you telling me not to trust you? Because of the people I know
who are on 'my' side in this, you're the biggest wild card."
He stared at me for a moment, blinking, before he reached out and
tapped his mark on my chest with his finger. A pleasant, warm sensation
settled in my core, and I squirmed uncomfortably.
"You can trust me. You can trust the horsemen. You can trust your men. I
would be very cautious about trusting anyone else."
"Okay." I tried to rein in the snark a little. He had come all this way to
warn me, after all.
"I must get going. This has been an interesting afternoon. Please give
Mandy and Billy my regards." He pulled out a wallet and dropped some
money on the table. "For Mandy's stress." He winked. "And the pizza. It
was truly exquisite. I hope I can return to try something else in the future."
I wasn't sure if he was asking permission or saying he hoped he had
time, but I decided to go with the first interpretation because it suited my
snarky ass better. "Sure, mate. Any time. If you give me a heads up I'll even
try to be here."
He laughed. "You are refreshing, Price. I will see you later."
I stood when he did and watched as he left.
 The pressure on the wards vanished once he was outside of them, and
then some demonic sense I had from Ezra's powers let me know when he
was truly gone. I didn't know how he was traveling, but he was out of the
area.
I sank back down into the booth and stared at the ceiling, feeling
drained.
Moments later, Mandy and Billy hurried over.
"That was who I think it was, right?" Billy inquired, sliding in across
from me.
"Yeah." I didn't have the energy to move, so I kept staring up at the
ceiling. It was kind of an ugly color. Maybe we should decorate it.
"Holy shit, Chris," Billy stated.
"Yeah." I laughed. "It's getting really interesting around here. Maybe
rebranding wasn't the best idea."
Mandy and Billy joined my laughter, although we all sounded a bit
manic.
"Well, it's done," Billy said after we got ourselves under some semblance
of control.
"Chris, is he, uh, on our side in this fight? What was he doing here?"
Mandy stammered.
Oh right, they didn't actually know that bit and I doubted telling them
not to worry about it would help anything.
"Yeah, he's on our side, believe it or not. I'm going to have to ask Ezra if
there is anything we can do to keep his rival out of here. I wouldn't put it
past Mammon to hit the store. Fuck." That thought did not fill me with joy.
I didn't want to put any of my people in danger. None of this was their fault.
"If I had known how deep this was going to get, I would have told Darius to
take a hike."
Darius was my priest friend and the one who had gotten me into the
occult years before he became a priest. He was also an exorcist like yours
truly, but I was better at it. He'd been the one to come to me when the
demon-imbued charms had started showing up.
"It's okay, Chris," Mandy said. "It's not your fault, either. It's the bad
guys' fault. They're the ones causing the problems."
I took a breath and nodded. She was right, but I still felt bad putting my
people in danger.
 "Okay, just to clarify," Billy said, a sly grin on his face. "Ezra is a
demon. Sabian is a demon. Mal is...I don't know what Mal is but he's scary,
and Aaron is a Nephilim."
I saw Mandy grin when Billy mentioned Mal. She knew he was a
vampire, and she totally had a thing for vampires. She wasn't after Mal, per
say, she was just thrilled to know they existed.
"Yeah, that's about right."
He raised his eyebrows. "Are they at least good in bed?"
I was lucky I hadn't been taking a drink or I would have snorted ginger
beer through my nose. "Yeah, mate, but...why are you asking?"
"Because, other than their extreme hotness, I'm trying to figure out why
you're with a bunch of people an exorcist shouldn't normally be hanging out
with. Or am I mistaking the normal role of exorcism in that it's supposed to
banish demons?" He tilted his head as if questioning his knowledge.
I chuckled. "Yeah, well, I have exorcised both of them. Accidently, but I
did it. They didn't stay gone." None of this would normally have been any
of his business and he had refrained from asking for quite a while, but with
Lucifer casually strolling in and the knowledge that we could be under
attack even here, I didn't mind answering Billy's questions.
"Right, because you went to hell to get Sabian back." Mandy's voice
took on a dreamy quality. "Because true love, right?"
I cleared my throat and straightened in my seat. "Might be closer to true
rage and stubbornness, but I do love him, so close enough."
Billy glanced between us then shrugged. "True love will follow you
forever, and we all know true love is the greatest thing in the world. Good
enough for me."
I snorted at the movie quote.
"So, what's hell like?" Billy leaned his elbows on the table and stared at
me intently.
"Well, some parts of it are pretty nice, some suck. It's colder and darker
than here. I learned some magic to help with the temperature."
"Is that how you made it through an entire kitchen shift without breaking
a sweat?" Billy grinned at me.
"Yeah."
"Pretty cool."
I shrugged.
 "So, what can we do to protect ourselves?" Mandy folded her hands
together and tried to sound calm, but I could hear a hint of fear in her voice.
"I'll see if I can get you some holy water, and maybe Mal can work up
some personal wards for the staff."
"So, like, we're carrying mace around but it's holy water?" she asked.
"Yeah, something like that."
"Okay, so what's the rule for when we think someone's a demon, but
we're not sure?"
I laughed. "Well, if you're really worried about it and they're playing
nice, ignore them. If they're not, then squirt them in the face, and if they're
not demons give them a free pizza."
"Seriously?" Billy asked.
"Yeah, let's hope it doesn't come to that, but protect yourselves. I'll get
with the guys and see if we can come up with a better plan." I sighed.
"Speaking of, I should get going. Aaron talked me into going down to
Albuquerque tomorrow to meet his parents." I rested my face in my hands
for a moment. "Think I'd rather face the demons."
Mandy laughed.
"Getting serious, Chris, meeting the folks."
"Yeah, well, Aaron's the only one of us with parents, so I guess that
means I only have to meet one set."
"Ahh, sorry, Chris. I didn't mean..."
"Naw," I waved him off. "It's fine, Billy. I know what you meant. We're
good."
"Okay, get out of here. Thanks for keeping things interesting, Boss,"
Billy said.
Mandy glanced at the bill Lucifer had left on the table. "Did he want
change?"
"No, why?"
"Good, because we probably don't have enough cash."
I raised my eyebrows when she showed me. "Well..."
"I'll split it with everyone on tonight. It's only fair."
"You're a good person, Mandy. Thanks for taking care of us tonight." I
slid out of the booth. Mayhem followed. "I'll see you both in a couple of
days. Call me if you need anything."
They agreed and I headed out into the evening heat, Mayhem at my side.
There, I stared at the black Harley and shook my head. My beastly car with
the fantastic air conditioning was languishing at home, while I rode around
on the motorcycle form of the demonic nightstallion that had chosen me as
his rider. In his horse form he had a black hide, a flaming mane, tail, and
feathering on his legs, and fangs. Damn horse was not an herbivore. And he
threw a fit any time I tried to get into my car. Nope, I was now cruising in
style on a Harley. So far I hadn't had to explain that shift in habit to my
staff. Flaming horse might be a bit much. Then again, the ruler of hell had
just had pizza in my shop, so... maybe they would take it in stride.
I pulled my leather jacket on from where I'd left it in one of the saddle
bags and thanked Ezra again for the spell that let me deal with temperature
extremes before throwing my leg over the motorcycle. I didn't need a
helmet with the nightstallion. I trusted his magic to protect me. The Harley
fired up on its own, but after a few days together the nightstallion had
finally started letting me drive. I still knew fuck all about riding a horse, but
a motorcycle I could manage.
Mayhem hopped up on the back, and we headed for home.
 Chapter 2
Price

Mal paced through the living room like a caged predator when I returned
home. He ran his hand through his wavy black hair and turned to face me.
Sabian sat in the armchair Aaron typically favored, a frown marring his
brow. I had no idea where Aaron was and that worried me a bit. Ever since
his house had burned down, he'd been crashing at my place. It was late
enough that he should have been here.
As anxious as Mal acted, I was surprised he hadn't met me at the door.
The Harley form of my nightstallion wasn't exactly stealthy, and the
vampire had excellent hearing.
Still, as soon as I came into the living room, Mal, using vampire
quickness, was at my side. He wrapped me in a bone crushing hug then held
me at arm's length and studied me, as if trying to determine if I was okay. I
let myself get lost in his liquid brown eyes and inhaled his scent—old books
and heavy incense.
"I'm fine, mate."
Mal didn't look convinced, but he released me into Sabian's warm
embrace. Where the older-than-dirt—he wouldn't tell me exactly how old—
Arabic vampire was cooler and not all that much taller than I was, Sabian
practically radiated heat. He was also significantly taller and more
outwardly muscular than Mal. I melted into his arms. While he looked
stronger than Mal, the vampire was more than a match for Sabian in a fight.
The incubus said it best, he was a lover, not a fighter. I wouldn't try to take
either of them on in a physical altercation, but fist fights weren't my
strength, either.
 "So, what happened?" Mal put his arms around me from behind when
Sabian didn't release me right away.
Sandwiched between them, I felt the last bits of tension melt away.
"First, where's Aaron?" I looked deeply into Sabian's light amber colored
eyes.
"Dealing with some stuff with his house. He'll be home soon."
I just loved how Mal and Aaron and Sabian all called my place home.
Mal had his own home. A small, nice place right near the square in the
touristy area of downtown where he co-owned a New Age occult shop with
a woman named Olivia. He pretty much stayed here, though. Sabian's
version of a home was in hell, and while he said it was nice enough it was
lacking a certain exorcist and he would rather be here—his words again.
"Surprised you let him go alone." With the angels after him, we hadn't let
him go anywhere alone in a while.
"After spending time with Azrael and Cáit and the others, he's confident
he can hold his own now, unless it's a really serious attack. And he has the
horsemen on speed dial."
I laughed. "Ironic how comforting that is."
"Yes." Mal shuddered, in direct counterpoint to his agreement.
"You okay?"
"Azrael does not like me." He shivered again.
"Ah." I had no idea what to say to that, so I just acknowledged his
discomfort. If the angel of death didn't like me, I'd also be freaked out.
"Okay, so what happened at the shop? Billy wasn't real clear other than
that it seemed like everything was okay." Mal nuzzled into my neck, setting
my heart racing.
My brain short circuited for a moment, but I managed to answer him.
"Lucifer showed up."
Both Mal and Sabian went still with that declaration.
"What did he want?" Sabian finally took a breath.
"Pizza. What else would he want?"
Mal chuckled, breath tickling my skin.
"Chris," Sabian replied urgently. "What did he want?"
"Sorry." Clearly Sabian was bothered and not finding the answer he
wanted in my surface thoughts, which he could read. "He wanted to warn
me that Mammon had put a hit out on me. Which isn't exactly news. Also,
the angels are interested in neutralizing me, so that probably means they
want me dead, too. Not surprising."
"He came all this way to warn you in person?" Sabian's arms tightened
around me.
"Well, I told you, he wanted pizza."
Ever since Ezra had given me access to his powers, I had the same
ability to read his and Sabian's surface thoughts. It even allowed us to
basically communicate telepathically if we wanted. Sabian was not satisfied
with my answer but didn't voice his concerns.
"Mal, how's your bodyguarding game?" Sabian asked after a moment of
silence.
"I can tell Olivia I'm not available for a while," he replied.
"I have a hellhound and a nightstallion following me everywhere. I
hardly think I need you to tag along, too, Mal."
"I don't think we were asking your permission, Chris," Mal answered.
I stiffened, although I didn't go so far as to pull away from my men. "I
do not need a bodyguard."
"You might," Sabian countered. "And it's not going to hurt anything."
"Look, I like having you all around, but I don't need you following me
everywhere."
Mal kissed my neck, probably hoping to soften me. I ignored the gesture.
"Chris, it's not forever," Mal insisted.
"We will talk about it later," I grumbled. I didn't have the energy to argue
with them anymore. I just wanted to go to bed.
The guys stepped back, and I turned and headed for my bedroom. They
would follow. They both slept in there, too, but I could get a few minutes
alone. Tomorrow I would have to deal with Aaron's family. Right now, I
couldn't even muster the energy to worry about it.
A hot shower to get the remnants of my time in the kitchen today off my
skin was in order. Then maybe a soak in the tub, depending on how I felt
after. I stripped, dumping my clothes in the hamper, and headed for the
shower.
Soon the hot water pounded the tension from my shoulders as I leaned
against the wall. I was tired from the day and had way too much on my
mind. Though I was happy for my current circumstances, and grateful for
all the caring men in my life, I did miss the general lack of worries I'd had
only a couple of months before. With me, myself, my vibrator, and I, my
biggest worry was what to eat for dinner, if I'd charged my favorite toy, and
the occasional issue at the shop. Now I hadn't even needed my vibrator in
forever, and the pizza parlor was the least worrisome thing in my life. Other
than the fact it and my crew might actually be in danger. At least I never
had to figure out food. For someone who didn't eat, Mal was a fantastic
cook, and he really enjoyed doing it.
Hell, I didn't even have to clean anymore. Sabian had taken over that
role. An incubus who cleaned… I was not complaining.
Aaron helped out a fair bit, too, but he also had a full-time job over at
Los Alamos and kids soccer and high school chess coaching that he did on
the side to keep himself busy. My angel was quite the nerd, in all the best
ways. He'd only been back a few days from spending the weekend with
Azrael and his crew, although it had been much longer for Aaron. We hadn't
had much chance to talk. Hopefully, we could catch up tomorrow.
The water cooled. So much for running a bath. I could heat it magically
now, but that seemed like an awful lot of effort when I could just crash face
first into my bed.
Yeah, that was the better option.
After turning off the water, I got out and dripped on the rug for a few
moments, debating magic or a towel. It amazed me how quickly I had
gotten used to being able to do so many things with magic. Ezra's magic, I
reminded myself, and grabbed the towel. Grumpy with him, too, even
though he hadn't done anything to deserve my ire. Really, Mal and Sabian
hadn't, either. They were probably right. I just didn't like the idea. I didn't
want any of them being in more danger because of me. Of course, as
Mandy and Billy had pointed out, none of this was my fault. I'd simply
ended up involved because of Darius.
Darius…that reminded me. I needed to see if he had any ideas for
protecting my staff. My old friend. The one who had started it all, and
gotten me into the occult in the first place. He'd gotten out and become a
priest. I'd only left the occult after my parents had been killed by a demon.
That had been my fault. Mostly. Well, maybe not really at all, but I wasn't
sure and I wasn't ready to let go of that guilt quite yet.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to send him a message. If he'd even be
willing to speak with me at this point. Though he'd been the one to leave a
starving incubus—Sabian—with me in the first place. He had some strong
opinions on how involved I'd become with the demons since then.
 He really had no idea.
I hung my towel and went into my bedroom. I did take a moment to pull
back my unicorn comforter. I'd gone through a phase as a kid and never
upgraded it. Don't judge me. Then I crashed face first down into my
pillows.
They smelled like Sabian and Mal. Old books and musky incenses for
my vampire, and the subtle hint of fire overlaid with a very masculine musk
for Sabian. I inhaled their scents and then buried myself under the covers.
How had I gotten so lucky? I didn't even care that none of my men were
human. It hadn't even occurred to me it was that strange until after talking
to Billy earlier today. Oh well. I'd never been one to do things the normal
way.
I had nearly drifted off to sleep when the bed dipped next to me and
warm hands touched my shoulder.
"Want us to leave you alone?" Sabian asked.
I could almost imagine the hopeful look in his amber eyes.
"No, mate. Aaron make it back?"
"Yes."
He pulled the covers back, and cooler, strong hands kneaded my
muscles.
Groaning in pleasure, I shifted around to a better position for a back rub.
Sabian helped me slide a pillow under my chest and I lay there and let Mal
ease the remaining tension from my limbs.
Mal started on my feet and Sabian curled up next to me. I was on the
verge of sleep when Mal wrapped himself around me from the other side.
Between two of my men, I fell into a deep sleep.

∞∞∞

Soft fingers caressing my shoulder woke me the next morning.

"Morning," I mumbled. "…time is it?"
"We have about three hours before we have to leave for Albuquerque,"
Sabian replied.
"And why are we awake?"
"Because we wanted to tie you up and have our way with you," Mal
whispered in my ear.
That got my attention, and I was no longer sleepy.
 "Oh, really?"
"Really," Sabian breathed.
"We thought we'd invite Aaron to the party, if you're okay with that?"
Mal trailed his fingers down my spine.
"Mmm, if he wants to join us, he's welcome." Something occurred to me,
and I thought I should tell Mal because I wasn't sure how much it would
take the fun out of being tied up. "So, uh, Ezra kind of taught me an
unbinding spell."
Mal kissed my shoulder. "Good."
"Yeah, but that means if I need to, I can get out of your ties."
"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Mal replied.
"Right, but…"
Mal nipped at my neck, sending shivers down my back. "Shh, it's okay.
If it really takes all the fun out of it for you, we'll find other games to play.
If not, we'll just pretend you don't know that spell unless it ever comes
down to you really needing it."
"Okay."
He bit me again, and I squirmed happily.
"Not sure exactly what Aaron will be comfortable with, if he joins us," I
pointed out.
"We'll focus on you," Mal assured me.
"Great. I do have it from a reliable source that he finds it hot when you're
feeding from me. So, if you're hungry, go ahead."
"Mmm, good to know."
I went limp when he pressed into my skin with his fangs, and groaned in
disappointment when he pulled away.
"Make yourself comfortable. I'm going to go get Aaron."
I rolled over and watched as Mal left the room, his pajama pants hugging
his ass, and leaving his muscular back on full display. Who was I kidding,
he could be wearing a burlap sack and he'd be sexy as hell.
Sabian purred softly. "I could stay satisfied from just you watching Mal
wander around shirtless."
Laughing, I climbed out of bed and headed for the restroom. "He's hot.
So is Aaron. You should have been here when I got to watch them doing
sword forms shirtless. It about killed me."
"Mmm, I'd like that. Maybe we can arrange a repeat in the future."
Sabian flopped backward on my bed, also wearing pants that did nothing to
hide the fact that he was completely turned on.
I licked my lips then made myself continue on to the bathroom. It was
morning, and I needed to pee, and maybe brush my teeth and freshen up a
little. There was sweaty, and then there was spent all night sleeping next to
an incubus furnace.
When I came back into the room, I belatedly remembered that Aaron
hadn't even seen me undressed. I certainly wasn't complaining that he was
still dressed for bed in a pair of sleeping shorts and nothing else. The way
they sagged on his waist just highlighted his six pack and that hot v shape I
wanted to trace with my fingers. He was tall, lean, but extremely muscular.
The white eye markings on his pecs and biceps stood out starkly against his
dark skin. They, and the wing markings draped along his back, were the
visible signs of his angelic heritage.
His eyebrows rose and I swear he blushed, though it was hard to tell on
his dark complexion.
I held out my arms as if presenting myself and winked. "Sorry, forgot
you hadn't seen me naked."
"I don't mind," he stammered, deep voice filling me with pleasure. "I
was just surprised."
"It's much harder to have our way with her after she's tied up, if she's got
clothes on," Mal pointed out.
"You're really going to tie her up?"
"Yep." Sabian grinned and clapped his hands together like a kid at a toy
shop.
"What do you want me to do?" Aaron sounded uncertain.
"Just watch for now," Mal said. "Grab a seat on the bed." He gestured for
me to join him in the open space next to the bed. Aaron and Sabian sat on
my bed. Sabian cross-legged, Aaron perched on the end like he was trying
to decide if he was going to bolt or not.
Mal glanced at the half-angel and grinned. "I can tie you up first."
Aaron cleared his throat before settling more firmly on the bed. "I'll, uh,
watch."
Mal chuckled and turned his attention back to me. "Tell me to stop any
time. If anything hurts, tell me right away. Discomfort is okay, pain is not.
Make sure you let me know if you get any numbness or tingling. I can
usually tell if I accidently cut off circulation before a human can, but in case
I miss it let me know. And I'll always cut you out if you need it. Or you can
use your spell."
I nodded my understanding.
Mal lifted one of his ropes and rubbed it against my cheek, then across
my shoulder. I shivered. We'd only done this once before, but the sound of
the rope slithering across the floor as he pulled it around my body excited
me.
He continued like that for a while, teasing me with the rope while I stood
still. Mal circled me, running the line over my back, across my butt,
between my legs. He brushed his fingers across my pussy.
"Mmm, already nice and wet," he murmured.
Tingles of pleasure curled through me.
Mal stopped in front of me and kissed my forehead, before putting the
rope over my head and nestling a knot between my shoulder blades. His
fingers caressed my skin as he draped the two cords over my shoulders
before tying a knot over my breastbone, then another between my breasts
and a few more further down until he threaded the cords between my legs.
He moved behind me and pulled the cords up firmly between my legs.
He must have then threaded them through the other end of the rope, because
when he tugged the rope snug, it pulled down across my shoulders—and
tight up against my pussy.
"Okay?" he whispered.
"Yeah," I managed to get out, nerves lit up from all the sensations.
He took a few minutes just to play with my body again, running his
fingers over my breasts, tweaking a nipple, biting at my neck, turning me to
putty in his hands. Mal threaded the rope through the front, making a
diamond shape across my chest before pulling it behind me. Then, instead
of moving around me, he pulled me with the rope so that I was forced to
turn. The harness tightened around me as he worked, making diamonds on
my chest as he connected the cords down my front and down my back with
lacing over my sides. The pressure constricted me, letting me know I was
being tied, but it was never so much that I couldn't handle it.
Every once in a while he'd check in to make sure I was okay, but
otherwise he worked quickly and quietly. I, on the other hand, was panting,
all sorts of hot and bothered. Endorphins flooded my system and I let
myself get lost in the sensation of being commanded by my vampire.
 Once he had the body ropes cinched, he carefully ran his fingers under
everything to make sure it wasn't too tight. I squirmed against him when he
ran his fingers between my pussy and the rope.
"Patience, my dear exorcist," he chided.
"Not really my strong suit."
"You don't say…" He finished his inspection with of the ropes then
tugged on the back of the harness.
"Sit."
The command in his voice was absolute and I sank to the ground without
question. Mal knelt in front of me and bent my knee until my heel was
touching my thigh. "Okay?"
"Yeah."
He braced my foot so I could relax my muscles then wove his rope
around my leg until my calf was securely bound to my thigh. His rope work
was efficient, but I could tell he added some ornamentation into the basic
knotwork.
"Still okay?"
"Yeah, it's good."
He grinned and moved to my other leg, tying it the same.
"Give me your hands," he ordered when he was done.
The last time he had only done my arms, but I wasn't complaining about
the rest. I'd been holding myself in a sitting position with my arms, so I had
to adjust, but it was taking a bit of work to keep myself upright instead of
laying on my back.
"Aaron, come over here and support her shoulders for a moment," Mal
ordered, still on his knees in front of me.
Aaron did what he was told, and I leaned against him, glancing up. He
met my gaze. His eyes were wide, and I could practically feel the desire
radiating off of him. I grinned. Aaron smiled back.
My attention returned to Mal when he put my hands together and
wrapped the ropes around my wrists.
"Tell me if this bothers your shoulders," he ordered as he pulled my arms
up over my head and then behind my neck. He secured the bindings on my
wrists to the ties behind my back.
Aaron shifted out of the way, still supporting me but letting Mal have
access to my back.
 "Nope, I'm good." My voice was breathy, and I was really aching for
some attention, but Mal was right, I could have some patience. There wasn't
too much more he could tie me with, was there?
The vampire secured my hands to my back. I gave an experimental tug.
They weren't going anywhere. Even with my ability to unbind myself, if I
hadn't trusted Mal completely, I might have been a little panicked. With my
legs bound to themselves and my arms tight behind me, there was nothing I
could do.
And then Mal did one last tie. He pulled my legs out to the side and tied
my ankles with ropes so I couldn't put my knees together. Holy crap. I was
completely on display, and totally at his mercy.
I took a breath, then relaxed again as Mal moved so that his chest
supported me, and I could lean back against him. I was a little nervous at
first, but I could easily get used to this. There was nothing I could do, so
why worry about anything. Right now, Mal was in charge, and I could relax
and just do what I was told, or in this case, relax while he ran his hands
down my chest. He squeezed my breasts and I groaned in pleasure.
"Aaron, you're welcome to touch her," Mal suggested.
"Chris?" Aaron asked hesitantly.
"Yeah, Aaron, go ahead. Whatever you'd like to do is fine with me." I
had no doubts that his initial desires would be well within my comfort level.
Possibly forever. Misspent youth and all that. And I trusted my men.
Aaron knelt in front of me and, hesitantly at first, touched my cheek. I
held eye contact with him, although I really wanted to shut my eyes and go
along for the ride. I felt he needed to have me looking at him for a bit. He
brushed his fingers down my neck, pulling a moan from my lips. Mal really
had turned my neck into one of my favorite spots to be touched. Aaron then
traced his fingers over the lattice work of ropes crossing the front of my
body and that was an extraordinarily exciting sensation that had me gasping
in short order.
He looked back up at my eyes, checking in. I grinned at him, and he
dragged his fingers across my breasts, gently at first then with a bit more
pressure. He spent some time there, sending shivers of pleasure through me
as he explored.
Mal kept his hands on my sides, tracing small circles with his thumbs,
touching me, but letting Aaron do most of the work.
 Slowly, Aaron moved his hands lower and I squirmed, trying to
encourage him. I could sense he was hesitant, but I wasn't sure what I could
do to help the situation. Was it the other guys in the room? Something else
that I could help with? I wasn't sure how to ask what he needed. Maybe he
just needed to watch someone else get me off? There certainly wasn't
anything I could do. Mal's bondage held firm against my movements, as it
should.
"The easiest way to get her off, which I guarantee she's dying for right
now, is with her vibrator. Well, other than Mal's teeth in her neck." Sabian
came to the rescue. He probably could read Aaron's surface thoughts with
his incubus powers. I wondered if Aaron knew that.
I opened my eyes and looked. He knelt next to Aaron and handed over
my favorite massaging wand. Well, my new favorite. I'd broken the old one
when Sabian had moved in, before I'd finally been convinced to call Mal
and have him rescue me from myself. Also, before I'd been sleeping with
the incubus.
Sabian showed Aaron how to turn it on, and how to work the settings.
Years of conditioning had me even wetter just by the sound of the thing and
Aaron hadn't even touched it to me yet.
I groaned, distracted from my thoughts, the anticipation a sweet kind of
torture, but one I didn't want to put up with for much longer.
"Like this." Sabian guided Aaron's hand and I had a moment to notice
that Sabian was touching Aaron's skin without any signs of discomfort
before they touched the vibrating wand to my clit.
I jerked. Sabian had started at a bit higher of a setting than I normally
did, and Aaron tried to pull away, but Sabian kept his hand in place and
after a moment of overwhelming sensation, everything settled into place. I
was quivering with pleasure as Sabian and Aaron moved the wand around
to the spots I liked best. Having an incubus as a boyfriend did not suck.
Sweat slicked my skin and I tugged on my bonds in reflex. My thighs
quivered and I could feel all the delicious heat and pressure building in my
core and radiating through me, making my breasts tingle. Mal dragged his
fingers up my sides until he was playing with my breasts.
"She's almost there," Sabian purred, amber eyes burning with lust, "so
we're going to tease her."
I was reduced to a whimper as they pulled the vibrator away, running it
down my legs instead.
 "Aaron," Mal said after clearing his throat. The husky notes to his voice
just turned me on even more. "That rope runs right over her clit…play with
the wand and the ropes on her body."
"Ohh," Sabian breathed, sounding like he'd just been given a brand new
toy.
"Holy shit," I gasped as Aaron touched the vibrator to the cords. That
was a sensation I could get behind.
Aaron moved the wand around while Sabian teased me with his fingers.
Tugging on some of the ropes, caressing others. Mal continued to play with
my breasts.
I melted into an incoherent puddle of exorcist in their hands.
Finally, Aaron moved the vibrator back to my clit, and Sabian slid the
ropes aside enough to plunge his fingers inside of me.
That did me in. I bucked against them as I came hard. Aaron pulled the
vibrator away, though Sabian finger fucked me for a bit longer. I sagged as
much as the ropes binding me, and Mal holding me up, would allow.
"Wow," Aaron breathed. "That was great."
Mal chuckled. "Okay, let me get her untied."
Just like before, he made the process of untying me as sensual as he had
when he had bound me.
I let him control my limbs, no desire to move after that.
It took a little time, but Mal got me untied, then ran his hands all over
me, tracing some of the lines on my skin, running his fingers over my
stomach, brushing them over my soaking pussy.
"I'm not quite done with you," he murmured.
"Mmm, good," I slurred. "Breakfast?"
"Since you so kindly offered earlier," he answered.
"You want me to leave?" Aaron asked.
"Only if you don't want to stay," Mal replied. He gathered me up into his
arms so I was sitting again.
Aaron didn't leave, and Mal let his hands wander down my body, until he
was stroking me with his fingers.
"So good," I gasped out.
Mal gripped my throat with his free hand and bent my neck before
sinking his teeth into my flesh, and his fingers into my pussy.
I came hard and it was nearly too much, but holy crap did it feel good. I
lost track of all the sensations, nearly blacking out. When the world started
to sort itself out again, I found myself cradled in Mal's arms, looking up at
him. His lips had curled into a satisfied smirk that made me hot all over
again.
Glancing around, my gaze landed on Sabian first. He laid on his side on
my bed, a glazed, drunk look in his eyes as he stared in my general
direction, although he wasn't really looking at anything at the moment. I
found Aaron sitting on the floor, leaning against my bed. He had one leg
pulled up to his chest and he stared at me, desire written all over his
features. Well, that was good, anyway. We hadn't scared him off with that
display.
I winked at him, and he grinned.
"I feel like I've been missing out," he finally admitted.
"That's what I've been telling you," I replied. Amazingly able to come up
with a complete sentence.
"Noted."
"Okay, we should probably all get cleaned up. I still need to feed the
humans before we leave, after all," Mal said.
Reluctantly, I let him help me to my feet. At least if everything went to
hell later, we'd started the day right.
 Chapter 3
Aaron

Holy shit, I thought for about the hundredth time in the last hour. I'd never
felt so fantastic and completely inadequate at the same time in my entire
life. Watching Mal and Sabian, and admittedly myself with Sabian's help,
take Chris apart like that had been mind blowingly amazing. And watching
her shatter under Mal's attention after had been just as hot. But now that I
knew what kind of treatment she was used to, I had no way to live up to that
on my own. I knew the basics, but nothing I'd ever watched or read had
really prepared me for that. There was no way I could make her happy on
my own. Was there?
The conflicting emotions did have one benefit. They kept my mind off
the impending visit with my parents.
Momma hadn't sounded all that pleased when I'd finally told her that
Chris had more than one boyfriend. I didn't know how my dad felt about it,
but I could only guess he wasn't happy, either. Well, we'd just have to work
our way through it. Even if I felt insufficient next to Mal and Sabian, I was
completely in for this relationship. If we survived the coming conflict, I
even thought we'd have a chance to make it last.
Sabian had certainly saved me earlier with the vibrator. I knew anatomy,
but I had next to no experience with pleasing a woman. We'd certainly done
a good job earlier and I was looking forward to more of that, but I was also
intimidated.
Then there was the very real danger that Mammon and the angels posed
for all of us. That was somehow less intimidating. At least I knew a few
things about my own powers now. I could defend myself, and others, if it
came down to it.
 "Aaron, you haven't told us much about your time with the horsemen.
What was that like?" Chris, sitting in the front passenger seat, twisted
around to look at me.
We were all in my vehicle, but I'd talked Mal into driving since I was too
distracted to do it safely. Somehow, Chris had managed to get her
nightstallion to let her ride with us. I suspected he wasn't far away. However
their ability to find their riders worked for spirit horses and the demonic
version Chris rode.
"They call themselves riders. The riders of the apocalypse. Horsemen is
gendered and Cáit is female. So was the original War."
"Ahh, good to know. Thanks for the correction." Chris still had a bit of a
glassy look in her eyes from the explosion of endorphins earlier.
"I guess in some ways there's not a lot to tell. Cáit and Azrael taught me
to use my powers. My time with them was pretty whirlwind so I'll still be
working on a lot of things, but I'm feeling a lot better about everything now.
At the very least I can control it all."
"Oh, is that why you aren't zapping Sabian and Mal now?"
I chuckled. "Yes."
"Great." She got a contemplative look on her face that I wasn't sure how
to interpret so I pushed on with my story.
"Most of the stuff with my powers is interesting to me, of course, but
hard to really describe. I can show you all next time we're in a place that it's
safe to do so. Got a fancy glowing sword I can manifest, same as Cáit.
Though hers hangs out in physical form and she can summon it. Mine is
some sort of energy sword. And Mal, you were right. I do have some built-
in ability with swordplay. Pretty handy, although I wouldn't suggest even
you try and go up against Azrael when he's got a sword in his hand. Holy
crap can that guy swing a blade. Cáit is no slouch, either, but Azrael is,
well, there's no way to even begin to describe his skill level."
"I will not be challenging Death to a duel. I can promise you that."
I leaned forward and gripped Mal's shoulder. "It's nothing personal, Mal.
He doesn't like vampires in general. I think he might approve of you on
some level."
"I'm not terribly reassured," Mal replied though some of the tension
eased out of his shoulders.
"He just doesn't like it when people cheat death." I leaned back,
shrugging.
 Mal chuckled. "I can understand that viewpoint. Still not very
reassuring."
"That feeling doesn't seem to carry over to me," Chris mused.
"It literally wasn't your time to die. I asked one night when I was feeling
brave and the subject of the rest of you came up."
"Oh. Well, great."
"You got much closer than Azrael would have anticipated, but on
reflection, he was grateful for Ezra's intervention."
"As are we all," Mal grudgingly agreed.
"Dude saved her life. He's good in my book," I replied.
"Yeah, he's good," Chris said then snorted. "Well, uh, I mean…"
Mal laughed and Sabian chuckled. "It's fine, I'm over disliking Ezra,"
Mal relented. "But he'd better be good."
Chris ran her hand through her hair and from her posture I was fairly
certain she had a deep blush on her cheeks. "Yeah, no complaints."
"Good," Mal replied.
My feelings of inadequacy skyrocketed.
Sabian glanced at me and arched an eyebrow. He patted my knee and
seemed to be trying to tell me it would be all right, without actually saying
anything. Wait, was he reading my mind? Crap.
Sabian winked then turned and looked out the window.
Great. Just great. Well, he'd saved me some awkward confessions earlier,
and not said anything, so I guess I'd be able to live with it.
"We talked some about how we were going to go about dealing with this
threat. Unfortunately, we didn't come up with anything concrete. Oh, I
should text the information Lucifer gave us to them. That cool, Chris?"
"Yeah, mate."
"He seriously just walked into the pizza parlor and had dinner with
you?" I could not get over that, either.
"Yeah. It was something else." Chris shook her head. "No idea what's up
there."
"He probably views you as his," Sabian said. "You have his mark."
"Yeah, well Ezra got over that possessive crap and Lucifer will have to,
as well," Chris grumbled.
"You sure Ezra is over it?" I asked. "Pretty sure we all think of you as
our exorcist. I can't imagine Ezra is any different."
 "Eh, point." Chris didn't turn around to look at me, but I shifted until I
could see her face in the rearview mirror. She looked extraordinarily
pleased with herself. "Guess Ezra got over the not sharing possessive crap.
Fortunately, old Lucifer doesn't seem to be interested in me that way."
"Are you sure?" Sabian asked.
Chris' shoulders tightened. "He's terrifying and I can't imagine him being
interested in me."
Sabian shrugged. "I can."
"Yeah, pretty sure we can all imagine him being interested in you," I
added. "But if you don't want that kind of attention from him, then it's
probably good he hasn't acted like he wants anything more from you."
"I mean, he's good looking and all, but he's terrifying. What would I do
with someone like that? And good lord, it was hard enough to get Ezra over
not being interested in sharing. Can you imagine the ruler of hell being
willing to be part of this group?"
"No," both Sabian and Mal said in unison.
"So, that's settled," Chris replied. I could hear the discomfort in her
voice, and I moved on to another topic as I pulled out my phone to text the
riders.
"So, to make things more uncomfortable, my parents weren't exactly
thrilled when I told them you were seeing more than one person. I suspect
they'll be on their best behavior, but it could be something we need to figure
out how to explain."
Chris laughed. "I'll try to be on good behavior, Aaron, but I'm shit at
putting up with crap from people."
"A charming part of your personality," I reminded her. "Just do your
best. If you end up having to set them straight, go ahead, but I'll try and
handle them. They're my parents, not yours. We do need to decide what to
tell them, however."
"They know about the angel blood yet?" Chris twisted to look at me
again.
"No."
"'Kay, then we probably need to keep the supernatural on the D.L. if we
can manage it."
"D.L.?" Mal asked.
"Down low?"
 Mal sighed and shook his head. "Just when I think I'm caught up on
slang terms."
Our exorcist laughed. "Gotta keep you on your toes. That's not a new
one. I don't even know a lot of the new slang. Don't spend enough time on
the internet, or around younger folks."
"Let's come up with a story to tell Aaron's parents," Mal said.
Somehow, I didn't think that was going to be easy. The truth might have
been better, but I wasn't sure if they were ready for all of that.

∞∞∞

We were staying at a hotel near my parents’ house. They had a guest

room, but I normally got a hotel, anyway. Especially with Mal and Sabian
in tow, there was no way I'd stay at my folks' house. We'd gotten a suite, so
we could share the accommodations, but would have a little space. It had
two king-sized beds in separate rooms and a small common area. Plenty of
space.
I took over driving after we dropped Mal and Sabian off since I knew the
way. Chris stared out the window, and after a moment, I put a hand on her
arm.
"You okay?"
"This is not my strong suit," she replied. "I really don't care what your
parents think about me, but I don't want to make life difficult for you."
"We'll figure it out. I have no idea how they're going to react. I haven't
really dated that many people, so this is kind of new territory on a lot of
fronts."
"Why not?" She turned to look at me.
"The, uh, angel abilities either freak others out, or freak me out. Well,
they did, anyway."
"How so?" She looked genuinely interested when I glanced at her.
"Outside of the markings, I tend to glow when I get aroused."
She arched her eyebrow.
"Uh, well, I did. I know how to control all of that, now."
"Gottcha."
She got very quiet when I pulled to the curb in front of my parents' house
and stopped the engine. Her fingers were buried in Mayhem's fluff. I'd seen
her ready to go into battle against some seriously dangerous demons and
she hadn't flinched. I felt bad inflicting this on her, and I almost suggested
we go back to the hotel and see if Mal brought his ropes along. Nervous
was not something I'd really expected to see from my exorcist. Especially
when meeting two perfectly normal humans.
Maybe that was the problem. She was used to dealing with everything
but normal.
I got out, went around the car, and opened the door for Chris. She sighed
and slid out. Mayhem leapt to the ground, easily making the jump that
wouldn't have been good for a normal small dog. He sniffed around and
lifted his leg on a landscaping rock. He may not be an actual Earth dog, but
he certainly had some of the habits down. Either that or hellhounds had
similar behaviors.
I hadn't mentioned Mayhem to my parents. I hadn't mentioned a lot of
things and now I wished I had.
Chris let me take her hand and lead her to the door. My parents must
have been watching, because they opened the door and came out on the
front porch of their southwest-styled home.
My exorcist muttered something under her breath before she inhaled
deeply and squeezed my hand. Mayhem trotted along at her heels, and I
wasn't sure if I hoped he was doing his invisible dog thing or not. I had no
idea how my parents would react to the little dog.
"Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad," I greeted my parents once we were close. "This is
Chris Price. Chris, my parents, Patricia and Martin."
"Nice to meet you," Chris said in what I could tell was her best
professional voice. She shook their hands.
"It's nice to meet you, Chris. Why don't you two come inside where it's
cooler." Mom used her best overly polite voice. I really should have told
them more. It would be easier for everyone. I'd gotten so used to Chris'
appearance that her punk image didn't even phase me anymore. It was just
her. She hadn't styled her hair up in the short mohawk she occasionally
sported, but she did wear her normal leather jacket, jeans, boots, and tank
top.
Fuck it, as Chris would say. It shouldn't matter.
"So, Chris, Aaron tells us you own Price's Pizza Parlor in Santa Fe?"
Dad gestured for us to take the couch. Mom grabbed the love seat. "Can I
get you anything to drink?"
 I swore I heard her mutter whiskey under her breath, but out loud she
just asked for water. "Yeah, family business. My parents died and I took it
over. Seems to be doing pretty well."
"It's only the best pizza around. Of course, it's doing well," I said. "And
for the record I thought that before I met you."
She grinned at me.
"And you two met when somehow you saved Aaron from a house fire?"
Dad continued the questioning when he brought back water for everyone.
Shit, I hadn't really explained that very well, either. Chris gave me a little
side-eye with a raised eyebrow thrown in for good measure.
"Yeah," I answered for her. "They happened to be in the area. She's been
kind enough to let me crash at her place since then."
Mayhem jumped up into Chris' lap and she absently pet the Pomeranian-
shaped hellhound.
Both of my parents looked at Mayhem.
"You, uh, brought your dog?" Mom asked.
Well, he'd done a good job of diverting the questioning.
"Hellhound, mate," Chris corrected absently, before she frowned,
seeming to realize what she'd said. "Uh, yeah, hope that's okay. He's used to
going everywhere with me and I didn't think about it. He hangs out in my
office when I'm at the pizza shop. This is Mayhem."
Mom and Dad glanced at each other before Dad shrugged. "He's
welcome. We do have a cat."
"Hear that, Mayhem. No chasing kitties." Chris shook her finger at the
hellhound. He wagged his fluffy tail in reply.
"He'll be good," Chris assured them. "If it's a problem, he can wait
outside."
"No, it's fine. We hadn't noticed him until he jumped into your lap. He
must be very quiet."
"Yeah," Chris agreed.
"Where are you from?" Mom asked.
"Santa Fe, why?"
I needed to do something to stop them from grilling her. I really wasn't
sure what else to talk about.
"Your accent."
"Oh." Chris waved her hand. "Dad was a Brit. I thought it sounded cool
when I was a kid. Guess it stuck."
 Dad seemed to realize they were pushing a bit, so he turned his attention
to me. "How's work on your house coming along?"
"Good. They've completed repairing the foundation and they're going to
get started on the rest. Insurance has been amazingly easy to deal with.
Inspector couldn't find a cause of the fire and is calling it a freak accident. I
guess that works well enough for the insurance company." I shrugged.
"Going about as quickly as can be expected, I suppose."
"And work?"
"Same as usual," I answered and managed to get my parents into a
conversation about some of my research. The non-classified stuff, anyway.
Chris slowly relaxed with the attention off of her, and I was beginning to
think this might go okay after all, when Mom apparently decided she no
longer wanted to be polite.
"So, here's the thing I can't figure out," Mom said after Dad and I
finished talking about work. "Why would someone like you want to date
our son?"
I didn't even have time to try and divert the conversation.
Chris actually laughed. "Which part of me, the respectable business
owner part, or the punk exorcist part? 'Cause I've got reasons on all sides."
I hadn't mentioned the exorcist stuff, either. I had thought they'd be cool
with it. I was really failing as a boyfriend. I blamed my lack of having
girlfriends.
They stared at her for a minute before Mom tilted her head. "Exorcist?"
"Yeah, mate. Exorcist. Call it a side gig." The smirk on her face was
priceless. No, she wasn't going to take any crap from anyone and since
they'd thrown the first punch, I suspected Chris wouldn't hold back. She
didn't need to take the entire fight on herself.
"That's...not a real thing," Mom finally stammered.
Chris shrugged. "Real enough, but I don't necessarily expect you to
believe it."
"Isn't Aaron good enough for you?" Mom tried a different tactic. She
sounded a bit desperate, and I wasn't sure why.
"'Course he is, or I wouldn't be dating him. What on earth are you talking
about?"
"But...you're dating two other men."
"Oh." She gave me a little more side-eye. Right, I hadn't mentioned Ezra.
"Yeah, well, I was dating them before I met Aaron."
 "So, they're not good enough for you?" Maybe she was just trying to
understand? I could only hope.
Chris chuckled. "Oh, they're plenty good."
"Mom, I told you, it's working really well."
She turned her attention to me. "We just want what is best for you,
honey."
"Yeah, don't you think I might be a better judge of that than you are at
this point?"
Chris leaned her shoulder against me in support.
"Normal—"
I cut her off. "Normal hasn't exactly worked out well for me in the past,
if you might recall."
"Honey..."
"No, listen. Chris accepts all of me. She even thinks the weird things are
cool."
"There's nothing weird about you, son," Dad stated. He'd been a big
supporter, but he had a strange refusal to fully acknowledge the things that
made me different.
I slid the arm of my shirt up to reveal one of the white eye markings that
stood out against my dark skin.
"Or, you know, the random glowing, or any of the other stuff? Knowing
when people are lying?"
"Son, that just makes you special, not weird."
"Yeah, well Chris' abilities make her special, too."
"There's no such thing as demons," Mom declared.
Both Chris and I burst out laughing. Her chuckle sounded a touch evil
and mine might have been a tiny bit manic.
"It's fine, Aaron. They don't have to like me. I wasn't expecting them to."
"Their reasons are idiotic."
That riled Mom a bit. "Son..."
"No, you listen. Somehow, I ended up with angel blood. That's what
these markings are. I just spent the last few weeks learning all about a part
of our world I didn't even know existed. The house fire? Yeah, that was
caused by some people trying to sacrifice me to summon a powerful demon.
Chris, Sabian, and Mal were able to rescue me. It almost killed all of us.
Chris managed to stop them from summoning the demon, but there were a
whole bunch of others that got loose that she had to send back to hell." Not
quite the full truth but it was close enough for them.
"And we're still caught up in the middle of some sort of struggle. You
may not like her, but if nothing else I'm way safer with Chris than I am on
my own. The bad guys found me once, they can find me again."
That got my parents to shut up for a minute.
"Angel blood?" Mom finally scoffed, disbelief heavy in her voice.
Chris was watching everything with an amused grin on her face.
Mayhem seemed to be asleep in her lap.
"Yeah."
I stood up, moved away from the couch, and summoned my wings and
my sword. Now, unlike in a lot of depictions, I didn't have two wings, I had
four, and if I really went crazy with the angel powers, I could assume a
rather terrifying biblical aspect with six wings and eyes everywhere that
didn't look human at all, but it wasn't terribly practical except to move
through walls and scare the shit out of someone. That someone being
myself if I happened to move past a mirror.
The energy sword was pretty cool.
My parents went ashen.
"See? Angel powers."
"Where did you get angel powers from?" Dad finally asked.
"I don't know. Figured some sort of latent genes in our bloodlines or
something." I avoided looking at Mom. I knew the actual truth. At some
point an angel had tricked her, or she'd knowingly slept with one, and
conceived me. I certainly wasn't judging, I just wasn't going to open that
can of worms.
Mom didn't say anything, and Dad let that line of questioning drop.
"Pretty cool," Chris said. "Love the sword."
I glanced at her, trying to smile although I felt like I needed to throw up.
I banished the energy effects and sat next to her on the couch. She snuggled
up against me and Mayhem nosed my hand for a quick scratch.
"So, you might imagine that finding someone like Chris, and a couple of
guys like Mal and Sabian, was really beneficial for me. And I like them, and
I like being a part of their group. So, maybe just get over it. None of us are
expecting you to invite us all to the family BBQ, but a little understanding
that our situation is pretty unique might go a long way."
"Demons are after you?" Dad finally managed to say.
 "They're more after me than Aaron," Chris interjected. "I managed to
piss off some powerful folks. Imagine that."
I managed to chuckle at that. "Yeah, but we've got some powerful
friends, too."
"True that," she agreed.
"So, are you going to introduce us to your other friends?" Mom finally
asked.
"If you want to meet them, I'm sure we could arrange something," I
offered.
"Bring them by for dinner," Mom ordered.
I glanced at Chris and she shrugged. That was something Mal had hoped
to avoid, but maybe he would be cool with it?
"We'll ask," Chris offered.
"Great." Mom clasped her hands together and glanced at Dad. I was
guessing they had some things to talk about suddenly.
"Maybe we can come back in a few hours for dinner. We'll see if Mal
and Sabian want to join us," I said.
They quickly agreed, and Chris and I stood. Mayhem trotted along ahead
of us as we headed for the door.
I hugged both my parents and we headed back out into the heat.
Mayhem stopped, shifted into his hellhound form, and let loose a deep
growl. I almost plowed into Chris as she backed toward the house, her hand
held out in front of her. I could see a shimmer of energy in front of her and
she muttered in a guttural language.
Two people stood at my car. I would have considered them nondescript
had I come across them at any other time, but Chris and Mayhem's
reactions and my own gut feelings told me otherwise. One of them was a
demon, I was nearly certain. The other? I didn't know.
The demon was inhabiting a male body and looked like your average
white dude. The other being looked female. She had pale skin, dirty blond
hair, and I would have thought she was human, but some crazy energy
crackled through her. I didn't think she was possessed.
The woman sauntered forward and aimed her hand at Mayhem.
"Mayhem, get back!" Chris shouted, as the woman let lose a blast of
sickly orange energy.
The hellhound bolted toward Chris, getting behind her shield just as the
orange energy crackled into it.
 Chris swore. "Get inside."
We did what Chris ordered, and she slowly backed up, while the other
woman stared at us, hands at the ready but not casting another spell. Yet.
Another random document with
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likely you didn’t know, and for Esther Townsend to be in that fish
shanty along with one of that Cook tribe seemed to me—”
“Shut up!” The order was savagely given. “Humph! Here! you don’t
think others know this, do you?”
“Not a livin’ soul except Tobias and his wife—and me, of course. I
haven’t even told Reliance.”
“You keep this to yourself; do you hear? Don’t you mention it again.”
“Oh, I shan’t—I shan’t. But—”
“You had better not.... There, that’ll do. Clear out! I’ve wasted time
enough.”
Mr. Clark was disappointed. He had expected thanks, at least,
possibly more substantial reward. Nevertheless, it was some comfort
to know that he and the Harniss magnate shared a secret in
common. His self-respect, to which Reliance had so slightingly
referred, was bolstered by that knowledge.
 CHAPTER VIII
ESTHER was late in returning home that afternoon. The portrait at
last was finished. Even Bob was reluctantly obliged to admit that it
was as nearly perfect as he could make it, and his Wapatomac friend
had seen it and approved. The final sitting was a long one, however,
and it was nearly supper time when she hurried up the path to the
side door of the mansion. Her uncle was in the library and, although
he looked up from his paper and nodded when she entered, it
seemed to her that his greeting was not as hearty as usual. And
during supper he spoke scarcely a word. Her by no means easy
conscience made her apprehensive and when, after the meal was
over, he bade her come into the parlor, she followed him fearfully.
Something was going to happen, she did not dare guess what.
He closed the door behind him. “Sit down, Esther,” he ordered. She
did so. He remained standing. He took a turn or two up and down the
room and then swung about and faced her, his hands in his trouser
pockets.
“Where did you go this afternoon?” he asked, bluntly, his eyes fixed
upon her face.
She started, colored, and caught her breath with a gasp.
“This afternoon?” she faltered. “Why—why, I don’t know. I—”
“Come, come!” impatiently. “That’s foolishness. Of course you know.
Where did you go when you left here, after dinner?”
She did not answer. His shaggy brows drew together.
“I don’t wonder you don’t want to tell me,” he snapped. “You needn’t.
It isn’t necessary. I know where you were. You were down in that fish
shanty of Eldridge’s and that young Griffin was with you. That is so,
isn’t it?”
She was pale, but she no longer hesitated. Her reply was promptly
given.
“Yes,” she said.
He nodded, grimly. “I’m glad you don’t lie about it, at any rate,” he
said. “And you have been going there for a fortnight, haven’t you?”
“No. Not for a fortnight. I have been there five times altogether.”
“Humph! Why didn’t you tell me what you were up to? Did you think I
wouldn’t be interested?”
“No.”
“Then why did you keep it to yourself?”
She met his look with one as steady.
“Because—well, because he was painting my picture—a portrait of
me—and I—we didn’t want you to know about it until it was finished.”
“Is that so!” sarcastically. “Well, well! Did you intend to tell me when it
was finished?”
“Of course.”
“Humph!... I wonder.”
Her eyes were beginning to flash. “You needn’t wonder,” she said. “I
am not lying.”
If he had been more calm, more like his usual cautious and wily self,
he would have comprehended that the glint in those eyes of hers
was a danger signal which it might be best to heed. But he was
angry and chagrined. Ever since Millard Clark had told him of the
meetings in the Eldridge shanty he had been brooding over the
disclosure. He was furious at her for keeping the secret from him and
more furious at himself for being so easily hoodwinked. His serene
self-confidence was decidedly shaken. Apparently this skittish colt
was not so completely broken to harness as he had supposed. How
many other secrets might she be hiding behind that innocent
exterior? And the thought that a grandson of his arch enemy should
have shared a secret with her was the crowning ignominy.
“It depends on what you call a lie, I should say,” he growled. “If
slipping out of this house time after time and pretending to me that
—”
“I didn’t pretend anything. If you had asked me I should have told
you. I haven’t done anything that I am ashamed of. Not a single
thing.”
“You haven’t! Well, then I’m ashamed for you. Sneaking down to that
God-forsaken place a half dozen times a week and shutting yourself
up with that—that cub isn’t—”
“Stop!” She sprang to her feet, her fists clinched and her cheeks
ablaze. “You shan’t say such things to me!” she cried. “You haven’t
any right to say them. I don’t care if you are—if you have done
everything in the world for me. You needn’t do any more. I was—I
was going to tell you all about it, every word, just as soon as your
birthday came, and give you the picture. I— Oh, I thought you would
like it! It was going to be a surprise and—and—”
“Here!” he broke in. “Hold on! What’s all this?”
She did not heed. The tears were running down her cheeks but they
were tears of anger and humiliation. Her utterance was choked with
sobs and she was on the verge of hysterics.
“Oh, how can you talk to me like this!” she stormed. “Say that I
‘sneaked’ and that I shut myself up with—with him, as if—as if— Oh,
you ought to be ashamed to even think such things! Hinting that he
and I—I’ll never speak to you again! I hate you! I’m going away from
this house to-morrow morning. I don’t care what becomes of me! I—
oh—!”
She rushed from the room and the door banged behind her. Foster
Townsend took a step toward it.
“Esther!” he called. “Here, Esther! Come back!”
She did not come back; he heard her run up the stairs and a distant
slam announced that the door of her own room, the pink room, had
closed also. He swore disgustedly and, stalking to the library, threw
himself into the leather chair. There, behind a cigar which he did not
enjoy, he sat for an hour or more trying to think his way out of this
new complication. The sole conclusion which he reached was the
unflattering one that he had made a mess of things.
This conclusion remained unshaken all the next forenoon. Esther did
not come down for breakfast; she had a headache, so she told
Nabby. Foster Townsend did not enjoy his breakfast, either. Later,
when on his regular round of inspection, from the door of the stable
he saw his niece leave the house and walk hurriedly off up the
street. The suspicion that she might be going to meet Bob Griffin
crossed his mind, but it was only momentary. He did not believe she
was going there. He would have asked her where she was going, but
his pride would not let him. He refused the impulse to call after her
and tried to find satisfaction in berating Varunas for some trivial
oversight in cleaning the stable.
Dinner was another lonely meal for him. Esther had not returned and
neither Nabby nor the maid knew where she was. She came in,
however, at two and went straight to her room. He went out and, a
short time later, he walked, without knocking, into the little sitting-
room of the Clark cottage. Reliance was there and she did not
appear greatly surprised to see him.
“Hello, Foster,” she said. “So you’ve come, too, have you?”
He grunted. “That confounded brother of yours isn’t on deck, is he?”
he asked.
“No, he’s tendin’ the office. Didn’t you see him? I saw you go in the
shop door.”
“I saw that Makepeace woman. She said you were in here.”
“Yes, I’ve been in the house most of the day, except at mail time. I
brought my work in here. I rather expected you might come.”
“You did? Why?”
“Oh, because—well, I understand it is squally weather up at your
house just now.”
He glanced at her. Then he sat down in the rocker and crossed his
knees.
“Esther’s been here, hasn’t she?” he growled. “So here is where she
went. Well, I guessed as much.”
“I should think you might. Yes, she was here and ate dinner here,
what little she did eat. Foster, you can handle men but you are a
dreadful poor hand with women—and always were.”
He snorted. “Damn women!” he exclaimed, fervently.
“Yes, that is what you do, I guess, and it isn’t good policy. Now, if you
want to, you can tell me your side of all this rumpus. Esther has told
me hers.”
He told it. It was only when he told how and from where he had
learned of the portrait painting that she interrupted.
“Oh!” she said, nodding ominously. “Oh, Millard was responsible,
was he? Humph!... Well, never mind; he and I will talk later on. Go
ahead.”
He described the scene in the parlor, keeping nothing back. Her lips
were twitching when he finished. He looked up, caught the
expression, and smiled, though rather ruefully.
“It was a fool business, I guess,” he admitted; “but I was mad clear
through. If it had been anybody else. What in the devil did she pick
out old Cook’s grandson for? I won’t have her sparking around with
him, not by a whole lot.”
“She isn’t sparking around with him. He is a nice boy, I guess; every
one says he is, and a smart one, too. It’s the picture he is making of
her in all her pretty things that caught her fancy. It would catch any
girl’s. It must be a good picture, too. Esther says it is wonderful. I
should like to see it.”
He twisted in the rocker. “I don’t care if it is a panorama,” he
snapped. “He had the cheek of a brass monkey to paint it. And, by
the Lord Harry, if he so much as speaks to her again I’ll break his
neck.”
Reliance laughed. “He is a pretty husky specimen, from what I hear,”
she observed. “He might break yours first, Foster, if it came to that....
Oh, where is your common sense?” she demanded, with a sudden
return to seriousness. “You have been young yourself. Your own
father swore you shouldn’t be a sailor, and the upshot of that was
that you ran away to sea the first chance you got. Don’t you know
that, for young folks, the forbidden thing is always the temptin’ thing?
Esther isn’t in love with Bob Griffin yet—that is, I am pretty sure she
isn’t from the way she talks—but she certainly will be if you keep on
bullyin’ her the way you did last night. That is just as sure as the
sun’s risin’.”
He took a hand from his pocket to rub his beard the wrong way.
“Well,” he grumbled, impatiently, “that may be so—or may not. What
am I going to do to stop it?”
“Make your peace with her first. Go straight home to her and
apologize. Tell her you are sorry you made such a ninny of yourself
last night and beg her pardon. Then, if you are careful how you do it,
you might perhaps explain a little about why you didn’t like her goin’
to see Bob. And, if I were you, I should put the most stress on her
goin’ there without tellin’ you. That is what—so you must say—hurt
your feelin’s most. It is what has hurt hers, too. Her conscience was
troublin’ her a lot about that; she told me so.”
“Well, it ought to trouble her. It was a dirty trick to play on me.”
“Perhaps. But, remember, she and Bob together were goin’ to give
you that picture for your birthday. It was to be a surprise for you.... It
would have been, too, I guess.”
She laughed at the idea. He put his hand back into the pocket.
“Well, suppose I do get down on my knees to her?” he said,
grudgingly. “What then? That won’t be keeping her away from him.
How am I going to do that?”
“I don’t know exactly. I think I know what I should do. First I should
go with her to Bob’s studio, or whatever he calls it, and see that
picture.”
He leaned back to stare at her. “What are you trying to do?” he
demanded. “Make fun of me?”
“No, of course I’m not. I’m tryin’ to show you how to save the pieces,
now that you’ve smashed the pitcher. Tell her you would like to see
the paintin’ and ask her to take you there to see it. Pretend you think
it is splendid, no matter whether you do or not. When they give it to
you, take it and be thankful.”
He broke out with an indignant growl.
“You’re crazy!” he vowed. “Do you suppose I am going to let that
fellow give me presents? Be reasonable.”
“I am. Esther is givin’ it to you; he has only given it to her.”
“It is the same thing. You know it.”
“Well, suppose it is. Can’t you see that your acceptin’ it will do more
to put you and her back where you were before this upset than
anything else in the world? When she sees you willin’ to forget and
forgive she will be more ashamed of herself than ever for keepin’ a
secret from you. And she won’t keep another one from you—for a
while, anyway. Come, that is reasonable, isn’t it?”
He did not reply for a moment. Then he raised another objection.
“It looks to me as if it would only make things worse,” he said. “If I go
down and pat him on the back—instead of knocking him in the head,
as I’d like to do—he’ll take it for granted I’m satisfied to have him
hanging around after her. He will—why, blast it all! Reliance, he’ll be
calling on her at the house next! Of course he will.”
“Well, if he does—if he does, at least you will have them both under
your nose where you can see for yourself what is goin’ on. And if
they get too friendly you can do what you’ve done before, take her
away somewhere. You took her to California; now you can take her
to—well, to China, if you want to. You can afford it, I guess.”
For the first time he seemed to find satisfaction in her counsel. The
frown left his face and his eyes brightened. He looked up and
nodded.
“Humph!” he grunted. “Humph! That’s an idea! Now you are talking.
That is an idea! Humph! All right, Reliance. Much obliged. I’ll think it
over.”
He rose to his feet and turned to the door.
“Say,” he said, as if struck by a new and disquieting thought, “you
don’t ever tell anybody of my coming down here to—well, to talk
things over same as we have to-day? You keep it to yourself, don’t
you?”
She straightened.
“Certainly I do,” she retorted, sharply. “Do you think I go around
boastin’ of it?”
“Well, I didn’t know but what—”
“I don’t. I’m not so proud of havin’ you callin’ on me as all that. You
used to come to see me years ago and, if I remember, it was I, and
not you, who stopped it then. I can stop it again if it’s necessary.
What do you mean by askin’ such a question?”
He laughed. “There, there!” he protested. “Don’t fly off the handle. All
I meant was—”
“I know what you meant. You are ashamed of havin’ to ask a
woman’s advice and you don’t want anybody to know that the great
Foster Townsend does have to ask for anything. Of course I don’t
tell. But if you think nobody knows you come to this house—yes, and
doesn’t know it every time you come—it must be because you carry
your head so high in the air you can’t see what is on either side of
you. I have been asked a dozen times what you come here for. The
last time you came—when Esther wasn’t with you, I mean—Abbie
Makepeace was waitin’ to ask why you did it.”
“Humph! She was, eh? What did you tell her?”
“I told her my rent was two weeks behindhand and maybe you’d
come to collect it.”
“Humph! That wasn’t so bad. What did she say to that?”
“Well, if you must know, she said she guessed it was somethin’ of
the sort. She said she never knew you to go anywhere unless there
was somethin’ to be got for yourself by doin’ it. You forgot to speak to
her the last time you and she met, Foster. That was a mistake.”
His newly found good humor was not shaken by this plain speech.
He was still chuckling.
“She was right, in one way, Reliance,” he admitted. “I generally do
come to you when I want something in the way of horse sense. And
I’m free to say I usually get it—with plenty of pepper. I might come to
a worse place.... Well, whoever else you tell, don’t tell Millard.”
Her eyes snapped. “Millard!” she repeated. “I’ll tell Millard a few
things when I get him alone. You needn’t worry about that.”
 CHAPTER IX
HUMBLE pie is not a tasty dish even to the palate accustomed to it.
Foster Townsend’s palate was distinctly not of that kind. Even to
himself he seldom acknowledged that his judgment had been wrong,
almost never to another person. Reliance Clark alone, of all his
friends and acquaintances, dared tell him that he had behaved
foolishly. He bore her blunt criticisms and tart reproofs with a
patience the reasons for which he could scarcely have supplied
under cross-examination. Her advice concerning Esther had, in
previous instances, been good. In this case, although it was neither
flattering nor agreeable, it seemed to at least promise a temporary
way out and he resolved to take it. If it worked it was worth the brief
humiliation. If it did not then he would try something else. That he
would not gain his own way in the end was, of course, an
impossibility. He always gained it.
Reliance had prescribed the “humble pie.” That very evening, after
supper, he ate it in his niece’s presence. He called her into the parlor
and, as he would have said, “got down on his knees.” He frankly
begged her pardon for losing his temper, for speaking to her as he
had done about her visiting Bob Griffin’s studio. He explained how
he had learned of her doing so.
“I don’t suppose I should have minded so much if you had told me
about it, yourself,” he said. “Of course the idea of your picking out
’Lisha Cook’s grandson to be a friend of yours might have stuck in
my craw. Naturally I can’t help but be prejudiced against any of that
scamp’s kith and kin. But I realize—I do now that I have had time to
think it over—that it was natural enough you should want to see the
picture this young Griffin is making of you. I don’t blame you for that.
If you had only told me about it. That was the thing that hurt most. It
did hurt me, Esther. Yes, it did! I would have sworn you and I didn’t
have any secrets from each other. Seems to me we shouldn’t have.”
This was the right touch, just as he meant it to be. Esther’s
resentment melted under it. The tears sprang to her eyes and this
time they were not tears of anger or wounded pride. She stammered
a confession of her own consciousness of guilt at having kept the
secret from him.
“I am so sorry I didn’t tell you, Uncle Foster,” she declared. “I was
going to—I meant to—and then—oh, I guess I was afraid. I know it
was wrong. But the portrait is so good—really, it is wonderful. And—
and we thought—I thought if I gave it to you for a birthday surprise
you might—you might forgive me for letting him paint it.”
He held out his arms. She ran to them and with her head upon his
shoulder, sobbed repentantly. He stroked her hair.
“There, there!” he said, soothingly. “It’s all right now. We won’t fret
any more about it, will we? And you must take me down to the
shanty, or studio, or whatever you call it, and let me see the thing for
myself. Will you do that sometime? Sometime pretty soon, eh?”
She lifted her head to look at him.
“Do you really mean it?” she gasped. “Do you mean you will go—
there—with me? And you won’t say anything to—to him—about—
about—”
“Of course I won’t! We’re going to let bygones be bygones, you and
I. No more secrets and rows between you and your old uncle, eh?
No, no, I guess not. We’ll go down there together; we’ll go this
afternoon. And if folks wonder what on earth I am getting so sociable
with a Cook for—why, well let ’em wonder, that’s all.”
She threw her arms about his neck and kissed him.
“You are the dearest man in the world!” she declared. “I ought to be
ashamed of myself, and I am. Do you forgive me, Uncle Foster,
really?”
So the reconciliation was complete and the Clark plan had worked
satisfactorily so far. But that afternoon, as they walked along the
beach together, Esther had no idea of the emotions hidden behind
her uncle’s smiling countenance, nor the struggle it cost him to cross
the threshold of the Eldridge shanty and meet, with that same smile,
the astonished gaze of its young tenant.
Astonishment is a very inadequate word to describe Bob’s feelings
when Foster Townsend walked in upon him. He turned pale, then red
and involuntarily squared his shoulders for the battle he was certain
was upon him. And when, instead of opening for a warlike blast, the
Townsend lips curved pleasantly and the Townsend hand was
extended in greeting, he was too dumbfounded to do or say
anything. He stood still, breathed rapidly, and stared.
Esther, quite aware of what his feelings must be, hastened to
explain.
“I have told Uncle Foster all about the portrait,” she said, quickly. “He
couldn’t wait until his birthday and made me bring him right down
here to see it.... Uncle Foster, you remember Bob. At the horse race
that day, he was the one who—”
Townsend interrupted. “Of course I remember,” he said, with a very
plausible imitation of heartiness. “How are you, young man? I
understand you’ve got to be what they call an artist. Esther says you
have painted a picture of her that does everything but walk around
and talk. She praised it up so that I had to come and see it for
myself. Not that I know much about such things.... This it, eh?...
Humph! Well, I declare!”
He had walked over and was standing before the easel. His niece
joined him and looked anxiously from his face to the portrait and
back again. Griffin, still dazed, looked at his visitors. Foster
Townsend whistled.
“Good enough!” he exclaimed. “Well, well! Yes, indeed! Good
enough!”
Esther asked a question.
“You like it, Uncle Foster?” she queried, anxiously. “Do you really like
it?”
He nodded. “Certainly I like it,” he said. “How could I help liking it?
For a thing that isn’t a photograph it is mighty good, I should say.
That dress, now. Why, that’s just the way that dress looked on you,
Esther. Yes, it is.”
“But the likeness, Uncle Foster? Don’t you think it looks like me?”
He jingled the change in his pocket. “Why, yes,” he admitted, though
with not quite the same heartiness. “It does look like you—
considerably. It’s just hand-done, of course, and you can’t expect a
hand-done thing to be like a photograph. But I should know who it
was meant for. Honest, I should,” he added, as if with some surprise
at the truth of the concession.
Esther was disappointed. “Why, Uncle Foster!” she protested. “I think
it is the very image of me.”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that, quite,” he observed. “It isn’t
as good looking as you are. I’m right there, eh, Griffin? Doesn’t flatter
her, does it?”
Bob spoke for the first time. He seemed to be in hearty accord.
“You bet it doesn’t!” he agreed, with emphasis. “I’m not satisfied with
it, of course.”
“Why, Bob Griffin!” cried Esther. “How can you say that? You told me
yourself you thought it was awfully good.”
“Well, I—I think it is pretty fair, considering who painted it; but
Captain Townsend is right when he says it doesn’t do you justice. I
knew that all along.”
Townsend may have thought the conversation had proceeded far
enough on this line. He stepped back from before the easel and
turned to the artist.
“It’s a good job, anyhow,” he vowed. “I’ll be glad to have it. Now then,
young fellow, how much do you want for it? What is the price?”
Bob Griffin looked at Esther and she at him. She answered the
question.
“Why, there isn’t any price,” she said. “Bob has given it to me and I
am giving it to you, for your birthday present, Uncle Foster. I told you
that before we came down here.”
Her uncle paid no attention to this. He jingled his change and
repeated his inquiry.
“How much will it be, Griffin?” he asked.
Bob smilingly shook his head. “Esther has told you, sir,” he said. “I
gave it to her. There isn’t any price.”
“Humph! That won’t do, son.... Hush, Esther!... No, that won’t do.
You are figuring to earn a living at this sort of work, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I—well, I hope to some day. But—”
“There aren’t any ‘buts.’ You’ve worked a good many days at this job
—must have. No reason why you shouldn’t get your regular wages. I
want this picture and I can afford to pay for it. How much?”
Again Griffin shook his head.
“It isn’t for sale, Captain Townsend,” he declared. “I have given it to
Esther. It is hers. Of course, if she wants to sell it, that is different.
But I can’t. It isn’t mine.”
“Rubbish! There’s no reason why you should give it to anybody. And
I don’t intend you shall. I’m going to buy it. That is settled.”
“No, sir, I’m afraid it isn’t settled—in that way. You can’t buy it from
me.”
Foster Townsend’s brows drew together in the way which his niece
recognized as a storm signal. She tried to avert the hurricane.
“It is mine, Uncle Foster,” she protested. “Don’t you see? It is mine
now and it is going to be yours. I—”
“Hush! See here, young fellow, you’ve forgotten one thing, I guess.
Maybe I don’t care to have Esther take presents from—” he paused,
coughed and added gruffly, “from anybody. Perhaps I don’t.... Here, I
tell you! If you won’t sell it to me, sell it to her. I’ll see that she gets
the money to pay for it. Now, then, how much?”
Bob still smiled. His reply was just as good-natured, but also just as
firm.
“Esther can’t buy it, either,” he said. “No one can. If she won’t have it
as a present from me—why, then I’ll keep it for my own. I shouldn’t
mind having it in the least,” he added, with a twinkle.
It was this last sentence which caused Foster Townsend to hesitate.
The roar which his niece had dreaded and which Griffin had
expected was not uttered. He scowled, took a turn to the doorway,
stood there for a moment looking out, and when he turned back the
scowl had disappeared. The corner of his lip lifted in a one-sided
smile of surrender.
“You are a stubborn young mule, aren’t you,” he observed. “All right,
do as you please. If money is no object to you it is to me and I ought
to be thankful to save a little, I suppose. Esther, I’m much obliged for
my birthday present.... Well, Griffin, you’ll go so far as to let me send
Varunas for the thing, won’t you? Won’t insist on fetching it up to the
door with your own hands?”
Bob, very much surprised—he could scarcely believe that his all
powerful opponent had actually capitulated—laughed and
stammered that he guessed there would be no objection to
Varunas’s acting as carrier. Before he could say more his visitors had
bade him good afternoon and departed. It was not until they had
gone that he remembered that neither he, nor Esther, had mentioned
meeting again.
His surprise would have been still greater if he could have heard a
remark made by Foster Townsend to his niece as the pair walked
along the path toward home.
“There’s just one thing I do want you to promise me, Esther,”
Townsend said. “I want you to promise me that you won’t go down to
that shanty again alone. Harniss isn’t a very big place and there is
always talk enough in it for a square meal. No use giving it a
Thanksgiving indigestion unless it’s necessary. Will you promise me
that?”
She hesitated. She, too, had suddenly become conscious of the fact
that the parting between Bob Griffin and herself was, in all
probability, a final one.
“Why—why, yes, Uncle Foster,” she faltered. “I will promise, if you
want me to. But—oh, please don’t think—”
“There, there! I don’t think anything. If he wants to see you, and you
want to see him, let him come to the house once in a while. I shan’t
make any objections to that—if he doesn’t come too often.”
She caught her breath. This was unbelievable.
“Why—why, Uncle Foster!” she cried. “Of course he won’t come
there!”
He smiled, grimly. “Won’t he?” he observed. “Humph! I notice there
are other young squirts dropping in on us now and then, these days.
Maybe he won’t, but I wouldn’t bet on it. Judging by the way he stood
up to me about that picture he’ll do ’most anything he sets out to do,
or try to, anyhow.... Humph! Well, we’ll see.”
Esther was overwhelmed. Knowing, as she did, how fiercely bitter
was the hatred borne by her uncle to any one remotely connected
with the name of Cook, such a concession as this amounted to
tremendous personal sacrifice. And he was making that sacrifice
solely because of her. If any compelling force was needful to
strengthen her resolve to keep the promise just made this proof of
his devotion furnished it. She then and there made up her mind that,
if Bob did call—which, of course, he would not—she would not be
too cordial. She would be nice to him, just as she was to others, but
she would not encourage him to call often. And, if the calls became
too frequent, she would see that they were discontinued. And
Captain Foster Townsend, looking down at her as she walked in
silence beside him, guessed her thought and smiled in triumph.
His estimate of the young man’s determination and character was
soon proved correct. On an evening of that same week the
Townsend doorbell rang. The maid was out and Nabby opened the
door. She came back to the library wearing an expression which
caused her employer to look at her in surprise.
“Well?” he demanded. “What’s happened? Is the meeting-house on
fire?”
Nabby shook her head. “It’s somebody come,” she stammered.
Esther, who was reading a book, looked up. Her uncle sniffed
impatiently.
“Somebody come!” he repeated, with sarcasm. “Humph! You
surprise me! Naturally, when I heard the bell ring I thought it was
somebody just going.... Well, well! Who is it? Don’t you know?”
Mrs. Gifford nodded. “Course I know!” she declared. “If I didn’t know
I wouldn’t have been so took back. It’s—” she leaned forward to
whisper the incredible name—“it’s a Cook!”
Townsend did not understand. “A cook!” he snorted. “Whose cook?
What does she want? What in the devil is she doing at the front
door?”
Nabby raised a warning hand. “Sshh!” she begged, in alarm. “My
soul and body, Cap’n Foster! he’ll hear you if you holler like that.... It
ain’t that kind of a cook. It’s a—a ’Lisha Cook.”
“What!”
He leaped from the chair. Esther rose, too. She caught his sleeve.
“Hush, Uncle Foster!” she whispered. “Nabby doesn’t mean old Mr.
Cook himself. I am sure she doesn’t.”
Something in her tone caused her uncle to look down at her. A
thought came to him.
“Humph!” he grunted. “Do you know who it is, Esther?”
“No-o. No, I don’t. But I just wondered if—you know you said he
might come and—”
He interrupted. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “Yes, yes.... Is it young Griffin,
Nabby?”
Nabby nodded. “That’s just who ’tis,” she said. “He’s a Cook, ain’t
he? And when I see him standin’ there right in front of me, as bold as
brass, I vow I—”
Townsend broke in once more. He laughed, shortly. “I see,” he said.
“Well, bring him in, Nabby.”
Nabby gasped. “You mean fetch him in here?” she demanded,
incredulously.
“Yes. And hurry up about it.” Then, turning to his niece, he added,
“Told you he would come, didn’t I, Esther? He’s a Cook, right
enough.”
But when Bob followed Nabby into the library he greeted him
pleasantly, bade him be seated, and even offered him a cigar. He
was the least embarrassed of the three. Esther was confused and
Bob, himself, was not wholly self-possessed. He apologized for
calling without an invitation, but said he just simply could not wait
longer to see how the portrait looked in its new quarters.
“I know you are surprised to see me here, Captain Townsend,” he
went on. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have come. My family and yours—are
—well, they aren’t, of course. But I did want to see that portrait.”
Townsend nodded. “Natural enough you should,” he agreed. “And
you didn’t bring your family with you, I guess likely. Well, the picture
is in the parlor and Esther will show it to you. If you will excuse me
I’m going upstairs. I’ve got some letters to write.”
He went out, leaving the two alone. Esther had not expected this and
was not altogether pleased. She comprehended—or thought she did
—that her uncle’s leaving her alone with the caller was his way of
showing that he trusted her. It was very noble of him, but it made her
uncomfortable, almost as if she were doing something wicked.
Consequently her manner was distrait and her replies to Bob’s
sallies brief and perfunctory. The call was a short one. He left before
ten, but at the door he said:
“You’ll come down to the shanty again before long, won’t you,
Esther?”
She shook her head. “No,” she replied. “I shan’t come there any
more.”
“Why not?”
“Because Uncle Foster thinks I shouldn’t. He says people would talk
if I did. He is right, of course. Perhaps they are talking now.”
“Talk! They’ll talk anyway. They’ll talk after they are dead, some of
them.... Well, then I shall come here to see you. I can do that, can’t
I?”
“I—I don’t think you had better.”
“Don’t you want to see me?”
She hesitated. “That hasn’t anything to do with it, really,” she
declared. “You know it hasn’t, Bob. When you think of your
grandfather and my uncle—”
“I won’t,” he broke in, emphatically. “That is just what I won’t do. And
you mustn’t either. You and I ought to think of ourselves. We agreed,
that afternoon of the thunderstorm, that we hadn’t anything to do with
a family row which is already years and years old. If you can’t come
to see me I am coming to see you. And I shall.”
“But uncle—”
“I’m not coming to see him. And—why, he was nice enough to me
this evening. I rather expected he might tell me to clear out, but he
didn’t.”
“No, he didn’t. But I am sure he doesn’t like it. How can he? Your
grandfather—”
“Oh, forget my grandfather! Esther Townsend, I shall come here
again—yes, and soon. How about next Tuesday evening? Are you
free then?”
“Why—why, yes, I suppose I shall be. But, Bob—”
“All right. I’ll be on hand. Good-night.”
When she went up to her room the door of her uncle’s room was
open and he called to her.
“Didn’t stay very long, did he?” he observed.
“No, Uncle Foster, not very.”
“Coming again pretty soon, I suppose?”