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THE PRICE OF EXORCISM
A Reverse Harem Tale

Pizza Shop Exorcist

Book Two

by

Dakota Brown
 THE PRICE OF EXORCISM
A Reverse Harem Tale

Pizza Shop Exorcist, book 2

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

For Becky Hodges.

You're such a caring and talented person. Thank you for everything.
 Acknowledgments

Sending a shout out to my team: My PA Becky Hodges, Lizzy, Shoshanah,

Justinn, Sean, Jen, and Therese. You all keep me sane–relatively, because,
let's be honest, what is even sanity for an author–and on track. Thank you
so much for all the things you do for me.

I want to thank my ARC/Proofer team for finding all those pesky typos.
And I want to especially send a shout out to those typos that–despite
everyone's best efforts–still sneak through. There aren't many, but every
once in a while the tenacious things pop up.

Dear readers, thank you so much for your reviews, the time you take to
devour my books, and the messages asking for more. I appreciate you more
than you can ever know.

Stay safe out there.

 Chapter 1
Price

Aaron looked so happy and carefree as he kicked the soccer ball,

encouraging the kids he coached as they ran around the field. The morning
was relatively cool, and I'd gotten up to spend a little time with him. Aaron
wasn't about to turn me into a morning person, but I could certainly make
the effort now and again. I admired the way his lean muscles were so
perfectly defined, and I couldn't help my imagination as I mentally
undressed him, just a little bit. He didn't go around shirtless much, self-
conscious of the white markings on his dark skin, signs of his angelic blood,
but I'd seen it enough to want more.
Of course, the kids had given him all sorts of crap for bringing his
'girlfriend' to the practice. He'd taken it well.
We were getting a late breakfast after practice. Then I had to swing by
my restaurant for a few hours and get some paperwork done. Then, this
evening, Mal, my official boyfriend, and I were going to get Sabian back.
A month and a half ago I'd been happily alone, just running my pizza
shop and keeping myself happy with my vibrator. Then Darius, my very
complicated sorta best friend, had wandered back into my life with a
problem he couldn't solve. An exorcism he couldn't handle. See, I'm an
exorcist. Probably one of the best. He's no slouch, but I'm better. He's the
one that dragged me into the occult life when we were both teens. He still
blamed himself for all the chaos and complications, good times and
heartache that had followed. Truth be told, it wasn't all his fault, and I didn't
regret most of it.
 With Darius back in my life, things had gone from simple to complicated
in hours. I'd needed a spell to help exorcise the demon from the charm and
that search had led me straight into the arms of Malak Naji. Turns out he's a
damn fine lover, and a vampire. He'd worked his way into my pants and my
heart courtesy of Sabian, the demon we'd had to exorcise from the charm.
He turned out to be an incubus. A starving one.
Long story short, Darius had decided we needed Sabian's help and left
him with me. The incubus had also worked his way into my heart, and then
I'd accidently banished him back to hell in a fight with a demon prince. See,
I'd nearly died. To save me, Sabian's Prince, Ezra, had possessed me. Yeah,
that's right, an exorcist who's been possessed. It didn't entirely suck,
because of the circumstances. Ezra had promised to behave while he saved
my life, and he'd delivered. Maybe a little too well, because I missed him,
too. Still, Sabian was my demon and I wanted him back. Fortunately, so did
Mal. Despite my assurances to Darius that I wasn't going to call Sabian
back, well, I'd lied. The fight with the demon prince had drained me pretty
badly, and I'd needed some time to recover before I did any magic, let alone
something as complicated as summoning a specific demon. I just hoped he
wanted to be here. I thought he did, but I had no way of knowing for sure
until I brought him back.
Aaron was a Nephilim, though he hadn't known until a few weeks ago
that he had angel blood. The bad guys had tried to use him to summon a
prince that they could bind into service. We'd gotten there just in time to
save him and stop their plan. Now he and I were slowly exploring the
possibilities of a relationship together. We liked each other and, as Mal had
said, surrounding myself with powerful men wasn't necessarily a bad idea.
So, I got to date multiple guys. Mal, Sabian when we got him back, Aaron,
and Ezra a small voice whispered, adding the demon prince to my list. I
shied away from the idea of the demon prince. Surely that was simply too
crazy, even for me.
Still, something was coming. Something big. We needed to be prepared
for whatever it was. Aaron's resistance to most demonic powers would be
really useful. Mal was a vampire and an occultist. Sabian was an incubus,
and while he wasn't super useful in a fight, he knew more about the demons
we might encounter than anyone else. Ezra was a powerful prince, and if
nothing else, he was on our side in this coming conflict.
 Me, well, I was a wild card. I had untapped abilities Mal wanted to help
me learn to use, and I was an exorcist. Somehow, we'd defeat whatever
came our way. Hopefully.
A younger kid, belonging to one of the parents watching their children
from the bleachers a short distance away, ran up to me.
"Can I pet your dog?"
"Dog? Oh, Mayhem. Yeah, sure. Come here, buddy."
The small yellow Pomeranian trotted over and let the kid pet him.
Did I forget to mention Prince Ezra had gifted me with a hellhound? A
demonic dog who had chosen a puffball as his earthly form. I had no idea
why. Still, his hellhound form was much more impressive, and he packed a
punch in a fight.
The parents were taking turns giving me some serious side-eye. I'd taken
the time to spike up my bleached blond hair in a small mohawk. The sides
were shaved close, and I wore a tank top that showed off a lot of my ink. I
had protective runes worked in with the newer knotwork designs and the
older punk symbols all over my arms and torso. My acid washed, ripped up
jeans covered the runes on my legs, and I currently sat on my new leather
jacket. It was a light one, gifted to me by my employees at the pizza parlor.
It was almost identical to the one the demons had shredded last month, with
the anarchy symbol on the front and the pizza logo for my restaurant on the
back. This one had the updated logo though. After I'd banished a demon in
front of most of my employees, they'd changed the décor a bit. This logo
had an upside-down pentagram emblazoned on the pizza. I'd let them run
with it, and now the shop had both an 80's theme–just like the owner–and a
slightly demonic one.
I owned my throwback to the 80's punk scene and didn't care what the
parents thought. Hopefully, Aaron didn't care, either, because I suspected at
least a few of the parents were going to object to me. Whatever.
Aaron wiped some sweat from his brow and called the kids over. They
huddled, cheered, and slapped hands, and then dispersed. Parents collected
their kids and I stood and went over to Aaron to help him pack up the cones
and other gear they'd used.
"I don't think the parents like me, mate," I said when I got over to him.
Aaron shrugged, and I admired his tall, muscular frame. He wore a T-
shirt that covered the white eye markings that stood out sharply against his
dark skin. He also had wing "tattoos" on his back. They weren't actually
tattoos, but it was what he told anyone who asked. They were the physical
clues to his angelic blood. He also had some undisclosed abilities, along
with the ability to tell if people were lying or not.
"They probably wouldn't approve of me, if they knew I wasn't just a
scientist and a soccer coach. They'll get over it."
"Especially if they knew you were consorting with demons and
vampires." I grinned.
"And exorcists." He pulled me into a quick hug despite the sweat that
slicked his skin and I leaned into him.
"Bored out of your mind yet?" he asked.
"Naw, I enjoyed watching you run around playing sportsball."
He chuckled and stepped away. "Here, you try." He kicked the ball over
to me.
I vaguely remembered some stuff from school gym classes, but I'd never
been much into team sports. Track relay teams were as close as I'd gotten.
Still, I managed to stop the ball and kick it back to him.
He laughed. "Let me show you."
"Mmm, getting coached now. Excellent." I gave him a suggestive look.
His laugh deepened. Aaron gave me a few instructions, and pretty soon
we were kicking the ball back and forth, laughing until the morning sun got
too hot and I held up my hands for mercy. "Let's get food before we get too
sweaty to be in public."
Aaron gave me a suggestive look. "Or we could get sweaty not in
public."
"I'd be down," I returned his banter. We weren't sleeping together yet. I
think Aaron was still trying to get used to the idea that Mal didn't mind. To
be fair, I was still trying to get used to the idea that Mal didn't mind. It was
easier to believe that Sabian wouldn't care. Incubus and all. Mal was a
centuries old–he still hadn't fessed up on how old he really was–Arabic
vampire. Who, somehow, was probably more liberal than I was in a lot of
ways.
Aaron leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. I'd have deepened it, but I
figured it was possible some of the parents were still around. They got
weird about shit like that.
 "So, breakfast? Where are you taking me?" I nudged him as we gathered
the rest of the equipment.
Fortunately, there was a small locker area at the park that the club used
for storage. Otherwise, when Aaron's house had burned down when the bad
guys had tried to sacrifice him, they would have lost all their gear.
"How about The Back Porch?"
"Yeah, sounds good. Love that place. I'm just not usually awake early
enough to go."
Aaron chuckled. "Well, I'm not trying to change you, Chris. But maybe
once in a while I can convince you to get up early."
"I can probably manage that," I agreed. "I love their crepes."
Aaron nodded. "Best in town."
We headed over to his car after stowing the gear and I got into the
passenger seat. Mayhem hopped onto my lap and I really hoped he was
using whatever ability he had to avoid notice. I really didn't want people to
think I was that person. Why had he chosen a purse dog form? Why... Oh
well.
We weren't far from our destination and Mayhem was clearly doing his
invisible dog thing, because no one noticed when he followed us into the
restaurant.
The hostess was older, and openly stared at me and Aaron with
something akin to horror on her face. I had to laugh because I couldn't tell
what part of me and Aaron had her most horrified. It was probably my hair,
though.
"Price, that you?"
"None other, mate." I turned toward the voice and grinned at Charles, the
owner of this place. Most of the small restaurant owners in this area knew
each other at least somewhat.
"Who's your friend?" Charles was an older, portly man, with a kind
smile and an easy way about him that had always made me comfortable.
"Charles, this is Aaron. Charles owns the place," I explained.
"The food here is wonderful. I come in a lot," Aaron said, shaking
Charles' hand.
"I'm glad to hear it. I keep trying to get Chris to join us for breakfast, but
she claims she's never awake."
"It's true. Made a special exception for today."
 "She must like you then," Charles said to Aaron.
Aaron ducked his head, a pleased grin on his face. "It seems she does."
"Well, I'll let you two get settled. I just wanted to say hi since I had a
moment."
"Nice to see you, Charles."
"You, too, Price. I'll come by sometime soon. Hear you redecorated."
My eyes widened in shock and I sorta choked on a reply I couldn't quite
make before I found my voice. "Um, yeah. Billy did, anyway."
"The kids were telling me about it. They love it. It'll probably get some
interesting reactions from the older crowd."
"You know me. Don't give a damn what other people think."
Charles chuckled. "One of your more refreshing qualities."
"Thanks for that."
He waved and headed back into the kitchen.
Aaron chuckled and held my seat out for me. I let him. The hostess
seemed to have gotten her dislike under control and had a neutral
expression on her face now. She handed over our menus and left us alone.
"Do you get that a lot?" Aaron asked.
"Knowing the other restaurant folks, or the weird looks from the older
crowd?"
"Well, both I guess."
I laughed. "Yes to the first. Most of us in the downtown area know each
other, and to the latter, yeah, but the horror factor goes up if I do my hair."
Aaron smiled. "I like it."
"Good thing."
He nodded agreement.
Our waiter came over and we ordered and pretty soon I was enjoying
some of the best crepes in town and sneaking a few bites to the damn
hellhound.
"Looking forward to having Sabian back?" Aaron asked once we were
mostly done with our breakfast.
"Yeah. I just hope we can pull it off. Neither of us have, uh, done this
before." I stopped myself before admitting I was about to try and summon a
demon in public. There were people close enough they could possibly
overhear. It would be awkward enough if it got out that I was an exorcist.
Though at the rate things were going, that was probably inevitable.
 Aaron nodded. "I miss him, too. He's fun to have around."
"You going to stick around tonight?"
He nodded. "Just in case you need some of my…" He hesitated glancing
around and shaking his head. "Abilities."
"Good. Hopefully won't be necessary but always good to have you
around."
The waiter brought us our check and I grabbed it before Aaron could. He
accepted my claiming of the bill, and I went to pay.
"I'll leave the tip then," Aaron offered, throwing cash on the table.
I nodded and after I took care of the bill we headed back out. The heat
was building, and I considered taking off my jacket, but no, the last one had
saved me enough times, I'd deal with the sweat.
"You still want to run by your restaurant?"
I needed to, but I kind of just wanted to go home for a few minutes first.
I could grab my car and then Aaron wouldn't be stuck waiting on me.
"Let's go home first."
"Sounds good."
We fell into a comfortable silence while Aaron drove a little way out of
town back to my place. He was living with me while they worked on
rebuilding his house. He'd offered to pay rent. I'd told him to keep the
pantry stocked and we'd call it even. The house was paid for, so money
wasn't really an issue.
I saw Mal's car in the driveway sitting next to mine when we pulled in.
Then I saw Mal.
"Oh, that's not fair," I muttered, as my ovaries wept with joy and I cursed
the hours before I might have a chance to get him all to myself.
"What is he doing?"
"Sword forms." Not only was my nerdy warrior vampire doing sword
forms, but he was doing them shirtless, and I had to tear my eyes away from
the view before I drooled on myself.
"Your boyfriend is a scary son of a bitch," Aaron stated as he parked the
car.
"Yeah, probably a good thing he likes us."
"Yeah," Aaron agreed quietly.
Shit. Here I was drooling over the view, and Aaron was intimidated. I
was so not good at this relationship stuff. Still, I could try.
 We got out and I went over to Aaron and slid my arm around his waist.
He hugged me back a bit hesitantly.
Mal finished his form and glanced over at us, his face lighting up in a
broad smile. Aaron loosened his hold on me, but I kept my arm around him.
Mal didn't even act like he noticed, just coming over and slapping Aaron–
and clearly ignoring the shock Aaron's angelic nature caused the vampire
when he touched the other man–on the shoulder before giving me a quick
kiss on the forehead.
We followed him inside the blessed air conditioning, and he put his
sword down on the table by the front door. I didn't know a ton about
swords, but that didn't look like a practice blade.
"Swords now?" I asked as I unashamedly stared at his ass while I
followed him further into the house.
"I'm out of practice." He shrugged, the muscles in his back rippling with
the motion. "If things keep going the way they have been, it wouldn't hurt to
brush up on my sword work."
I was itching to make a dirty joke about sword work, but I refrained. I
also managed to keep my hands off him, though I did sigh in
disappointment when he pulled a T-shirt on that he'd left in the living room.
Mal glanced at me, arching an eyebrow.
I shrugged helplessly. Sabian's incubus charms weren't even responsible
at the moment. Still, between the eye candy Aaron presented and Mal's
presence, I couldn't be blamed for being turned on all the time. Could I?
The vampire grinned at me, certainly knowing exactly what was going
on in my head. His extra senses could pick up on so much that a normal
person would have missed.
"Have a good breakfast?" Mal asked when I stepped away from Aaron to
go get a glass of water from the kitchen.
"Yeah, delicious," I answered.
Aaron sat in the armchair he preferred, and I brought him a glass of
water, as well.
"Thanks, Chris."
"Sure, mate."
"So, what are you up to for the rest of the day, Aaron?" Mal sank down
onto the couch.
 I curled up on the other end, not completely sure I'd keep my hands off
of Mal if I got too close.
"I've got to deal with the insurance company some more." Aaron sighed.
"Why, what's up?"
"Thought I might see if you wanted to learn to use a sword. Could come
in handy."
Aaron raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, sure. That sounds really interesting."
My heart skipped a beat. Wouldn't that be delicious to watch.
Mal shot a sly smirk my way before he turned his attention back to
Aaron. "We can start this afternoon. I need to head into the shop for a little
while, anyway."
Mal co-owned an occult store with a woman named Olivia. I was
supposed to go hang out with her at some point soon, but I'd been avoiding
that. She was pretty awesome, but I still felt weird about it. No idea why.
Olivia did most of the work at the shop but Mal did spend some time there.
"That sounds great, Mal. Thank you," Aaron said.
"Cool. I gotta head to the restaurant for a bit. You boys have fun and I'll
see you in a few hours."
I got up, telling my ovaries to shut it for a while, and headed back
outside.
The trip to work was short and did nothing to curb my desire, but the
flashing red and blue lights at the shop cooled my ardor pretty fast. What
the hell now?
 Chapter 2
Price

There was an ambulance, a fire truck, and a cop car all crammed into the
parking lot. It looked like some sort of medical thing, as a few paramedics
were crouched over someone prone on the ground.
I parked quickly and hurried over.
"What happened?" I didn't see Billy and thought that was strange.
Normally he would have been around for something like this.
My phone vibrated and I pulled it out. It was Billy's number.
"Who are you?" The paramedic gave me an appraising look.
"Owner. Just got here."
"We're not sure. We just got here a few minutes ago. Seems like the guy
passed out at the doorway."
"Oh." Oh, shit. The wards.
Billy ran outside, keeping me between him and the unconscious guy on
the ground.
Yeah, that guy was probably possessed or something.
"Hey, Boss. Yeah, so that guy just kinda acted like he bounced off of
nothing then passed out on the ground." He twisted his hands together. Billy
knew what that meant. So did the rest of my staff. That's probably why
they'd been hiding inside.
I nodded and knelt next to the unconscious dude. Mayhem was at my
side and he must have done something because the paramedics didn't
question me as I murmured a reveal spell, just in case it was one of the
delinquents from last month sporting a demon imbued charm. I didn't have
the normal components of the spell, but it worked, anyway. The spell
tugged my hand toward the guy's wrist. Bingo. I yanked the bracelet off,
though the host didn't react.
Since the last time I'd done this had put me in pretty close contact with
the demon inside the charm, I'd increased my personal wards with Mal's
help to prevent that from happening again. I could feel the demon
squirming around inside the charm, but it couldn't contact me otherwise
unless I allowed it.
The paramedics, oblivious to my interference, got the guy on the
stretcher and rolled him toward the ambulance.
"Thanks, Mayhem."
The Pomeranian shaped hellhound wagged his tail.
I slipped the charm inside a silk lined bag and shoved it in my jacket
pocket. Right next to the holy water.
Now I wished I'd gotten a chance to find out the easier way to get Prince
Ezra's demons out of these charms. He'd said he had a better way, but I
hadn't had the time to follow up on that conversation. Maybe I'd just ask
Aaron to melt the thing. His angelic nature put a serious hurt on the charms,
and it was easier than sacrificing a crystal to the cause. Especially since I
didn't have any handy. Of course, I seemed to recall Aaron saying it hurt
like a bitch, so maybe I should have Mal bring some crystals home with
him. Then we'd have options.
"So, that's it then?" Billy asked once the paramedics had left. "Just take a
bracelet off of him and he's good?"
"Yeah, this is one of the creeps sporting a demon in a charm. I'll take
care of the actual demon when I'm done here."
"It's safe?"
"The bag I put it in is sealed with a containment spell. It'll stay isolated
in there until I can release it later. Send it back to hell and all." I shrugged.
Billy shook his head. "That is so cool."
"Naw, it's bloody scary is what it is."
"You're not scared," he pointed out.
"Got a good poker face. Come on, let's look at that paperwork you
wanted to show me."
He nodded, not questioning me further. "Oh, Chris, the new shirts came
in. I've been handing them out."
"Great. Any of the customers freak out yet?"
 Billy chuckled and shook his head. "Think we'll get a few, but most
everyone loves it."
"I'm sure I'm going to hell for a lot of things I've done, but this might be
the icing on the cake."
Billy shot me a concerned look. I shrugged in reply.
I followed Billy inside, hoping that the containment spell on the bag I'd
put the charm in worked as advertised and I wasn't about to get zapped by
my own wards. Fortunately, I'd done my job and I passed inside to the
blessed air conditioning with no issue.
The smell of marinara, garlic, and yeasty dough chased the dry desert
scents away, lifting me up and making my stomach grumble as if I hadn't
eaten a huge breakfast not that long ago.
I waved to a few of my staff and caught a few curious looks from some
of the customers who probably weren't regulars as we went through the
dining area and into the kitchen.
The cooks worked with a cheerful banter and other than a quick wave, I
left them to it. The restaurant was busy with the early lunch crowd.
"Hey, where's Sabian. We haven't seen in him in a while and were
concerned."
I used to have a rule about not bringing people I was seeing around the
shop. Part of that was my questionable taste in men, and part of it was that I
knew nothing would be permanent, anyway, so why have them come
around. That had changed with Sabian, Mal, and Aaron and I was pretty
sure the staff had figured out that I was seeing all of them, and that the guys
didn't mind. Especially since we all ate here often enough together as it was.
Well, Mal just drank whatever struck his fancy, being a vampire and all.
Sadly, pizza didn't agree with him. His one shortcoming so far.
"Sabian had a family emergency. He will hopefully be back soon." I
crossed my fingers that soon would be tonight as we headed into the office I
shared with Billy. He was doing more and more of the administrative stuff I
hated, and I'd given him an appropriate raise to make up for it. He said he
didn't mind. I couldn't understand how he liked doing it, but as long as it got
done and Billy was happy, that was the important part.
"Here." Billy tossed a shirt at me.
It was my size, one of the V-necked cuts, and black with a pepperoni
pizza on the chest and an upside-down pentagram emblazoned on the pizza.
 I laughed. "These are perfect. Hang on a sec, I'm going to throw this on
real quick."
Yep, definitely going to hell, but at least I was going to look unique
doing it.
I slipped out to the bathroom, did a quick change, and came back.
"What do you think?"
Billy grinned approval. "It's great, Boss. Okay, here are the numbers."
He thrust some paperwork at me, and I did my best not to let my eyes
glaze over.

∞∞∞

When I got home, I got the eye candy I had not so secretly hoped for. I
wasn't sure what I'd done to deserve a man, or vampire, like Mal in my life,
but he had not failed on his promise to teach Aaron about swords.
And Aaron was as fine a sight as Mal, just in different ways. Muscular,
but tall and lean, his dark skin glistened with a sheen of sweat. He'd even
shed his shirt in the relative privacy of my front yard and the white wing
markings draped down his back just begged me to run my fingers, or maybe
my tongue, over them. The eyes on his pecs and biceps were a little creepy,
but still pretty awesome.
Mal was showing Aaron what I gathered were the basics and he seemed
like he had picked it up quickly. They flowed through a few positions
before Mal called a halt to the lesson.
Sometime during my admiration of the eye candy, I'd managed to get
parked and get out of my car, and they both came over to me. Mal hung
back and I pulled Aaron down for a kiss before going over to Mal and doing
the same with him.
"Having fun?" I asked Aaron.
"Yeah. Mal's a good teacher." Aaron grinned at the vampire. "He puts up
with my fumbles."
Mal shrugged. "Aaron, you've never held a sword before. You're doing
quite well. Better than most, in fact. You may have some innate abilities
from your angelic blood that give you an edge with a sword."
I chuckled.
 Mal gave me a long-suffering look. "No pun intended."
Aaron grinned and nodded, accepting Mal's assessment.
"I still need to talk to my folks about that one," Aaron muttered.
"Good luck with that," I replied.
Aaron hunched his shoulders.
"Oh," I added as we went inside, Mayhem on my heels. "I got another
demon charm we need to get rid of." I'd forgotten to text Mal about bringing
crystals home. Damn it. "I'm going to go put it in the basement. We'll have
to take care of that before we try to summon Sabian back."
Neither of them replied right away and I headed for the basement. Since
I'd dug up all of my occult tools, the basement looked a little different than
it had a few weeks ago.
Mal had put some heavy-duty wards on the workspace and it had a quiet
quality I'd not been able to achieve on my own. Though I knew the vampire
had centuries of practice under his belt, it bugged me that his wards were so
much better than mine. Still, I was grateful.
Aaron had found a few antique bookshelves and a workbench for me
somewhere and they fit right into the workspace. I'd happily placed my
collection of books and tools on the shelves and in the cabinet Mal had
turned up with.
I scanned the workspace, making sure I didn't notice anything out of
place, then stepped over the silver circle inlayed into the concrete floor. I
had sealed the concrete so that I could easily draw on it and remove the
markings later. Sealing it also made up for some of the porous nature of the
material and made it safer to work. I tugged the bag out of my pocket and
opened it, cracking the seal on the spell. I'd have to reset it, but it had done
its job quite well.
As soon as the seal opened, exposing the demon imbued charm to the
protective circle, I felt the protections snap to life. I shook the charm, a
simple solid circle of silver, out on the workbench and left it there. I could
pass through the circle with only minor disruption because I no longer held
the charm.
"I'll be back down to set you straight in a few, demon," I said, not
knowing if the creature could hear me, and hoping it wanted to go home.
Throwing the bag on the other work bench, the one outside the
protective circle, I made a mental note to recharge it. I did have a couple
more that I'd prepared and now that I knew they worked like a charm–ha
ha–I would make others. I took one of the intact pouches and put it in my
pocket in case I needed it and headed upstairs.
Mal, bless him, had started something for dinner and I thought I heard
the guest room shower running. Aaron, cleaning up.
I headed for the kitchen.
Mal had not put his shirt on, and he was standing in front of the oven,
cooking something delicious smelling on the stovetop.
There was no way I could sneak up on him, so I didn't hesitate to come
up behind the vampire, slide my arms around him, and press myself against
his muscular back.
He rumbled in pleasure, trapping my hands with one of his.
I leaned against him for a few moments, just taking in his scent, spicy
incense combined with the scent of old books, and let it soothe me.
"Ready for tonight?" he asked quietly while he stirred whatever he was
cooking.
"Yeah, I am." I was surprised to find that was the truth. I'd recovered
from getting blasted with Ezra's energy during the fight and, while I'd done
a few small things like the spells on the bags, I hadn't really stretched my
magical muscles since then. It was time.
I'd also almost managed to admit to myself that whatever I was doing
was magic. I still shied away from that label, but it was getting harder to
deny that I had magical talents. The ability to perform an exorcism wasn't
innately tied to magic, I didn't think, but because I had that extra something
running through my veins, it made me better at it.
When I'd gotten into the occult as a teen, I hadn't really thought about
magic as anything other than something out of a fantasy novel. I wondered
what some of my old crowd would think if they knew. Sure, I'd learned a
few spells over the years, and I'd even called it magic, but I hadn't really
thought of it in those terms, if that made any sense.
Mal took one of my hands from his waist and kissed my wrist. "You're
thinking awfully hard."
"Sorry, just want my incubus back," I replied. "Guess I'm nervous."
He nipped at my wrist gently and I groaned in response as my body,
already hot and bothered from being wrapped around my vampire,
tightened in all sorts of interesting places.
 "Hungry?" I managed, voice gone hoarse.
"Mmm, maybe later," Mal replied. "Just teasing you right now."
"It's working."
"I know." The certainty in his voice was so intoxicating.
"I can't just get a quicky, can I?"
"Not if you want dinner to turn out better than your last attempt at
cooking."
"I hit the wrong button on the toaster. I can cook, Malak."
He chuckled. "I believe you, my dear exorcist. You do own a pizza
parlor, after all."
"I make a damn fine pizza," I grumbled into his back, whimpering as he
bit me again. This time I felt fang. "Fuck, mate, you're going to have to
deliver if you're going to tease me like that." I nearly dropped my free hand
down to the front of his pants to tease him back, but I thought I heard the
door to the guest room open.
"I intend to," Mal answered, voice low. He released my hand and I
slowly unwrapped myself from the vampire. "Dinner," he whispered softly,
"then some demon summoning, then some hopefully celebratory sex. I'm
sure Sabian won't mind."
I laughed and headed for the cabinet where the dishes were so I could set
the table. Mayhem trotted along behind me, my constant shadow these
days.
Aaron came into the kitchen just as I was putting out plates for both of
us.
"Anything I can do to help?" he offered.
"Think I've got everything," I said.
Mal brought over the pan and set something creamy looking on a hot
pad. He put a bowl down for Mayhem, too. Obviously not food for a regular
dog but so far our hellhound seemed happy to eat whatever we were having
for a meal.
"Mal, why do you know how to cook?" Aaron asked once we were all
seated.
Mal joined us as usual, a mug of coffee cradled in his hands.
"I enjoy it." He shrugged. "I guess I got into the habit years back when I
was looking after a friend of mine for quite a while. He was human but
couldn't cook for himself. Since my sense of smell is so good, I can tell
when things are done and spiced properly and all of that. It's nice to have
people to cook for."
"Well, yay for vampire senses of smell, because this is delicious."
"Yes, thank you," Aaron agreed with my assessment. "I haven't eaten this
well consistently, since, well, since I moved out of my parents' house when
I was eighteen."
Mal ducked his head as if embarrassed by the praise. "You're welcome."
"Speaking of my parents," Aaron continued hesitantly. "I kind of
mentioned I was seeing someone, and they want to meet you, Chris. Any
chance I can talk you into coming down to Albuquerque with me sometime
soon? You're welcome, too, Mal. I didn't exactly tell them about you, but I'll
have to at some point."
I chuckled. "Going to bring the whole lot of us down then? Sabian, too,
assuming we get him back properly tonight?"
Aaron shrugged. "Sure, why not."
Shaking my head, I took a drink of my tea. "Your parents must be a lot
more accepting than mine ever were."
"It's more that if they don't accept it, then they'll just have to deal
because it's my life, not theirs." Aaron hunched his shoulders for a moment
as if he wasn't as comfortable with that declaration as he made it out to be,
but he also seemed like he'd stand by it.
"You gonna tell them about the angel thing?" I grinned.
Aaron smiled in reply. "I may hit them with that revelation another
time."
"Shock them with me first?" I winked. "Angel thing will be easy to deal
with after that."
Aaron shook his head. "Don't sell yourself short, Chris."
"Eh, I'm used to it," I deflected.
"So, will you come?"
"Yeah, mate."
Aaron shifted his gaze to Mal, who raised his eyebrows.
"You want me to come?" Mal leaned back in his chair, still holding his
coffee.
"Yes. If nothing else, from the purely practical aspect of not wanting my
parents to run across the two of you together and getting the wrong idea.
They do come up this way now and again, and it's completely obvious you
two are into each other whenever you're together. Besides, I like you."
Mal's eyes glinted with amusement. "Then I'll come. Just try not to make
it a dinner get together. That can get awkward."
"Deal. We're also having a work picnic in a few weeks if you both want
to come. Might be boring, bunch of scientists talking about work at a
picnic, but you're welcome. I know it's a food thing, but it's a lot easier to
get away with not eating at a large picnic."
I laughed. "Yeah, I'll come assuming nothing crazy is going on. Remind
me when it's closer."
Aaron nodded, looking pleased.
Mal gave a noncommittal shrug, but that wasn't a no.
"You sure you don't want kids and a white picket fence?" I blurted out,
then cursed myself. This was not the direction I had hoped to take the
conversation.
Aaron tilted his head, blinking a few times before he raised his eyebrows
in understanding. Slowly, he slid the sleeve of his T-shirt up to reveal the
white eye that stood out in stark relief to his dark skin on his bicep. "Never
had much luck with anyone finding out I had weird abilities. Usually drives
people off."
"It's likely we're going to end up even deeper involved with the demons
than we already are," I said. "It's going to get dangerous."
"It's already dangerous. Hell, you've already died once." Aaron
shuddered.
"Yeah, exactly. Coulda been you."
"You want me to walk away?" Aaron crossed his arms.
"No. I really don't. I just want you to be sure you want to stay involved."
"Then I'd rather be with you, and Mal, and Sabian, than on my own in all
this and I'm sure I'm going to be involved one way or another. How many
Nephilim do you think are wandering the earth?"
"Not many," Mal interjected.
I nodded. "Okay then. Well, let's finish dinner then go summon an
incubus."
That seemed to settle everything. I was sure it wasn't the last discussion
any of us would have on the topic, but for now, everyone seemed happy.
 ∞∞∞

Mal triple checked the sigils he'd traced on my concrete floor both inside
and outside the protective circle. "I think we're ready, but we should deal
with this other demon first," he said.
Mayhem woofed softly from the corner of the room he'd curled up in to
watch us.
"Yeah, good idea." I glanced at Aaron.
He tilted his head, then shrugged. "If you want me to melt the charm, I
will."
"Hurts though, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, but it's really not that bad."
"I don't have the stuff for the ritual and Ezra never got a chance to teach
me the easier way."
"I believe I could come up with a crystal to sacrifice," Mal offered. "I'd
just have to go get it."
Aaron shook his head. "No, this is fine. It's painful but I should get more
used to doing stuff like this. You know, using my powers and all. Even if
this one is kind of passive."
"Okay. So, you should be immune to possession. Just stand in the circle
and don't mar any of the sigils and stay there once you release the demon," I
ordered him.
"Should be?" Aaron cocked an eyebrow.
"Well, according to Ezra you are. Would take one hell of a demon to
possess an angel."
Apparently, Aaron trusted me, because he stepped over the circle and,
after making sure he wasn't touching any of the markings, he put his hand
out to grab the charm and glanced at me.
I nodded that I was ready.
Aaron grabbed the charm and hissed as it melted between his fingers. He
held his hand over the table and the molten metal landed on the slate top.
The charm's destruction released the demon in a swirling vapor of visible
energy. It was tinged red, and it howled in anger, swirling around the
containment circle before zeroing in on Aaron.
"Just stay put," I warned, and hoped Ezra was right.
 Aaron nodded, eyes wide, breath coming fast.
As the swirl of angry demon energy zeroed in on Aaron, my half angel
began to glow. Almost imperceptibly at first, but then with increasing
intensity. As the demon approached, Aaron emitted a harsh, white light.
Mal shielded his eyes and stepped back. I squinted and the demon
recoiled.
Aaron's glow faded enough that I could look at him again.
"That didn't happen last time," Aaron declared.
"Yeah, maybe because the demons weren't actually going to hurt you.
This time, I'm sure that was the plan."
The swirl of energy stayed on the far side of the circle and seemed to
turn its attention to me. Obviously, this was a demon that needed a host to
properly manifest. I kind of wanted to know what kind of demon it was, but
I also kind of didn't.
"You ready to go home?" I asked the swirl. It was a rhetorical question.
There was no way it would be sticking around. Still, it seemed polite to
warn the creature first.
Whoa, Price, getting polite with the demons now? Seriously?
I sighed. It didn't act like it was objecting, so, forgoing the normal squirt
of holy water, I began the exorcism. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus
spiritus..."
The energy signature of the demon shivered as my words compelled it,
but it didn't fight me, and as I spoke the last words of the rite, the demon
vanished with a small clap of displaced air.
"It's so much easier when they don't fight," I said, not even experiencing
the normal wave of tiredness I usually got after an exorcism.
"Is it safe to come out now?" Aaron stared at his hands, which, like the
rest of him, were no longer glowing.
"Yeah, you're good."
Aaron carefully stepped over the chalk drawings and breathed a sigh of
relief once he was clear.
I went over to him and wrapped him in a hug. "You're pretty amazing," I
stated.
He hugged me back. "Thanks," he replied, his deep voice rumbling
through me. "So are you."
 I didn't reply, uncomfortable at the praise I didn't feel I had earned. I
pulled Aaron back over to Mal's side and we looked at the vampire. He was
the one in charge of the summoning as he'd done most of the research. I
knew what we were up to, tonight, but he was more expert in this area of
the occult than I was. Not that either of us had ever summoned a demon.
Mal had summoned helpful spirits from time to time, so that put him far
ahead of me.
My old crowd had wanted to get into demon summoning, but I'd backed
out before they'd gone that far. I just hoped they'd been smart enough not to
go down that path. Their intentions had been far less pure than mine
tonight.
Mal nodded that he was ready, took a lighter from my other workbench
and set about lighting all the candles he had placed around the room. Then
he flipped on the lamps he had brought down and turned off the harsher
overhead light.
I shivered at the, well demonic, ambiance.
Aaron blew air out between his teeth. "Well, it certainly feels like a
demon summoning," he breathed.
Mal nodded and took his place around the circle. I fell in where he
directed me, and Aaron did the same.
We were too far apart to physically join hands, but we held them out,
palms up. If we were closer to each other, we would have been touching
palm to palm.
Mal started the incantation. It was in Latin and I followed along as he set
the expectations of the rite with his initial statements. I could feel the
energy that responded to his commands flow through us, could imagine I
saw sparks of blue energy from myself, white from Aaron, and earthy red
from Mal, twine together in a spinning circle and Mal called out the next
phase of the summoning. We directed the power flowing through us down
into the sigils inside and outside the containment circle. They lit up with
orange light.
Aaron exclaimed wordlessly and I had to admit, I was seriously
impressed. I'd seen some crazy stuff in my time, but most of it was so off
the cuff, even my own magic. Mal's efforts were so precise and controlled.
Everything proceeded exactly as he had detailed, and he intoned the last of
the incantation. Then all three of us called out Sabian's full name.
 "Sabianamon," we called in unison three times.
At the last utterance of his name, all of the candles flared brightly then
went out.
"Fuck," I growled as soon as my vision cleared. There was no naked, or
even clothed, incubus in our circle. The summoning had gone exactly right.
Even having never done one before, I somehow instinctively knew that it
should have worked.
"What's that?" Aaron pointed at a red oval object that had appeared in
the middle of the circle.
Mal grabbed me before I could cross the circle, his arms tight around
me. "Wait a minute," he whispered. "Let's make sure it's not some sort of
trap first."
"Sabian wouldn't send a trap," I argued, not fighting against Mal. There
was no way I could win that one anyway, and he was right even though I
objected.
"No, but if Sabian wasn't in some sort of trouble, he would have
answered our summons. He wants to be here, and even if he didn't, that
ritual would have called him without some sort of powerful interference."
I sighed, taking a deep breath, and turning my head so I could bury my
face in his shoulder for a minute.
Mal focused his energy and attention completely on me, doing that thing
he did that made me feel like the center of his world. I melted a little,
though my heart still clenched at our failure.
Mal kissed my neck. "Let's do a reveal spell on it." His breath tickled my
skin and I shivered in reaction.
"Okay."
The vampire released me and stepped back. I studied the object that had
appeared in the middle of my protective circle. It looked like a rock. That,
more than anything, made me think it was from Sabian. He'd given me a
desert rose–a barite crystal–not long before I'd accidently sent him back to
hell.
This rock looked more like a flattened sphere, and was a deep orangish
red, but I couldn't tell more than that in the low light. All of the candles had
melted to nothing in the last flare of energy and the only light we had was
the low light from the lamps.
"Want to flip on the light for my poor human grade eyeballs?"
 Mal did so, not commenting on my quip. I had to stand there blinking in
the harsh overhead light for a moment or two before I could see again.
The brighter lights revealed that the stone was translucent and polished.
It was beautiful and I had to blink a few tears out of my eyes. I'd rather have
Sabian, but this was a nice gift. What did it mean?
After I'd studied the smooth crystal for a few moments I went over and
grabbed some incense off of my workbench and lit it.
As soon as it was burning properly, I blew the flame out then went over
to the circle and waved the smoke toward the stone as the words to the
reveal spell sprang to my lips.
The smoke drifted in an unnatural line toward the object of my spell and
settled around it, swirling then dissipating. If there had been anything
nefarious about the stone, or even friendly, the smoke would have clung to
it and then I could have investigated further.
I glanced at Mal for his opinion and he nodded, so I crossed the circle
and scooped up the rock.
It was warm to the touch, about the size of my palm, and fit very
comfortably in my hand. I traced my fingers over the smooth top before
flipping it over and seeing something etched in the bottom. I ran my fingers
over the grooves. The markings were some sort of symbol.
I came out of the circle and showed it to Mal and Aaron.
"It's a word, I think," Mal said. "I don't know what it says, though."
"Yeah, no idea," Aaron replied. "But it does look like a word."
Sagging, I might have collapsed to the floor in despair, but Aaron put his
arms around me, and I leaned back against his solid warmth.
"If it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure it doesn't say 'leave me
alone,'" Mal said, brushing his knuckles along my cheek. "This is one word.
Best guess, he's asking for help, but I have no idea what we can do."
"What about your demon prince?" Aaron suggested. "Can he help?
Sabian is his subject, or whatever. Right? He'll want to get the incubus out
of trouble I would hope."
"I got no idea how to contact him in hell," I answered. "And we can't
summon him without some sort of pretty significant sacrifice. I love Sabian,
but I'm not going there."
"He wouldn't want you to," Mal agreed. "So, that's the next step. Figure
out how to contact Ezra."
 "So, this might be off the wall, but isn't that what séances are for?"
Aaron asked.
Mal and I glanced at each other, eyebrows raised.
"Now, there's an idea," Mal said slowly, thinking while he talked. "Not
exactly, but maybe we could do something like that."
I frowned, something tugging at my memory. Something from one of my
older occult books. Nothing like Mal's collection, but I had a few gems I'd
come across over the years and I went over to my bookshelf and grabbed
the book I was thinking of. I flipped it open and scanned the pages until I
found what I was looking for.
It was a communication across the planes spell, probably intended for
the very thing Aaron had suggested, but maybe we could adapt it somehow.
I showed it to Mal.
Aaron looked over our shoulders. "Is that Latin?"
"Yeah, mate."
Mal ran his fingers down the text, muttering under his breath as he
studied the incantation.
"You know Latin?" Aaron gave me a surprised look.
"Yeah. I'm fluent in Latin. I know a smattering of a few other ancient
languages but most of the occult stuff that isn't already translated into
English is in Latin. I don't like the translations much, though. I always
worry someone got it wrong." I shrugged.
"A fair concern," Mal said absently.
"That's impressive," Aaron marveled.
I glanced up at him. "Might not be a doctor of physics but I know a few
things."
Aaron's eyebrows rose. "I did not intend to even imply anything of the
sort. Your knowledge base is just so different from mine that you're going to
surprise me from time to time."
"Nice save." I nudged him to hopefully take any sting out of the words.
He sighed. "Truly not what I meant."
"S'okay."
"This will work. Come here and let's see if we can get a hold of Ezra,"
Mal interrupted. "It's more like a request than summons. He'll be able to
ignore us if he wants. Assuming we get this right."
 Mal crossed the circle and put the book on my workbench. "Let's clean
this up first so we don't cross contaminate."
Aaron set about picking up all the stubs of the candles. I got a couple of
damp cloths and Mal and I cleaned up the sigils he'd drawn. Mal also
scraped the melted silver off the work bench and transferred it to the table
outside the circle.
Then he picked up my heavy ass slate covered metal work bench like it
was nothing and moved it out of the circle as well.
"Damn dude," Aaron breathed.
"Yeah, make sure you put that back. Takes like four of us puny humans
to get that thing to move."
Mal glanced at me. "It's not that heavy."
"Yeah, it is," I objected.
"I'll be sure to put it back." He grabbed the book and gestured for us to
join him inside the circle. "Sit cross-legged so we're touching."
He winced when Aaron's knee brushed his as we sat and positioned
ourselves the way he directed.
"Sorry," Aaron apologized.
"It's fine. Join hands and repeat after me."
Aaron and I repeated the words that Mal spoke. Aaron a bit hesitantly
since he didn't understand the language, me with more confidence. I let
myself sink down into the trance that the words encouraged, reaching out
for some sort of connection with the demon prince.
Nothing.
"Damn it," I snarled.
"Maybe the two of you should try without me?" Aaron suggested.
"Could be that he's not interested in answering because of my angel blood?"
"I don't think that's it," I replied. "But we can try."
Aaron released Mal's hand and scooted out of the circle.
Mal flexed his hand, shaking it for a moment, before he slid his cool
hand into mine. We began the chant again, but it still felt like we were
coming up against a wall. Or maybe like we were looking in the wrong
spot.
I was not about to cry over this, though my chest was tight, and I wanted
to. We would figure something out. Mal rose gracefully and offered me a
hand. I accepted and he pulled me to my feet and into a quick hug.
 "Well, back to the old research, right?" Aaron said, sounding nearly as
disappointed as I felt. "I'd help, but I don't read Latin."
Forcing a laugh, I let him give me a quick hug. "Yeah. We'll just have to
try again."
"For something so esoteric, the process seems fairly scientific," Aaron
mused as we headed upstairs.
"It is," Mal agreed.
"I think I need some ice cream, and then I want to go to bed," I declared
when we got to the main level of the house. "I'm exhausted." I was, too. I
hadn't felt it before, but the fruitless efforts weighed on my soul and my feet
dragged with physical exhaustion.
"Sounds like a plan," Aaron agreed.
"Do you want me to stay tonight?" Mal stayed most nights but every
once in a while, he went home.
"Yeah, if you don't mind." I didn't want to be alone, and Aaron and I
weren't sharing a bed yet.
"I never mind."
 Chapter 3
Price

Mal held me while I slept and was there, as he usually was, when I woke
the next morning. Light filtered around the edges of the blackout curtains,
throwing patterns across the vampire's stomach.
"What went wrong?" I whispered into his shoulder.
"Best guess? Ezra isn't in hell at the moment, though I have no idea what
that means. Or he's somewhere we can't reach him. It didn't feel like we
were being ignored."
"No, it didn't. Sabian?"
"He's in trouble, I'm guessing. This is a message, but it's in demonic.
Why wouldn't he send us something we could read?" Mal wondered,
tightening his arms around me.
"Maybe he couldn't. Or maybe he thought I still had Ezra." I sighed.
Mal clutched me in his arms. "I'll look into a translate spell while I'm at
the shop today. I seem to recall something along those lines in one of the
books I have in the back."
"Thanks, mate."
"Of course. I think I should bring a few of the books home for you to
read, too."
I liked the way he called my house home. "Sounds good."
"You in any particular hurry to get up?" he whispered in my ear.
His breath tickled the short hairs on my neck, and I shivered as a thrill
ran through me. "Not really."
"I seem to recall you demanding that I deliver on a certain tease last
night." He kissed my neck right behind my ear. "Interested?"
 "Yeah," I breathed.
"Trust me?"
Taken aback by the question, I leaned back so I could look at him. "Of
course, I do."
He grinned and shifted out of bed. His sleeping pants sagged around his
hips and his muscles slid under his skin as he moved. I licked my lips.
Wondering what he was up to, and momentarily distracted from my
disappointment, I watched as Mal went over to his bag, which he'd stashed
on the floor by my bookshelf last night, and pulled out a rope.
"You're going to tie me up?"
"If you're interested." He brushed some of his dark, wavy hair out of his
face, his eyes glinting with mischief in the low light.
"Never let anyone tie me up before. Couple of guys wanted to, didn't
trust them."
"It's completely up to you, Chris." He came back over to the bed and
handed me the rope.
It was soft and intriguing. I trusted Mal.
"Yeah, I'm game." I grinned at him.
"Sit up."
I did what he instructed, heart speeding a little at the extra note of
command in his voice.
"You can tell me to stop any time," Mal said as he scooted around behind
me. "Get on your knees."
I complied and he hooked his fingers under the hem of my sleeping shirt
and pulled it off over my head. I let my arms fall back to my side and
shivered as he ran his fingers gently down my arms before taking my wrists
and pulling them behind me. He slipped the rope around my wrists and
tightened it, pausing to kiss my shoulder as my heart picked up speed.
"Okay?" he whispered against my skin.
"Yeah."
He nipped me gently, before going back to my arms.
I'd expected him to simply tie some knots but whatever he was doing
was more involved than that, as he twined the rope up my arms, tying knots
as he went. Then he hooked the rope through my upper arms, pulling tight
until I had no choice but to pull my shoulders back and open my chest. He
wrapped the rope over my shoulder, between my breasts and around my
back, bringing it up over my other shoulder, and down again before tying it
off to my hands. This framed my breasts which were on fairly prominent
display because I had my shoulders pulled back.
"Okay?" he asked again.
"Yeah," I breathed, heart thudding in my chest, breath coming fast, but
not in fear. Mal was in complete control, but I was comfortable.
"The only problem with tying your arms behind you is you can't see the
knots." He sounded a little saddened.
"Take a picture. I'll look later."
The slow caress across my shoulders paused and he kissed my neck
again before he grabbed one of our phones off my nightstand. When he was
done his attention was back to me as he ran his fingers down the front of
my body, over my breasts. He paused at my nipples, tweaking them gently
with his fingers, rolling them into hard peaks. I leaned back against him,
and he supported me as he played my body like an instrument. His
heightened senses let him know exactly how I was responding to his touch,
and he lingered in the places I liked the most, though he paid attention to
every bit of skin with his fingers.
He hadn't even gotten below my hips yet, and I was already panting with
need. It amazed me how much being tied relaxed me. The only thing I had
to do was trust Mal and enjoy the ride. He pressed against me, my arms
trapped between us, and I could feel his hard arousal against my hands.
Clearly, he was enjoying this as much as I was.
I moaned as he finally worked his fingers lower, sliding under my
panties, teasing my folds, brushing along my clit, before plunging into my
entrance. I was already soaked, and I spread my knees wider and tilted my
hips, trying to encourage him to go faster.
"So impatient," he murmured against my neck, nipping at me again.
This time I felt fang.
I couldn't reply as he complied, working his fingers inside me, rubbing
and hitting my g-spot with his fingers, while he swirled the fingers of his
other hand over my clit.
Pretty soon I was quivering with need, crying his name out in small
gasps as he brought me so close, building me higher and higher. I
whimpered, almost not able to handle the intensity of the feelings coursing
through me.
 He pressed his fangs against my neck, and I exposed my throat in reply.
The sharp pain of his teeth sinking into my skin was quickly replaced by
ecstasy as my body shattered from the combination of his bite and his
fingers in my pussy. I came hard, vision blackening until all I could focus
on was the pleasure coursing through me.
"Wow," I breathed softly as I came down from the intense orgasm, still
on my knees, leaning back against Mal.
"Let's get you untied," he said.
He made the process of untying just as erotic as the tying, rubbing my
skin, kissing my neck, releasing me slowly and gently before lying me back
on the bed and giving my legs the same treatment. He hadn't tied my legs,
but I'd been effectively trapped on my knees.
Once I was left feeling satiated and languid on my bed, he leaned back
and studied me.
"You're so beautiful, my dear exorcist," he marveled, running his fingers
along the tats decorating my stomach. "Thank you for trusting me."
I grinned. "You always deliver on my trust, Mal."
His return smile tugged at my heart. I wasn't sure how I'd gotten so lucky
as to have this vampire in my life, but damn I was glad he was here.
"Let's get you cleaned up and fed."
I arched an eyebrow, surprised he wasn't going for more. "You
satisfied?"
Mal nodded and gave me a wry grin. "For now. I'm also in danger of
running late if I get too occupied. I did tell Olivia I'd cover for her today."
"Ahh, real life intruding on the fun." I laughed.
"It happens." He reached over to the nightstand and handed me my
phone.
I unlocked it and took a look at the picture he'd taken.
"Wow, that's, uh, beautiful." I'd never expected to describe anything
about myself as beautiful, but the way Mal had positioned me, wound the
rope, and tied the knots up my arms was a work of art.
He ducked his head when I tried to meet his gaze, though I caught the
glint of pleasure in those liquid brown eyes.
"It actually is an art form. Erotic knot tying. I had a friend who was into
it years ago and I let her tie me up all the time. Eventually I learned, so I
could reciprocate."
 "Well, we'll have to play some more," I said.
"I'd like that."
"Game night, tonight? Right?" I switched subjects before I tackled Mal
back to the bed and made him late for work.
Recognizing what I was doing, Mal allowed the topic change, offering
me a hand out of bed. "Yes. Ready?"
"I think so. I'll bring home pizza for me and Aaron," I called as I headed
for the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day.
"Looking forward to it."
Mal was in the kitchen by the time I got out of the bathroom. Mayhem
was prancing around the vampire's feet, the Pomeranian shaped hellhound
obviously ready for his breakfast. My stomach growled.
Aaron was already gone. He really was an early bird. Since it was the
weekend, he was probably out jogging. Soccer practice was Saturdays, and
he usually spent the vast majority of Sunday exercising. He said it let him
spend the rest of his week at the office with a lot less restlessness.
I settled into my place at the table and Mal brought me a simple
breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast.
"Thanks, Mal."
"Any time, Chris." He kissed the top of my head before settling into the
chair he usually occupied and drank his coffee. Mayhem came over to sit
next to us while I scarfed my delicious breakfast.
I thought I'd take a page out of Aaron's book and go for a walk before I
headed into the pizza shop. Mayhem would probably appreciate it and I
could use a chance to stretch my legs. Billy, my manager, wasn't expecting
me until later anyway and it wouldn't be too hot out for a while yet. I'd
woken up earlier than normal.
Mal gave me a quick kiss goodbye when I was done eating and headed
out. I glanced down at my hellhound. "Want to go for a walk?"
The little yellow dog wagged his floofy tail and padded toward the door.

∞∞∞

It was hot enough by the time I went outside that I'd relented on the
jacket. I wore it tied around my waist. I didn't have much of a tan, so I
wouldn't stay out too long. Walks weren't my normal habit, but now that I
had a dog I felt like I should take him for a walk. Not that Mayhem didn't
follow me everywhere anyway, so he was hardly lacking for exercise.
Still, he seemed to enjoy the simple activity, sniffing at rocks and other
things as we walked down the road, and occasionally peeing on them. I
didn't exactly live in a neighborhood but there were other houses nearby
and the actual neighborhood that was near me did have sidewalks, so I
headed that way.
The hot sun beat down on me and a few lizards scuttled out of Mayhem's
path. Not needing to pay much attention to the hellhound since it was his
job to guard me, I let my mind wander to how much things had changed in
the last month or so. Darius wandering back into my life. Finding Mal,
Sabian, and Aaron. And Ezra, a quiet voice whispered. I told it to hush.
Losing Sabian again. The pain of not getting him back last night stung, but
we would figure something out.
Mayhem woofed and I halted, looking around for whatever had bothered
the hellhound. The little dog was staring off to the west. At first, I couldn't
figure out what he was looking at. However, he hadn't shifted into his much
more impressive hellhound form, so I thought it likely wasn't too
dangerous. Well, I hoped not, anyway.
Then I caught sight of something blending in with the heat waves
coming off the ground. Equine shaped and pawing at the ground if my eyes
didn't deceive me.
"Huh," I wondered aloud. This was the second time I'd seen a riderless
horse in the distance recently. Once about a month ago when I'd finally dug
up all my old occult stuff, and now. It couldn't be a coincidence.
"What is it, Mayhem?" I wondered if hellhounds could communicate
somehow outside of dog noises, but no answer appeared in my mind and
after a long moment of staring, the horse wheeled around and raced out of
sight.
It was far enough away that I couldn't really make out a lot of details
other than horse shaped and I had no idea what to make of it. I'd have to see
if Mal had any ideas.
Shrugging, I bent over to scratch Mayhem on his fluffy head, and we
continued on our walk.
 ∞∞∞

My stomach grumbled as I poked at the administrative work on the

computer. A quick check to make sure Billy's work was up to my standard–
it was probably better than my standard–and then all the little things a
restaurant owner had to deal with. If I hadn't let it pile up, this wouldn't
have taken long, but I hated doing it. If I got it done today, I could ignore it
for another few weeks though, so there was that motivation.
If I didn't have dinner plans, I would have grabbed some pizza or
breadsticks or something, but it wouldn't be too long before I was heading
home with a large pizza covered in cheese and meat. Fresh out of the oven
was best, but it wouldn't burn my mouth if I waited until I got home to feast
upon it.
Wow, I was fantasizing about pizza. Maybe I should get a snack at least.
I did still have a couple of hours before I was planning on heading home.
One more task and then I'd take a break.
"Hey, Price?" Billy stuck his head in the office.
"Yeah, mate?"
"Someone here to see you." He said this hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure if
it was a good thing or a bad thing, and it was obviously a stranger, or he
would have told me who it was.
"Not blowing up the kitchen or anything, are they?"
"No. He's wearing a suit, though. Kinda weird."
I raised my eyebrows. If it was an inspector, they were welcome to look
around. Everything should be fine.
"Huh. Okay." I closed down my task and followed my manager out
through the kitchen and into the dining area.
Billy didn't even have to point. My gaze was drawn to my visitor as if he
had a direct line to my soul.
I froze when he met my eyes from across the dining area. Fuck.
Short, dark curls, dusky skin, dark, almost black eyes that seemed to
contain the universe. Fucking Ezra. Well, to be fair, we had called him.
How in the hell had he gotten into the restaurant? The wards were still up.
They should have kept him out, or at least reacted to his presence in a way I
would have noticed.
 Mayhem, my unobserved shadow, brushed against my leg as if to remind
me he was there.
"Someone you know?"
"Yeah, he's a friend I guess you could say. I just wasn't expecting him
here, well, ever."
"Okay. Do you need anything?"
I took a breath and shook my head. "Naw. He's a friend," I emphasized
the last word as if to convince myself, too. "Thanks."
"Sure, boss. Holler if you do."
"Will do." Not that there was fuck all anyone but possibly me could do
about Ezra. I wasn't even sure I could handle him. At least not in a fight. I'd
certainly entertained the idea of handling him in other ways while he'd been
possessing me. Though Ezra had blamed Sabian's influence, he'd had
similar thoughts. I knew what he looked like because we'd spoken 'face to
face' in some sort of mental space the demon had been able to pull me into.
Ezra tilted his head and I realized I'd been standing there staring for a
really awkward amount of time so, chest tight with some unidentifiable
feeling, I forced myself into motion.
"Hey, mate," I said when I got to the table they'd stashed him at. The
overwhelming desire to touch Ezra made me clench my hands at my sides.
He slid out of the booth and stood before gesturing for me to sit. Such
manners.
Not having any reason to refuse, I took the seat and he slid back into his.
"Hello, Price. How are you?"
"Uh, still lacking an incubus. You?"
Ezra's expression darkened a bit, brows furrowing. "I am also lacking a
certain incubus, and I'm not particularly happy about it."
I glanced around but we were seated in an empty part of the restaurant. I
fished the rock we'd summoned the night before out of my pocket and held
it out.
Ezra cupped my hand and tilted it so he could see the words on the flat
part of the rock.
I sucked in my breath, something like electricity tingled through me at
his touch. If I hadn't seen Ezra shutter his eyes for a moment and take a
surprised breath, I would have accused him of doing something on purpose.
As it was, I couldn't get myself to pull my hand away. Touching his warm
skin was suddenly a visceral need that seemed to pull strings all the way to
my core.
"What the fuck," I whispered.
"It says help," Ezra replied and jerked his hand away from mine, as if it
was one of the more difficult things he'd done in a while. "Where did you
get this?"
I shoved the crystal back in my pocket with a curse. "We tried to
summon Sabian last night. We got this instead."
Ezra's eyebrows rose. "I'm amazed you managed to get even that much.
Well done. Especially for, what I'm assuming, was your first try at
summoning a demon?"
I glanced around again, nervous, but we were still alone.
"Yeah, first time. Didn't work." I gritted my teeth.
"I can't even retrieve Sabian through a summoning and it shouldn't be an
issue for me."
"What happened?"
Ezra glanced over my shoulder. Stacy, one of my servers was coming
over slowly, as if to give us time to warn her off. She came over the rest of
the way quickly when I made eye contact.
"Chris, we weren't sure if you needed food or anything," she asked
hesitantly.
I glanced at Ezra. Did demon princes eat pizza?
He tilted his head as if considering. "I'd love to try some of your famous
pizza, Price," he finally replied.
"Yeah, thanks, Stacy. Just, uh, put in my normal and I'm also going to
need a large extra cheese, all the meat, to go here in a bit." I could not
remember what demonic sounding name they'd changed the meat lovers
pizza to when they had rebranded last month after I'd exorcised a demon in
front of most of my staff.
"Sure thing, boss. To drink?"
After a glance at Ezra, who shrugged, I replied, "ginger beer for both of
us."
"We'll have that right up."
"Thank you, Stacy."
"Yes, thank you very much," Ezra added, his voice warm.
Stacy blushed and darted away.
 "What are you doing here?" I demanded, voice low.
"I need your help with something, and you need mine to get Sabian back.
I'm offering a trade."
That was not what I had expected.
"What do you need my help with?"
"I'd prefer to talk about all of this in a less public setting."
"Yeah, probably best. They know too much as it is," I replied. "How'd
you get in?"
"Those wards are very clever. Your Mal is quite talented. However, he
opened them for me to get in when I was in possession of you. I can get in
anywhere you could at the time."
"Oh. Right." Well, that was obvious, and I should have thought of it right
away, but still, fuck. At least he was a relatively friendly demon prince. And
the itch to touch him was back.
I threaded my fingers together and tried not to fidget.
Ezra looked nearly as uncomfortable as I felt, brow furrowed, shoulders
hunched slightly. Finally, he muttered something annoyed sounding under
his breath and shoved his leg against mine so our lower legs touched under
the table. Hopefully, that was hidden from view. There was cloth between
us, but nothing else.
The almost painful need to touch him eased instantly.
"Well." I breathed a sigh of relief. "I guess at least it's not just me, but
what the fuck is that?"
"Side effect, I'm guessing. This is a first for me, Chris."
"Don't usually have pizza with people you've possessed?" I grinned at
him.
"Well, no. That is certainly a first, as well, but possession was never
really my thing, anyway. It's happened a time or two, but I'm more of the
bargaining for souls type. Well, I was."
"How did you get back up here?" I wasn't sure if I wanted to know, but it
was going to bug me until I found out.
"I'm currently rather in favor and was granted a different way out of hell
than a summons. Conveniently. Of course, that favor comes with some
responsibilities."
"That what you need my help with?" Not going to lie, I was glad to
know someone hadn't died to get him back up here. It made me feel a little
better about my aching desire to drag Ezra back to my office and jump him.
He nodded, hopefully not catching that surface thought. If he did, he
didn't react.
"How are things going for you?"
I recognized a subject change when heard one, so I filled him in on the
relatively uninteresting events of the last month. It was just as well, because
Stacy brought our pizza while I was talking and the restaurant filled up a bit
more so people were getting seated closer to us. The 80's music wasn't
turned up so loud that nearby tables couldn't overhear us. We usually only
cranked the music in the evening or for special events. And even then, we'd
done some acoustic work in the place to keep it from being painful. When
my parents had owned the place, they'd had a different theme, and they
might be rolling in their graves at what we'd done recently, but no one could
deny that the pizza parlor was thriving.
Ezra dug in, a pleased expression on his face. I wanted to save room for
pizza this evening, but I was hungrier than I'd imagined, and scarfed a few
pieces of extra cheesy deliciousness before I could really slow myself down
and remember to feed Mayhem. The little dog jumped up on the seat next to
me and I discreetly cut up a pizza slice for the hellhound.
"Ezra, what do hellhounds normally eat?"
The demon prince paused in his own efforts to demolish the pizza I'd
ordered for us. Either he really liked it, or he was hungry, too.
"In their normal form, meat of any kind. On Earth? Whatever their
partners feed them is fine. They don't have food allergies like dogs do."
"Which is good because I'm sure I've fed him things I wouldn't feed a
dog."
Ezra nodded.
"So, you coming back to my place to tell me what else is up?" The idea
of Ezra in my house both terrified and thrilled me. What the actual fuck was
wrong with me? He was a freaking demon prince. Whose leg was currently
pressed against mine, his warmth seeping through the fabric of his suit
pants and my jeans. I wanted skin contact. A lot of it. Damn it.
"If that's okay with you."
"Sure. I think I've done enough here for now. We can go when you're
ready."
We'd successfully polished off the pizza.
 "Any time, Price."
Reluctantly, I pulled my leg away from his. The discomfort was back
almost instantly.
"Please tell me that's going to fade?"
Ezra sighed. "I have no idea."
I grumbled under my breath as I pulled some cash out of my pocket.
"How much?"
"Hmm?"
"I'll pay. How much?"
"Oh, uh, throw down a twenty for the team. Pizza's on the house. I need
to grab a few things from my office. I'll be back in a minute."
I left Ezra at the table and, Mayhem on my heels, went to grab my jacket
from my office and make sure I didn't need to do anything else before I
headed home.
The kitchen staff gave me curious looks, which I ignored though I did
throw out my normal friendly wave on my way back out to the dining area.
Everything pressing had been handled.
Ezra joined me and Stacy handed me my to go pizza before I could walk
out without it.
"Thanks. Tell Billy to call me if you all need anything."
"Sure, boss," Stacy said.
I caught her eyeing Ezra as we left and I was torn between amusement,
and a weird possessive annoyance. Which was really strange because I'd
never minded anyone ogling Mal, Aaron, or Sabian, or really anyone else
I'd ever dated.
"You've done some weird shit to my head," I grumbled as I headed for
my car.
"You are not alone in that frustration," Ezra said.
I glanced at the handsome demon prince. He'd shaded his eyes with
sunglasses that did nothing to diminish his allure. "You got a car?"
He gestured to a black sedan with heavily tinted windows.
"Great. See you at my place."
Ezra didn't reply, just headed for his car, shoulders tight.
The tension in my body amped up with every step we took away from
each other. There had to be some way to get this under control because I
couldn't live the rest of my life glued to Ezra's hip.
 Chapter 4
Price

The trip back to my house seemed to take forever, though it was only about
fifteen minutes. I didn't see Mal or Aaron's car in the driveway, though I'd
expected at least one of them to be home.
Mayhem hopped out of my car and dashed off to pee on something. I
grabbed the pizza and headed for the house. Ezra's car door shut and then he
was right behind me. I didn't even have to look, I could just feel his
presence.
I did look at him when I opened the front door. Ezra had taken off his
sunglasses and his gaze followed the invisible wards along the doorframe,
much as Mal's had the first time he'd come over. The wards didn't stop Ezra
though, when he followed me through the door out of the heat and into the
air conditioning.
I kicked off my shoes and held the pizza in one hand while I slid my arm
out of my jacket.
Ezra helped with the jacket, hanging it on the hook before stepping
closer and brushing his fingers across my temple, leaving trails of heat as I
lost myself in his endless eyes. Tingles traveled down my spine and I forgot
to breathe.
Someone cleared their throat and both Ezra and I jumped.
I glanced toward the living room. Mal leaned against the wall, arms
crossed, frowning at Ezra.
"Oh, hey Mal." I somehow managed to get my voice to work.
"Who's your friend?"
 I tilted my head, then raised my eyebrows. Oh...he'd never actually seen
Ezra. That might be why he looked a little annoyed.
"Ezra, mate. Just, you know, in the flesh instead of possessing me."
Mal's expression lightened to surprise. "Ahh."
At least he no longer looked like he was considering taking Ezra's head
off with the sword that still lay on the table by the front door.
"Hello, Malak," Ezra said slowly.
Cue the awkward.
"Nice to finally meet you, Prince Ezra." Mal bowed his head ever so
slightly, as a gesture of respect, I supposed.
I stepped away from Ezra and headed for the kitchen, pausing next to
Mal for a kiss, which he delivered with a bit more heat than normal when
company was present.
They both followed me, Mal with his fingers lightly on the small of my
back. Someone was definitely feeling possessive. Crap. I was barely able to
deal with all of the emotions and feelings the guys had already subjected me
to. I did not know how to deal with a jealous vampire. Especially since it
wasn't like I could just turn off whatever was pulling me toward Ezra. If I
could have, I would have turned away from Ezra right then. I did not want
to cause any strife, but I already knew, soul deep, that it would be
physically impossible.
Just because I knew it would be impossible didn't mean I wasn't about to
try though. Fuck.
I tried start up some sort of conversation so I could get my mind off of
the soul crushing ache of not touching Ezra. "So, Ezra confirmed that
Sabian is in trouble and he's going to help me get him back," I explained
when I put the pizza in the oven on warm to keep until Aaron got home.
Ezra's appearance may have interrupted our game night, which wouldn't
please Mal any, either.
"How?" Mal asked, voice tight.
Ezra sat on one of my bar stools and laced his fingers together.
I leaned into Mal, and he put his arm around me. I was practically
vibrating with the distance between Ezra and me but Mal's comforting
presence helped to some degree.
"I believe what happened was that when Price banished all of the
demons the enemy grabbed Sabian and now has him imprisoned. I can't
Another random document with
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turning slyly to Bob, "I don't think I need apologize for keeping you
waiting."

Young Baxter gave a little self-conscious laugh, but Betty immediately

became dignified.

"We were talking about—about music."

"Yes," added Bob. "You know Betty has been studying singing in Paris
—she has a splendid voice."

"I should very much enjoy hearing Miss Thompson sing." The bishop
bowed gallantly.

"You're just in time. Miss Thompson has promised to sing her favorite
song, and—er—I was saying it would be rather nice to have it in the dark
with—er—the organ accompaniment."

Betty opened her eyes at the glibness of Bob's invention.

"To be sure," approved his lordship. "In the dark, by all means, with the
storm raging outside. Bless my soul! Look at that rain!"

The water was coming down in sheets and torrents, lashing the library
windows and seething over the glass roof of the conservatory.

"It sounds like a Belasco melodrama," laughed Bob.

"Yes, yes, quite so," murmured the bishop, not understanding in the
least this allusion. "And what is your favorite song, my dear?" he asked
Betty.

"Oh, I would never have the courage to sing before you," she declared.

"Besides, it's so much more interesting to talk. We'll have some lights
and some tea, and—you must tell us what brings you to this part of the
world?"
 "Why, don't you know? Didn't you tell her?" The churchman turned to
Bob in surprise.

"I—er—I thought I did," stammered the latter, but Betty shook her
head.

"It's quite a mystery, my dear," the prelate explained. "It's in connection

with that unfortunate affair in the train—you remember?"

"The purse?"

"Exactly. I received a telegram this morning from Scotland Yard—the

police headquarters."

"Yes?"

"Perhaps you don't know it, but they have sent a detective here, a man
named Grimes."

Betty could feel her lips getting white, but she kept her self-possession.

"I know," she said quietly, "I saw him."

"I had a few words with him myself just now. He seems like a
straightforward fellow—says he has a clew, but—he isn't quite ready to
make his report."

"How can he have a clew in this house?" objected Bob. "The servants
have all left, and—I guess it's a false alarm."

"I'm afraid so," sighed the prelate. "We have had so many false alarms.
You remember those German musicians, Miss Thompson?"

"I remember."

"They were innocent, it appears, quite innocent. Ah, well, I suppose we

must be patient," the prelate continued in a tone of resignation, "and, for the
moment, my dear, nothing could be more delightful than the song you were
speaking of—in the dark, please."
 Betty looked out into the park, where the swaying pines, tortured in the
strength of the tempest, were hurling their branches to and fro like huge
black hands. She listened to the shrieking of the gale as it rose and fell,
then, without speaking, she went to the old organ, and, seating herself at its
yellow keyboard, in the paneled recess, began to play softly a tender
prelude of minor chords. As her courage grew she swelled into a braver
ascending movement with danger notes sounding here and there, and,
finally, improvising through a rapid procession of major chords, she swung
into a triumphant crashing finale with the full strength of the organ, a storm
within and a storm without that stirred old Bunchester to the depths of his
tired soul and gave Betty Thompson new courage for the task that was
before her.

Suddenly she stopped. There was a moment of tense silence, then her
sweet voice lifted in an inspired melody, and, with all the tenderness of her
nature, she sang "Annie Laurie."

"Wonderful! Admirable!" exclaimed the bishop when the last note of

the haunting words had died away. "You have an exquisite voice, my dear.
Really, I—I don't know when I have been more genuinely touched."

Betty herself was so deeply moved that she could scarcely trust herself
to speak.

"Bob," she called softly, "will you get my handkerchief? It's there by
you—in my desk—the top drawer."

She spoke as if she thought Bob was sitting near her desk, but he rose
from the opposite corner of the room.

"Certainly," he said, crossing over. "Wait, I'll turn up the lights," and he
did so, touching a button in the wall.

As the electrics flashed out Betty looked about her in surprise.

"Why, how strange!" she cried.

"What?" asked the bishop.

 "Surely you—you haven't been sitting there all the time—while I was
singing?"

"My dear young lady, I haven't moved from this chair," declared his
lordship.

"But you must have moved. Some one moved across this room," she
insisted. Then she turned earnestly to Baxter.

"Bob, was it you? Did you move? I couldn't see in the dark, but—I
thought it was you."

Her voice was almost pleading now.

"Nobody moved," Bob assured her. "We were too much taken up with
your singing. Say, Betty, it was great. I never heard anything like it, never. I
knew you could sing, but—by George, I didn't know you were an artist."

The girl's eyes were still troubled.

"You'll think me silly," she said with a strange impressiveness, "but—I

know some one passed through this room while I was singing."

CHAPTER XXXIII

"HER PROMISE TRUE"

Half an hour before this, in the little mezzanine chamber, Hester Storm,
with a sigh of relief, had sat down to the tray of food that Betty had left for
her. At any rate, the worst was over. She had confessed her sin and had
renounced all interest in the stolen money except to give it back. Miss
Thompson would intercede for her with the bishop, and he, having the
funds once more, would see that the police investigation was dropped. So
she need not worry about Grimes. He would be taken off the case within
twenty-four hours and—— What was that?

Above the tumult of the storm she had heard distinctly the click of a
latch and, glancing up from her place, Hester fixed her eyes on the green
door at the other end of the room and, presently she saw this open slowly
and noiselessly, as she had seen it open once before. A moment later Anton
entered, his eyes cruel, his face set with wicked determination.

The chauffeur closed the door behind him and locked it. Then, without a
word, he went to the other door that opened on the library stairs and, putting
this an inch or two ajar, he stood listening. Hester listened also and could
hear Bob Baxter speaking tenderly to Betty.

"Spooning!" nodded the intruder. "Good business! He'll keep her for a
while, but——" he turned the key in the lock, "I'll make sure just the same."

Hester started to her feet.

"Why do you lock that door?" Her bent shoulders and staring eyes
betrayed her sudden terror.

"You'll find out," he whispered hoarsely.

She cowered away as the man strode toward her.

"Worked your little game all right this morning, eh, kid?" he sneered.
"Got the cablegram out of my pocket?"

She half shut her eyes, watching him keenly.

"Yes, I got it."

"What'd'ye do with it?" he demanded.

She tossed her head with a flash of impudence.

"That's my business. See here, you keep your hands off me or——"
 "Or what?"

With a scowl of anger he caught her in his powerful arms, and held her
helpless. "Little fool! I had you this morning—in the library and I—let you
go." His voice was thick with passion. "But if you get away now—— Good
Lord, hear that!"

He turned to the window as the shrieking tempest made the whole house
tremble.

Like a desperate hunted thing Hester drew back stealthily. It was in her
mind to make a dash for one of the doors and escape before Anton could
seize her again. He had left the keys in the locks and—the room was almost
dark, but——

The chauffeur turned as if anticipating her thoughts. "Come here," he

ordered and slowly she obeyed. "Why should I keep my hands off you?"

She stood white-faced before him, searching vainly; for some way of
escape.

"You're a crook—wanted by the police. There's a man in this house

from Scotland Yard. Did you know that?"

"Yes, I know it."

Anton caught her by the wrist and drew her to him roughly.

"You're hurting me," she cried.

"He'll hurt you more than that, if he gets you—he'll hurt you with
irons."

The chauffeur leaned closer, leering horribly and it seemed to Hester

that all the strength was going out of her body.

"Let me go!" she panted.

"Ha! Let you go!"

 Again he caught her in his arms and pressed her fiercely against him.
She felt his hot breath. She saw the veins swelling in his red neck. She
struggled and turned her head from side to side, but he buried his face in her
neck, in her hair, with little snorts and cries like an animal; then he kissed
her furiously on the cheeks, on the forehead and at last full and long on the
mouth!

"Ha! Let you go!" he breathed with smothered violence. "I'll let you go
when—stop that!" he cried. "You will! You'll bite me?"

With a twinge of pain he drew back for a second, but instantly rushed
after her as she sprang away.

And now, in her extreme and imminent peril, Hester took the last
chance that remained. Before the madman could get his hands on her again,
she screamed with all the power of her lungs—then screamed again.

Anton stood still, his eyes filled with sudden fear, his nostrils dilated.
That wild cry had stirred the coward within the beast. And, while he waited,
stunned and stupid, Hester's quick wits took control of the situation.

"Listen! I hear a step," she warned him, but, in her sinking heart, she
knew that there was no step. No one had heard her. The shrieking of the
storm had covered everything. She was as helpless as before.

And while Anton listened in alarm, not yet realizing his advantage, the
Storm girl's mind leaped forward to study the next move in the desperate
game she was playing. In a moment he would see that there was no danger
—no one was coming, no one would come. And then, in gloating reaction,
he would come back to his infernal purpose and—God! she must turn him
from that before the beast was roused again.

"Anton," she said with swift decision, "I—I did take the money out of
the purse."

He stared at her doubtfully.

"You did?"
 "Yes—I—I hid it."

"Where?"

"In the conservatory. Don't look at me like that. I'm not lying. You've
played me to a standstill and—I quit."

"You mean you'll give me my share of the money?"

"Yes."

"Five thousand pounds? I get half of it?"

"Yes."

Anton moistened his red lips with the tip of his tongue. He ran his
fingers back through his thick hair. This was a new problem.

"You little devil!" he said almost admiringly. Then with suspicion, "You
say you hid this money in the conservatory. Where in the conservatory?
Where? And no more funny business—— I won't stand for it," he
threatened, as he saw her hesitate.

"If I tell you where it is will you let me get it?" she asked.

"Let you get it? And then get away with it? I should say not. I'll get it
myself."

She shook her head stubbornly.

"No. We'll get it together. You can stand over me, you can watch every
move I make, but——I take the bills out and divide 'em. Don't make any
mistake about that."

He frowned at this ultimatum, but she saw the spirit of greed shining in
his eyes. Thank God, the other danger was past.

"You can divide the bills. Come on."

 Anton went to the green door and turned the key.

"You go first. And remember, kid, if you try any crafty work, I'm right
at your back and—if I don't get that money, the police get you."

She nodded indifferently and led the way along a dark passage, then
down a narrow servants' staircase that ended in a door opening into the
conservatory. As they moved on cautiously Anton kept his hand firmly on
the girl's shoulder and, somehow, Hester was glad of this, for the half-
darkness and the violence of the storm frightened her. She had no thought
any longer of escaping. She had done her best and failed. She had played
her last card and lost.

This man had forced her to choose between being a thief and a wanton
and—well, she had been a thief before. To save her body from prison and—
a worse fate, she was ready to give Anton half of this stolen money, she
must give it to him, she had no choice, and the other half, her half, she
would return this to the bishop. That was all she could do.

Hester opened the door at the foot of the stairs and stepped forward into
the fragrant atmosphere of the plants and blooms. Anton was close behind
her. She could feel his clutching hand. It was very dark within the
conservatory and outside the storm was raging fearfully.

Suddenly the organ in the library began to play softly. Hester Storm
stood still, listening at first in fear, and then, as the music wove its spell
about her, with a kind of strange pleasure. Who could be playing so
beautifully and tenderly there in the dark while she was here in such
trouble?

A menacing pressure from the hand on her shoulder urged the girl to
action. Stepping forward, Hester came to the rose bush in its gilded basket.
A quick movement with one hand lifted the cylinder from its pot, then a
search with the other brought her fingers in contact with the banknotes.
There! She had them! Fifty hundred-pound notes! She had only to count off
twenty-five and give them to Anton. That would silence him, but—would
he take her word, in the darkness, that the count was straight?
 She turned toward the chauffeur and, at this moment, became conscious
that there was no longer any pressure on her shoulder. Anton had taken
away his hand. She peered through the shadows, but could discern nothing
save the vague outlines of a giant palm. She stretched forth her hand, but
could feel nothing. The man had gone. At the moment of grasping a fortune
he had gone. Why? What had happened?

In her concentration on the rose bush Hester had not seen the dull glow
of a cigar burning in sinister watchfulness, there, in the far corner of the
conservatory; but Anton had seen it and had drawn back stealthily, his heart
pounding. It was Grimes lurking in the darkness, Grimes waiting for his
prey.

And now, as Hester wondered at this strange disappearance of her

persecutor, the organ stopped and a beautiful voice sounded from the library
in a song that none can resist.

Gave me her promise true,

Which ne'er forgot shall he,
And for bonnie Annie Laurie,
I'd lay down and dee.

"Her promise true!" These words went straight to the soul of this poor
transgressor. It was like a voice speaking to her, a voice singing to her, a
wonderful voice through the shadows of fear carrying its message of
steadfastness and hope.

"Her promise true!" What had she promised? To be honest, to be kind.

That meant giving back the money—and letting Anton hand her over to
Grimes. Anton would do it, too, the cur. Then Grimes would send her up
and—she'd never see Rosalie again and—she'd never be able to do anything
for Rosalie.

Strange how this thought of Rosalie gave Hester strength to do the thing
that would surely separate her from Rosalie, to do the thing that was right,
whatever the cost! As she listened, breathless and motionless, reveling in
that enthralling melody, it seemed as if she saw her sister's loving eyes,
gazing at her tenderly.

It was Rosalie, the pure soul of Rosalie, speaking to her, pleading with
her in golden song, bidding her be brave and—keep her promise and—give
the money back—not half of it, but all of it.

Inspired with this simple faith, the girl moved swiftly toward the wide
glass door that led into the library. In her hand she held the banknotes. She
was going to give them back. Anton and Grimes might do what they
pleased. If punishment and shame must come, then let them come. She was
going to return the money she had stolen and—do what her dear sister
Rosalie would wish and—keep "her promise true."

With her hand on the door Hester paused. She remembered that Miss
Thompson's desk stood at this side of the room, not more than ten feet
distant. It was possible that, under cover of darkness and the music, she
could reach this desk without attracting attention. If she could, then—then
she might slip the money into one of the drawers and—and make her
getaway through the park before Anton could be sure that she had thrown
him down. He wouldn't tell Grimes until he was absolutely sure. She might
have time to stop at the lodge for her things and—she could square old Mrs.
Pottle somehow. There was just a chance, in this storm, that she could be
off on a train to London before Anton would even tumble that she had
started. He was a good deal of a fool, Anton, and a coward besides.

Well, she would take the chance. It meant liberty, everything and—this
was playing fair. She had promised to give the money back, but—that didn't
mean walking meekly into jail. To be honest, to be kind—there was nothing
else to it. She had a perfect right to keep out of jail, if she could.

Lightly and swiftly Hester entered the library and glided across the
room toward Miss Thompson's desk. Betty was still singing, but the Storm
girl listened no longer. All her faculties were centered on the last desperate
adventure. If she could only get away with this! If the kind God—Merle's
God—Rosalie's God—would only let her get away with this!
 Groping before her in the obscurity of the room, her hand touched the
desk and, running her fingers over it, she came upon a partly open drawer.
There was something white in it. A handkerchief! It was the top drawer on
the left-hand side. She would remember that and wire Betty to-night—no,
write her. The top drawer on the left-hand side, under the handkerchief.
There! She crowded the banknotes back into the drawer with a farewell tap
and cautiously pressed the drawer shut. The spring-lock clicked. She had
kept her promise. She had returned the Bishop of Bunchester's five
thousand pounds, while the bishop himself, all unconscious of this, sat, lost
in pleasant reverie, not three yards away.

Swiftly and silently, as before, Hester left the room. Thus far fortune
and the darkness and the music had favored her. It only remained to cross
the conservatory, to open the outside door and then venture forth into the
storm. Where was Anton? Where was Grimes?

With a supreme effort the girl conquered her fears and crossed the few
feet that separated her from the tumult inside. And, close behind her in a
dull red line, came the watchful cigar—and Grimes.

The Storm girl grasped the latch of the outside door and, at the same
moment, a heavy hand descended on her shoulder.

"Anton!" she started.

"Guess again, little one," answered a voice that made her knees sink
under her. "We've got you with the goods this time. Eh, Jenny Regan?"

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE FIVE-BAR GATE

 "It may interest you young people to know," the bishop was saying in
the library, "that Annie Laurie—you know she was the daughter of Sir
Robert Laurie of Maxwellton, and—er—she married an ancestor of mine."

"Really! Tell us about her," exclaimed Betty, leaning forward eagerly.

"I'm afraid there isn't much to tell except that she did not marry the poor
young man—what was his name?—who wrote those tender verses about
her?"

"She didn't?" frowned Bob, while Miss Thompson watched him with a
roguish smile.

"No. She married my ancestor. I have always had the deepest sympathy
for that unappreciated poet."

Young Baxter nodded wisely.

"Perhaps he'd have been more appreciated if he hadn't been so much of

a poet. While he was making rhymes to Annie your ancestor got busy with
the girl, and the first thing Mr. Poet knew the other fellow had landed her."

"Ha, ha, ha!" chuckled the prelate. "That sounds like one of your father's
remarks."

"Speaking of Father," Bob glanced at his watch, "I'm expecting him up

from town on this next train. I hope nothing detains him."

"I hope not," said the churchman earnestly. "I have been looking
forward to seeing my dear old friend and—er—I wanted him to be present
in case this detective reports anything that seems—er—important."

"Exactly," agreed the young man.

At this moment Merle entered, looking pale and anxious, and, bowing
respectfully to the bishop, he went close to Baxter and said something in a
low tone.
 "Oh! All right. I'll see him," nodded Bob. Then to Betty and his
lordship: "If you'll excuse me, I—er—there's a little matter I must attend
to." And he hurried off, followed by Horatio.

"Oh, Mr. Merle! May I speak to you a moment?" called the bishop.

Horatio turned and a faint flush spread over the ashen gray of his thin
face.

"Yes, your lordship."

Bunchester's eyes rested on the curate in kindly solicitude, then with a

ruddy smile he turned to Betty.

"I must tell you, Miss Thompson, that Horatio Merle and I are friends of
long standing, and naturally, when he came to my bedroom this afternoon
with a tray of tea and toast—exquisitely served, I must say—I was
somewhat surprised and—er—after a little talk, I became acquainted with
the unusual and—er—interesting position that Mr. Merle has chosen to
occupy in this household."

As the prelate went on his manner became more and more serious until
now, turning to the astonished and abashed Horatio, he addressed him with
all the impressiveness of his sonorous voice and his full episcopal dignity.

"Mr. Merle, you probably do not realize how deeply I was affected by
what you told me this afternoon. I wish to shake hands with you, sir, and
say, both as your bishop and as a fellow man, that I respect you and honor
you for the fine simplicity and manliness you have shown here at Ipping
House in accepting, I may say in seeking, a rather—er—humiliating
position. I doubt, sir, if there is another clergyman in my diocese who
would be capable of such an act of Christian self-effacement."

"I—I thank your lordship," murmured Horatio, retreating awkwardly

toward the door.

"Wait! I haven't finished. Mr. Merle, you have builded better than you
knew. It happens that my old friend, Dr. Dibble, the rector of St. Timothy's
in Ippingford, has become so infirm that we are about to retire him on a
pension. The living is in my hands and it is my intention, sir, in fact, it is
my absolute decision, to offer it to you."

Horatio was so overcome by this extraordinary good news that for some
moments he could not speak a word. Was it possible? He, a poor curate,
who had made a failure of everything, suddenly lifted to this splendid
height? He, the rector of St. Timothy's? He, Horatio Merle?

"Oh, your lordship!" he stammered.

"There is a fine old rectory with five or six acres of land and the
prettiest rose garden in Kent. I am sure you and your wife will be happy
there."

"Your lordship, I—I thank your lordship. I—I would add——"

Horatio stood quite still, holding a few strands of his side whiskers
between an agitated thumb and forefinger. He opened and closed his mouth
several times and then, in a tumult of suppressed feeling, he hurried from
the room.

Just as he was closing the door Betty flew after him.

"Oh, Mr. Merle, I am so happy! I congratulate you with all my heart."

She clasped his hand impulsively with such sweetness and genuineness
that the good man's confusion was made more complete, if that were
possible.

"Thank you, Miss Thompson—thank you. Please don't say any more. I
—I must go. I—must tell my wife."

Horatio hastened away, his eyes shining with tears of joy.

And now there came a bad quarter of an hour for Elizabeth Thompson.
It was evidently her duty to tell the bishop immediately, without losing a
moment, about the stolen money. This was her opportunity to tell him; she
was alone with him and—she must tell him. And yet she could not speak.
She had promised Hester Storm to say nothing until after Grimes had gone.
She had promised faithfully, and—for the moment her lips were sealed.

"Bishop," she began, and in her eyes there was the shadow of
impending trouble.

"Yes, my dear. Sit down." He made room for her beside him on the
davenport.

"There's something I've wanted to speak to you about—that is——"

"I understand, my dear," he anticipated. "You have reference to that

unfortunate affair on the train? You know I came here to-day for the express
purpose of—er—that is to say, I shall be glad to obtain, in fact, the detective
urged me to get from you, any information you can give regarding that
painful occurrence."

"But—I wanted to ask you——"

She paused, biting her lips, and the prelate went on serenely.

"I have been told of your very great kindness to the suspected young
woman who was in the carriage with us. I feel sure you acted in a sweet,
pitying spirit, but you can hardly realize, my child, as one in my position
does, the unwisdom of accepting too readily the unconfirmed statements of
—er—shall I say plausible strangers. By the way do you happen to know
what has become of this Jenny Regan?"

"Why—she told me—she spoke of living in New York, and—I think

she was—going back there."

Betty's distress of mind was so evident that the bishop must surely have
noticed it had it not been for the sudden entrance of Bob Baxter, whose pale
face and disturbed manner showed that something serious had happened.

"I've been talking to the detective," he explained, "and—I want to

apologize to both of you in advance, and especially to you, Betty, for what
the man is going to say. He insists on coming in here, and—if I had my way
I'd chuck him out of the house, but—he comes as an officer of the law, and I
suppose I have no choice but to let him do what he considers his duty."

"Quite right," nodded the bishop. "We must respect the law."

Betty stared, white faced, before her while young Baxter went to the
door and showed in the detective. Grimes had left his cigar outside.

"All right. Go ahead," said Bob with a contemptuous glance at the

newcomer. "Only, please make it as short as possible."

"I'm not in the habit of wasting words, Mr. Baxter," answered Grimes
curtly.

"You mustn't mind, Betty," continued the young fellow, "if he asks you
some rather impertinent questions. It's only a formality, and it's part of his
business. Now, sir!"

Quietly ignoring this high-handed manner, the detective seated himself,

and, facing the troubled secretary, went straight at the business in hand.

"You remember Jenny Regan, the girl who was in the railway carriage
when the Bishop of Bunchester discovered that his purse had been stolen?"

"Yes, I remember her," answered Betty.

"You took a great interest in this young woman, did you not? You
offered her money, gave her your card, although she was a stranger. How
was that?"

"I was sorry for her. She had had a hard struggle, and I wanted to help
her."

"Fine!" exclaimed Bob, and Grimes flashed him a sharp glance from
under his thick eyebrows.

"You had no idea she was a professional pickpocket?"

"No."
 "No idea that she stole the bishop's purse?"

"Certainly not."

"You believed her to be an innocent and deserving person?"

"I did."

"Miss Thompson, are you still of that opinion?"

"I am sure she is a deserving person," was the firm reply.

"Who is?" asked Grimes quickly.

"Why, Hest—Jenny Regan," stammered Betty, and the detective smiled,

but he paid no attention to this slip.

"You say deserving, but not innocent. Do you still think Jenny Regan
innocent of stealing the bishop's purse?"

The crisis had come. Should Betty speak or keep silent? To speak would
bring inevitable ruin upon this unfortunate girl, who had trusted her. Yet
how could she not speak?

While she hesitated Bob spoke for her. "How can Miss Thompson
possibly know whether Jenny Regan stole the bishop's purse or not?" he
demanded.

"Miss Thompson has the best reason in the world for knowing that,"
Grimes answered, and there was a note of cold menace in his voice.

"See here," retorted the young fellow. "I won't stand for this. Either you
make good your words or——"

"Keep still, my friend. I'll make my words good." Then, turning to the
bishop, "I beg your lordship to believe that I am not speaking lightly." He
drew from his pocket a brown leather purse clasped by an elastic band.
"Does your lordship recognize this?"
 "Bless my soul! My purse!" exclaimed the bishop. "Where did you find
it?"

"With your lordship's permission I'll explain that—a little later."

Old Bunchester coughed impressively. "And the money?" he asked.

"The five thousand pounds? Is it—in the purse?"

The detective shook his head. "Not a penny of it. The purse is empty.
There!" He handed the lean wallet to its owner.

"Quite true," sighed the bishop. "It is empty."

"Do I understand that you found this purse somewhere about here—I
mean about this house?" demanded Bob.

"Yes," said the detective.

"And you have no idea where the money is?" inquired Bunchester
anxiously.

"I have a very distinct idea where the money is," answered Grimes
slowly, "and this young lady——" he faced Betty accusingly, "she also has
a very distinct idea where the money is."

At this Baxter's eyes blazed fiercely. "You dare to——"

"Wait, Bob!" The girl laid a restraining hand upon his arm. Then, lifting
her head proudly, she challenged Grimes. "You mean to insinuate that I took
the money from this purse?"

"Impossible!" murmured the bishop.

A hard smile played about the detective's mouth.

"You mean to deny that you know where the money is?"

She hesitated. "Why—er——"

 "Where is it?" he demanded.

"I—I can't tell you."

"You refuse to answer?"

"I—must refuse." She thought of her promise to Hester.

"My dear child," interposed Bunchester kindly. "I'm sure you are
actuated by the most honorable motives, but this is a case where the whole
truth must be told."

"Go ahead, Betty; tell what you know," urged Bob.

"I—I——" she began weakly, but rallied with a flash of anger. "I'll not
be questioned like this." Her pride and fighting spirit were stirred now. The
idea that she was actually accused of stealing this money or of being an
accomplice in the theft—it was outrageous, preposterous. Very well, if they
thought her guilty they could keep on thinking so.

"I have made a serious charge here," Grimes proceeded quietly, "and I
propose to prove it." He turned sharply to the girl. "Whose desk is that?"

"My desk," she answered.

The detective examined the drawers carefully. They were all unlocked
except the top one on the left-hand side.

"You keep this drawer locked?"

"Usually."

"You have the key?"

"Yes. It's in my bag." She opened her bag and produced a flat key. "Here
it is."

"Has anyone else a key to this drawer?"