I Married a Demon Read online

  “Work together?” He paused to cast us a speculative look. “All of us. Hmm.”

  Blake and I jumped on the opening he’d given us. “Yeah. Together.” Was he about to admit he was a ghoul and working for Demogorgon?

  Yet Blake moved in to seal the deal before I could. “Do we have an agreement or not?’

  A knock at our front door jolted us and closed Michael’s mouth.

  “Damn, not now.” Someone’s timing for a visit was way, way off. I hurried to the door, planning on letting out some of my frustration on whoever was on the other side. “I’ll get rid of them.”

  “Hel-lo? Hey, Jenn, is anyone home?”

  I’ve Got Bracelets That Jingle, Jangle, Jingle

  I skidded to a stop after I rounded the corner into the foyer and nearly ran into the massive man who had his arms wrapped around my best friend, Myra. Sappy grins highlighted both their faces. With a shout of glee, the big guy picked her up and hugged her to him.

  “George! Stop it!” Myra squirmed in his arms but anyone could see she liked being tossed around like a gaudily dressed rag doll.

  “Oh, sure-sure.” George set her down gently and cupped her hand inside his gargantuan one. “George loves picking up My-my.”

  “My-my?” A blush washed over Myra. For the first time in the years I’d known her, my friend was in love. But with who? Or should I ask, with what?

  “Oh, bite me, Jenn.”

  George sniffed the air and sighed. “Bite her? Why would Jenn want to bite My-my?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but he took off, eating up the ground with his long strides and dragging Myra along behind him. “Yummy. George smells food. Sure-sure.”

  George, with Myra huffing behind him from the exertion, made his way into the dining room before I could catch up with them. “George knew he smelled food.” Letting Myra go like a bad case of the measles, the big guy grabbed a chair and plopped down at the table. He grabbed the bowl of spaghetti and set it down in front of him, without a care for how the rest of us gaped at him. Then he snatched up the serving bowl of warm spaghetti sauce—I don’t make homemade sauce because store brands taste good to us (yes, believe it)—and poured the entire contents on top of the noodles. Adding a mountain of parmesan cheese to the mix, he clutched his fork like an enormous five-year-old and dug into his mound of food.

  “Gee, George, help yourself.” I shrugged at Blake and waved Myra to the seat next to her ravenous lover. “Don’t mind us. Myra, I have more spaghetti in the kitchen. Give me a second and I’ll fix you a plate.”

  “More?” George’s elation wasn’t muffled by the mound of food puffing out his cheeks.

  “Georgie, behave.”

  Myra’s quiet admonishment had the big galoot bowing his head in submission. “George sorry. Sure-sure.”

  I couldn’t help myself. Something about the guy made me want to pet him. Compromising, I reached over and patted his arm. “Don’t worry about it, George. Enjoy. Right?”

  He nodded and continued to shove as much food into his mouth as would fit. “That’s right! Enjoy. Sure-sure.”

  “Georgie, we didn’t come here to eat.”

  George froze, his fork suspended in the air. He pouted at Myra, looking as though he’d lost his best friend. Which, I assumed, was food.

  “It’s okay, Myra. He’s welcome to it.”

  George’s features lit up. Emitting a happy sound, he opened his mouth wide for the food. Bowing his head, he resumed his attack on Spaghetti Mountain.

  “I appreciate it, Jenn.” Myra looked from me to the men silently staring at her. “I’m sorry, Blake, I should’ve called first. I didn’t realize you had company.”

  “Jenn’s right, Myra.” Blake ran a hand through his hair. “You’re always welcome here. You and George.”

  “Myra, this is Blake’s brother, Michael.”

  The usually friendly Myra didn’t extend her hand in greeting. I knew something was up when she didn’t welcome a person with open arms. Worse, she actually edged away from Michael, toward the safety of George. Did she sense his ghoulish personality?

  “Hi, Myra.” Michael didn’t offer his hand, either. “Nice to meet you.”

  What’s going on between these two?

  In a rare rude gesture, Myra ignored Michael to turn to me. “I need to talk to you about something.” She shifted back and forth on her feet and snapped her fingers on both hands, her way of showing her excitement or nervousness.

  “Yeah? Is Swindle ragging on you? Is he trying to track me down?” She kept snapping like a flamingo dancer gone mad. I figured her nervousness wasn’t a result of anything dealing with the real estate office, but I couldn’t think what else could get her agitated.

  “No, nothing to do with him or the agency. It’s—” She paused to stare pointedly at Michael.

  “You can speak in front of me, Myra.” Michael’s shit-eating smirk made my skin crawl. This couldn’t be good. “Blake, Jenn and I know everything about each other. In fact, we were discussing our possible partnership when you barged, er, dropped in.”

  In one slick move, he’d put us in a corner. If we wanted him to trust us, we’d have to show him we trusted him. I hated how he’d trapped us, but I had to admire him, too.

  “Oh, uh, sure.” Forcing myself not to glance at Blake, I did what I had to do. “You can say whatever you want in front of Michael. He’s family.” Although I’d said the words, I wanted to rush to the sink and wash my mouth out with soap. Preferably the foulest tasting soap I could find.

  My declaration of trust surprised Myra, yet she accepted it at face value. “Oh. Okay.” Her excitement overtook her wariness and she started telling us everything. “You guys are not going to believe this. I’ve gained magical powers.”

  I’d learned a long time ago not to take Myra literally. “No kidding? What kind of magical powers?” Blake couldn’t stifle a groan and I shot him a warning.

  “I’m serious, Jenn. I can do these incredible things now.” Myra waved her hands around in the air for emphasis, but she still wasn’t making any sense. For my friend’s sake, I tried to appear serious.

  Michael, however, didn’t heed my warnings. “Wow. You mean like a witch or a wizard? Or, hey, maybe you’re an alien!” He was, in fact, having a delightful time egging Myra on.

  Fortunately, Myra didn’t pay any attention to him. “I can do lots of things.”

  I tried to ignore Michael by concentrating on my friend. “Like what? What kinds of things can you do?”

  Myra puffed up her chest dramatically and waved her hand. “Like this.”

  A cloud of pink smoke appeared over her hand, quickly obscuring her hand from view. Within seconds, however, the smoke was gone and a beautiful red ruby rested in her palm. My mouth dropped open.

  “Holy shit, Myra!” I reached out to touch the jewel, hesitated until she gave me a queen-like nod of her head, then gingerly lifted the stone from her hand. I’m not an expert, but when I held the jewel up to the light, I knew it was the genuine article. Myra, my normal, mortal friend, had pulled a ruby out of thin air.

  Michael was beside me before I knew it. He snatched the ruby from me and examined it. “This is real. This is a real ruby.” With an evil leer, he shoved the ruby in his pocket.

  “Hey! Give that back to her.” I started to dig in his pocket, but Myra stopped me.

  “Don’t worry about it, Jenn. I can always make more. Lots more.”

  George lifted his head from feeding to confirm her boast. “Myra does lots of things. She made lots of pretty stones. She bought George a new cabin in the woods.”

  Just when I’d thought I couldn’t be more surprised. “You bought him a cabin?”

  Myra motioned with her hands again. Granted, she’d always used a lot of hand motions to punctuate her stories, but she was really going to town now. “Sure. Why shouldn’t I? And the man who bought the first fifty jewels wants more of them.”

  “Fifty? You’ve made fifty of these
rubies?”

  “Fifty-one now.” Myra’s smug expression bothered me, but now was not the time to worry about her attitude.

  “What else can you do?”

  I’d almost forgotten about Blake. I noted the tone of his voice and knew he had something in mind.

  “I can make things disappear, too.” Myra ran her hand over the salt shaker, keeping everyone’s gaze glued to her. In the next second, my grandmother’s crystal salt shaker disappeared in another pink cloud.

  “Myra, you bring back my grandmother’s shaker right this minute.” My best friend had developed magical abilities and I was worried about a salt shaker? Yeah, I was.

  “No problem.” With yet another flourish of her hand, the shaker reappeared.

  “When? How? What happened to you? Did a mysterious fog flow over you? How about a high-level dose of radiation? Talk, Mrya.” How had she changed? When had she changed? Did George have anything to do with her acquisition of mystical abilities? I studied George for a second and nixed the idea. George giving Myra super-powers would be like a gnat teaching Batman to fly. It ain’t gonna happen.

  Myra giggled, enjoying my perplexed attention. “I don’t know.”

  With my background in strange events and creatures, I should’ve taken the whole thing a lot easier. But I couldn’t. I didn’t. Irritation made me spit out my words. “Oh, crap, of course you do. Quit playing around and tell me.”

  “Yes, Myra, go on. Tell us. But keep making precious jewels, okay?” Michael’s evil laugh had me spinning on him.

  “Shut the fuck up, Michael.” If I’d had a weapon in my hand, I would’ve taken him out, Blake or no Blake. Instead, I stamped down the urge and whirled to confront her again. “Myra, talk.”

  At last, Myra took me seriously and began her explanation. “I really don’t know. One day, I’m plain old me and the next day—wham!—I’m Magical Myra.”

  “And nothing odd happened in between? No strangers casting spells on you? No little green men taking you hostage? Come on, Myra, something strange had to have happened.”

  “Sorry, but no. I spent some time in the woods with George, but nothing out of the ordinary went on.” She giggled and ran a hand over the giant’s shoulders. “Well, at least, nothing bad.”

  Eeww. Magical Myra and George the Great locked in lusty lovemaking in a thatched hut. Not what I consider a fairy tale. “When did you first notice this change in you?” I couldn’t, wouldn’t give up.

  “The first time I did anything magical happened right after the mugger attacked us.”

  “You mean, the one in our front yard?” Blake skirted around Michael to stand next to me. He slipped his arm through mine, letting me lean on him.

  “Right.” Myra shivered, reliving the incident. “After the attack, I decided I didn’t want to risk carrying my jewelry around with me. Instead, I wear as much as I can and hide the rest in my home.”

  I pictured Myra stuffing cheap costume jewelry underneath her mattress in her tiny studio apartment with her ample bottom sticking upward to the ceiling. The image wasn’t a pretty one.

  She circled her arms around in the air in front of her, letting the many bracelets clink together. “See? I’m making a fashion statement, don’t you think?”

  Not even Myra, the jewelry-loving diva, had ever worn this many bracelets, rings and necklaces. To top off the not-so-chic fashion statement, she’d added more piercings to her ears. The girl could’ve started a jewelry outlet with the garb she sported on her body.

  “Uh, yeah. I guess so.” To make up for the hurt expression I saw on her face, I quickly added, “Shoot, Myra, you know I’m not into fashion like you are. I wouldn’t know Gucci from sushi.”

  She accepted my lame excuse like the true friend she was and the creases in her forehead smoothed out. After all, friendship means not having to have a good excuse. “Don’t feel bad, Jenn. When you’re as pretty as you are, you don’t need any adornment.”

  Myra, my best friend. God, how I love the woman. My smile gave her the incentive to continue her story.

  “I am amazing myself. Did you know I can turn on a television without using the remote? I don’t even have to use my Clapper any longer.” She clapped her hands together at an invisible television set.

  “Cool. Although I’m thinking making jewels out of thin air is probably more amazing, but the TV thing is useful, too.”

  Myra reached over and kissed George on the head. “I scared poor Georgie to death when I did my vanishing act.”

  “Vanishing act?” Michael moved closer to Myra and scrutinized the bracelets on her wrists.

  Why is he staring at her costume junk so intently? He can’t possibly think… Does he really believe my average-Jane Myra might be wearing the Bracelet? I almost laughed at the ridiculous idea. My wonderful girlfriend possesses the most powerful weapon known to Mankind and the Otherworld. Uh-huh. Oh, poor Michael, I do believe you’re a ghoul gone goofy.

  Following his lead, I studied the bracelets on her arms. Where the heck would she have gotten the Bracelet, anyway? The flea market? Yet I guess Michael didn’t think it was such an outlandish idea. He moved in for a closer examination.

  “Yes, I can vanish. I can make myself invisible.” To prove it, she blinked out of sight.

  “Oh, my God.” I felt Blake tighten his hold on my arm. “Myra? Come back, Myra.” A pressure against my cheek had me reactively jumping into Blake. “What the heck?”

  “It’s me!” Myra appeared again, jumping up and down in excitement. “I didn’t go anywhere. I was right in front of you the whole time.” She leaned over and pecked me on the cheek. “You felt me when I kissed you.”

  “Wow.” Blake and I spoke at the same time.

  “I know! It’s a whole lot of fun.”

  Myra, her excitement growing into a fevered pitch, started to dance around Blake and me, making Michael hop out of her way. Nonetheless, he tried to stay close to her.

  Myra finally stopped dancing and hugged me to her. Well, at least, she tried to. But Blake wouldn’t let go of me, which made her hug end up being a half-hug from the side. “I wish I knew how and why this happened to me. Not only can I do all this fantastic stuff, but my luck has changed. Everywhere I go, something good happens.”

  All her news caught up with me, leaving me speechless. All I could do was gape at her, letting her take my silence as encouragement.

  “For instance, when I went into the bank on Riker Street, I expected them to treat me as rudely as they always do. This time, however, I pretended I was very rich and had a million dollars in my account. And you know what?”

  Michael filled in the necessary response. “What?”

  “I did have a million dollars in my account.”

  Her declaration helped me finally find my voice. “You had what in what?”

  She resumed her happy-dance, answering in a sing-song voice. “I’m not kidding. They pulled up my account information and showed me. I have exactly one million dollars in my account. Yippee! I’m rich, I’m rich, I’m very, very rich! Do you want me to make you rich?”

  “Yes!”

  “No!”

  I glared at Michael for his greediness until Blake’s sheepish expression let me know where he stood in the to-be-or-not-to-be-rich debate. He shrugged. “Maybe?”

  Myra, however, giggled and kept on dancing. She started spinning, flailing her arms over her head, then sticking them straight out like a kid pretending to be an airplane. I grabbed for her and missed. George, full at last, stood and patted his already protruding belly. Stretching his arms wide, he let out an enormously disgusting belch, and bumped into her.

  “Aiieeeeee!” Myra and George tumbled together to the floor, causing several of her bracelets to fly off her wrists and skate across the floor.

  Blake and I picked up the bangles next to our feet. Michael, however, wasn’t concerned about helping Myra, and instead, hurried after a gold bracelet on its way under the buffet. Cussing, he went down on all
fours to retrieve the stray bracelet. Warning bells clanged in my head. Why had he gone after a cheap bracelet? No way would he help Myra unless he could gain something by helping.

  He clutched the bracelet in his hand, stood, and studied the inside of the golden circle. I elbowed Blake to pay attention to Michael and held my breath, fearful of what Michael might now possess. Proving me right, my ghoul-in-law broke into the widest cat-who-caught-the-biggest-rat grin I’d ever seen.

  “Jenn! It’s the Bracelet! He’s got the Bracelet!”

  I don’t know how Partner managed to turn his speakers on, but I was glad of it. Partner was eye level with the Bracelet and could see everything Michael saw.

  And still I couldn’t believe it. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Thankfully, Blake didn’t have my denial problem.

  “Who was that?” Blake waited for someone to answer and, when no one did, got back to the more urgent situation. He released me to stretch out his hand to Michael. “Give me the Bracelet, bro.”

  Michael’s eyes flashed red, hinting at his ghoulish form. “Not on your life, brother. In fact, why don’t you—”

  “No! Don’t!” I screamed at Michael to keep him from finishing his sentence. Didn’t he realize that, with the Bracelet in his hand, anything he said might come true? “He’s your brother.”

  “Hey! That’s my bracelet.” Myra and George still sat on the floor, staring at Michael as he morphed into his ghoulish body. George, however, didn’t let his surprise keep him from getting Myra’s bracelet. With an animal-like growl, he hopped to his feet and threw his body at Michael.

  Who knew such a large man could move like a track star? Blake followed George’s lead and aimed his own body at Michael. I yelled at them, cautioning them to watch out. But the ghoul wasn’t about to go down without a fight. He jumped out of the way and shouted the one word able to slice through my heart. “Knives!”

  A Demon’s Gotta Do What a Demon’s Gotta Do

  Long sharp knives appeared in Michael’s hands. Brandishing the weapons, he spun out of the way of George’s awkward leap. George crashed into the small table sitting in the corner of the room, crumbling the table under his weight, and sending the vase of flowers flying. Water, flowers and shards of glass lay strewn across the floor.