Gone With the Minion Page 2

  Charlotte had a knack for fixing things. Even with genteel upbringing, Charlotte had always been at home among the farming equipment, fixing broken plows and taking apart tools to figure out how they worked. Poppa, a widowed father, would send us once a week into town to visit with our Aunt Elizabeth, who tried her best to turn us into delicate Belles, but when we were on the farm, Poppa allowed us the freedom of doing more than just house chores. Eliza became an expert on farm animals, pigs, cows, and the like. While Elise, spent all her time reading medical papers she could borrow from Dr. Beauregard Jenkins, a local surgeon, whom she sometimes volunteered with.

  Even so, Charlotte couldn’t actually get her hands on mechanical objects, but I could, so she walked me through the building and fixing of my demon-hunting weaponry.

  Elise, the older of my twin sisters, crouched down for a closer look at the facial damage. I opened the small red clutch and grabbed the three-inch silver rod. I extracted the heel and replaced it with the rod in the center of the demon’s forehead. I wiped ocular fluids, brain, and blood from the stilettos onto the demon’s shirt, and then slipped them back on my feet.

  “I think he has a melanoma on his forehead,” Elise said, pointing to a mole on Hennessy’s scalp. “It’s rough, uneven in color and shape, and I’m sure he never wears sunscreen.” She shook her head. “I saw one that looked just like it on Discovery Medicine.”

  If Elise had been born in modern times, I had no doubt she would be in medical school on her way to being a doctor. I could wish a thousand times my sisters to have different fates, and it wouldn’t change a damned thing. Moloch had made sure of that.

  I waved at my siblings. “Okay, shoo. Show’s over, nothing to see here. Time to go. Last call. Vamoose. Am-scray even.”

  “You don’t have to be rude,” said Elise.

  “Actually, I do.” My sisters could ignore polite, but rude got their attention. Hooking my arms under the demon’s armpits, I dragged him around the next hedge. “I’m busy at the moment. I don’t have time for niceties. Sorry.” Besides, the demon’s master—and mine—would be showing up shortly, and I didn’t want my sisters anywhere near the foul creature.

  All three of them “hmphed” at the same time, then shimmered from sight. Every time they did that, I felt a lightning strike of guilt. The fact that my sisters were ghosts was in no small measure my fault.

  I unhooked the chain from the clutch and formed a small circle on the ground next to the paralyzed body. Like the rod, it was made from silver. Demons had what I thought of as a severe allergy to pure silver. Even though I was a minion, the precious metal only felt warm on my skin. It didn’t burn.

  I’m not evil. Not yet.

  I took matches, a votive candle, an orange spice incense cone, a vial of sea salt, a cigarette, and a tiny bell out of the purse. All the items were necessary to the “casting out the boogeyman” spell. Sure, it had another name, a much more complicated, can’t hardly get around all the vowels kind of name, but my former demon-hunting partner had deemed it “casting out the boogeyman” and so, that’s what we called it.

  The familiar heartache threatened to derail my attention. It had been fifty-six years since I’d said goodbye to David Jensen—and yet, it still felt like yesterday. If you’re wondering how long it takes to get over that kind of loss, the answer is never.

  I poured salt around the silver chain, then I placed the candle and the cone of incense on the north and south edges respectively, struck a match and lit them both. Lifting the demon’s hand, I put it inside the loop.

  Ugh. I so didn’t like this part. I pulled the rod from Hennessey’s forehead. The demon howled with rage and pain, his whole body twisting and jerking, except for the trapped hand. His human face contorted in sheer agony. Like I said, silver was bad ju-ju for the damned, and the sea salt made it impossible for the Hellspawn to eject from its host.

  That, along with the gaping holes where his eyes used to be, made me shudder inside, a weakness I refused to show to the monsters.

  “Hush now,” I said, sitting down next to him and trailing my fingers on his brow. “Or the pin goes back in.”

  “What do you want, Madder?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  After all these years, it was still hard to watch human vessels wither under the spell. Sometimes the demons had a shade attached to them, not a ghost exactly — not like my sisters, more like residual energy repeating its traumatic cycle of death over and over. Especially in the newly possessed.

  This body didn’t have a shade.

  It meant this fiend had taken up residence for at least a couple of decades. Hennessy’s shade no longer lingered in this realm. “Tell me where I can find Lazul, and I’ll let you go.” To Hell. The Madder wasn’t known for mercy to demonkind, and yet, they seem to always believe I’d let them go back to creating havoc for humans.

  “I’d rather claw out your eyes,” the demon rasped.

  “Promises, promises.” I tapped the hole in his forehead. “Remember who’s in charge.”

  “Bitch!”

  “Wow. I hope you don’t kiss your mother with that mouth.”

  “My mother is Sin and Death, and she will feast on your innards while you roast in pits of eternal fire,” he screamed, spittle forming in the corners of his lips.

  “I know I’m from the South an’ all, but I really don’t like barbecue.” Ugh. He was being stubborn. More stubborn than the average demon who’d roll on another demon to prevent getting a hangnail, let alone the pain of having his hand surrounded by the equivalent of burning pitch.

  The body lurched, the empty orbital sockets seemingly staring at me, and Hennessey’s voice took on an unnatural tone. “My master will come for you. In the bowels of Hell, you will burn forever. Tenfold, a palsy will fall upon your soul. Tenfold, you will beg for mercy that will never come. Tenfold—”

  “Yeah. I got it. Tenfold.” I shook my head. “I’ve heard it all before, asshole.” He wasn’t going to give me Lazul. From experience, most demons who talked did so in the first minute. This is what I got for trying to go through the slightly higher-ups in the demonic command chain. They weren’t as easily broken. Damn it. I really wanted Lazul. Those traumatized parents deserved to put their daughter to rest properly. An empty coffin in the cold ground would be a shitty reminder that her demon-possessed body was running around doing Moloch knew what.

  I picked up the cigarette, struck another match, and lit it. Leaning over, I blew a puff of smoke into the demon’s face. Cyanide, a by-product of tobacco processing, was a necessary agent in the spell. It didn’t take much, and cigarette smoke was the easiest way to transport the minuscule amount of poison, which is why you’d never catch one of Hell’s agents smoking.

  “Wait. What is that?” His nose twitched as the toxic wisps traveled into his nostrils.

  He couldn’t see what I was doing, but he realized what was about to happen. Beneath us, the ground shook as the demon fought to release himself from the body before I did. The thing about the boogeyman ritual was that when I used it to expel demons, they got a one-way ticket to Hell. No return trips. It was one of the more satisfying aspects of sending Moloch’s lackeys back to the Pit. Time for the pièce de résistance. I rang the small bell. Its faint tinkle was reminiscent of a toddler’s giggle.

  The body instantly stilled.

  The demon was gone.

  Okay, so most people might have been expecting something spectacular, like out of Supernatural. All black smoke, fire, brimstone, explosions, and drama, but nope, just gone.

  I’d expected fireworks the first time I cast a demon out of this plane, so I understand the disappointment.

  I repacked my clutch, attached the chain before putting it over my shoulder, and got to my feet. I kicked the vessel’s thigh. “Take that, Moloch.”

  Upon mentioning his name, the demon lord burst into existence in front of me.

  Fantastic.

  Not.

  Chapter 2

&nbs
p; The Demon Lord Moloch was tall and well-built with tightly compacted muscles, like a runner. Unlike the lesser demons he commanded who had to steal bodies to take human form or minions like me who were stuck in their original birthday suits, Moloch could create his own guise.

  And he made evil beautiful.

  Bastard.

  As always, he was dressed in Armani—this time in a white seersucker shirt tucked into black embossed fabric chinos, and a pair of leather loafers. I’m not gonna lie. He was fantastic to look at, but my mother, rest her soul, always said, pretty is only skin deep and ugly goes all the way to the bone. In Moloch’s case, it was the honest truth.

  “You could always ask me where Lazul is,” he said.

  Oh, here we go. Yet another round of Moloch’s Head Games. It was sort of like Jeopardy, if Alex Trebek was a demon and set the contestants on fire every time they buzzed in wrong answers. Still, I couldn’t give up the chance he might reveal the demon’s location. So, I asked, “Where’s Lazul?”

  “I’m not going to tell you.” He ran his fingers through his hair, deliberately messy, which added to his boyish good looks. If it hadn’t been for the piercing red eyes, Moloch could have easily been a top male model. His gaze dropped to the Hennessey meat suit. He crooked his hand on his cleft chin and tapped his full lower lip. “That was one of my best men, Olivia.”

  “Tell it to someone who gives a crap.” I didn’t feel nearly as confident as I acted, but it wasn’t like he was going to kill me. Even so, I suspected one of these days I was going to push him over the proverbial edge, and he certainly had the mojo to back his play.

  As a demon lord, Moloch was at the top of the food chain in his part of Hell. There were twenty-seven lords in all, and of those, Moloch was the most charming and the most manipulative. At least that’s what Moloch bragged. I hadn’t met the other demon lords so what did I know. Moloch smiled, his teeth blindingly perfect, reminding me why it had been so easy to fall for his bullshit in the first place. He reached out and stroked my cheek. That one little touch seemed to encompass every inch of my skin.

  I flinched.

  I’d never met anything so dark and dangerous as Moloch, but there was something about him that made me crave his presence. It was an unfortunate side effect of being his minion. I breathed through the feeling, relaxing my muscles from head to toe. Summoning my will to resist him, I raised my downcast eyes to meet his level gaze. “Go back to Hell, Moloch. The demon I just sent back to your lair probably needs a hug.”

  “On your knees!” he ordered in a booming voice. “Bow down to me!’

  My mind screamed “no” but my legs, those terrible traitorous legs, buckled beneath me, and I found myself prostrated before the demon lord. My face pressed into the wet grass, and the pungent scent of earth jammed into my nostrils. My backside was unfortunately exposed thanks to the ripped seam. Shame burned through me followed by hot, writhing rage.

  “You’re strong, my dearest Olivia. But I am infinitely more powerful.” He knelt beside me and stroked my hair. “You are mine, little Southern belle. Never forget it.”

  There was no sense in denying what he said. It was the cold hard truth no matter how I sliced it. But it didn’t mean I had to like it.

  “You may rise,” he said.

  I struggled upward, but as I got onto my knees and dusted off my mangled dress, he said. “Stay.”

  Great. I could move everything else, but my legs felt cemented to the ground. “I’m not a dog,” I gritted out.

  “Bark,” demanded Moloch.

  “Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!”

  He laughed. “You are a dog, Olivia. My dog.”

  Frustration seeped through me, and I clenched my fists. “You can’t be everywhere, all the time.”

  “Oh, you have no idea.” He grinned. “In fact, I recently attended a bachelorette party in Las Vegas.”

  Okay. That was oddly specific. But right now, I didn’t much care to play any more rounds of Moloch’s Head Games. I silently begged my legs to stand, but they wouldn’t move. If I could just defy him in his presence, just once, then maybe...But no. I was powerless before him, just like the countless times before.

  “Do you know how many of your demons I’ve sent from this plane? One soul cannot be worth so much to you. I’m a pain in the ass. Do you really want to put up with that for eternity?”

  “You may have dispatched a pittance of my legion—”

  “Three-hundred and seventeen,” I reminded him.

  He raised a dark brow.

  I shrugged. “I keep track.”

  “Never mind,” Moloch continued, waving his hand like he was shooshing a fly. “You are a difficult and defiant creature, my dear.” He bent over and cupped my chin, turning my face side to side as if examining fresh produce for bruise spots and wormholes. “You’ll be mine soon enough, Olivia.”

  I worked hard to put on a brave facade. “In fifty years, four days...” I looked at my digital watch, which I had set on a countdown, “nine hours, thirty-two minutes, and sixteen seconds.”

  He grinned, and the cold humor in his gaze chilled me. “You are going to have an all-exclusive pass to Hell, and the ways I plan to make you suffer...well, let’s just say, I’m making a long list and checking it twice.”

  Sheesh. Had Moloch moonlighted as Krampus back in the old days? It wouldn’t surprise me to find out he’d spent Yuletide terrifying anyone who’d made the naughty list. “I’ve never broken our bargain, Moloch.”

  “Master!” he boomed, his voice hollow and monstrous.

  “Master,” I said, unable to stop myself.

  “Better. You will be mine sooner than you think, Olivia. Much, much sooner.” He winked. “Your sisters will be, too.”

  Like I needed the reminder. Here’s a little tip: if you’re ever thinking about selling your soul, read the fine print. After I made the bargain with Moloch to save the family farm and ensure my sisters had good lives, I insisted that their souls were off-limits after they died. At the time, I was naïve enough to believe my siblings would live out the entirety of their human lives. So, Moloch added a caveat: My sisters’ souls were off limits so long as I fulfilled the terms of our agreement.

  That doesn’t sound sinister, right?

  Turns out that when they died of Yellow Fever, they didn’t go to heaven. Instead, they got to hang out with me. For the next two hundred years. So long as I was Moloch’s bitch, they were safe. If I messed up—we were all going to Hell.

  He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You are really hard on clothing, my dear.” He made a sewing gesture with his fingers, and I felt the cloth hitch together, covering my backside once more. “Stand up, Olivia. You’re getting grass stains on your pretty, pretty dress.

  As much as I’d wanted to get off my knees moments before, now I wanted to stay on them. Just to do something other than what he commanded.

  I stood.

  He could make me do that, but he couldn’t keep me from rolling my eyes. “Are we done yet? I have a body to hide.”

  “Don’t you want to see pictures from my Las Vegas trip?” He produced an iPad out of thin air. At the top of the screen in large black letters was a clickbait headline: Hotel Heiress Shocked to Death in Giant Martini. The picture attached to the salacious article showed the perfect face of someone I knew well.

  “Christ. Is that Falina?” Falina Babkin was the twenty-three-year-old daughter of Robert Babkin, the billionaire hotel mogul. She’d been an easy choice for a mark. For one, her father was as corrupt as the demon lord in front of me, and for two, he’d spoiled his only daughter to the point she hadn’t developed any sort of moral compass. All she’d wanted in exchange for her soul was to marry movie star, Thomas Barker. Thomas was arrogant and petulant, well known for throwing fits on film sets, so I had no problem hooking those two up.

  Here’s the thing. I hated taking souls. Even the souls of shitty people like Falina Babkin. Since I only had to make one bargain every ten yea
rs, I tended to wait until the decade deadline was almost up. I’d made the bargain with Falina about a year ago.

  “Well, that sucks for her,” I said. “But I held up my end. She and Thomas were on the choo-choo train to marital bliss.”

  “Too bad they were derailed before the marriage took place. Poor Falina died two days before the wedding.” The demon smiled as he made the iPad disappear. “Someone dropped an electrical line in the giant martini glass she jumped in, which killed her—and the bargain you made with her.”

  “Wait a minute. You murdered her?” That was new. Moloch had never messed with my bargains before. Actually, I didn’t know he could cheat and nullify an agreement by killing off the human. “You can’t change the rules just because you’re pissed.” Demons had to abide by the terms they set forth—that was one of the first things I learned.

  “My dearest Olivia, I don’t go around eliminating humans willy-nilly,” he said, sounding almost offended.

  “Why not? That sounds like something you would love doing.”

  “True. And I did. Back before demons made an accord with the angels.”

  I didn’t know much about angels because they tended to avoid the demonic. And honestly, I tended to avoid the angelic. I had enough guilt without being in the presence of the righteously good.

  “Those do-gooders don’t interfere with us helping humans exercise free will,” continued Moloch, “and we don’t go on killing sprees. It’s a win-win.”

  “Uh-huh. So Falina just happened to die before the bargain was met?” I asked skeptically.

  “I can’t help it if my theoretical suggestion influenced a certain jealous BFF to commit murder.”

  I stared at him. I hadn’t actually expected to push him over that proverbial edge. He was a freaking demon lord—he’d been around for millennia. I couldn’t be the worst thing that ever happened to the guy. Why would he want to take away the rest of my two-hundred-year minion-hood? “Fifty years is like five minutes to you,” I said. “Why would you pull this bullshit now?”