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Asmodeus(14)





"Your running is absolutely pathetic."



The soft timbre of his voice in the small confines of the car rattled her. She forced a laugh as she gazed out of the passenger-side window. "What?"



"Your running. I felt as though I were chasing an errant toddler."



She was unable to answer him right away, completely confused as to why he was acting so…snarky. Demons weren't supposed to be snarky, nice or conversational. They were evil, malicious beings. "You wouldn't know the first thing about running after a toddler. They're quicker than you think."



She turned to gauge his expression, surprised when she noticed he looked angry. She hadn't done or said anything that would anger him. What a moody sonofabitch.



He ignored her as they drove down Naberius's street. His house was in a nice neighborhood. Most of the houses on the block were two- and three-story brick Victorians. A few stood off the main road, with only a brick mailbox at the end of a lonely driveway.



"Hey, how do you know where you're going?"



He didn't look at her as he kept his eyes on the road. "I told you. I can feel his presence."



"Yeah, but there were a few turns you made—"



"Silence."



She let it go and looked for the address Naberius had given her. When she caught sight of the number on a mailbox she waited to see if Asmodeus turned into the drive.

He did.



Naberius's home was the only dwelling with a black iron gate surrounding the property. Large pine trees stood just within the gate, obstructing the view of his house from the road. But one thing was obvious.



Naberius was loaded.



She couldn't help but wonder why he had a virtual fortress for a home, but his number was listed in the directory.



They waited only seconds before the massive gates began to open. A black camera mounted at the corner of the gates pointed at them as they passed. Apparently this man put security high on his list.



What was worse were the two giant bushes just outside of the gate. Each bush was shaped into a winged, demonic creature. Though the fangs and wings were made from harmless leaves, the creatures looked as though they could come to life.



As Asmodeus drove down the winding driveway, two men came out of the three-story brick house. Both men were tall, broad and looked like they matched the demon bill quite nicely.



"I'll be damned," Asmodeus muttered.



"Pssht. You already are, dumbass."



He cast her a dirty look before he turned back to the men and stopped the car.



She peered at the men who were now only a few feet from the car. One was tall and blond, much like Asmodeus. His hair was shorter, cut in a stylish fashion that allowed his bangs to fall in his eyes. The other had long black hair and looked about as frightening as Satan himself. Even though he wore a smile, he seemed to have a darker aura than the blond. "Do you know both of them?"



"The blond is Raum, and the dark-haired man is Naberius. Both fell with me."



She snorted. "Certainly something to brag about."



Before he got out of the car, he turned to whisper to her, "I think I liked you more when you were a frightened little witch."



Her gaze fell to his lips. Full, inviting, and only inches from her own.



He's a demon. A demon! She forced herself to look into his eyes, which were now a green and yellow mix. "Will frightened get me released?"



He shook his head, those perfect lips rising slightly into a lopsided grin. "Not a chance in Hell."



What a play on words. "Then wicked witch it is," she said brightly.



His smile faded. "And that will get you killed."



She deflated a little. "A dead witch can't summon Michael."



"I never said how long it will take to kill you."



Was this playful bantering, or was he really threatening her? "You're a killjoy, you know that?"



He opened the car door. "I've been called worse."



She bet he had.



She had to move to plan B. Plan A: Get Thy Ass Gone, hadn't worked so well. Plan B had to have a better outcome, because if she didn't relieve herself of Asmodeus's company soon, she'd probably be joining him in his damnation. Somehow she doubted they served nonfat, grande mochas in the Abyss.





Chapter Four





Asmodeus settled in his chair, ignoring the heat that lingered in his chest from the Abyss, and glanced across the kitchen table at his fallen comrades. Their clothes, their language and their surroundings had changed considerably, but their mannerisms remained the same.



Raum had on jeans and a white T-shirt, his hair a bit shorter than the last time he had seen his friend. He fit perfectly in the contemporary setting, and perhaps he was attempting that very thing.