Lucifer’s Daughter(6)

The night seemed unusually still. The air hung breathless, not even a whisper of wind. Odd, considering the violent gusts from earlier. The usual sounds heard at a sleepy, almost four o"clock seemed muted. Not a car in sight, not a single howling dog, not a hissing cat. It was kind of refreshing, actually. Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I walked home, the occasional thought of the dark haired Auric keeping me company–and warm.

My body and head swirled with a mess of emotions, the foremost being confusion and arousal.

Auric had definitely lit a fire inside me, but he also made my warning bells ring. I needed to find out more about him. But how? I hadn"t gotten a last name, and according to him, he"d only come to the area recently. So where could I get the scoop on him and his friends?

I thought about asking Daddy. If Auric belonged to him, then he"d be able to give me the scoop; but asking for help, aside from all the deals that went with it, meant tipping my hand. I didn"t want my dad to know I"d found someone who interested me. I wanted to form my own opinions on Auric as a man, without my father coloring my view of him or trying to tip the scales falsely in Auric"s favor. Which also made me wonder: for which team did Auric play? Contrary to popular belief, good and evil weren"t the only states of being–the expression “many shades of gray” totally applied here. While God and Satan happened to be the biggest known players--and brothers, to boot--other powerful entities did exist. Did Auric work for one of them? Could I be any more paranoid?

I kept walking and pondering in the dead night, lost in my thoughts; but even distracted, I heard the soft thud of something hitting the ground behind me, and the acrid scent of brimstone.

I went for my dagger sheaths, only to realize that, in my rush to get to work, I"d forgotten them.



Shit.





Chapter Two


Turning, body braced and ready for some hand-to-hand combat, I almost laughed to see a hellhound instead of something actually dangerous. One of my dad"s less than stellar–AKA dumb--creations, which had escaped from the pit.

The beast growled at me and wagged its stub of a tail. Did I forget to mention I grew up with the hellhounds? Up until the age of twelve, they were my full time guardians, and I"d grown quite fond of the mindless creatures. Of course, being fond didn"t mean I could leave it roaming the human world. After all, we were talking hellhound here. About to say the words to send it back to Hell where it belonged, I squeaked when strong hands gripped me and pulled me sideways into an alley.

“What the fuck?” I exclaimed. Who had been stupid enough to grab me, and how had I missed their approach? I"m never that careless.

“You can thank me later,” said a familiar, gravelly voice.

“Thank you for what, dirtying my coat?” I said, staring at the smear of dirt across my sleeve, from where it had brushed up against the dumpster in the alley he"d kidnapped me into.

“Well, excuse me,” he drawled sarcastically. “Next time, I"ll let the hellhound eat you.”

“Oh, please. They wouldn"t dare.” Too late, I realized how odd that sounded; and judging by the way his brows shot up, he"d caught it.

He let go of my arms and stepped back, looking at me like I was some strange kind of specimen.

I went on the attack to distract him from my words.

“Why are you following me? What are you, some kind of stalker?”

“I saw a pretty girl walking by herself, and decided to follow at a safe distance to make sure she got home all right. Good thing I did.”

My heart fluttered. He"d called me pretty. He"d wanted to protect me. How cute–but so unnecessary. “I appreciate the thought behind it, but really, I can take care of myself.”

“Even against hellhounds?” he said skeptically.

“Piece of cake,” I boasted. That wasn"t, technically, giving anything away. Lots of special folk could take care of hellhounds.

“Just who and what are you?” asked Auric. His questions were getting repetitive.

I rolled my eyes. “I told you, my name is Muriel.”



Auric crossed his arms over his chest–did I mention he had a really broad chest?–and gave me a stern look.

Oh, please, once Satan gave you „the look," all other looks paled in comparison. I just glared right back at him „til he sighed with exasperation–another sound I was familiar with.

“Fine then, Muriel, if you think hellhounds are so easy, why don"t you take care of it then.” He said with a smirk, one that made me torn between wiping it off his face–my demon brothers had taught me to fist fight at an early age–and kissing it. What could I say, he really turned my crank.