Page 3 of Delivered to My Demons

How about…I scrolled down the choices and let out a noise once I landed on gargoyles. Huh. I didn’t even know gargoyles had mates. Maybe it was all the movies I watched, but I thought they were rock statues that stood guard on top of churches in Europe or in angel movies?

Huh. Gargoyles.

How’s that for specific?

I clicked save to my profile and sat back, finishing my iced coffee and planning on doing absolutely nothing that night.

Nothing but my regular books and movies and filling my life with all things supernatural that was.

Chapter Four

Grendel

Most of our work came from customer referrals. Sometimes we were slammed with work due all at the same time, and other times, like today, we headed home about noon after finishing things up. There would be more horses to shoe tomorrow. And the next day and the next day.

So we did what any demons would do—we came home, showered, and decided what to have for lunch. It wasn’t often we got an entire afternoon off, so we would make the most of it.

Fresh out of the shower, I went downstairs to see my best friend already perusing the refrigerator for options.

“We didn’t take out anything for dinner, so I bet there’s nothing fast,” I said, leaning on the doorframe.

“Let’s run to the store and pick up some tomahawks.”

Hemlock loved nothing more than a huge steak and, while I loved them as well, going to the local butcher in the middle of the day meant interacting with humans. They would sneer and stare. Hell, most of them didn’t even know what about us entranced them. When we walked near them in our human forms, we looked like them, smelled like them, acted like them. Maybe it was their survival instinct cueing that something was different about us.

They would never guess that demons walked among them.

Not smelling like sulfur or hellfire—whatever that was.

Most people believed the Biblical view of demons. That we were some outcast race arrested to this plane for eternity to make people suffer.

Even if we told them the truth, their tales would overrule us.

“The Pit?” I asked, thinking about lunch before dinner.

“Sounds good. They make the best brisket.”

On our way to the restaurant, we stayed mostly quiet until I remembered a text that came through the night before. “Your mom texted me,” I told him. “She said you haven’t called her this week.”

Hem laughed and shook his head. “That woman. I love her to death, but if she wants to talk to me, why doesn’t she just call. No. She would rather text you and tell you to have me call her. Let’s do this right now.” He pressed the buttons on the steering wheel to activate the hands-free calling and dialed her immediately.

“Oh, Hemlock. What a surprise.”

We shared a look. That woman was something else.

“Really? Because Grendel is right here next to me telling me that you texted him to have me call you.”

He laughed the whole time. He would never speak to his mother or any female in a harsh manner.

Neither would I, for that matter.

“Oh, Hemlock. You know I just want to hear from my favorite son.”

We talked to Ella all the way to the restaurant. She told us to be on the lookout for females while we were out and about, groaning about us living out in the country and that was why we couldn’t find a mate.

We’d often been accused by family members of being picky. That any female we were compatible with would do.

The thing was, we couldn’t even find someone in our little chunk of the world that even wanted to be in a relationship. We’d dated here and there but, while a female was eager to get into bed with two males, having a long-term relationship with us apparently made them run for the hills.

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