Page 8 of Dragon in Boots

“What do I do once she’s been located?” Damien knew the goddess always had tricks up her sleeve and would not come quietly.

“Call my cell. I will deal with her.”

Well, at least Votan sounded confident, but Damien wasn’t so sure. Cimil had managed to outsmart them all for seventy thousand years.

Votan added, “And Greystone? Do not fail. I know you are harboring demons in your shop, and it would be a shame to see you end up in Cimil’s old cell.”

Ah yes. No conversation with a god was complete without the threat of death, pain, or imprisonment.It’s their favorite conversation topping.

In Damien’s defense, he did not want the demons around any more than the gods did. There was a good reason they’d outlawed the little fuckers.Very needy.

But Damien had been raised by a man to be a man, and loyalty was a trait instilled in him since birth. In this particular case, Bonbon was a love-sucking demon who had once saved Damien’s life, making him honor bound to harbor the creature.

Recently, Damien had tried to get rid of Bonbon by finding him a mate, but instead of moving on, Gorgonzolina had moved in, too. Now Damien had two demons squatting in his tailor shop. Add the fact that they’d both survived the blast, Damien hadn’t had the heart to forcibly remove them.

“I understand,” Damien said. “I will not fail.”

“Good. Because I have a bad, bad feeling about whatever Cimil’s up to this time, and my marriage depends on staying retired. Emma refuses to share me any longer, and who could blame her? I am magnificent.”

Errr…“I will find Cimil. You just be ready to keep her in prison this time,” Damien said.

“She isnotgoing back to prison.”

“No?” Damien said.

“I am going to end her life.”

Damien swallowed hard. Was it even possible to kill a god? “How?”

“You let us divine beings worry about that.” Votan ended the call.

Damien set his cell back on his nightstand, a wave of dread rolling through him. Something told him that whatever was about to happen would not be good. The world was either going to war, or Cimil would die, and such a death couldn’t possibly come without repercussions.

If Damien had learned one thing during his centuries of existence, it was that taking a life came with a cost. And ending a life as powerful as Cimil’s would create enormous shockwaves.

CHAPTER FOUR

After the strip show ended, Jac located her pink T-shirt in a bucket of ice. How it had gotten in there was a mystery, but then again, nothing about this night made sense.

I have to get out of here.She scrambled to clean up and prepare the bar for whomever would be working the next show because it sure as hell wouldn’t be her. After she collected her money, Jac would walk out those pink double doors and never look back. Whatever had happened tonight was the result of either mass psychosis or Mrs. Peepers pumping drugs in the air. Either way, when Mr. Tool Belt had gone onstage, Jac had felt herself turning into a primitive animal that only related to basic needs. Mostly humping.

But beyond the weirdness she’d experienced with her own body, what truly terrified Jac was how the audience didn’t seem at all bothered. They’d strolled out of the theater, giggling, smiling, and acting like they’d just been on the world’s most exciting roller coaster.

Something felt very wrong about all this.

Jac finished up cleaning, grabbed her purse, and then stepped around the bar to go search for Peepers.

“Hey. You leaving?” Mink appeared out of nowhere, dressed in a clear raincoat covered in blobs of gelatinous goop.

Ewww.“What’s that?”

Mink looked down. “Nothing. Where ya off to so early? It’s only eleven. The next show is at midnight.”

“I think I’ve had enough for one night.”

Mink narrowed her dark eyes. “Leave now, and you don’t get paid.”

Seriously?“But I need my tips.” Peepers had said that the servers divided everything up, and then they each got a share. It was to foster teamwork or something like that.

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