Page 106 of Wicche Hunt

I put up every mental block I could think of.Shit, shit shit.

“Oh, good,” Bracken said. “Home safe and sound.” He shuffled toward us, head bent, paging through his journal. “I’ve just found the most interesting passage and I believe it relates to what we were discussing earlier. Right here,” he said, turning a page, “but then again, here it might contradict. I want to show you both.”

No, no, no.Not poor Bracken.

The demon glanced at me, eyebrows raised, clearly tickled by this latest development.

“You can show us tomorrow,” I said. “We’ll come see you.”Please, go away!

“Young love,” he said, still staring down at the page. “I promise not to take up too much time. Where is it? Let’s see, let’s see.” He turned another page. “I just had it.”

I touched my earring, my lifeline to my father. “I need help.”

The demon gave me a pouty face and then returned his amused gaze to Bracken.

Bracken stopped right beside Not Declan. “Ah, here it is.” He tilted the page to show us a passage. He looked into the demon’s gaze and said, “You see now, don’t you?”

The demon’s eyes went wide. His skin cracked open, revealing flames, and then he popped out of existence, leaving Bracken holding a journal in one hand and a dagger in the other.

A huge wave swamped the deck and a tall, muscular, very naked man with hair like mine, golden skin, and aqua blue eyes raised his silver sword, stalking toward Bracken.

“Wait!” I shouted. “Not him. That’s my uncle. He just killed a demon.” I turned to Bracken, who was sliding the dagger back into a leather sheath. “How did you do that?”

He shrugged, tucking the weapon into the pocket of his oversized cardigan. “I have a demon blade, and this seemed like the time to use it. I’m going to get back to work and let you catch up with your father.” So saying, he turned and strolled back to his RV.

The man and I looked at each other. I kept my gaze trained above his neck.

“Pants would be good,” I said.

He glanced down. The sword disappeared and fabric appeared.

“A toga?” I asked, quite confused.

“They’re very comfortable. Pants are constricting. Is this all right?”

I nodded. “It’s a good look on you.”

He stood a little straighter. “You called for me.”

“I did. There was a demon—”

He hissed, expression thunderous. “Foul things.”

“True enough.” There was an awkward silence and then I asked, “Would you like to sit down?” I gestured to one of the benches.

He was bigger and broader even than Declan, but he sat, leaving room beside him for me. “I like your home,” he said. “The tentacles are a nice touch.”

“Thanks.” This was my father. I was sitting with my father. Shooting the shit with Dad. “Um, thanks for showing up so quickly. And with a sword. That was cool.”

“You’re welcome, but never thank the fae,” he said.

“That’s real?” Look at me, learning things from Dad.

“It is for some. Not for me, of course. It’s best to be safe, though. If you instead said something like,It was good of you to come save me, Father, that would be nice.”

Grinning, I said, “It was good of you to come save me, Father.”

He nodded benevolently. “Anything for you, my child.” Glancing around, he added, “You are an artist, are you not?”

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