Page 36 of Brimstone and Broomsticks
Chapter 12
Lucien
Bronwyn dropped us off at a house that looked like it had been cobbled together over the centuries, then sped off to take care of some centaur’s lost horseshoe. Or whatever. Cassie stood in front of the door, suddenly nervous.
“I won’t hurt you, you know,” I told her. “I can’t seem to do much in this town besides beat up werewolves.”
“If you can beat up a werewolf, you can easily overpower me,” she countered.
“You’re a witch,” I told her. “You can easily overpower me.”
“I don’t know if you understand how uncomfortable I am with allowing a man I’ve known less than twelve hours, a demon no less, spend the night in my house—myfamilyhouse, the one I grew up in.”
I didn’t understand that. And I was sure she didn’t understand how much power she held in this thing between us. Even if I hadn’t been hampered by the town’s wards, a powerful witch had the ability to banish, to command, and control. Maybe it was just as well she didn’t realize that, because I was looking for a partnership, not servitude. Sometimes a demon got on the wrong side of a contract. Sometimes there was nothing he could do to prevent that from happening.
Maybe I didn’t quite trust her either.
“This was your grandmother’s house?”
Cassie nodded. “Generations of Perkins witches have lived here. I grew up here with my grandmother and my mother. When Grandma died and Mom lit out…well, this is where I stayed with my sisters. It’s where I raised them.”
That’s when it hit me—for nearly a decade, it had always been just Cassie. She’d been a teenager, and suddenly she was in charge of six younger siblings, the eldest witch in a town. No wonder she had anger issues. No wonder she didn’t want any further responsibility on her shoulders.
She reached out for the doorknob, that little frown still creasing her brow.
I put a hand on her shoulder. “I promise you that I won’t harm you. As long as I’m in your house, I’ll abide by your rules and do whatever you say. Demons don’t break promises.”
I shivered a bit at that, knowing that I had just put myself in her hands—at least while I was under this roof. Although if she forbade me to leave the house, I’d really be in trouble.
Idiot. These are the sorts of fools’ bargains demons agree to when they’re thinking with their libido.
“You don’t enter my room unless asked.” She blushed a bit at the “asked” part, as if she were thinking of doing just that. “No removing anything from the house—spell books, wands or broomsticks, the good china…”
What in the hell would I do with good china? Or any china? “Agreed.”
“And no trashing the place, or smearing werewolf blood on the carpet,” she added with a quick smile.
“Agreed. You believe I’m innocent of that, right?” I asked.
She opened the door. “Oh, I believe you’re anything but innocent. But I’m sure that if you’d decided to off Clinton Dickskin, you wouldn’t frame yourself by rubbing blood on the carpet of your own hotel room, then inviting me in for a make-out session.”
“They’ll probably find him sleeping off a fifth of whisky in a ditch somewhere with an IV in his arm,” I conjectured.
She flicked on the lights and stepped inside. “It takes more than a fifth of whisky to get a werewolf drunk, especially this close to the full moon.”
“Nice house.” I stood in the doorway, admiring the décor. Where the outside was clearly a series of additions onto an original small home, the inside was seamlessly spacious. Open but cozy with bright splashes of color on pillowy couches and fleecy throws.
“So are you demons like vampires or something? Do I need to invite you in?”
I grinned and stepped across the threshold. “No. Just being polite. You’ll be relieved to know that we demons can come and go pretty much anywhere we like—your houses, your places of worship.”
“Possess our bodies?” she teased, tossing her car keys on a table.
“There’s only one body I’m thinking of possessing right now.” I took a step toward her, hesitating when she took one back in response. “But it’s been a long day. I’m sure you’re tired. Where am I sleeping if it’s not in your room?”
“Uh, you can sleep in Adrienne’s old room. That’s the nice thing about these old houses. They’ve got lots of bedrooms. Not many bathrooms though. I’m…well, I’ve got a bit of research to do before I hit the sack. You can sleep. Or help yourself to anything in the kitchen. There’s not much in the fridge, I’ll warn you. Or television. Or books. But not the spell books. Do demons know how to read spell books?”
She was rambling, nervous, and I wasn’t sure what to do to get back to that friendly banter we’d had earlier.
