This Glamorous Evil. Michele Hauf
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Thank the goddess for small miracles. “Thoroughly? You’re kidding me.”
“Old English name. My twin brother is Certainly. And we’ve a sister named Merrily.”
“I see. Now I really feel sorry for you. T.J. it is, then. I’m Star.”
Like the white star on her black fur. Cute.
Familiars didn’t usually have surnames, nor did they remember their lives from one to the next, so in actuality they could have nine names in total. I wondered if she had her life information tattooed somewhere on her body, then tried to keep my gaze from roaming her soft, glowing skin. It looked dewy, as if she’d lain under a tropical sun, soaking in the humidity.
“So.” I cleared my throat and steeled my focus. “Will you agree to my proposition?”
“I never get involved with the witch,” she said, peering into the toaster slots and sniffing. She wrinkled her nose. “It’s bad karma.”
“So is demon-conducting. Dark magic, that is. Gotta be hell on the karma.”
“You’re telling me.”
“But it’s necessary, the dark magic. To counterbalance the good,” I gave my usual explanation for a craft I’d practiced dutifully for centuries. Seriously, someone had to summon evil or the balance would be shattered.
Star nudged up a brow, but gave no reply.
“Using an assistant to bring the conduit to the relaxed state following climax—which then enables a demon transfer—depletes the conductor’s energies,” I tried explaining my motives. “With focused magic and only two people involved, I can conjure greater energy.” And maintain the control I required. “More energy equals bigger demons.”
“What kind of demon do you want to bring to the mortal realm? No!” She put up a hand. “I don’t want to know. I never want the details.”
“Screws with your karma?”
“You got it. But you must be into some very bad magic.”
“I have reason to bring forth one buried deep in Daemonia.”
She nodded, taking in that shocker as if I’d merely explained that toast crumbs are annoying. Strolling along the kitchen counter, the blanket trailing behind her as if it were a royal garment, she walked over to the bed. My loft was all open, save the bathroom, and the bed sat on the north end, opposite the living room on the south. Walls were intrusive. It was best when conjuring to have all areas visible and open.
She leaned against the high mattress and traced a finger over the gold silk threading the damask coverlet. A family heirloom my mother had sewn long ago after a trip to India to study their magic.
Star asked, “You actually think you can have sex with the familiar and conjure a demon at the same time?”
“Absolutely. The conjuring follows the climax. So it’s actually sex, then conjure. But I have been known to manage two things at once. I’m quite clever.”
That sexy grin curled her mouth again and I triumphed at the reaction. She’d loosened her defenses. I might have a chance at winning her over. Now if she’d tug the blanket over her backside, which was revealed as she leaned over the bed, then I could actually concentrate on closing the deal.
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