Noah. Jacquelyn Frank
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an idea,” she retorted, kneeling down in front of the turbine that had just helped her escape the guard’s notice. She shrugged out of her backpack and withdrew her last two square packets.
Kestra left the backpack behind and scurried low across the floor to the next gas heater. She rolled gently onto her back and reached beneath the unit. There was the distinct clang of metal on metal as the strong magnet on the back of the packet stuck to the underbelly of the furnace. She flicked the switch on the front and waited while the lights went from yellow to green.
“The point is,” she continued as she rolled out from beneath the unit and moved cautiously to the next one, “that I specifically said no civilians in the kill zone. It was your job to see to it that’s what I got. That is why I spent a month timing this operation just right.”
“It’s not my fault the guy changed his routine, Kestra.”
“Make it your fault, James,” she bit back as she hesitated next to the last furnace. “Make it your responsibility. You have twenty minutes to get him out of the kill zone. I don’t care how you do it, just do it! And there better not be anyone else.”
“There isn’t. You and the guard are the only two heat sources in the entire warehouse row, save a rat or two.” There was a distinct pause. “Do you have any suggestions on how I can protect your civilian without getting arrested?”
Kestra thought about that for a moment, using the time it took to attach the last device to the last heater in order to mull over the situation.
“How long does it normally take for him to round off the row and start on the docks?”
“There are three buildings in the row. You’re the first on the round. If he follows form, it’ll take well over an hour. And if he rounds onto the docks, he’s going to spot you. I don’t care how sneaky you are, Kes, you don’t want him wandering your escape route.”
“Damn.” Kestra slid out from beneath the furnace and stood up. She dusted off her backside with more violence than necessary and marched toward her backpack.
Then she stopped and cocked her head to the side, her incredibly light eyes brightening just a little more as she thought of a possible solution.
“Oh, James?”
“Yeah, Kes?”
“Do any of the buildings opposite those in this row have an alarm system?”
“All of them. Take your pick.”
“And are they part of our rent-a-cop’s minimum-wage jurisdiction?”
“Why, yes, they are!” Jim gasped comically, knowing she was already done formulating her plan.
“Now, call me crazy, but if you were a security guard and one of the alarms in one of your buildings went off, you’d run like hell to check it out, wouldn’t you?”
“Oh, you’re definitely crazy,” Jim agreed with a chuckle. “And you’re also right. But how do you plan to set off an alarm and not get caught? Don’t we usually do that the opposite way, where you don’t set off the alarm? Do you even know how to set one off?”
“How hard can it be?”
“And not get caught,” he reminded her.
“Mmm.”
“And blow up the row…?” Jim added.
“Yup.”
“And not get caught,” he reiterated most importantly.
“Uh-huh.”
Almost exactly twenty minutes later, Kestra dropped from the dock into the rear of the speedboat docked there. She whipped off the tie line and punched the ignition button. The motor roared to life; the only sound possibly louder was the blare of the alarm in the distance.
Kestra aimed the boat directly out of the harbor and toward the open ocean. She glanced down at the cabin when James stuck his head out of the hatch.
“You forgot to blow up the warehouses,” he said dryly.
“Yeah, I know.”
The row of warehouses blew up.
Chapter 1
The Miserable Princess
A Demon Fairy Tale
Once upon a time, fairly long ago, there lived a Princess. This Princess was in need of a husband, or so her father thought. She had a responsibility to wed an upstanding male who might one day become King of all their people. She had a responsibility to have children who would become strong and powerful members of their society. That was what Princesses were supposed to do during that time very long ago.
However, this particular Princess, though she was kind and good-hearted, did not like to be responsible, she did not like being told what to do, and, most of all, she did not want a husband.
One day, the Princess, who was named Sarah, was forced to attend a competition between the males of her father’s people. She did not wish to go, but her father had told her that if she did not, he would choose a husband for her and she would have to be satisfied with his taste. He would hear no arguments, for he had lost his patience with his headstrong daughter.
So the Princess went to the royal booth and sat in her chair and frowned at everyone. She had to be there, but she did not have to pretend to be happy. Her father had said nothing about being happy or nice to anyone.
Princess Sarah looked around at the field of competitors with bored, cornflower blue eyes. She feebly brushed back her long, golden curls as she sighed. This was the third such competition her father had arranged. The Princess knew he hoped that somewhere on that field there would be a Demon who would finally catch her eye. There was no real reason why her eye should not be pleased, because Demon males were as wondrously handsome as Demon females were breathtakingly beautiful. Certainly they were all well mannered, elegant, and highly educated after so many decades of immortal life.
The Princess, however, was only 110 years old. She thought she was far too young to think about tying herself down to a husband who would probably want babies and obedience. Male Demons were notorious for their arrogance and their need of total control of all things they felt they had a right to control. The Princess did not need another person telling her what to do all the time. She wanted to choose in her own time, when she felt right and ready, and when she found a male who looked upon her as an equal, rather than a worker who required orchestration.
Sarah shuddered at her own thoughts.
In spite of their high-handedness, males of her race were far better than the human mortals when it came to the matter of marriage. The idea of being treated like property, a man’s chattel he could use and dispose of in the fashion of his own choosing, was a nightmare.
As for Ephraim, the aforementioned King of the Demons, she knew that he held high hopes that she would be one of the rare and lucky Demons who became part of the Imprinting.
The Imprinting was the meshing of the hearts, minds, and souls of a male and a female who were compatible with each other to a point beyond perfection. It was reputed to be a connection that transcended the complexities and intensities of mere love. It was an engagement of power that her father hoped would one day coalesce in her womb and produce the powerful potential of a future King of all Demons.
“Noah, what on earth are you reading to her?” Isabella asked in a curious whisper.
She had just entered her daughter’s bedroom, taking in the sight of her two-year-old, who was draped lazily across the current Demon King’s lap. Leah was lying on her back in the cradle of Noah’s biceps and forearm, with her arms splayed wide, wrists hanging limply as she snored softly and drooled against his silk-covered chest.
The King looked up at his Enforcer, the female counterpart of a pair, and smiled in a way that was both bashful and charming. He winked