The Trouble with Demons

Michael was still an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, coated in yum. Only now the enigma was a little less mysterious; I was a few clues closer to solving the riddle - but damn, that man would always be coated in yum.

I'd heard that if you saw a Reaper, you saw what you expected to see, what you thought the agents of Death would look like. Personally, I wanted to see little, fuzzy pink bunnies, but apparently my subconscious visualized tall, scary, and skeletal. My subconscious and I needed to have a long talk.

To find the Scythe of Nen, I first had to find possibly the most elusive quarry I'd ever had to locate in my entire seeking career: a virgin on an island full of college students.

I knew there was evil in the world. Death and taxes were all necessary evils. So was shopping. "I hate shopping," I muttered. "Of course you do," Phaelan said. "You're a Benares, [the daughter of a long line of professional thieves]. We're not used to paying for anything." Phaelan was my cousin; he called himself a seafaring businessman. Law enforcement in every major city called him "that damned pirate," or less flattering epithets, none of them repeatable here. ... "Have you considered something in scarlet leather?" Phaelan mused from beside me. "Have you considered just painting a bull's eye on my back?" I retorted. My cousin wasn't with me because he liked shopping. He was by my side because being within five feet of me was a guarantee of getting into trouble of the worst kind. Phaelan hadn't plundered or pillaged anything in weeks. He was bored. So this morning, he was a cocky, swaggering invitation for Trouble to bring it on and do her worst.

Close up gave me a nice view of Mychael, and as always, he was damned good to look at. His eyes were that mix of blue and pale green found only in warm, tropical seas. His hair was short and auburn. His handsome features were strong, and his face scruffy with stubble. Very nice. Sexy nice. I guess having demons on your island didn’t give you time to shave. Mychael was an elf, and the tips of his ears were elegantly pointed. I’d felt the urge to nibble those tips on more than one occasion, but I didn’t think now was the time or place.

You can’t break into and rob Magus Silvanus’s town house.” “I never said I was.” “You didn’t have to say it; I know what you’re thinking.” I half smiled. “And because I’m a Benares, you assumed that I’d opt for the larcenous approach.” “No, ma’am.” He grinned. “Because you’re you.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “How long have you known me, Vegard?” “A little over two weeks.

I’m Raine Benares, seeker and…” I looked up at Vegard. “What else are people calling me now?” The big Guardian chuckled and shook his head. “A lot of things, ma’am. Some you’ve heard, most you haven’t, but I’m sure you could guess.

The two of you came this close to getting torn to shreds! Your father just found you, and he doesn’t want to lose you. Do you have any idea what he has been through to protect you since you got here?” [...] “No.” Talon’s voice was subdued, but only slightly. Teenage defiance still seethed beneath the surface. “He didn’t tell me.” I leaned back in my chair, blew out my breath, and closed my eyes. “And he probably won’t.” Tired had surrendered to exhausted. “He wouldn’t want you to worry. Because he loves you.” When Talon didn’t respond, I opened one eye and looked at him. “He hasn’t told you that, either, has he?” I asked wearily. “Not exactly.” My elbow was resting on the chair arm, and I dropped my head onto my upraised hand. I snorted. “Not exactly.” I shook my head. “Men.” I didn’t lift my head off my hand; it felt too good to be resting on something. I turned it about an inch and I could see Piaras just fine. His face was a shade or two short of a full, blazing blush. “I know you do.” His words tumbled out in a rush. “You don’t have to tell me.