"No, but that would be a sweet bonus."
Noir actually laughed. Something that caused all the demons around them to run away like rodents fleeing a pending explosion--which was most likely what they thought that unnatural sound portended. The ancient god reached out and grabbed Grim's pale hair.
His mouth curled into the semblance of a cruel, twisted smile before he jerked Grim against his chest and gave him a bone-shattering embrace. "I've missed you, boy." He placed a kiss on the top of Grim's head, then released him. Quicker than Grim could blink, he backhanded him so hard that Grim saw stars from it. "But if you back talk me again, I'll rip out your entrails and throw them to the slug demons to eat."
Wiping the blood from his nose and mouth, Grim forced himself not to show how much that blow had staggered him. Or the fact that he still wasn't seeing straight from it as his face continued to throb and ache to distraction.
Holy crap, for an old fart whose strength had waned, Noir could pack a wallop.
He passed an angry pain-filled glare to Laguerre who held absolutely no sympathy for him in her cold, dark eyes.
But then, she was Noir's daughter.
He grimaced at the blood on his hand. He'd forgotten just how much he hated being around Azura and Noir. Now being that he was virtually trapped with them and dependent on them ...
If he ever laid hands on that sniveling Malachai, Gautier would know pain unimaginable.
When people talked about having bad in-laws, they had no idea what true misery meant. They should have to spend a weekend with his.
These two ancient beings were a large part of why he'd left Laguerre centuries ago. As much as he'd once loved her, and as much fun as they'd had in war together, it wasn't worth tolerating her demented, psychotic parents and their volatile tantrums.
Not even for a dinner date.
And he'd forgotten just how much Laguerre favored her father. But now that they stood side by side, the resemblance was uncanny. Same coal-black eyes that held no feeling or regard for anyone else. Same patrician features, smug expressions, and dark hair. Only while Noir's was short, Laguerre's fell to her waist in spiraling curls.
Just like her father, she'd sprang from her mother's womb, sword in her hand, ready to kill any-and everyone who happened into her path. No wonder the ancient humans had once deemed her the Fire Bitch of the Gods. Herit-Anat, Anat the Terror, et cetera. Back then, she'd gone by many names and even more epitaphs.
Ancient humans had left her untold offerings in their temples, hoping to buy her favor so that she'd leave them alone.
As if ...
Instead, the two of them had led untold wars and conquests throughout the human lands. Everywhere they went, slaughter followed. For centuries, they'd been an invincible team. Laguerre as the goddess of war, and he as the god of death. Their army of demons and damned had torn up the entire earth.
How Grim missed those days of freedom, and bloody fun.
Now ...
Grim pressed his thumb against the tooth Noir's blow had loosened. He was trapped here. Useless and bored.
Worse, he was irrelevant. He, who had once so terrified humanity to the point they couldn't think his name without shaking in terror and dying of fright, was now reduced down in this modern age to a cartoon character who made appearances in video games and on birthday greeting cards. They'd turned him into a chibi!
The indignities never stopped.
Laguerre sighed. "The Malachai still has five of his sarras by his side. Removing one won't make much difference."
Noir slid an intolerant grimace toward his daughter. "Patience, Anat. Have you learned nothing out in the human world?"
"Only how much I loathe the mortal vermin and wish to see them crushed beneath my hooves again."
Suddenly, Noir leaned his head back and took a deep breath as if he were in the throes of ultimate pleasure.
After a few uncomfortable minutes, he opened his eyes and smiled at them. "Ah ... see? That's why I wanted his sarras here. They hold a part of the Malachai's powers. As such, I can feed from them and take back some of his strength. It's why all of you were kept from me and banned from here while you served him. Now bring me the rest of his little friends. Once we have him fully weakened and me fed, we shall be able to destroy him. And I'll be able to leave here, not as a ghost in a body I invaded through possession, but as myself. Then we will rain down our will upon this world again and show them what they've missed."
*
"Hey, Ma," Nick said as soon as he heard his mother's thick Cajun drawl when she answered the phone. "I'm sorry to bug you at work, but I'm really sick. I need to go home. Is that okay?"
"Baby Boo! You sound so terrible and sad! Oh, honey. It's right in the middle of the lunch crowd. I can't leave. Let me call Michael and I'll send him right over to pick you up, okay?"
"'Kay. I'm handing you to the school nurse to tell her. Love you, Ma."
"You, too, baby. Please be okay. You rest and I'll be home as soon as I can to check on you. Call if you need me and I will come running. I'll quit if I have to."
Nick snorted at his mom's offer. She loved her job as a waitress at Sanctuary. Although, if she ever learned her boss was a shape-shifting were-bear, that might change. "Don't do that. I'll live." Though to be honest, he didn't feel like it at the moment.
His mom made kissing noises at him. Cringing, he made them back at her, but much more subtly before he handed the phone to the nurse and blushed, then beat a hasty retreat from her office in order that he wouldn't have to face that 'ah, how cute you are' look that so many gave him whenever he was nice to his mom.
As he moved to sit down outside to wait, he met Madaug St. James, who came into the office with a delivery for the secretary. At just under six feet, he was the son of two Squire brain surgeons--literally. Which was what had allowed him to create a mind-altering video game that demons had enchanted and used to possess their classmates.
Yeah, good times ...
Not even a little. Nick was still having violent flashbacks from his Zombie Hunter experience. It was so bad, he couldn't even watch a zombie movie to this day. And poor Madaug couldn't so much as play solitaire on his PC after it.
Still, he was one of Nick's best friends. And it was nice to occasionally hang out with someone who was frightfully normal, Madaug's extremely high IQ notwithstanding. After all, compared to Madaug, most people had the intelligence of a head of cabbage.
"Hey, Nick! What are you doing up here?"
"About to hurl."
Madaug jumped back. "Dude, I'm sorry. You contagious? 'Cause if you are, I want it! I have a test next period and I'm not prepared."
Yeah, right. Madaug was always prepared for tests. Even for the ones they wouldn't have until the end of the year. Kid was sick that way.
"Trust me, you don't want any part of this one."
"Yeah, you do look kind of green and disoriented. I take it that means you're going to miss band practice after school?"
Nick nodded. "Thanks for reminding me. Can you tell the others?"
"Sure, but Marlon's going to kill you. He's been looking forward to it. He has a massive crush on Duff."
"Sorry. What's his problem anyway?"
"What? Duff? I don't know. Distemper. Maybe parvo."
Nick scowled. "Isn't that a dog disease?"
"Yes, but I think our resident teen were-panther has it, too. At least he acts like it most days."
That he did. He took brooding teen male to a whole new level. The entire three years he'd been in school with them, Nick had never heard him say a single word to anyone. "Is he really mute or did he sell his voice to a wizard?"
Madaug laughed. "Neither. The correct term is selective mutism. His is an extreme case of it. Most likely caused by his ... you are giving me that look."
Nick held his hands up. "Dude, it's a look of awe."
"Sure it is. And before my social anxiety kicks in, I'm heading back. Hope you get to feeling better. You need
me to sacrifice a goat or anything for you?"
Nick feigned a round of really fake laughter at something neither of them found particularly amusing since Madaug was the one Nick had turned into a goat with his powers when Nick had rescued him from the Zombie Hunter demons. "Uh, no. No goats. No more game programming ever, partner."
"Yeah, lesson learned." He bro-hugged him, then headed back to class.
Nick shook his head. That boy was going to end up as a leading doctor somewhere.
Or as an evil villain mastermind, leading a horde of henchmen.
Thank goodness he was on their side for the moment.
Suddenly, a huge, dark shadow fell over Nick. He started to scramble away out of reflex until he looked up and realized it was the mountainous muscled mass also known as Big Bubba Burdette.
"Sheez, Bubba! You scared the crap out of me."
"Boy, you need to lay off the caffeine. You got the reflexes there of a scared Chihuahua."
Yeah, well, given the fact that all manner of deadly things tended to pop out of the shadows intending to eat him or enslave him, it was little wonder. But he couldn't tell that to Bubba.
"How you feeling?" Bubba put his hand on Nick's forehead.
"Pretty awful."
"You look pale." Bubba grabbed his backpack. "C'mon, I already signed you out."
"Thank you, by the way. I really appreciate it." Nick scowled as he caught a whiff of aftershave and realized that Bubba's scraggly beard wasn't so scraggly. He'd trimmed it down to one of those shadowy things that Kody and Brynna giggled about on actors. "Did you shave?"
"Shut up."
And now that Nick was paying attention, he realized that Bubba wasn't wearing his usual uniform of bad horror movie T-shirt and ratted-up flannel shirt over it. Instead, he had on a nice button-down and new jeans. The only thing that remained of "old" Bubba was the heavy, steel-toed work boots. "Gah! Bubba! That's my mama, you know?"
He arched one jet eyebrow at Nick as he gave him a scathing glare that backed him down a notch. While Nick might be the Malachai, Bubba had been a semipro linebacker and was the size of a brick house with the muscle mass of a world-champion weightlifter who could put him through a wall with a single sneeze. Not to mention, he was a raw, bad-ass survivalist who went zombie hunting for fun in gator and demon-infested swamps. "Don't you even, boy. I asked you before I started going out with her and you said it was all right."
"I know what I said, but..." Nick shivered. "Can't I be grossed out?"
Bubba snorted. "Grow up, snot-nose."
Nick was trying, but it was hard. While he wanted his mom to be happy, he didn't want to think of her actually dating someone, especially not his best friend and mentor. And the fact that Bubba let his mom call him Michael really screwed with Nick's head.
Only Bubba's mama got away with that.
And Cherise Gautier.
As they left the school building and Nick headed home, Bubba stopped him. "I told Cherise I'd take you back to the shop with me so that I could keep an eye on you 'til she gets off work."
"Oh my God, Bubba! I'm about to turn seventeen. Really?"
Bubba's blue eyes darkened with tragedy.
Nick mentally kicked himself as he remembered that Bubba's wife and son had been murdered because she'd gone home from work due to illness and had been there alone when an intruder had broken in on her.
"You don't need to be by yourself while you're illing. You need someone to watch over you so you can sleep." Bubba's voice was emotionless, but his eyes weren't. They carried the full weight of grief and self-recrimination that Bubba crucified himself with. He held himself fully responsible for not going home early to be with his wife. It was why he took his zombie slaying to such extremes.
Why he was overprotective of everyone. And that was why Nick had allowed him to date his mom. So long as Bubba was with her, he knew no one would ever harm a single hair on his mother's head. Bubba would break them in half first.
"Okay. Sorry. You're right." He didn't bother to tell Bubba that he wouldn't have been alone at his condo. Xev was there. Or should be.
But then only he and his crew of friends knew that Xev was Mr. Fuzzy Boots.
As they reached Bubba's computer and gun store that was just over a block from the school, Bubba opened the door for him. "Do I need to send Mark out for soup or something?"
"No, I'm good for the moment. But pizza in an hour would be good."
"Pizza? Oh my God, Mikey. No wonder you like the boy. Sounds just like you!"
Nick hesitated just inside the shop at the sound of an unfamiliar male voice that was thick with a middle Tennessee drawl.
Reserved around strangers, he turned to see an average height, heavyset man at the counter who was probably in his late fifties. Even though they'd never met before, Nick knew him instantly. "Hey! It's Bubba from the commercials!" The only difference was that he didn't have on the flannel shirt or zombie tee either, but rather wore a red polo shirt and jeans, and his black hair and beard were laced with gray.
Bubba stepped around him to put his backpack down behind the counter. "Nick, meet my father, Dr. Burdette. Dad, this is Nick."
Nick moved forward to shake his hand. "Real pleasure to meet you, Dr. Burdette."
"And you, though to hear my son and wife talk about you, I was expecting an ankle-biting rug rat. Not a half-grown man who stands eye to eye with my giant beast of a son." He glanced at Bubba and shook his head with a sigh. "I swear to God, that boy's mama must have been feeding him fertilizer when I wasn't looking. Ain't nobody in my family ever been that tall ... hers, either, for that matter. If he didn't look just like me, I'd be wondering, and eyeballing the mailman."
"Daddy!" Bubba barked in a chiding tone.
"What?" he asked, blinking innocently. "It's God's truth, and you know it."
Laughing, Mark stepped out from between the black curtains that separated the front of the store from the back room. Only a few years older than Nick, he was Bubba's sidekick and best friend, and fellow zombie-hunting lunatic. The two of them got into all manner of madness whenever Nick turned his back on them.
The ying to Bubba's yang, Mark was as fair as Bubba was dark, with shaggy light brown hair, and bright green eyes that seldom stopped laughing. Like Bubba, he'd gone to college on a full football scholarship and they'd grown up together in Tennessee before moving to New Orleans.
"Ah now, don't let Nick's height fool you, Dr. Burdette. He's still an ankle-biter." Mark smirked at Nick. "How you feeling, kiddo?"
"Sick."
"Well, don't give it to me or I'll make you wash Bubba's underwear for the next month."
Bubba snorted as he started opening the day's shipment and checking it in. "Don't I pay you to work?"
"Nah. You pretend to pay me and I pretend to work."
Ignoring them, Bubba's father came around the counter to examine Nick. "So what are your symptoms? Sore throat?"
Eyes wide, Nick glanced at Bubba.
"He's a GP ... general practitioner. Worse than my mama, any day, and twice on Sunday. Surrender, kid. It's just easier that way. He ain't going to let you alone until you do."
Oh great. If the doctor pulled him in for tests ... he was still the Malachai with some unusual traits, and if they uncovered the fact that he wasn't human this could turn ugly fast.
Clearing his throat, Nick sought to avert disaster. "Not too bad. Mostly headache and tired and achy."
"Hmm, might just be a cold. Let me take you in back and get your vitals. Check you out.... You're the one with the preexisting heart condition, right?"
"He is."
"Bubba!" Nick snapped.
"Don't Bubba me, boy. Your mama and mine would skin me alive if anything happened to you on my watch. Personally, I think my mama likes you better, anyway."
His dad laughed. "Completely not true. I was once mopping the kitchen floor when Mikey came running through the house for no good reason--like someone was trying to kill him--and fell. Now
a normal woman would be mad at the kid for tracking mud on my freshly mopped floor. Let me reiterate normal woman ... I didn't marry normal. I married Bobbi Jean Clinton-Burdette. Ain't no normal in that family tree, I'm telling you. So faster than I could blink, his mama took that mop handle to me 'cause that boy done skinned his knee on my fresh clean floor. I'm telling you, she got ahold of me so viciously over it that I thought one of them Greek furies had done descended on me from Mount Olympus. You'd have thought that boy lost his leg the way she carried on. But he barely bruised it. Didn't even bleed, but boy howdy, I surely did."
"You did not." Bubba snorted. "And I was four when it happened."
"Four, nothing, it was last year!"
Bubba laughed and shook his head. "It was not." Sighing, he met Nick's gaze. "One thing to know about my daddy, he don't always tell the truth."
"Now that ain't so. I always tell the truth. I just do so creatively. Makes it more entertaining for folks that way." He draped his arm over Nick's shoulders and led him to the back where Bubba and Mark worked on computers while Bubba called Nick's mom to let her know that he'd picked him up and had him "in custody."
Dr. Burdette had him sit on a stool next to Bubba's linked computer monitors that had an interesting array of food lined up across them. He smiled as he saw Nick frowning at it. "Excuse my food porn. Bobbi Jean keeps me on so many diets, that's my sin right there. Anytime I get out of her sight, I start looking up desserts I can't eat and salivating like Pavlov's dog. You wouldn't want to smuggle me one of them beignets later, would you?"
"Don't you dare, Nick!" Bubba called from the other side of the curtains. "He's diabetic and he ain't to have none of that while he's here."
His father growled at him. "You and your mama, boy! What good is a conference in the Big Easy when I can't have none of that food here? You might as well shoot me and put me out of my misery!"
Bubba carried a box of parts to the back to put them on the shelf. "I don't want to shoot you, Daddy. But I would like to keep you around for a little while longer. So would Mama. Don't break her heart. You done promised her you'd behave and stay on your diet."
Nick patted him on the shoulder. "I feel your pain, Dr. Burdette. You should meet my mama. She forces me to eat vegetables." He shuddered. "And other girl foods. It's terrible."