Page 66 of The Demon's Fire
Jedson’s son, Skyler’s father, Alden Maxwell, followed in his father’s footsteps by attending law school. Working for the Alliance, he eventually rose in the organization to become chief legal officer.
Skyler winced as she shifted onto her hip. Propping her head on a palm, she sighed. “There’s the whole ugly story. I attended Harvard, graduated at the top of my class, passed the bar, and at the age of thirty-two became the Alliance’s youngest CLO.”
Kole brushed a tear from her cheek. “Pain?”
“Yes. From the kas nettle as well as the memories of my father. Truth be told, I disappointed him from birth. I wasn’t a man. I’d never measured up to the Maxwell standard. If you can believe it, I’m not cutthroat enough despite my father’s best efforts. He berated me for any perceived weakness, lapse, error, or fault. He called it building character. When my mother died in childbirth, he deposited me with a succession of nannies. I … I…”
Skyler’s voice trailed off and her head bobbed. After a few moments, she awoke with a jerk. “I have none of the pleasant childhood memories others talk about. No family picnics, no movies and popcorn, no birthday parties, hugs, smiles, chats over dinner, or friends. It was work, work, work. Work harder. Even Christmas sucked.”
Skyler tried but failed to find a more comfortable position. “When I was quite young, my nanny took me to the mall where Santa sat on a big chair. At least, it seemed big to me. I crawled onto his lap. He asked what I wanted. I was stumped for an answer. He told me to think about it, to write my wish in a letter, address it to the North Pole, and give it to my mommy. I said I didn’t have a mother. He said it would work if I gave my daddy the letter. My wish would be under the tree Christmas morning. I wandered through the toy section where I saw her. She had blonde hair like mine, blue eyes, a pink tutu, leg warmers, and ballet shoes. When I held her hand, she danced on toe, spinning around. She was everything I wished to be. I spent so much time getting my sentences just right for Santa. I handed it to my father, interrupting him during a phone conference. He was furious. But I gave it to him anyway, quite excited…”
Skyler’s eyelids fluttered as she struggled to form words. Her head slipped from her palm, and she slept again as the sun crept above the horizon.
****
Chay’seyelids were heavy, his muscles weak. The sloth demon had kept him drugged through the night. Hell. He didn’t even know the hour. Early, he guessed.
Hampered by his manacled leg along with the demon’s whammies, he halted near the cell door where he wrapped a hand around a rusty bar. He shook it, gently. Harder. When it didn’t budge, he blasted himself for not killing the four assailants and protecting Margo.
He yanked on the chain hooked to an iron ring embedded in concrete. No give. Though still light-headed, he was responding less and less to the sleep inducement. Soon he would be at full strength even when the demon zapped him. He just had to be patient while his ylven body began to protect itself from the asshole’s power.
Why hadn’t hisfreronsfound him? The Firebrands should have started looking for him when he didn’t return from Margo’s. A search party could follow his D-chip signal.
Margo was on the cot with her elbows on her knees, palms propping her chin. She raised her eyes. “Tell me again what’s going on.”
“Sure.” A song on the radio distracted Chay. “I hate country western.”
“What?” Margo’s nose wrinkled.
“Country western music. I hate it. The fuckers have been playing it all night.” Chay motioned toward the radio. “Being caged isn’t torture enough? They put on some shit-kicking crap to maximize the pain?”
While Tammy Wynette sang “Stand by Your Man,” Margo smacked her forehead. “Stop changing the subject. You were telling me some fairytale. Continue.”
He flung himself onto the bed, his head in Margo’s lap, her soothing fingers brushing through his hair, feathering across his temples. “It’s not a fairyyarn, Red. Promise. The dudes who broke into your apartment are renegade Aeternals. I exed a demon. I decommissioned the warlock. The two left standing brought us here. The sloth freak keeps dropping me with a sleep inducement. The incubus probably smells good to you.”
Her eyes flipped side to side. “Like a woodsy aftershave. Okay. You’re an ylve. Vampires, nymphs, witches, berserkers, and other magical things live in this Scath place?”
“Yoopadooka. Though I wince at being called a magical thing.”
Red tucked her feet under her cute tush, leaning to the side on a stretched-out arm, still stroking him with her free hand. “Shouldn’t you be a lot shorter with pointed ears?”
Chay snorted. “Good one.”
“So, you, along with the too-tall Amazon, escorted a healer to come take my blood?”
“Right again. You have a witch or warlock in your family tree. It’s a gamble, but you might have a Blood Coven ancestor. We were gonna check it out when this mishmash broke into your apartment to snatch us.”
“Why?”
“Like I said a few secs ago, bad guy Cerberus, Blood Coven descendants, poofing portals, world domination. His crew was likely after you.” Chay scratched his not-pointy ear. “Time was, we thought his guys were running a human sex slave op on Scath. They were, but it was a side gig. Now we think they’re hunting for offspring of the witches and warlocks who created the realms.”
Margo’s fingers tangled in his hair. “And you’re saying I could be a descendant?”
“Out and out.”
She stopped petting him. “What if I don’t drink your Kool-Aid?”
Chay held her palm to his cheek. “Don’t stop. I love it when you pet me. What do you mean?”
