Page 7 of Demon Huntress
Her hands were a perfect blend of a female’s softness and a handyman’s sturdy grit. He thought he spotted some calluses on her palms when shaking hands, ones that were no doubt attained through the risky climate of her choice of occupation. She had a small frame, but she was lean, strong, and likely flexible.
The thought of her letting her hair come loose from her bindings and stripping naked for him made his cock twitch in his pants, which he yanked to prevent any further awkwardness.
He led Cassandra upstairs after snarling at Flash to get his shit together and clean up the shattered vase.
“You can’t talk to people like that,” Slade said through gritted teeth.
Flash was hunched over, groaning like he had been hit with a boulder as opposed to a tiny glass encasement for flowers.
“Maybe I was hoping a good fuck would distract this damn thing,” he grunted.
Slade left him to brood while showing Cassandra the room where there was the most activity. It was a general study and lounging room he and Flash frequented, often on dark lonely nights when neither had a woman to bed to distract them from their various sorrows.
She walked ahead of him, posture as perfect as an arrow, black heels clicking against the hardwood floor. He imagined her in a witch's costume, a scantily clad, leather getup that elevated her breasts and plump ass as she cast away demons with her piercing piston-focused eyes.
Her scent swirled into his mouth, sending tingles to his very soul. He wanted to talk to her casually, to get to know her beyond the scope of their professional interactions.
Slade scolded himself as she placed one of her bags on the coffee table, a roaring fire behind her acting as the most appropriate backdrop to the scene.
“I need a second to get a sense of the room,” she said sternly. “Do you mind?”
It took Slade a long, fat second for the penny to drop, but eventually, he nodded and held his hands up in front of him.
“Take your time,” he said, voice shaking uncharacteristically. “Let me know when you need anything.”
She gave him a small, cordial smile, then began removing her things from her bag with the Navy SEAL emblem.
Slade didn’t want her to have to ask again, so he hurried out of the room, using the chance to call his sister Jenny. She was a young pup who was taking full advantage of her freedom and shifter wares. They had lost both of their parents recently, and though Slade had been able to take the loss in stride, he feared his younger sister was going to use it as an opportunity to fly off the handle.
When he called, she rarely answered. He always imagined the worst of the worst, like she was lying in some ditch after hooking up with the wrong guy. He didn’t often leave messages, but as he stood peering over the railing of the stairway into their dim, medieval-like hallway, his frustration got the best of him.
“You know Mom and Dad are rolling in their graves about what you’re doing,” he said, snarking. “You need to get your fucking shit together and grow up because they aren’t here to ground you anymore.”
He punched the red end-call button, nearly cracking the screen in half. He slipped the phone into his pocket and closed his eyes for a quick moment.
It was enough dealing with what was going on with Phar-Scape, plus coping with Flash’s extreme mood swings, and on top of that, he had a sister who never slept in the same place twice. It wasn’t his place as her brother, but she clearly needed someone to yank on the leash every now and then.
Slade did what he could to get himself together. He felt oddly self-conscious about having Cassandra’s eyes on him, which added another irritating layer to his state of mind.
But he managed to put an even, intrigued look on his face as he returned to the lounge. His stomach churned when he saw Flash sitting in a chair opposite her, slumped over with his legs spread wide like the most ignorant male on the planet.
When Flash saw him enter the room, he held out a single, open hand.
“Do you see this shit?”
Slade ignored him and glanced over to see Cassandra had removed what looked like a ventriloquist dummy from one of her larger sacks of tricks. It wore a purple velvet suit and looked like a comical display of a mafia’s wardrobe.
“What the fuck is this?” Flash asked.
Cassandra had been narrowly focused on removing what looked like different shaded candles, crystals, and herbs from her bag then laid the dummy in the center of the circle. She looked up with a flicker at Slade, her lips pursing in annoyance.
“Do you want me to start with the dummy puns already?” she asked, shooting daggers in Flash’s direction.
“What, are you going to play with fucking dolls until the thing decides to leave?”
Slade tried to stand in front of his friend, who was still too wound up to realize who he was talking to. Slade wanted to place a hand on her wrist and let her know that at the depths of Flash’s heart and soul, he truly wasn’t the vain asshole he appeared to be.
“The ritual involves summoning the poltergeist into the doll,” Cassandra began, setting the doll up straight. “Once it possesses the doll, we destroy it, hence destroying the entity.”
