Page 40 of Toying with Monsters

“I’m not a monster, Elena, despite what people may say. Besides, it wanted you, which intrigues me.”

Thorn walked me to the door and opened it. You would think he was a solicitous swain instead of a demon crime lord.

“Take care, and try and lie low until I tell you. No one knows the location I’m sending you to. Stay safe. Don’t let the new power go to your head.”

“No problem, Boss. I’ll wait for the next job.” I paused just outside the doorway. “Are you disappointed I made sure not to touch the second artifact?”

He laughed aloud, and my stomach filled with butterflies. “I am curious what would have happened, but I think it’s best if we only do that in a controlled environment, if at all.”

He shut the door, and I hit the call button on the elevator, watching his silhouette shrink and disappear behind the frosted glass.

And damn, there was not much I wouldn’t do for that deep, sexy laugh of his.

13

Thorn gave me the keys to a house in a part of town ladened with blue-collar anonymity, tree-lined streets, and clear getaway shots to any of the four main roadways that bounded the neighborhood. A real estate agent would describe it as “charming” or “quaint.” I called it shabby-chic with an emphasis on shabby.

The outside sported a white clapboard frame house with an aquamarine door and shutters on the windows resting on either side of the entrance. Iron-work railings and elaborate columns enclosed a pure concrete painted the same blue-green chipped and flaking paint that looked, no, felt, older than the house.

I have, in fact, slept in worse, so I’m not complaining. But it’s strange that a rich man like Thorn would stash an outdated piece of property like this in his real-estate portfolio.

One of Thorn’s minions had dropped me here with several bags of groceries without the benefit of pulling into the driveway. This forced me to hoof it from the curb to the front door up the concrete walkway and then another flight to the front door hauling the groceries. With my new abilities, hefting the bags wasn’t a problem, but wrangling the number of them proved unwieldy.

I let the bags slide to the concrete porch and stuck the key into the lock when I encountered resistance.

Cautiously, I lay my hand on the doorjamb and felt the steady thrum of a repelling spell.

What the hell? Thorn warded the house? Lay a ton of protective spells on it to prevent the unwanted to enter? It was an awesome security system. But how the hell do I get in?

Perhaps the warding would yield to a password? But what could it be? It could be any word or series of words. I could be here all night, sussing this out.

I don’t have all night. Shot in the dark time.

“Abracadabra,” I said hopefully.

Nothing. The diamond-shaped window in the door, backlit only by morning sunlight, stared at me in silent recrimination.

Hmph.

“Open sesame!”

The wards and the door stubbornly refused to comply.

I tried once more. “Alohomora!”

Snake eyes. I sighed. Why should I expect Thorn to have read classic children’s magic literature. This was working my last nerve. I’ve had a hell of a day, and don’t want to deal with a house that didn’t want me inside. I raised my foot and kicked it forward hoping my enhanced strength would let me bash the door in. Instead, the wardspushed back,throwing me on my ass.

I narrowed my eyes as I glared at the front door with a mind of its own.

“Damn it, Thorn sent me!” I yelled.

The house sighed as if releasing a great burden, and the lock clicked open.

Well, I’ll be damned.

To be fair, unless I get this dweomer out of my chest, I probably will be.

Feeling inordinately pleased with myself, I grabbed my groceries and pushed the door open.

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