Black Arts, White Craft (Black Hat Bureau 2)

2

The reality of a hulking daemon standing on my doorstep, dressed in nothing more than a pair of yellow skintight boxer briefs that might as well have been reflective, muted my shock and kick-started my brain.

“Have you lost your mind?” I tugged on his fever-hot elbow. “Get in here before someone sees you.”

“Rue.” The daemon prowled inside then presented me with…a cupcake. “Brought gift.”

This wasn’t a cupcake from today. Wrong flavor. The delivery had been apple cider cake filled with apple chutney and topped with caramel icing. This hit me as more death by chocolate meets molten lava cake. It could give an ice cream cone a run for its money with the amount of decadent frosting twirled on top.

It was also missing a bite.

Which would explain the frosting smear on the daemon’s upper lip.

“Thank you.” I checked the street then shut the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”

“Clay busy.” He held the cupcake closer to me. “I come alone.”

Any closer, and he would smash frosting up my nose. “So, you’re blaming this on Clay.”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” I accepted the treat. “That’s convenient.”

The daemon did his best to appear angelic, which worked about as well as you would expect.

According to Asa, the daemon was and wasn’t him, which made addressing them problematic.

Half daemon, half fae, he considered himself dae. Too bad my options weren’t as catchy. Using his logic, I qualified as either a blite witch or a whack witch, given my parents practiced both branches of magic.

“Can I talk to Asa, please?” I turned the cupcake this way and that. “I’ll take a bite if you do.”

The daemon raked a fang over his bottom lip, clearly tempted, but he shook his head. “Asleep.”

“Asa is asleep?” I wasn’t sure how I felt about the daemon seeking me out solo. “Okay, where is Clay?”

“Hotel,” he grumbled. “Said we come tomorrow.”

The big galoot had to be kidding me. “He didn’t notice you leaving?”

“He petting his hairs.” The daemon curled his lip. “He bathe them too.”

Clay was created bald, as all golems were, but he did love his wigs as if they were his children.

A spark of inspiration burned in the daemon’s eyes as he shoved a hank of his hair at me. “Rue pet.”

Goddess bless.

In lusting after Asa’s hair, I had created a monster, and I had only myself to blame.

Cupcake in one hand, hair in the other, I had a choice to make. I set down the cupcake and fished out my phone. Clay hadn’t changed his number since he and I were partners, a fact that gave me warm fuzzies.

Dialing from memory, I waited for him to answer, then drawled, “Missing something?”

“I’m already in the SUV,” he grumbled, “on my way to you.”

At seven feet tall and four hundred pounds, he had a knack for busting captain’s chairs if he breathed too hard while sitting in them. I hoped he made it to the shop without incident. Usually, he rode in the back for the extra support of a bench seat.

“Don’t get huffy with me,” I said as I got huffy with him. “It’s not my fault your partner wandered off.”