Chapter Twenty-Seven
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
After several hours of tossing and turning, Damien had not been able to sleep, so he decided to get to the shop and catch up on a few pending alterations.
Today, he drove his cobalt blue convertible Mustang and wore a navy-blue suit with a deep purple tie. It was his go-to outfit when he planned to gorge himself on Chinese food since it hid stains well.
He opened the shop and went in back to find all of his orders had been completed with a note from MF saying that she’d had some extra time on her hands.
Damien growled. He’d been looking forward to the work and taking his mind off things. Damned speedy vampire. Will I get to do any tailoring now that she’s turned?
He would have a stern conversation with her when she came in. Time for her own shop.
The bell over the door out front jingled.
“MF? Is that you?” He marched out. “This cannot go on. I am the tailor here…”
Standing in the middle of his shop was that redheaded dragon woman. Her green eyes were filled with a wild sort of panic.
“Jac, what are you doing here?” he asked.
“You never called me back,” she said.
“My apologies. I completely forgot. It’s been a very strange twenty-four, but you could have simply called again.” Although, his phone was still off. He did not want to risk any of the gods bothering him with new missions, threats of decapitation, or whatever else they felt would keep him in line.
“I’m here because Heebie killed Dash.”
Ah yes. That. “I am sorry to hear of the stripper’s demise, but I am sure the club will find another.”
“No.” She approached him and grabbed his arms. “He’s a vanity demon.”
“Did someone say demon?” Bonbon walked up with Gorgonzolina on his tail.
“What’s that?” Jac took a step away from Bonbon.
“Just ignore him,” Damien said.
“But I could swear your dog was just talking to you.”
“He is a love-sucking demon. Their verbal skills are primitive, so it takes practice to understand them.”
“Hey!” Bonbon protested. “I’m a lover, not a fighter, but I’ll still bite you for comments like that.”
“That furball is a demon.” She exhaled. “Sure. Why not? If a kitten can turn into a dragon, and I can pop out eggs—”
“You lay eggs? Cool. Can I see one?” MF came waltzing in through the front door, wearing a black leather miniskirt, platform boots, and a cropped-back turtleneck.
Damien grunted. “Suits, MF. We sell suits. Not vampire party clothes.”
“My dresses are total party gear,” MF snapped back. “Grandpa.”
Grandpa? Her mate, Maxton, was older than him. “You and I will speak about the dress code and dresses later.” He moved his attention back to Jac, who was frozen, staring at MF.
“Yes, she is a vampire,” Damien said blandly. “Now, how may I help you with your stripper demon issue?” Not that he would help her, but the sooner he understood what she wanted, the sooner she could get on her way.
Jac slowly peeled her eyes away from MF. “Um, okay. Do you remember when we were backstage at the club and you and Cimil were arguing about getting a new body for your ghost friend?”
“She is not my friend, but yes, I remember.”
She went on, “I know it’s a long shot, but could I have that body for Dash? I mean, you said your friend didn’t want it.”
Jac was here for a body? “I am sorry, but I cannot help you.”
“So there is no body?” she asked, sounding devastated.
“Yes, there is. And Sky intends to use it.”
Jac’s eyes filled with big sloppy tears. “Ohgods. Ohgods. This can’t be happening. Dash is going to be stuck in purgatory forever, and it’s all my fault.”
“Cimil has other bodies, Damien.” MF narrowed her eyes and placed a comforting hand on Jac’s shoulder. “She has a freezer full of ingredients to make more. In fact, we just saw her pump out a whole set of new gods last night.”
Jac pulled a tissue from her purse. “What?”
Bad idea . “You do not want to pursue this, Jac,” Damien said. “Trust me that whatever hell you’re in right now is nothing compared to what will happen if you ask Cimil for a favor.”
“But you can make sure she doesn’t screw me over,” Jac said, her words frantic. “You have to help me. We have to try. I…I…love him.” Jac’s tears went from a trickle to Niagara Falls.
Why are all the women crying! “Stop it. That won’t work on me,” he said. “I am immune to women’s tears.”
“Since when?” MF scoffed.
“Since one minute ago. And I am not asking Cimil for any favors.” Damien was beyond done with her and her brethren. His life was a fucking mess because of them.
“Okay.” Jac sniffled. “Then I’ll go myself. Where is this place? Where do I find Cimil?”
“I’ll take you,” MF said. “But it has to wait until the sun goes down. I spent too much time outside already.” Her eyes zeroed in on Jac’s neck.
MF was hungry.
Oh, fucking hell. “MF, order DoorDash. And, fuck it, I’ll take you, Jac,” he grumbled.
“Seriously?” Jac threw herself on him, trapping him in a bear hug.
“Okay. Okay.” He patted her back. “You’re wrinkling my suit.”
Jac let him go. “Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.”
No, you don’t know what this means to me. He’d rather burn in hell than see Cimil again.
“Is there a chance it will work?” Jac asked. “Do you think Cimil will know how to find Dash? His soul is just floating around trapped between the demon world and this one.”
“Try making a shrine,” Gorgonzolina said. “Use whatever photos you have of him and light a bunch of candles. Then start complimenting him. The more details, the better.”
“Why?” Damien asked.
“He’s a vanity demon,” Gorgonzolina replied. “He’ll be drawn to her attention if her feelings are genuine.”
Damien relayed the message to Jac.
“This is wonderful!” Jac clapped her hands. “I have a really, really good feeling about this.”
Only because she had no idea what she was in for. Cimil would want her pound of flesh in exchange for this, and she would get it, too.