My Demon Neighbor (Demon Debacles #4)

Chapter 1

One

Pythor

I couldn't do it. I just couldn't.

It would be so easy. All I had to do was change into my incorporeal form, and walk straight through the wall of my living room, across the pathway, and through the wall of his living room, and I could figure out just what was wrong with my neighbor.

Why did he insist on playing music in the middle of the night?

To be fair, he didn't play it too loud, and it wasn't ear-piercing music like heavy metal or something.

He had a playlist he listened to again and again, night after night.

All songs by the same pop singer, and while she wasn't bad, I was getting sick of hearing the same songs over and over and over.

I could put a silencing ward around my place. All it would take was a snap of my fingers. But I also couldn't.

I wasn't just a demon chilling in the human world on a vacation. I had a mission: find and capture the dark souls who'd escaped from the Burning Chasm... and the demon Mammon, who'd gone dark at some point without me or any of the other demons realizing.

I couldn't put up a silencing ward, because what if the dark souls passed by, and I didn't hear them because of it? I knew the likelihood was low, but it wasn't zero, and that meant I couldn't do it.

I'd been trying to convince myself to walk over to his place in my incorporeal form—which would make me invisible as well as untouchable—to do a little reconnaissance, but I just couldn't. As much as my neighbor drove me up the wall with his oddities, I couldn't encroach on his privacy like that.

His home was his domain, and if I wasn't a demon with heightened senses, he'd be a model neighbor.

The only reason his...actions annoyed me was because I was a demon.

If I was just another human, I'd never hear the music he played every night, and the lights all around his porch and inside his house—that he kept turned on all fucking night—wouldn't bother me through the thick, dark curtains I'd bought.

A few times, I'd flicked those lights off with my magic, but it was like it'd woken him up instantly, because they'd turned back on a few minutes later.

I didn't know what his deal was, why he insisted on doing these things, but I was going to figure it out.

A few days ago, I'd gone to the demon realm to take a nap in my familiar, comfortable room, and Eshim had come by with his human mate.

His mate had suggested I try talking to my neighbor and telling him that his lights and music were messing with my sleep, and I thought I might have to find a way to do that.

The problem with that was that my neighbor never left his house. Ever.

I'd only recently moved to this house a few months ago.

While it had been around nine months since we demons moved to the human realm, I'd started off in an apartment a few miles from here.

But I got bored of the place after a while, and the pesky neighbors who were far too friendly for my tastes—the only people I was friendly with were my fellow demons, and the people at the community center—so when I saw this place on sale, I snatched it up.

It was a nice house, and if not for my neighbor, I'd be perfectly content living here for the rest of my stay. Was this karma because I wasn't friendly to my last neighbors?

I shook my head, then checked my phone. My neighbor was taking up far too much space in my head. I needed to stop thinking about him and focus on other, more important things.

Like the fact that I was going to be late for my shift at the community center. Being a demon, I didn't need to work, which was why I instead volunteered. It was a way to pass the time, and I also enjoyed helping people.

My reasons weren't completely altruistic, but the people at the center were far more tolerable than most of the other humans I interacted with. They seemed more real to me, more... relatable, in a way the people living in this high-class gated community didn't.

Leaving my house, I locked up—not that anyone would be able to get in my place without me knowing—then went down the porch steps.

While I could just teleport right from my living room to the closest secluded place near the center, I preferred to at least get out of the house and walk out of the gate before doing it, so the other humans wouldn't think I was also a recluse like my neighbor.

I had to make sure I didn't stand out in any way, because humans couldn't know what I was.

Sticking my keys in my pocket, I glanced up and saw a car parked in front of my neighbor's place. It was a vehicle that returned every weekend, sometimes staying all day, but today was the first time I caught a glimpse of the person who drove it.

She was a few inches shorter than me, but appeared quite strong for a human.

She had long, bright pink hair that reminded me of the sugary confection Calux's new child seemed to love, and a lot of piercings.

She had three in each ear, and two in the right nostril.

I bit back a smirk as I realized she looked like someone had smashed my two demon friends, Elva and Kali, into one.

As I watched, she juggled far too many shopping bags, containers, and what looked like blank canvases as she tried to close the car door with her foot, and I hurried over, closing the car door for her and catching a container—that seemed to be full of cookies—just as it toppled off the top of her stack.

"Fucking hell," she muttered, then glanced at me, a smile lighting up her face as her blue eyes roamed over me.

She clearly liked what she saw—which seemed to be the common reaction among most humans—as she gave me a second onceover, and I placed the container on top of her stack, watching for a moment to make sure it wouldn't fall again. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," I said, and she blinked, then carefully held a hand out, three shopping bags hanging off the wrist as I shook it.

"I'm Vanessa."

"Pythor."

"That's an unusual name."

"It is."

An awkward silence hung, and she took her hand back after a moment, then tilted her head toward my neighbor's house.

"I better get going."

For a moment, I was tempted to question her about my elusive neighbor, but I bit back the urge, instead giving her a nod and making my exit before curiosity got the best of me.

Codie

"You didn't tell me your neighbor is such a hottie," Nessa said as she bustled inside, and I quickly closed the door after her, turning all three locks and switching the alarm back on.

I turned to face her, my brows furrowing as I tugged at the sleeves of my dark brown coat.

Before that night, this coat had hung in the back of my closet without being used for years, but I'd stumbled upon it during a bout of obsessive cleaning, and ever since, it'd become a security blanket for me.

It'd belonged to my father, and I'd held onto it simply because it reminded me of him and made me feel closer to him, but now I wore it all the time, and when it was in the washer, I used a thick blanket and waited impatiently until it dried so I could wear it again.

"Fuck, why is your place always so cold? Are you part polar bear?" she demanded as she made a beeline for my kitchen, and I trailed after her, my coat brushing my ankles. Of course, wearing the coat all day meant I had to turn the temperature down so I wouldn't overheat, and I winced.

"Sorry."

She waved me off as she started restocking my fridge with the things she'd bought, and I leaned against the counter as I watched her. Nessa was... she was my anchor. I didn't think I would've survived without her.

We'd met in college, where she'd teased me about my 'useless degree' in art until she saw one of my paintings. Then, she'd declared she was going to be my agent and sell my paintings for millions. And when Vanessa Mulligan decided on something, nothing could stop her.

She'd kept her promise, but she'd done more than that. She'd saved my life, and made sure I never felt alone in this world. Even now, when I was nothing like the man she'd met all those years ago, she still loved me, and I didn't know how I could ever thank her for that.

"What neighbor?" I asked, suddenly remembering what she'd said as she came in.

She gave me a wide-eyed look, then waved toward the living room. "The one that lives right across the street. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome? Don't tell me you haven't seen him?"

I shrugged because we both knew I spent most of my time in the spare bedroom, aka my art studio.

She sighed, then abandoned the groceries—she'd put away all the perishables, and clearly that was enough—and made her way to the dining table, where my laptop sat abandoned.

I'd definitely not been perusing articles about me and the wild guesses people were making as to why I'd turned into a recluse.

Somehow, none of the reporters had caught wind of the police report I'd filed, which made sense because despite all the details and DNA they had, they'd never managed to catch anyone.

Before, I'd had some faith in the police, in the fact that at the end of the day, they were doing their best. But now, I couldn't help wondering if they'd been paid to make it all disappear. How else would the nosy journalists have absolutely no clue what'd happened to me?

The only person I'd ever told—other than the cops—was Nessa, and I knew she would never tell anyone, not unless I asked her to.

"Look," Nessa said, and I jumped, even though I'd known she was there. She gave me an apologetic look, and I shook my head. It wasn't her fault I was a scaredy mess.

Walking over to her, I peered at the laptop screen, blinking at the page.

It seemed to be a website for a community center downtown, and she pointed at a picture of a room full of teenagers in the middle of some exercise.

Self-defense class, according to the snippet of text beside it.

I eyed the man she was pointing at, and realized I had caught glimpses of him a few times when he passed by.

He was tall, with wiry black hair that was trimmed short, dark skin, and darker brown eyes. He was in the middle of demonstrating some move, and I had to admit—he was handsome. Not that I was interested. That wasn't happening. Ever.

"How did you even find him so quickly?" I asked, and she rolled her eyes.

"His name is Pythor. Do you know how many Pythors there are in this city? One," she said, making me chuckle.

"He's handsome, he's clearly rich if he lives here, and he volunteers. Can you say 'the perfect man?'" she asked, and I eyed her.

"You like him?"

She snorted. "I would like him in my bed," she joked, then shook her head. "But I'm not his type."

"How would you even know that? You're beautiful."

"I know," she said with a wink. "And I know because while I basically eye-fucked him, he didn't even take a peek at these," she said, waving at her boobs. "You know which other man in my life doesn't care about these? You."

I chuckled, which made her smile, and she pursed her lips. "I have no chance with this one. You, on the other hand..." She trailed off, and I shook my head.

"Nope. Don't even think about it."

"But—"

"Nessa, please."

She sighed, then stood up and patted my cheek.

"Fine, fine. I'm going to make some coffee, and then help you finish stocking up," she declared, then walked back to the counter, her flowy skirt swishing with every step.

Nessa was such a perfect mix of badass and beautiful, and when she was around, her bright, cheerful aura was enough to push away the darkness that bogged me down whenever I was alone.