Beastly & Bookish: Horned up for the Holidays

Chapter One

“Adeal’s a deal, Jaromar. The building is yours.”

The older demon and I clasp forearms in a traditional handshake. My eyes glow fever-warm while his burn a brighter shade of red. We nod at the same time, sealing the agreement.

Demonkind are natural bargainers and will con you out of the clothes on your back, but when we make a deal, we stick to it. There’s no one I understand better and would rather do business with than my own kind. While we’re the least populous of the world’s people groups, here in Winter Bliss, we’re the majority. The active volcano nearby is an epicenter for demons who come for the holidays and to ski the lava flows that erupt every winter.

The real estate agent, Balthazar Jones, leans back and surveys the empty storefront he just rented me. “My Maggie will love having a coffee shop in this old building. What’re you naming the place?”

“Perkatory.”

“Ha! Glad to see the Perchaz family doing so well.” He’s an old friend of my dad”s, and a grin kicks up on one side of his face at the name. Perkatory is a play on words, not only nodding to our family name but our demon background too, at least the human myths about us ruling some hellish purgatory full of fire and brimstone.

Call me crazy, but it always sounded kind of pleasant.

My family started the business as a coffee cart at the local university in Austin, Texas. Mom and Dad manned the mobile drink stand while us kids ran deliveries all over campus. That single rickety cart grew into a fleet of coffee trucks then brick and mortar locations. Business has never been better. Between my parents and brothers, we manage a flagship cafe, a roastery, and four chain locations throughout Texas. Big families are common with fated mate couples, like my mom and dad.

This lease in Idaho will be our first expansion as a national brand. And choosing a sleepy holiday town like Winter Bliss is no coincidence. It’s where I spent the glory days of childhood.

Out the lead-paned front windows, sit the general store and post office, as quaint as ever. Closer to my heart, this empty storefront is next door to the town library, my favorite place as a kid.

Maybe she’s still here somewhere, my mind whispers.

I peek at the older demon as I gather the paperwork set on the glossy bartop. He would know. But how do I ask without him looking too hard into it? Demons, especially demons in a small town like this, gossip like it’s everybody’s business.

And I’ve always hated being the center of attention.

“How is your wife?” I ask. They lived on the same street as her family back then.

“The woman never stops working.” He beams. “Started an Etsy shop that sold like hot cakes and helped us buy our dream home, a new chalet up on the BZB.”

“Nice.”

Well, damn. He moved to the rich mountain down the road. Mount BZB is a snowy paradise of a mountain compared to its twin closer to town, the fire-scarred and treacherous ridges of Mount Winter Bliss. Only the wealthiest locals can afford to live near the luxe five-star resort and hobnob with the mega-rich tourists.

Good for him. At the same time, there’s no inroad to press him about his old neighbors. My childhood best friend. What if she’s still here?

His phone dings. When he looks down, his eyes light up, and a familiar flush colors his face, which for a demon can only mean one thing. A deal is going down.

“Gotta run to another appointment, son.”

It’s the demon way. Make money and chase the bottom dollar. Bargain for the lowest price so we can reap the highest profit. It’s a compulsion. An instinct. A tickle in the back of our mind when the opportunity to gain an advantage presents itself. Because of our unique nature and competitiveness, demons dominate the business world.

And I’ve never fit in. I mean, I’m good at business. Really good, in fact. But my motto? Work smarter, not harder.

Today for instance, I used the flight from Austin to Boise to file the small business paperwork with my lawyer. After some targeted market research, I selected the three best storefront vacancies with availability to tour today. The first was the best, and within an hour of arriving in Winter Bliss, I have the keys to our new space. I didn’t bother to haggle on the rent much beyond the customary two counteroffers. Frankly, we got a killer deal. While the real estate market in this small town is hot, it’s still pennies on the dollar compared to what I’d have paid.

As Balthazar leaves, I exhale and look around the barren space. New electrical and roof. A decent kitchen area. It’s an empty shell, but the exposed brick walls and a century-old vintage bartop are great bones to build the Perkatory aesthetic upon. I can see it now. Gothic light fixtures, richly tufted seating, and a long wall of bookcases.

The best part of our business, in my opinion, is the lending library. Mom and Dad don’t love my insistence on lining every available wall with used books available for free. It’s bad business. We should stock merchandise. At least sell new books at retail price, Jaromar. I understand the argument, but it’s the only thing I put my foot down about as their general manager.

And if my calculations are correct, we’ll be in the black on Perkatory’s newest location within six months. But first, we have to get the coffee shop up and running, and to do that I’m stuck here until my mom’s second cousin gets back into town. She’ll be the store manager, and I want to make sure she’s set up for success before I leave the launch logistics in her care.

I twirl the keys on my finger and pocket them, congratulating myself for a hard day’s work completed in half the time. I click two buttons on my phone and “Out of Office Activated” grays out the screen.

Is there anything better than two weeks off with nothing to do except read books? The answer is, most definitely, no.

Leaving Perkatory’s newest location, I feel like a king.

Two hours later, trudging through gray slushy ice as I cross the street, I feel more like a fool.

I can’t find a hotel room to save my life, and every vacation rental online is booked. This town has seen a glow-up I wasn’t expecting! There are cheery holiday decorations, fancy streetlights, and the sidewalks are clean and completely clear of snow. A featherlight flurry swirls around but nothing sticks to the ground.

“Rom?”

I look up. No one calls me that except close friends.

The bearded ugly mug of a demon, more mountain monster than man, blinks at me. Then I notice the unique shadow of hazel orange-black eyes and familiar scowl. Even years later, it can only be—

“Azgoran?” I rear back and shake my head. His hair is messy and clothes unkempt. “Damn dude, you look . . .”

He grimaces. “Like shit? Yeah, it’s been a tough couple years.”

“Huh.” I scrub a hand down my face. “Mom heard through the grapevine you came into some money. Figured you’d be living large.” Maybe it was a rumor or he lost it gambling. It happens.

He shrugs and grumbles something incoherent, turning to walk away.

“Hey!” I say, a little miffed he’s just walking away.

He turns back.

“You know why all the hotels are booked up?”

His head juts forward, expression telling me I’m an idiot. He gestures toward the blackened active volcano towering over the valley. “Winter Bliss go boom.”

I pause. Think about the date. We’re right around the holidays. “Oh, shit. New Year’s Eve.”

“You really forgot?” He looks at me with a hint of a smile that’s also a little sad. From the winter solstice to the new year, the holidays were some of the best days of our childhood. Visitors and locals alike packed the streets for the parade and festival, ending with a midnight party on New Year”s Eve in the town square. Demons from all over converge on this sleepy town to take part in a fire-magic ritual to conjure Mount Winter Bliss to erupt. It’s a long-held tradition to ensure the active volcano lets off some steam and stays safe for another year.

There was no shortage of trouble my brothers and I got into over the winter school breaks. Skinny dipping in Teapot Lake. Jumping over campfires without our clothes catching. Sneaking extra food samples from the holiday market vendors.

“I guess I just lost track of the days.” I shake my head and gesture to my much older, rounder body. “Or more like the years.”

He chuckles.

“Damn,” I say. “I was looking forward to checking out the town, maybe seeing who”s still around.” A vision of a girl with fire-bright hair haunts me again. Az seems like a loner. It’s probably safe to ask. “Say, you remember Noelle?”

His gaze narrows. “The librarian?”

“Yeah, his niece.”

“No. She’s the librarian now.”

I stand straighter, then glance down the road to the storefront I leased just next door to the historic library. My heart races, blood roaring in my ears. I run a hand over the metal covering my broken horn and tug the hair on the right side of my face further down to cover my scars. Smoothing down my sweater, I realize how rumpled it is. I look like shit, but stopping by the library is now at the top of my to-do list once I find a place to freshen up.

“You know a place I could stay?” I ask.

He considers me for a moment, then smiles. “Remember Old Ethel?”

“The lady that used to tase us when we tried to steal candy at her corner store?”

“Same one. Still there too. She owns a cabin up Last Hour Road that’s definitely got no renters.”

“I checked the apps,” I say doubtfully. “Everything’s booked up. You really think so?”

“I know so. Wanna bet?”

I smile. A demon, even one as miserly and rough around the edges as Az seems these days, can’t resist a friendly wager.

“Nah. I trust you. Her customer service skills were never top notch.”

“Some things never change.”

I hand him my business card and lean over for a friendly shoulder pat on the left side as we say goodbye. I know how ugly I am and have grown used to hiding as much of the messed-up half of my face as possible.

Watching him go, I wonder what his story is, how a guy with millions in the bank could end up like this. It makes me even more curious what the town librarian is like these days, because if Noelle is still in town, I plan to bargain that old demoness for whatever she wants to get a cabin nearby.

What she wants is highway robbery.

Cash up front. Double the nightly rate of the best boutique hotel in town. And she insists I hire her son full-time with benefits for a two-year contract at the new Perkatory location. Apparently word travels fast, and she’d already heard about the lease.

The money is no problem. Double is better than triple, which was where she sat for the first half hour of our negotiation. But hiring Sneaky Simon? Hard pass. He was two years older than me in school and a crook to his bones. Some people can change, but I have my doubts about that dude.

Old Ethel snaps her fingers, and a blue flame dances to life at the tips of her nails. She lights the long black cigarette holder perched between her knobby fingers. All demons have fire magic but it varies just like our morphology. Horns, tails, fangs, wings, and more present in some demons and not others. They’re determined by our ancestor clans and unique genetic code as those cultures clashed.

We all have fire powers, though. I could have lit that cigarette for her. The fact she did it herself means not only is our negotiation still active, but she’s also keeping her cards close.

Her gaze cuts over me as she takes a deep drag, the embers on the end glowing a bright orange that nearly matches her eyes. Demons always run a hard bargain, but the older demonesses are the most cutthroat. I know what my mom would do right about now — another round of offers, perhaps circle back to raising the nightly cabin rate, anything to wear the other party down. Persistence pays off.

I can’t show how exhausted this makes me, so I lean forward on the counter, keeping my fists tight and gaze steady. If she senses weakness, she’ll drive me all the harder.

When she exhales, smoke curls out her nostrils like a living monster, sweetening the air and softening the deep grooves of her wrinkles.

“Hire Simon.”

“No.” My response is immediate. I don’t mind paying double for a two-week stay but hiring her son for a two-year contract? That’s not gonna fly with our company’s HR policies.

“No deal.” She flicks her ash up in a delicate, silver arc and it turns to dust before it hits the laminate counter.

A light growl rumbles from my throat, and my jaw tenses. She smirks at me because I just betrayed how much I want this. It’s up to me to compromise now.

“Why doesn’t he work for you?” I ask, even though I know. I just want to hear it from her.

She sniffs and inclines her head. “Nepotism is a horrible thing.”

I scoff. That’s probably a dig at my family, but nepotism is the demon way. Demonkind trust our close family in business, while we keep everyone else at arm’s length. But our new store manager is a tough cookie. She can keep him in line or cut him loose.

“I can offer a three-month probation employment. Benefits kick in if he passes the first evaluation at thirty days. If he performs, he can stay.”

Her smirk is set in stone. I can’t read her. The boundaries need to be clear.

“If he steals or does anything shady, he’s out.” I say. “Rules are rules.”

Her red skin and eyes begin to glow, otherworldly. She’s excited. An agreement is close.

“And fair is fair.” Her voice is like honey. “So, we have a deal?”

I need that cabin, and now it’s mine.

I count out the thick wad of cash required to pay for the cabin. Placing it in her hand, she drops a rabbit’s foot keychain with a single antique key in my opposite outstretched palm. The address on the paper tag reads 972 Last Hour Road.

I lean a little closer, eye level, and grasp her soft, wrinkled forearm, paying her the same respect as Mr. Jones for an agreement reached between two consenting parties.

My eyes warm, field of vision tinted a pinky haze.

Her face brightens, spidery veins glowing gold from under her thin, near-translucent skin.

We both nod and say together, “A deal is a deal.”

She smiles, transforming her wrinkled face into something beautiful and sinister.

The front door clatters closed behind me.

“Oh, dear. I’m sorry to interrupt, Miss Ethel.”

The demoness’s sharp gaze snaps to the voice behind me, and her villainous smile turns soft.

“Noey, right on time.”

I straighten and turn, fidgeting with the fall of hair on my right side so it’s covering my scars. My heart pounds against my ribs, body flashing hot and hotter. My palm slips on the counter, and I bang my elbow. Sweaty in five seconds flat. Embarrassing.

Thank the Mother Below for the countertop holding me up.

Noelle Goode is a sight to behold.

I thought she was pretty when I was a teenager, but the woman before me is something else. She shakes out her hair, and the red strands blaze around her, lit fierce and breathtaking in the afternoon sun. Her pale skin is a healthy pink all over. Snowflakes stick to her shoulders and eyelashes like sprinkles on a cupcake.

She moves closer, speaking to the demoness behind me, but I hear nothing. My mind is buzzing. A hot instinct I’ve never felt before courses through my blood.

Is she real? The beautiful redhead moves so smoothly it’s as if she’s floating more than walking.

My body twists as she approaches the counter, turning so she only sees my left side, the decent half of my face. As she moves closer, chatting with Old Ethel, the side of her hand grazes mine.

“Oop. Sorry.” She flashes me a smile before going back to her conversation.

My skin burns. My glasses fog up a little as I look her over. That’s when I notice she’s wearing roller skates.

I grin. How can I not?

As a kid, she was always on skates. Up and down the library stacks, she helped her uncle shelve books or popped down the street to run errands for him. I can still see the bruises and rainbow Band-Aids that covered her legs. Falling never scared her, even though her skin was more delicate than a demon’s. She tried to teach me once with her strap-on skates. I was useless. In my mind, I can still hear her laugh at my halted attempt. But unlike the kids who used to tease me for my face or having a stutter, she never laughed at me. We laughed together.

I peek at her left hand, heart in my throat. Surely, she’s married with a brood of kids.

Nothing. I exhale. Even her style is familiar. She always loved bright colors and still does judging by her bright puffer jacket and orange leg warmers. But adult Noelle is generously curved, filling out her clothes in the most voluptuous of ways.

The smile on my face must be maniacal at this point by the way I can feel it tugging on my scar. They say sparks fly when you meet someone special, and man is that right.

The tingly shock of electricity zaps my elbow.

“What the Holy Mother—“ I rear back and glance at the old demoness waving her mini taser at me. “You tased me!”

“Miss Ethel, you know how the chief of police feels about you assaulting town visitors.” Noelle chides.

“Shoo!” The older lady lunges forward, electricity crackling blue and white around her weapon of choice. To her, I’m just some nobody outsider eyeing Noelle up. As much as I don’t enjoy being zapped with high voltage electricity, I can’t help but respect her protectiveness.

“She doesn’t mean any harm, sir.” Noelle turns to me with an apologetic smile.

My mouth snaps shut.

She really doesn’t remember me. This girl was my best friend until I moved away. My first crush. We shared every secret, but now she has no idea who I am.

Noelle slides a bright yellow flier and a paperback book across the counter toward the demoness. It’s a plastic-covered historical romance with a vintage illustrated cover. The hero is practically nude on the cover, holding a lady fainting in his arms. It looks so familiar. Oh wait—

“That’s really valuable.” I point to the book and pull up my phone to do a quick internet search. “Yep. $50 on the low-end. $100 or more for a signed first edition in like-new condition. It’s an iconic and controversial book cover in the romance genre.”

“Is that so?” Ethel looks over the book, front and back, with interest.

I can see the wheels turning already.

“It belongs to the library.” I glare. “Better not go missing.” She could report it lost, pay the list price, and resell it for higher. The old demoness smirks at me with a cocked eyebrow. Yeah, I know how you work, lady.

“Huh. Who knew?” Noelle looks at me again and squints. My heart is in my throat hoping she’ll recognize me, but she simply shakes her head and turns back to Old Ethel. “Got a few more deliveries to make. Still raising money for the library.”

“That’s right.” The older woman pockets the giant wad of cash I gave her and comes back with two wrinkly dollar bills and a lollipop.

“Ah, thanks.” Noelle takes them with a smile, but it looks strained. Her disappointment is evident. “I’ll bring you another steamy read next week.”

“Same time, same place.” Old Ethel picks up the book, her eyes dancing over the cover.

The neon flier slips further down the counter toward me. I pick it up.

Fundraiser! Save Our Library!

Free delivery of personalized book recommendations. Donations gladly accepted.

Contact Noelle for more info. 555-2116.

By the time I look back up, the door is swinging shut and Noelle skates down the sidewalk in a flash of red hair. I stride up to the front window, unable to take my eyes off her. Gosh, she’s pretty. A woman on a mission. While there’s a little snow in places, the sidewalks and road are mostly clear. At the stop sign, she crouches and rolls around the corner.

Gone from sight, just like that.

“Don’t even think about it,” the old demoness shouts. “I know that look, and I know that girl.”

I turn back, patting my front pocket holding the key to my new place. A deal’s a deal. Her cabin is mine for the next two weeks. Plenty of time to reconnect with a pretty librarian with fire-bright hair.

“You do, do you?” I know Noelle too, and this lady just cheaped out on her when she’s trying to raise money for a good cause. I take that a little personally.

“Noey’s a good girl.” Her glower is a terrible thing. She picks up her long cigarette and takes a deep drag, eyes trailing over me dismissively. I know what she sees. Noelle would never go for me. I’m beastly, ugly as sin, whereas she’s the town beauty. For a second, my confidence falters until Old Ethel flicks the ash off and stares me in the eyes. “She doesn’t date outsiders.”

That’s it? This lady has no idea that Noelle and I knew each other. My brain tickles, neck and face flashing hot at the opportunity to prove her wrong.

I have zero game with women. Less than zero, actually, more like forty below and my nuts are freezing off. They take one look at my face and no matter my business success, it”s a polite brush off. I shouldn”t make this bet. My brain says walk away, but the demon instinct inside wonders.

What if it”s possible?

I’d already planned to find a way to talk to Noelle, and some girls like scars, right? I’m far from confident and this is a stupid deal, but I lay my money on a losing bet with the fakest smile of self confidence I can muster.

“You wanna bet?”