Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Stuart waves at me in a panic when I step out of Bob’s empty stable.
“Emma, I apologise—Bob should have already been in for his afternoon check and feed. I’m sorry to inform you he keeps running away from our staff.
I even attempted to get him myself…but he would not come.
” He twists his hands and blinks at me with a contrite expression.
My lips twitch and I try not to laugh. Bob at twenty-eight is the same horse he was at three.
The older he gets, the easier he should be, but no, he seems to get sneakier with age.
“It’s no bother, Stuart, I’ll get him.” I grab his headcollar from the hook next to his stable door, and with Stuart on my heels, we head towards the fields.
“How is Mr Brown—” Stuart puffs out. Mhm, Mr Brown, my demon barrister and Bob’s owner…
this situation right here is the reason I shouldn’t lie.
Eighteen years I’ve had to keep up the ruse.
I think Stuart is aware that I’m not completely human, what with the not ageing and popping randomly out of thin air.
I had to make Mr Brown up on the fly and now he is a renowned barrister who works tirelessly at helping people with guild issues.
To be honest, he is a favourite of mine.
I thoroughly enjoy the havoc I can cause and the amount of good I can do when I wear Mr Brown’s face.
I have others do the legal stuff, as I’m not a barrister no matter what the paperwork says.
But I can be a figurehead when needed, a legal advocate for the vulnerable and the lost. “—Are the new laws causing you much trouble?” Stuart continues, his eyes glowing with his excitement. He’s such a gossip.
In response, I laugh and I shake my head.
Truthfully I answer, “Oh, the law-makers are the people who deal with all that. My firm is doing what it can to help. If I am honest, I keep well out of the way—it is far above my pay grade.” As Emma, I officially work as Mr Brown’s personal assistant and Bob’s groom.
I think of it as my Clark Kent disguise.
I go into a solicitor’s office daily and disappear in there for hours.
In reality, the practice is mine and the very best minds are behind helping me help others.
They know nothing about my gifts, and to them, Mr Brown is their boss and I’m his respected right hand.
I let them do their jobs while I spend all my time planning my rescues of the people I can’t save within the law.
I only keep abreast of the various legal situations of the races, as when big changes happen, the innocent can get caught up.
Also, there is a certain hellhound that I have a vested interest in protecting…I can’t help myself.
Stuart is still chatting away, and I smile and nod my head at the appropriate moments.
When we arrive at the field gate, I shout for Bob.
His head immediately comes up, and he does an adorable high-pitched whinny that I translate to mean, “My human is here.” He thunders across the field in my direction. The true love of my life.
“Hi Bob-cob, have you been naughty?” I ask him as he skids to a stop in front of me and gobbles up a couple of mints from my palm.
I smile as his whiskers tickle my hand. I then frown as I catch sight of clumps of mud that are stubbornly clinging to the side of his face.
I vigorously rub his face and left ear to clear the worst of it, and I get a mouthful of mud dust for my trouble as it transfers itself onto my face.
Satisfied, I pop Bob’s headcollar on and lead him out of the field.
I grin as Stuart scowls at Bob, and Bob flattens his ears and glares back.
I roll my sleeves up. My phone on the side is blaring out the local radio station and I dance around the living room. I’m setting up one of my safe houses, an apartment in the city centre. Apart from Ava and myself, and the few people that use a safe house, no one knows these places exist.
The money Arlo left in my name was a vast amount, and it amuses me, how I spend it.
It would have made the demon rage. I normally choose the places I buy to be in busy buildings with young, transient residents who won’t notice if somebody new arrives.
I rarely use houses, as an empty house on a street is more noticeable.
I have dozens of these apartments all over the country, and I try not to use the same one more than twice a year.
Sometimes I will move a person in and it will become their permanent residence.
It takes nothing with Ava’s computer skills to bury the paper trail and keep the apartments hidden.
I also use my doorway to access them when I stock up, so I don’t risk being followed and have the safe houses traced back to me.
I hum. The apartment is immaculate. I have stocked it with everything I can think of to make it comfortable. Unisex clothing—as I don’t help just women—in various sizes, food, and toiletries. I’m not expecting to use this place for a while, but it’s ready.
There is a bang behind me and the front door shudders. I have time to stop the music, send Ava a text message, silence my mobile, and shove it in my back pocket before the lock shatters.
I tilt my head and watch as three vampires barge their way into the apartment.
Huh. I raise my eyebrows. What do these idiots want?
“What the hell did you do to my door?” I ask incredulously, waving both hands at my poor dangling lock.
“Ever heard of knocking? Why did you break down my door?” At least the door itself isn’t damaged. What the bloody hell is going on?
Instead of saying anything, a vampire rushes me.
His fists are almost a blur as they fly at my face.
How rude. His form would mortify Scott, as his technique is awful.
I step to the side and punch him sharply in the kidney.
Vampire or not, that had to hurt. I kick out his knees and with a thump, he sprawls to the floor.
I shake my head as I step back away from his reach, and I keep his groaning, twisting form in my eye-line. I turn my regard to his friends, who so far, luckily for them, aren’t as brash. I raise an eyebrow, cross my arms, and tap my foot…I wait impatiently for an explanation.
It better be good.
“Is this her?” one of them asks. He is tall and thin, with a dark blond comb-over.
“Yeah, the demon bitch. Girl, our boss would like a word with you. You are coming with us,” his friend replies.
I make a meh-face. If I didn’t have my empathy and I was a normal demon, I would pop his head clean off for being so rude.
This rude guy is broader, with an athletic build, and his hair is cropped close to his scalp.
All three of the vampires are wearing variations on cheap combat clothing—although the tall blond guy’s pants aren’t quite long enough and they finish halfway up his ankles, leaving a bit of skin between his boots and pant leg.
He sees me looking and glares at me. I smirk back at him.
I turn my eyes back toward the chatty rude vampire. “Urm…yeah, about that. I don’t chat with people who send their goons to break down my door. I think I’ll pass, thanks.” The idiots are so paying to fix the lock.
“Bitch, you don’t have a choice.” The rude talkative one sticks his hand in his pocket and pulls out a magical Taser. Huh. “Come quietly—I don’t want to have to hurt you, but I will.” He wiggles the Taser at me and in response I hold my hands up.
Crap, I don’t fancy being zapped today. Sometimes they are just magic and it slides right off me; other times they can have a spark of electricity.
You know how in cartoons when a character gets electrocuted, you see a visible skeleton, a flash of bones?
Yeah, I always imagine myself looking like that when I get hit by one of those things. It makes my teeth hurt.
“Before we leave, we need to confirm your identity.” The tall vampire steps forward with a datapad. “Place your hand on the pad. It will take your fingerprints and a drop of your blood for DNA profiling,” he says in a bored tone.
“Oh, I can’t touch that thing…” I hold my hands up higher.
If I touch it, I’ll break it.
I can sense the magic in there—it’s a fancy combination of technology and magic.
The machine is like the medical ones at the hospital.
A rip-off version of the ones that the guilds carry.
The vampire with the pad ignores my protest and grabs my hand.
He wrestles my arm down and with a heavy grip, grinds the delicate bones of my hand together painfully.
I wince as he slaps my palm against the screen and within seconds there’s a beep and a burning smell. A puff of smoke comes out of the side of the machine and some poor pathetic-sounding beeps signal its death.
“What the fuck…you did that on purpose.”
“I really didn’t. I tried to warn you.” I give him a toothy grin and shrug. “You put my hand on it.” His face slowly morphs into horror and the hand holding the broken datapad trembles. I think reality has just caught up with him and he realises that I am a demon.
The vampire on the floor—whom with a smirk I dub “the Kung Fu Master”—groans and staggers to his feet.
Oh, here we go.
Like a wet dog, he shakes himself, and then a ferocious expression passes across his face. With a war cry of “Arrah,” the bloody idiot attempts to rush me again.
I roll my eyes as I dodge his fist, and this time, I throat-punch him. Eyes wide, clutching his throat, he gurgles and drops back to the floor. I wince as his knees crunch. Red-faced, he sputters.