The Trouble with Black Cats and Demons: Cary Redmond, #1

1

N ot again. Cary Redmond ducked as another fireball clipped over her head. You don’t think fireballs are a bit over the top, she shouted up at the ceiling then had to duck again as a dagger whispered past her ear.

Close. Her heart pounded. Way too close.

She needed to find the damned cat and get out of here. She scanned the apartment from her dubious cover behind a table piled high with unopened mail. Fireballs, daggers, gusts of preternatural wind, freezing hail and the occasional lightning bolt dropped around her, roaring through the living room in a bright cacophony of magical mayhem.

The lightning bolts flashing in the small confines were pretty spectacular. If they hadn’t been trying to fry her, she might have enjoyed the show.

Jaxer, I’m going to kill you for this.

Normally, this kind of thing was just part of her job. She was a Protector and literally got paid to run around keeping people safe, mostly from magical bad guys. Not that she’d asked for the job, but that was another story. It was her job, so she faced off against dangerous stuff because her bosses told her to.

Tonight, however, was not an official assignment. Tonight, she was doing a favor for her demented faery mentor. The bastard knew exactly how to get to her. All he had to do was mention a defenseless little black kitty cat and she was done for. How could she refuse to help a kitty? People did rotten things to black cats on Halloween.

Jaxer had forgotten to warn her about the fireballs.

She screeched through her teeth and dove behind the couch as one of the aforementioned fireballs barreled toward her. She cursed Jaxer as she took a quick look under the couch for the cat. Where the hell was it?

She’d called out to it when she’d first entered the apartment but hadn’t gotten any irate kitty responses. After her lurching hunt of the living room and kitchen, the only place left was the bedroom.

She pulled in a deep breath as she contemplated the long space of unprotected ground between her hiding spot behind the couch and the bedroom door. Once she found the cat, this would be easier. When she was actively protecting something, very little of the magical dangers could get to her, and nothing deadly would touch her. She just had to find the cat first. And quickly. They had to be out of this cursed apartment before midnight. Before the wizard got home and all hell broke loose.

Again.

She ducked flying objects and ran to the bedroom, squealing when a lightning bolt hit the ground right behind her. Crossing her fingers there were no nasty spells waiting for her, she lunged through the half-open door and cringed in anticipation of magical repercussions as she fell onto a red-carpeted floor. She held perfectly still, waiting. When nothing happened, she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees and shook her head.

All this for a cat. That bastard Jaxer had a lot to answer for.

She rose to a crouch, trying to calm her racing pulse, and froze.

In front of her sat a huge bed, which she barely noticed because the naked man lying in the middle of the enormous mattress stopped her heart.

Holy hell.

He was absolutely magnificent. Tan skin, well-defined muscles, thick, black hair hanging down over his forehead. He was lying against a giant headboard with his head hanging forward so she couldn’t get a good look at his face, but his golden eyes seemed to glow up at her from under his brows. Piercing and stunning and breath-stealing.

Cary swallowed. Hard. Because even the captivating gold of his eyes wasn’t enough to keep her gaze from wandering over the breadth of his naked chest, the corded muscles of his shoulders and arms, the flat expanse of his stomach. It took a great deal of will power not to follow the line of dark hair arrowing down his abdomen…lower.

The man straightened and Cary heard the clink of chains at the same time as she got a look at his neck—and the thick, metal collar covering most of it.

What the hell had Jaxer gotten her into?

Who’re you? she asked, breathless and embarrassed.

Who are you?

His voice carried a deep reverberation that made her spine tingle. Oh boy.

I’m looking for a black cat, she said, knowing the explanation sounded inane. Jaxer had told her about Sheldon the wizard, but this? This was something else all together. What was this guy doing here? He wasn’t Sheldon, she was sure of that, but then who was he? And where was the cat?

She blinked and a black leopard lay on the bed where the man had been. She sucked in a sharp breath, blinked again. And the man was back.

Whoa. Cary swallowed. "You’re the black cat I came to rescue?"

Oh, she really was going to kill Jaxer now. He hadn’t said anything about a fully grown man who happened to be a leopard shapeshifter. He’d made sure she thought she was after a little, harmless kitty cat, not a deadly dangerous big cat who shifted into a beautiful, naked, very large man.

The faery was dead. Not that she knew how to kill him, but that was beside the point.

Jaxer sent you? The man’s eyes narrowed and his features took on a dangerous edge. He hissed a curse under his breath and shook his head. Stupid.

Hey! She stood, the better to face his gorgeous disgust. No one should look that good while insulting you. You could have done worse, buddy.

She took a step toward the bed, wiping damp palms on her jeans. The chains she’d heard earlier linked the collar on his neck to the headboard, which was brass twisted into a scrawl of symbols she didn’t recognize but looked like they might mean something if she stared at them long enough. He wasn’t bound anywhere else that she dared peek, and the chains appeared flimsy enough. So the power keeping him confined must be in the collar.

What is that? She gestured with her head toward the thick band of metal.

A binding ring, he said slowly, as if speaking to a child.

She frowned, both at his tone and the news. But you just shifted.

It’s been designed to contain both my forms. Any other questions before you get me out of here?

Yeah, what crawled up your butt and put you in such a pissy mood?

Being held captive for sacrifice by a wizard and having a child sent to rescue me has dampened my day a bit, he said.

She grinned and enjoyed watching his eyes narrow suspiciously. Child, huh? You know, at my age that’s considered a compliment.

How old could you be? Twenty?

She shook her head. She’d actually turned thirty-two last April. But when she’d gotten tricked into becoming a Protector at twenty-six, she’d stopped aging at a normal rate. One of the few things about the job that didn’t irritate her.

She took a quick moment to glance around the rest of the room. The red carpet wasn’t the only gaudy element. Lots of black leather covered the walls and an animal skinned rug, which she was afraid to think about too closely given the captive on the overlarge bed, was tossed across the floor in front of what she thought might be a closet. A wood and metal trunk sat against one wall, red silk drapes covered the single window, and the overhead light was covered by thick, dark metal chains which gave the room strange shadows.

Fortunately, there were no nasty attack spells in here, which meant Sheldon didn’t want his captive accidentally hurt by a stray lightning bolt. That worked in her favor, giving her time to solve the binding ring problem without being pelted by hail.

Though even if there had been spells in here, now that she was officially protecting someone, she could keep them both safe.

She did wonder why Sheldon would care if his shapeshifting captive got hurt before the midnight sacrifice. Obviously, he didn’t want him killed too early. You couldn’t sacrifice something that was already dead. But an additional warning spell in here probably wouldn’t have killed his prisoner. Maybe. If Sheldon had enough control.

If he didn’t, and was as powerful as Jaxer claimed, they really needed to get out of here. Fast.

She eased up to the bedside, still leery of traps, and leaned in close to the shifter, trying to ignore the yummy, stomach-fluttering male scent of him as she studied the binding ring. It was a thick band of silver and copper intertwined in a complex pattern of twists and folds. Over the silver, tiny runic symbols danced and shimmered so they were impossible to read.

Oh good, she said, a hard one.

The prisoner shivered, a low growl rising from his throat. The sound made Cary’s heartbeat jump.

Speaking of hard ones.

She could feel his glare on the side of her face, but she resisted looking. She had other things to worry about at the moment.

Like how the hell she was going to get this damned spelled containment brace off his neck without alerting the entire mystical neighborhood.

You did that on purpose, the man snarled.

Huh? She glanced at him. What are you talking about?

Don’t breathe on me again, he said.

She scowled. What am I supposed to do? Hold my breath until I get your collar off? Just relax, big guy. You’ll be out of here in a minute. To herself, she mumbled, Wouldn’t have gotten this much grief from a proper black cat.

You some kind of witch?

No. After a moment, she sighed and shook her head. Well, there’s no help for it. I’m gonna have to use brute force. It’ll take too long to get this off subtly.

We don’t have much time. It’s nearly midnight now.

Gee, really?

He ignored her sarcasm. Brute force?

Hold onto your valuable body parts, she said and tried not to think about his exposed valuable parts. Then she wrapped her hands around the collar, easing her fingers gently under so the backs pressed against his neck. His skin was warm and another shiver danced down her spine.

Wait.

She met his gaze.

What the hell are you doing? If I can’t break that with my bare hands, you can’t—

He stopped short when she tugged and the collar came away with a quiet click.

I’m not without some talent, she murmured.

"Who are you?"

Come on. We have to get you out of here. I just made a lot of magical noise with that little stunt.

Hold on.

He grabbed her hand. The feel of his warm palm wrapped around her fingers sent tiny sparks of electricity dancing over her skin. He dropped his hold, but she saw his eyes widen with the same shock she felt. He inhaled deeply, and against her will, she watched the strong muscles of his chest rise and fall.

What’s your name? he asked.

Cary.

Cary. I’m Deacon.

Nice to meet you. Did that sounded as stupid to him as it did to her given the circumstances?

He smiled, a slow, deadly grin that made her pulse race. Nice to meet you, too.

She blinked and shook her head. Come on, Deacon. We need to move.

As he slid to the edge of the mattress, Cary turned her back to avoid embarrassing them both—despite the temptation to look over every inch of him. The sound of material moving over skin behind her didn’t help curb her less polite impulses, though, so she hurried to the door to see how the lightning bolts and fireballs were doing.

Slipping into his jeans, Deacon watched the woman as she peeked around the edge of the doorframe toward the living room and the still popping spells Sheldon had set to keep help from reaching him.

She wasn’t the rescue he’d been expecting. He’d expected the damned faery to come himself.

Jaxer had convinced him to let the wizard capture him, so they could find out why Sheldon was kidnapping shifters. They’d only found a few of Sheldon’s victims—their bodies anyway. And they’d been little more than desiccated husks. The rest, even their bodies had vanished.

Wizards didn’t go after shapeshifters for sacrifice very often. They were too hard to contain, and most of them didn’t have the kind of magical energy an average human wizard could absorb through ceremonial magic. Shapeshifting wasn’t typically magic. It was just biology.

Deacon knew none of the shifters killed so far had had any actual magic. He was a different case, but he wasn’t sure Sheldon knew that. Jaxer did, which was why he’d come to Deacon in the first place, and Deacon had felt obliged to help even though none of the shifters taken so far had been leopards.

He suppressed an irritated growl. This was the last time he’d let the faery use him for bait. He’d been chained to that fucking bed all day with no sign of help. Then Jaxer went and made things worse by sending this…woman to rescue him instead of coming himself. How dare he endanger someone else when this crusade against Sheldon was his own personal business? Bad enough he dragged Deacon into it.

But as Deacon watched the woman straighten away from the doorframe when a lightning bolt flashed, he realized there was something about her. He couldn’t deny the power she must have to break through the binding ring. Yet she looked and smelled like a normal human woman.

Her blond-brown hair hung in a long ponytail down her back over a battered brown leather jacket. She wore jeans, hiking boots, and a purple t-shirt with a glittery Happy Halloween emblazoned over a manically grinning jack-o-lantern. Her blue eyes had sparkled when he’d called her a child, then flashed with irritation when he’d insulted her.

And for reasons he couldn’t quite understand, he’d found it hard to look away from her, especially when she’d knelt next to him on the bed.

Something about her…something about her scent tugged at his instincts.

Who the hell was she? What was she? She had to be more than human, but none of his senses picked up anything particularly preternatural about her. So where did all that power come from?

Jaxer had some explaining to do.

Deacon shook off his preoccupation and walked up behind her to stare at the living room over her head. Black scorch marks marred the hardwood floors, and a layer of frost covered one side table. The air was heavy with electricity and the smell of burning ozone.

Despite the multiple magical eruptions, the apartment was in remarkably good shape. As he watched, a dagger flew toward the bedroom, dropped harmlessly a foot from the doorway, and disappeared as if it hadn’t existed.

Clever. Less clean up. And a testament to Sheldon’s power.

He couldn’t blame Jaxer for being worried about the little shit. But given a choice, Deacon would have taken a more…active approach to dealing with the wizard.

Unfortunately, and he was reluctant to admit this even to himself, his approach probably would have gotten him killed. The bastard was powerful. How Sheldon managed to be so powerful at his age was a mystery. But maybe that was the reason Jaxer was so obsessed with finding out the whys behind Sheldon’s actions.

If Deacon got out of this apartment alive, he’d ask the faery. In the meantime, he and this very human woman had to navigate the bespelled living room and get away before Sheldon got back.

Deacon drew in a slow breath and was hit again by Cary’s scent. Vanilla and cinnamon. And something else. Something that shot jolts of lust and need through his gut, making him lean closer to her just so he could feel the heat of her skin. He felt a possessive growl rising in his throat and swallowed it back, fisting his hands by his side to keep from reaching for her.

What the hell? He had more control that this. A lot more. He had to or people got killed. Resisting a woman, even one that smelled like heaven, had never been a problem before. With Cary, it took an effort to keep from pulling her close and burying his face in her neck to soak up her essence.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was a witch casting a lust spell on him as some sort of sick joke. But she didn’t smell like a witch.

His nostrils flared. That scent of hers…

It reached down inside him, calling to a deep instinct. As he breathed Cary in, his leopard whispered, Mine.

Out in the living room, wind-lashed hail whipped toward the bedroom without actually coming through the doorway. And behind that, a lightning bolt sizzled the floor.

Sheldon didn’t make this easy, he said, quirking a brow when she jumped at the sound of his voice.

Are you dressed? she asked without turning around.

He couldn’t help smiling at the slight panic in her voice. Yes.

Okay. Stick close. Stay behind me and don’t try to dodge around me. Got it? That’s how we’ll get out of here alive.

He frowned down at the top of her head. She must have some pretty powerful shields to get through that mess. But she wasn’t a witch.

He grunted a noncommittal response, and she swung around to face him. The flash of heat in her eyes made his pulse kick.

Listen, buddy, she said, her chin tucked back as she glared at him, if you don’t let me protect you, we’re both dead. Okay? Don’t go trying to be a hero. Just stay close and let me do what I came here to do.

She mumbled something unflattering under her breath as she turned back to the living room, and he had to fight a completely irrational urge to kiss her.

Over the course of the long day, with no sign of help from Jaxer, he’d had to face the possibility of his own death. His reaction to Cary might be a result of that, a need to reaffirm he was alive.

But as he breathed in the heady scent of her again, he wondered…

2

Cary reached back and grabbed Deacon’s hand, trying to ignore the way her stomach clenched and her skin tingled. She eased through the bedroom door towing Deacon in her wake.

Focusing was difficult with her bare skin touching his, but damned if she knew why. She didn’t react this way to men just because they were gorgeous. Especially if they were gorgeous. The only men she’d met that were as stunning as this particular black cat were guaranteed trouble with a capital T—and that included her mentor. Everything about Deacon screamed Trouble. Shapeshifter. Unnaturally handsome. Annoyingly arrogant. Smelled too damned good. Grin that could stop traffic. Voice like sin.

And he’d lied about being dressed. A pair of jeans with the top button left undone and nothing else covering that amazing body was not dressed. It was sexy as hell. But it did not qualify as being dressed.

With a scowl, she forced her thoughts to her current situation. She could ponder her irritating reaction to Deacon later. Now, she had to get them through this maze.

She heard his surprised gasp as daggers and fireballs swerved to avoid them. Hail flicked past in cold blasts but only a few, non-lethal ice balls touched her, and all of them missed Deacon completely. Lightning struck close enough to make the hair on her arms stand up but always zigged away before hitting them.

She couldn’t explain exactly how her Protector magic worked because she didn’t know—neither her bosses nor Jaxer had seen fit to go into the details. She never even felt the magic powering up or flowing through her or whatever it did. She just knew that her bosses had invested her with it, and when she was standing between someone and danger, the magic happened.

After six years of jumping between bad guys and innocents, she could mostly ignored her fear that this time the magic wouldn’t happen, the soul-crushing terror that this time she’d screw it all up and her charge would get killed. The magic hadn’t failed her yet. So far, she’d managed to do exactly what she was supposed to do—protect people.

Still, she breathed a secret sigh of relief as the magical mayhem around her kept its distance.

But the closer they got to the front door, the more frantic the wizard’s spells got. By the time they were halfway through the living room, they were trudging through a whirlwind of power so strong it was sucking the oxygen out of the air. She worked at controlling her heartbeat. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to pit her magic against this much chaos. The Protector shield could take it. It had before.

She was going to need at least two shampoos to get the stench of scorched wood and burnt ozone out of her hair, though.

Jaxer owed her big time for this.

They were within a few feet of escape, Cary’s anxiety just starting to ease, when a cracking sound alerted her an instant before the front door flew off its hinges, tumbling into the room right at them.

Despite knowing it wouldn’t actual hit her, she still gasped and took a step back. It was really really hard to stare down a flying door without reacting.

Solid hands closed over her shoulders and strong arms cradled her against a rock hard chest. When she felt Deacon tense to move her out of the way, she planted her feet, holding her ground in front of him, and watched as the door defied the laws of physics by changing directions to move up and over their heads.

How…?

His voice whispered across the top of her hair and the heat of him seeped into her back. For a brief moment, Cary felt her eyes drifting shut from the sheer pleasure of having Deacon’s hands on her.

Then a tall, skinny, pimple-faced teenager stepped through the smoking remains of the doorway. His dark hair hung in greasy strands across his forehead and sweat trickled down his temples. He wore a black silk shirt and black leather pants that only emphasized how painfully thin he was. He breathed hard as he faced them, but his watery brown eyes glowed with feral delight.

Sighing, she pulled reluctantly away from Deacon to confront the teenager. Let me guess. You’re Sheldon the wizard?

I am. And I will not allow you to leave with my leopard.

The boy’s voice broke in the middle of his sentence and Cary’s chest tightened. God, what else could go wrong tonight? What was she supposed to do with this kid? Jaxer, the bastard, hadn’t warned her the wizard was this young. She could no more hurt a child than she could a helpless kitty.

At least the apartment had stopped firing hail and lightning at them. The spells must have deactivated when Sheldon came through the door. One less thing to worry about. And since the entire four-floor, twenty-unit apartment building was empty (she would have moved out if Sheldon was her neighbor, too), she didn’t have to worry about protecting innocent bystanders. But the rest of this situation was a disaster.

How the hell did she get this skinny, awkward kid out of her way without anyone getting hurt?

I’m pretty sure the leopard belongs to himself, she said as she tried to work out a plan. Plans weren’t her strong suit. Jaxer usually handled those. She just got between good guys and bad guys and kept the good guys from getting killed. She was a walking, talking Kevlar vest, and Kevlar vests didn’t do strategy.

Not after tonight, Sheldon snarled in response to her distracted quip.

The hair on Cary’s arms rose. Something truly evil flickered in the boy’s leer. Shit. That wasn’t good. She decided not to take his adolescent skin problems as a sign Sheldon would be easy to handle. He was obviously powerful enough to capture a leopard shifter and hold him. No telling what else the kid could do.

She just wished he wasn’t so damned young. I don’t suppose you’ll just get out of the way so we can leave?

He lifted his lip in a painfully sad-looking snarl. I’d like to know how you broke through the binding ring.

Trade secret. She shrugged and stepped closer to him.

Maybe he’d be forced back by her magic if she and Deacon just walked out. This was the first time she’d been caught in an apartment with a demented teenager between her and escape. She’d rarely tried to bully her way past a bad guy before. They usually got fed up and went away when they couldn’t get through her to their intended victim.

Sheldon didn’t look like he’d give up easily, though. If she had to, she could stand here protecting Deacon all night. She just hoped it didn’t come to that.

She took another step toward the wizard. To her surprise and horror, Deacon jerked her backward and moved in front of her. She shoved at his shoulder, but it was like pushing a brick wall.

Damn it, Deacon, get behind me.

You don’t know what this little shit is capable of.

It doesn’t matter what he’s— She broke off as the little shit raised a hand to cast a spell. Desperate, she stepped away from Deacon and flung herself around him before he could stop her.

What the hell are you doing? he hissed.

Just stay behind me, all right.

Sheldon studied them, his hand raised, his eyes narrowed. Why didn’t he cast his spell? She was pretty sure he wasn’t as concerned with her wellbeing as she was with his. So what held him back?

A low growl rose from behind her, reminding her Deacon wasn’t going to passively listen to her orders. Damned arrogant leopard.

I will not let an innocent woman stand between me and danger, he said.