Category: Patchwork & Pitchforks

Chapter 23: Tale of Two Demons

“Oh, blithe tiddies!” Kit slammed the oven door shut and huffed. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
“Everything, quite possibly,” Julep murmured from his post on the windowsill. His tail flicked and curled with indignation. “You’re a decent cook, my good friend, but you are no baker.”
“I completed the steps. I heeded Maggie’s instruction word for word. The cake won’t rise!” Kit garbled and stomped as he read the directions for the hundredth time. “Butter, egg, oil, whisk, sift, and—ohhhh, dear. I’ve forgotten the baking soda. And the vanilla.”
“No baker at all,” Julep quipped.
“Hush, you! If it weren’t for Jasper, I’d have thrown you out.”
“Don’t get pissy with me, old man. I am capable of making my own decisions.”
“You, are a liar my boy and quite irresponsible. And this is why you were trapped in the chicken coop with angry hens. I told you—”
Julep jumped down and padded to his water bowl.
“So dramatic! Kit, really. It’s not that serious.”
Kit cackled and slashed a hand. “Look at you! Bald spots, demon! You’ve got an eye patch for Undervell’s sake.”
Julep ignored him and lapped quietly.
“You could have died, sir.”
“But I didn’t. In fact, I’ve never felt more alive.” Kit sighed as Julep leaped onto the counter and sat. “It reminded me of the old days when we chased kettle duns all cycle and ate sugared bugs. Besides, what else am I to do here?”
Kit patted Julep’s head and gave him a good scratch, minding the reddened, sore patches of skin.
“You have to be more careful, demon cat. I’d rather not lose my best friend.”
“Off with you, that’s enough.” Julep hissed and popped Kit’s hand with soft toe beans. “I know you worry, but I’m fine. Promise. I’ve found my calling.”
“Hunting chickens?”
“And various other rodents. There is a large forest just beyond.” Julep turned his attention to the window, yellow eyes now saucers. His purr was curious and adorable. “It’s a fascinating place, Kit. Truly. You should come with me one day.”
“I will never step foot into that verdant wasteland.”
Julep rolled his neck and eyes back around, pinning his fierce gaze upon Kit.
“Pussy.”
“Ha! Funny coming from a cat.”
Julep hissed and swiped claws. Kit stumbled and shoved Julep off of the counter. “Go! Get out of here. And stay off my countertops. Disgusting retch.”
Julep zoomed around the corner, scaled the wall, and screeched at Jasper as she passed.
“Oh, fuck! Would you—“ She ducked and growled at the feisty demonic feline. ”Freak!”
Julep detached and flipped onto the floor. He scrambled for purchase and dashed through the small flap door.
“I hated him as a full-bodied demon, but I think I hate him more now. He’s a menace.”
“Well, you opted to keep him yesterday.” Kit considered his little sister’s state of dress and sighed. “What are we going to do with you?”
“With who?”
“You.”
“I’m perfectly fine, and what is that smell?”
“Shiiiiiit!” Kit whirled and wrenched open the oven door. Yelling expletives, he grabbed both pans and dropped them on the counter. “My poor cakes.”
Jasper barked in laughter and plucked herself a mug. Kit failed to see what was so hilarious. His time and efforts had been wasted.
“They’re flat as ever,” he said, poking the charred disk. “I forgot an ingredient.”
“An important one, apparently.”
Kit grunted, gathered his failings, and marched to the trash bin. “Bumble today, succeed tomorrow.” He dropped everything into the trash and wiped hands on his apron.
“You didn’t have to throw away the pans.”
“We’ll purchase another set.”
“We?”
Kit flapped a hand and stored his brand-new stand mixer in the cupboard. “Jasper, you have been in the house for two whole cycles and appear to be forlorn. What’s happened?”
“Nothing.”
Her tone and mumble told Kit one thing: his sister was lying. She stirred sugar into her tea and sighed. He couldn’t help but offer some form of comfort. Their father had always said it was a flaw, caring too much.
He’d peer down at Kit and rumble, ‘A general with compassion is a dead one’.
“Jasper, you tell me who to maim or kill, and I will get it done.”
Kit stood next to his closest sibling and prepared his own cup. The tea here was sublime, and he wanted to know the distributor, but there was nothing on the sachet’s ornate box.
As he poured hot water from the electric kettle, Jasper chuckled.
“Thank you, brother. But, this is nothing we can fight.” He assessed her distant gaze, wondering who had claimed Jasper’s thoughts. “I’m a coward, is all.”
“Hardly.”
“What?”
“You left home, Jasper.” Kit’s guts rolled as he was reminded of his mission. He chose a bright citrus tea and dropped it into the steaming pool. “It is strictly forbidden. You were due to meet your tether, and you vanished. You didn’t give a damn about father or his disappointment. You are far from cowardly.”
She snickered, resting her chin atop Kit’s head. He wanted to shrink away, steer clear of such affections, but it was pleasant. Her closeness warmed his chest.
“Thank you, Kit.”
“What exactly have I done?”
“For always being in my corner.” She kissed his itchy, growing horns and battled an urge to smile. “I love you, Kitters.”
The demon grunted and cleared his throat, face hotter than Undervell’s springs. Physical touch was one thing; he could handle that, sometimes. Words, on the other hand…he’d never been one for them, mainly because Carriont told him generals carried war in their hearts, not love.
Kit gritted his teeth and huffed. “Well, maybe he was wrong.”
“Hmm?”
“I—you.” Kit stirred honey and cherry wood ash into his tea. He flushed, a wetness coating his upper lip. “Love.”
Jasper erupted in ominous laughter and gave him a bit of space. “Awww, look at you. Unlearning and shit. This is called growth, bruh.”
“Growth?” Kit frowned and sipped his first afternoon cup. He pivoted, faced his kin, and leaned against the counter. “Whatever do you mean?”
Jasper lifted her mug and sighed aloud. “There’s a lot of garbage our Dad taught us. Certain behaviors don’t work up here. And others are welcome. Like, softness, playfulness, silliness, foolery, and love.”
Kit digested her commentary for a tick and enjoyed what was becoming his favorite blend. He’d seen quite a lot over the last few cycles or days, and perhaps Jasper was right.
“Kit,” she called, forcing him to meet her pit flame stare, “you can be who you want up here. Start fresh, man. Chase that chef dream or become a deputy. You seemed pretty excited about your outing with Jo.”
“It was thrilling,” Kit said, his blood buzzing at the thought. “But, I like the chef idea more, only, well…I never intended on staying, Jasper.”
“You could if you wanted to.” She shrugged and tipped her mug. “In fact, I’m putting a room together just for you.”
“For me?”
“Yup. You can decorate it however you want. After everything is done, of course.”
He smiled now, cheeks heated. That warmth in his chest expanded only to dim.
“I can’t stay. This is only respite. Soon I’ll have to get back and fulfill my duties.”
“You mean father’s duties.”
Silence between them stretched as Jasper’s sad smile gave him nothing to work with. Kit couldn’t stay, he was here for one reason, and if he didn’t go through with it, Carriont would surely expel him.
“Jasper, there’s something you ought to know. The—“
A thunderous knocking interrupted his confession. “What in the Undervell?”
Kit set his cup on the table and saw to the person ten seconds from kicking the door in. The moment Kit touched the handle, he knew who it was. He scented him instantly and wanted to stuff embers up his nose.
“It’s you,” Kit intoned, staring at an agitated vampire. Hank’s eye twitched, and his jaw ticked as he tapped a booted foot. “What can I do—“
“I told ya’ didn’t I?”
“Told me what?”
“To stay the hell outta my coops.”
“I did.”
“Your fucking cat kicked up a fuss and spooked them gals! If it ain’t you stealing my damn eggs, it’s your ugly ass rat tryna kill my chickens.”
“I’d like to apologize for Julep’s behavior, but you are being incredibly rude. There is no need to shout.”
“Like hell it ain’t. You got no idea what it takes to raise them up and keep shit goin’. Royal boy.”
“You’ve got one more time to call me boy,” Kit hissed, confused by his anger and arousal. “I will show you what makes a man!”
“Hayyyy hay.” Jasper sidled up beside Kit and smiled. “Stop, chill bruh. It’s—Hank, right?”
“Yeah, mhm.”
“You gotta understand, he can’t control that cat. Julep is cursed.”
Hank squinted. “Cursed?”
“He’s a demon that accidentally possessed a cat, and somehow he got stuck like that. He’s a ruffian and a pain in the ass.”
Kit crossed his arms and kicked up his chin. “He won’t listen to me. I am not his owner, per se. We’re chamber mates.”
“Roommates?” Hank asked.
“Yes.”
“He’s going to kill me for this,” Kit mumbled, “But Julep is terrified of… cotton balls.”
“Whatchu mean?”
“He’s scared of cotton balls. Line the coop with them, and he’ll stay out. I can’t say what will come of the wild ones, but I shall do my best with talking to him.”
“Do more than talk to the lil shit. Control him or I will.”
“No need for threats,” Kit snipped.
“My ass!”
Hank snarled and stomped across the porch. His bergamot-spiced scent lingered like fine mist. Kit inhaled and hated the tightening knot at the bottom of his belly.
“He is a foul-mannered son of a wench.”
Jasper closed the door and snickered. “Someday y’all are gonna go at it.”
“If he intends on being a complete ass, then yes, it is inevitable.”
His sister grabbed her cup and shuffled on down the hall. “If you need me, I’ll be in my cave.”
“How about we take a walk or—“
“No, thank you!”
A door slam made him laugh. At least he was free to bake to his heart’s content without being bothered. That was, unless Hank or Jo came snooping about. Kit hummed and grinned, hating very much how captor hogs rolled in his guts at the confounding thought.

Jasper couldn’t stand how cooped up she’d been for two whole days. Cowardice had sent her running for the hills. “How embarrassing.” She snarled at the humiliating memory. A seasoned, well-adjusted succubus hiding away from some pussy. It was distasteful how quickly she’d forgotten what it felt like to be touched, savored. Nieema’s scent and satin had stained her wakeful dreams.
Jasper spent the last forty-eight playing games and eating her favorite foods. She wasted time with crafts and had even finished Nieema’s commission. It was a gorgeous piece, and Jasper was ready for another. The only way to get that was by talking to Mrs. Sunside.
She groaned and flopped on the bed. Phone in hand, she checked her bank account and grimaced. Kit’s spending habit was a problem; he’d been picking at her last few dollars for a week. Grocers and odd-ends he just had to have. “Shit.” As much as she didn’t want to, Jasper had to get out of bed and the house. She needed the little job the Sunsides’ offered like yesterday. A streaming session or a few feet pics usually helped ends meet.
Jasper shook her head, still not ready to face the public or her loyal fan base. As she rose, her phone vibrated. Checking the notif, she grinned despite fried nerves. Buck’s relentless efforts were impressive, much like his stature. Though this wasn’t a personal matter, Jasper’s heart thrummed at the idea of seeing him.
Thick masculine energies would do a body good. It’d steel her softening spine and resolve. A sliver of his soul, a sip of heady desire, was exactly what Jasper wanted. In a petty mood, she hit him back quick.
Miss me already Mr. Sunside?
She watched the dots until his reply made her laugh.
You’d be in my bed if I did.
“Yeah, okay.” She scoffed and blasted him a final text.
Self-assurance has an expiry date, Buck. But sure, I’ll meet with the decorator. What time?
Jasper marched into the bathroom, eyes on their conversation.
How about now?
“God damn,” she barked, looking at her ragged reflection. Bonnet and bags. “Uhhhhm.”
Give me twenty minutes.
Jasper set her phone on the counter and started the shower. She snatched her gown off as the screen illuminated.
Add ten more minutes. Beauty takes time, woman. Don’t be rushing on my account.
An ugly snort escaped, and with it, Jasper stepped into the stall.
Forty-five minutes later, she was fully dressed. Having an androgynous day, Jasper slipped on a pair of slacks and a silk blouse the color of a summer-ripened plum. Gold accents glittered on her wrist, neck, and loafers.
After an assessment, she snatched her phone and wallet. On the way out, she bid her brother farewell. He was in a mood over those damn muffins and vowed to have a batch ready by the time she got home.
Dusk had settled over Indigo Plains. Painting it in various shades of orange, red, and goldenrod. The lazy sun set Buck ablaze. Leaning all that body against his car, he was quite the sight. Brawny in his usual. T-shirt, jeans, shiny buckle, and silver-capped boots.
Cool red tones kicked up a fuss, causing Jasper to stare on her approach.
Buck tipped his hat and grinned. “Hot damn, you look city ready. Slick and classy. Should I have changed for this outing, Jasper?”
“It’s been a minute since I felt so pretty. Figured, why not?”
Buck lifted his strong chin, jaw ticking. Their stares clashed as his scent billowed and dark soul flushed bruised maroon. His deepening desire was conspicuous in nature. Buck never tried to hide it, but she appreciated how he ignored its calling.
Their attraction was palpable and taut, but Jasper could go no further with this. Not with where her head was at the moment.
“I don’t wanna be too forward, but you always pretty, Jasper. Don’t matter who says what. It doesn’t make you any less gorgeous.”
He didn’t offer her the floor, and she didn’t want to strike up a debate about her looks. Buck opened her door with a wink. Jasper smirked and slid into the butter-soft seat. Sweet, smoky pine, and natural.
His organic cologne battered her sensibilities. It was strong and masculine. Just what she needed. Every second she spent in his company, she sipped.
Slowly, she inhaled, nibbled, and dined.
“So, uhm, what’s this decorator got planned?”
“The basics. Swatches, your vision, wood types, and knobs. Boring type shit and…”
Buck kept both eyes on the road, white-knuckling the steering wheel. She loved how the other gripped the clutch. Cords and veins created a work of art. From fingers to the crook of his elbow. They wrapped elegantly around his forearm and danced between ink like thick vines.
“Jasper.”
Her name rumbled and rolled like sweet syrup off his tongue. It tasted good with the hint of his smoky desire. It rippled in the crackling space between them and swelled.
“What can I do for you, Buck?”
She’d inched closer, arm behind his head. Casual and relaxed, Jasper peeped the mysterious driver. He was loaded and packed with dark energy; it was enough to rock her loose right here in the front seat.
Foul how he affected her. Egregious, really. She wanted to both flee and flay the man who smiled.
His dimples disgusted her.
“Maybe I should be asking you that question.”
“I’m good.”
“You say such things, but we know what time it is, succubus.”
“Drive and shut your mouth.”
Buck chuckled, deep bellied and maniacal. She loathed the visceral reaction it caused. He stirred the slick potion, dampening her slacks.
He killed the engine and hopped out. Jasper peered out the window and scoffed. They’d arrived at a physical representation of despair. Her sickly home looked no better beneath the dimming sun.
Grumbling, Jasper emerged from the vehicle and hiked up her pants. She grunted at the fucked veranda thingy and porch.
“Hellooooo there.” The sing song voice belonged to a willowy, copper curled beauty with shimmering freckles and crimson wings. The gauzy set fluttered as she offered a hand. “My name is Dorthy.”
“Jasper.”
“Great to meet you, Jasper. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m the yammering sort. We interior designers have so much to relay and discuss. I don’t want to overwhelm you with information or—“
“You doing it,” Buck murmured.
Dorthy’s left eye twitched along with her wing. Jasper plucked at the frayed strings binding them together. On Buck’s end, they were weak and angry.
“You agreed to stay on that side while I conduct business with Jasper. Let’s not drag family affairs into this.”
“Unprofessional. I ain’t say shit about that,” Buck grumped, hands on his hips. He surveyed the neighborhood and chewed his cinnamon gum. “Get to it then, Dorthy. Shit.”
The decorator brightened, manufactured smile touching her tapered ears. “Anyway, shall we?”
“How are we supposed to get in there?”
“’Round back,” Buck said, leading the way. “Watch the spider, though. I planned on clearing it out today.”
“Wicker spiders.” Dorthy shuddered. “They live underground, mostly. Not too big on people or the moon. I find it hard to believe they attacked you.”
“Excuse me, hay there.” A familiar voice halted their journey. “Well, look who it is.”
Sissy Perkins glared more than smiled. Her displeasure obvious and sharp. She smelled of deceit and decay.
“Good to see you, Jasper. Say, I was wondering if the dish was clean. It’s vintage. My mother’s and her mother’s. Practically a family heirloom. It’d be a shame if I never got it back.”
Jasper’s brows grazed the sky as she finally smiled. It was unpleasant, surly. A show of fang and uncapped horns gave Sissy pause. The old woman sniffed, inching backwards.
“I’ll get it, don’t you worry, Sissy!”
“Thank you, that’d be terrific.”
Jasper clocked the annoying yoga instructor or pilates doll man across the street. He conversed with a middle aged human wearing a god damn tunic. Grunting, Jasper spun on her heels and followed Buck to the back porch.
Getting there wouldn’t be easy, thanks to tall grass, thorns, and feisty burrowing creatures. Jasper was prepared for war and was about to pop off cuff links until Buck cleared a path.
Blades of grass, brindle, and dry brush withered, dying beneath his soles. With each step, Buck crafted a path made of moss and leaves. It was an impressive, magical display. His abilities emboldened her curiosity. Jasper had more than twenty questions, but stashed them in her back pocket for later. After she talked to this lady about her color options.

Chapter 22: This Life & The Next

“You can take it, darlin’.” Buck put his weight on Nieema, stealing her will to breathe. “Yeeeeah. That’s it. You like it heavy!” Buck growled as the missus moaned.
“I dooooo. Ohh—Bu—uck! There, baby. Right theeerrre.”
He focused on her sweet spot and she whimpered as bones popped.
“Yes,” Nieema groaned. “Crack my shit, baby. Stomp on that bitch! I said harder, old man.”
“I’m doing it.”
“You ain’t.”
Buck rolled his eyes and stepped on her spine. She hollered in pleasure. “A vampire your age shouldn’t have back problems or any physical ailments at all. Them babies fucked you up, darlin’.”
“Yeah! And who put them, babies in there?”
An ugly belly laugh bubbled up from Buck’s gut as he stamped on his wife’s back.
Buck spent twenty minutes, once a week stepping on Nieema’s spine. Most vampires who conceived had some small physical issue. Pregnancy was hard even on immortal folk and orcs alike.
“And I’ll do it again,” Buck vowed.
“I know that’s right,” Nieema said, hands tucked under her chin. “Fill me up, daddy!”
“Nasty mouth.”
They laughed as Buck continued his business of jumping on her. She was a sturdy gal and loved about three or four hops. When something popped, she moaned once more.
“Darlin’,” Buck started, pressing the ball of his foot into her shoulder, “you heard from Jasper yet?”
“Uhhhm. No.”
“She ain’t come out the house yet, and I’m getting worried.”
“Buckley, we don’t know her well. Maybe she’s a homebody.”
“I mean, yeah, but after the other night she disappeared.”
“Hm. Weirrrd.”
Buck paused and squinted. Her response was short and squeaky.
“Nieema Desiree Falerie Sunside, what did you do?”
“Why do I gotta do something?”
“‘Cause you did.”
“You don’t know shit.”
She didn’t even look up at him. The betrayal. Buck cussed, lowering to the floor. He joined Nieema and lay on her body. She was more comfortable than hardwood. Though his wood was now pressed into her dimpled ass. Buck ignored the tempting juggle and cushion for the moment.
“Nieema.”
The woman smacked her teeth and said, “We were having such a good time, and I figured—she was into it and me. Jasper was interested, earnest, and assertive. She gave proper consent and everything.”
“You did not.”
“Shit, she was quick putting a hand down my pants, and I wanted to taste her. So, you know, naturally, we ended up downstairs. After our climax, she vanished. I think I spooked her.”
Buck knew it had something to do with sex. Nieema was an intense, impulsive vampire with a high sex drive. He’d been dealing with her pangs for a hundred years. They had their ways and proclivities as a couple, but Buck didn’t always think with his dick.
True, he wanted to make it flex with Jasper. Cut the demon down for about an hour or so, but he had a feeling she wasn’t ready.
“Nieema, baby. Why you have to go and do that?” Buck rolled off of his wife and eyed her. The woman knew better than to meet his stare and didn’t. “She was celibate. You heard her just fine.”
“Yes, but you weren’t there. Jasper was about to take lead on the matter. I had to calm her down, shit. That’s not how this show go. Not yet, at least. That woman was on fire. Just sick about it, baby.”
He stood and marched on over to Nieema’s vanity. He snagged the scissors, pulled the chair, and short whistled. She rose with vampire agility, defying gravity as if it didn’t exist. After sprinting over, she sidled up, and sat down.
Buck snagged a twenty-four-inch braid and snipped the end. With practiced ease, he unraveled and loosened the thick strand.
“I know how you feel about wanting to bed her down, but I think, you jumped it.” He discarded the hair into the plastic bag that waited in Nieema’s lap while she mumbled curses. The old woman knew she was wrong, so he didn’t have to say it. “Sweetpea, Jasper moved out here to get away from drama.”
“And we ain’t bringing none to her.”
“Maybe to you this ain’t drama, but for her, it could be a lot.”
“I thought you were in a hurry, Buckley. You the one making bets and shit.”
“That was for a nice dinner, not no thick dick!”
“Well, that’s what I thought.”
“Of course you did, freaky.”
Nieema chuckled, clipping the ends of a braid. They used the next ten minutes to take down her hair with normal chit chat about the family. Norma was on her way, Mace was in marriage troubles, and Trey had another baby on the way with his ex-wife. That was some mess for your ass, but that was his life. Couldn’t tell him or them anything.
Buck tried to steer their babies and grand babies right, but after a certain age, there wasn‘t no changing their minds.
“Jo tell you Trevor wants to press charges?” Buck asked, raising a brow.
“I know he does.”
“That was a love tap! Pussy.”
“I doubt it.”
“Who side is you on?” Buck asked, checking the wife’s reflection, making her giggle. “Mhm. See what I get? Disrespect.”
“That man got what’s coming to him,” Nieema said, pulling free another blue strip of hair. “Monroe is in Misthill now. He can’t seem to get an appointment with the Mayor. He’s indisposed. I sent him a summons.”
“Mm. Had to put on the crown, huh?”
“Unfortunately.”
“At least you look good wearing it.” She smiled, and Buck kissed her thick, natural mane. “I’m sure we’ll get this settled nice and easy.”
“The Voaremonts aren’t known for rolling over, Buck.”
“We ain’t either.”
“I know that’s right.”
After cutting a few more ends, he loosened braids as Nieema breached the Jasper subject yet again.
“I gave her a job at the shop.”
“I mean, we need the help, but do you think she’ll be okay? I still don’t wanna let her outta my sight.”
“I told Maggie about it,” Nieema reassured. “She’s willing to charm the store.”
“That’s quick thinking, my love. On your toes!”
“Aren’t I always?”
Buck barked in laughter and trashed his last batch of hair. “Hell nah.”
“I know you better hush.”
“What? I’m supposed to lie? You said there ain’t to be no lies or secrets between us. I will hold to the vow we made allllll them manymanymany years ago. I know you probably don’t remember. Senile self. We gotta get you to bed, it’s late, Grandma!”
“Shhuuut uuuup.” She cackled right along with Buck. “And it’s you who gon’ put me to bed.”
“Damn skippy!”
As always, Nieema and Buck found solace in each other. There wasn’t a quiet, dull moment between them. After decades, ten and some change, they’d become the best of friends. Marrying the person who made him laugh was the best decision of his life.
The night they’d met, he’d made her chuckle and vice versa. Within hours, Buck had become enamored with some Ravensguard soldier he was likely to never see again.
After a passionate day in bed, Buck had said goodbye. He promised to find her someday.
Turns out he didn’t have to look hard, because ten years later, Nieema showed up at the tavern wearing his favorite smile.
“Ooooooo baaaaby, listen!” Nieema relaxed as Buck scratched her scalp. He focused on the middle of her head and the kitchen, just how Mrs. Sunside liked it. “You know how to use them hands… mmmm, yes you do. Little to the left, litt—ooop!”
Buck cackled and carried on with their routine, which led to the bathroom. These times, the few they shared with such busy lives and a large family, he cherished. They were his priority. Taking care of his dame wasn’t always top of mind. Buck regretted them days, when he didn’t put Nieema first. She belonged on the pedestal he’d built only for her.
After washing, rinsing, and stripping down to nothing, he covered Nieema’s conditioner-soaked tresses with an extra-large shower cap.
“Thereeee you go.” Buck popped the elastic, and Nieema flinched. “Now come here and get what’s coming to ya.”
She giggled as Buck plucked her plush behind off the tile and carried her right on into the shower stall.
Steam laced with lavender and chamomile soothed the mind while Nieema’s lips roused every nerve.
Scolding hot water pelted his back and cascaded, dripping from his tight braid. With little finesse and impatience, Buck set his woman on a stone bench and loomed.
“Well,” Nieema prompted, “go on and satisfy your vicious sweet tooth.”
Her crimson stare provoked several emotions. Buck had never been one to beg or snivel for pussy. That was until he’d met Nieema. He’d snuff the sun if it’d bring this woman peace. He’d vanquish all evil and become the worst version of himself if it pleased his queen.
Nieema spread her delicious thighs and blessed him. Plump and glistening, her southern lips beckoned a motha fucka. She wept for a kiss, and he’d never deny Nieema a thing in this world.
Buck’s knees gave as he was enchanted by velvety brown softness and glittering blush pink. Nieema presented herself and dipped a finger between what he knew to be sopping wet walls.
Buck growled and bristled, snatching her hand away.
“Hands off my goods, old woman.”
She laughed and undulated, cupping her buxom bosom. Nieema’s scent drew him closer.
Buck kissed her flesh, and she hissed. He sniffed and grunted, growling as the beast within longed to devour.
Her wetness coated his lips as he circled her large clit with his nose. His wife was insecure about her precious rosebud. For a time, she hated how it protruded and swelled with her arousal. It took time, care, and reassurance.
Buck loved to suck and tease her large clit.
“Mmmm,” Nieema moaned with every kiss and nuzzle. “Babbbee, pleaaase.”
“You so fuckin’ wet, woman.” Buck clutched his dick and flicked her with the tip of his pierced tongue. “I need another batch for my tea. I’m almost out.”
“You know what you gotta do.”
He responded by suckling her button and mashing his god damn face into her pussy. Buck worked her clit. Around and around while Nieema rocked slowly. She sang his favorite melody and melted with every lazy lave and lap. He sipped from her with gladness and appreciation.
Buck swallowed her rich decadence and vowed once again to be her last devotee. If there was no one left to bow, he’d be the queen’s final hand to bend the knee. If there were none to adore her, he’d be there to shower her in affection. He’d be the last to obey the Ravensguard queen. His final breath would be that of dedication! Of his love, in this life and the next. Until the goddess called him to the Soil of Soul Buck promised to stand tall at Nieema’s side.
Mating be damneed. In truth, he didn’t need it. His lifeblood was hers the second they spoke.
“Oooo shit!” Nieema keened. “You like how I taste, love?”
He responded by gripping her hips. Buck yanked Nieema forward and gorged on his favorite meal of the night until she thrashed, on the cusp.
It was in the tremble of her words and curl of her chubby toes.
Buck studied her body, inside and out. Her arch stiffened and lip curled.
Buck stopped, and Nieema roared. Panting, she pulled his braid and cursed.
“You had better have a good reason, fairy boy!”
He only laughed and stood, taking her with him. Leaving her no room to complain, Buck hoisted Nieema high and flipped her ass.
Nieema cackled as she dangled upside down. This woman loved her some vertical sixty-nine, and once she got to sucking, so did Buck. With her pussy at home on his tongue and thighs framing his face, he lapped with fierce edge.
Nieema’s nectar turned a decent fae feral. As her soul mate, fated, and begging fool, he dove headfirst. And his queen was no slouch, taking him deep.
Buck stumbled and leaned against wet tile, locking himself in place. He lashed at her clit and drank from her blessed fount.
Nieema coughed and cussed. “Ooooo shit! Bite it, baby! Bite—“
Buck tensed as she swallowed him down from root to stem. There was nothing left to do but deep throat.
He came up for air and shouted to the Goddess. His eyes rolled as Nieema sucked him down and continued, nuts and all. Her jaw unhinged, and she devoured.
Claimed and choked.
“Youuuuu devilish slut!” Buck roared. He growled, thrusts meeting her sinful rhythm.
“I’mmmm—ooweeeee…” Needing to shatter and release, Buck screwed his eyes shut and penetrated her with his thickening tongue. The pierced muscle caused her majesty to squirm and writhe, body slick and plush.
Buck tightened his hold and fucked his beloved in quickened fashion. He curled the tip and twirled, twisted, tasted.
She moaned and bobbed, using that neck for the greater good. Sweat and water collected between them, dripping from toes and nipples.
Nieema clung to him, scoring his thighs. Buck grunted and lavished her with his love. Nieema pumped and rolled as he punched. Their shared desire and passion coalesced and seeped through bone.
It pooled in the marrow and heated, setting his soul to a rolling boil.
Buck clutched her ass and drove his tongue deeper. He was set to tear this woman apart until she bit down and let him loose. His spine steeled, and thighs burned with the effort to remain standing.
His fight and refusal to fold were futile. Nieema pulled an orgasm from the body, leaving him for dead. Euphoria sprouted from every cell and limb, enveloping him completely. She wrenched it from the root, and he attacked her gushing pussy without delay.
The woman howled as Buck lost the use of his legs. They’d turned to moss and were unable to bear his weight. Before his ass collided with the floor, Nieema belted his name and flexed them vampire skills by righting herself in half a second.
When his behind greeted wet tile, Buck laughed, allowing his queen to straddle.
“You ain’t tired?!” Nieema kissed his neck and cupped his stiffening dick. “Damn woman, you gon’ put me in the coffin one day.”
“And I will be right there with you, old dog.”
They shared a bout of laughter and reconnected. No matter the time, day, or year, there’d never come a moment when Buck Sunside would ever get enough. She was the mother of his children, the beat of his heart, and the rich soil nourishing his soul. .

“You can take it, darlin’.” Buck put his weight on Nieema, stealing her will to breathe. “Yeeeeah. That’s it. You like it heavy!” Buck growled as the missus moaned.
“I dooooo. Ohh—Bu—uck! There, baby. Right theeerrre.”
He focused on her sweet spot and she whimpered as bones popped.
“Yes,” Nieema groaned. “Crack my shit, baby. Stomp on that bitch! I said harder, old man.”
“I’m doing it.”
“You ain’t.”
Buck rolled his eyes and stepped on her spine. She hollered in pleasure. “A vampire your age shouldn’t have back problems or any physical ailments at all. Them babies fucked you up, darlin’.”
“Yeah! And who put them, babies in there?”
An ugly belly laugh bubbled up from Buck’s gut as he stamped on his wife’s back.
Buck spent twenty minutes, once a week stepping on Nieema’s spine. Most vampires who conceived had some small physical issue. Pregnancy was hard even on immortal folk and orcs alike.
“And I’ll do it again,” Buck vowed.
“I know that’s right,” Nieema said, hands tucked under her chin. “Fill me up, daddy!”
“Nasty mouth.”
They laughed as Buck continued his business of jumping on her. She was a sturdy gal and loved about three or four hops. When something popped, she moaned once more.
“Darlin,” Buck started, pressing the ball of his foot into her shoulder, “you heard from Jasper yet?”
“Uhhhm. No.”
“She ain’t come out the house yet, and I’m getting worried.”
“Buckley, we don’t know her well. Maybe she’s a homebody.”
“I mean, yeah, but after the other night she disappeared.”
“Hm. Weirrrd.”
Buck paused and squinted. Her response was short and squeaky.
“Nieema Desiree Falerie Sunside, what did you do?”
“Why do I gotta do something?”
“‘Cause you did.”
“You don’t know shit.”
She didn’t even look up at him. The betrayal. Buck cussed, lowering to the floor. He joined Nieema and lay on her body. She was more comfortable than hardwood. Though his wood was now pressed into her dimpled ass. Buck ignored the tempting juggle and cushion for the moment.
“Nieema.”
The woman smacked her teeth and said, “We were having such a good time, and I figured—she was into it and me. Jasper was interested, earnest, and assertive. She gave proper consent and everything.”
“You did not.”
“Shit, she was quick putting a hand down my pants, and I wanted to taste her. So, you know, naturally, we ended up downstairs. After our climax, she vanished. I think I spooked her.”
Buck knew it had something to do with sex. Nieema was an intense, impulsive vampire with a high sex drive. He’d been dealing with her pangs for a hundred years. They had their ways and proclivities as a couple, but Buck didn’t always think with his dick.
True, he wanted to make it flex with Jasper. Cut the demon down for about an hour or so, but he had a feeling she wasn’t ready.
“Nieema, baby. Why you have to go and do that?” Buck rolled off of his wife and eyed her. The woman knew better than to meet his stare and didn’t. “She was celibate. You heard her just fine.”
“Yes, but you weren’t there. Jasper was about to take lead on the matter. I had to calm her down, shit. That’s not how this show go. Not yet, at least. That woman was on fire. Just sick about it, baby.”
He stood and marched on over to Nieema’s vanity. He snagged the scissors, pulled the chair, and short whistled. She rose with vampire agility, defying gravity as if it didn’t exist. After sprinting over, she sidled up, and sat down.
Buck snagged a twenty-four-inch braid and snipped the end. With practiced ease, he unraveled and loosened the thick strand.
“I know how you feel about wanting to bed her down, but I think, you jumped it.” He discarded the hair into the plastic bag that waited in Nieema’s lap while she mumbled curses. The old woman knew she was wrong, so he didn’t have to say it. “Sweetpea, Jasper moved out here to get away from drama.”
“And we ain’t bringing none to her.”
“Maybe to you this ain’t drama, but for her, it could be a lot.”
“I thought you were in a hurry, Buckley. You the one making bets and shit.”
“That was for a nice dinner, not no thick dick!”
“Well, that’s what I thought.”
“Of course you did, freaky.”
Nieema chuckled, clipping the ends of a braid. They used the next ten minutes to take down her hair with normal chit chat about the family. Norma was on her way, Mace was in marriage troubles, and Trey had another baby on the way with his ex-wife. That was some mess for your ass, but that was his life. Couldn’t tell him or them anything.
Buck tried to steer their babies and grand babies right, but after a certain age, there wasn‘t no changing their minds.
“Jo tell you Trevor wants to press charges?” Buck asked, raising a brow.
“I know he does.”
“That was a love tap! Pussy.”
“I doubt it.”
“Who side is you on?” Buck asked, checking the wife’s reflection, making her giggle. “Mhm. See what I get? Disrespect.”
“That man got what’s coming to him,” Nieema said, pulling free another blue strip of hair. “Monroe is in Misthill now. He can’t seem to get an appointment with the Mayor. He’s indisposed. I sent him a summons.”
“Mm. Had to put on the crown, huh?”
“Unfortunately.”
“At least you look good wearing it.” She smiled, and Buck kissed her thick, natural mane. “I’m sure we’ll get this settled nice and easy.”
“The Voaremonts aren’t known for rolling over, Buck.”
“We ain’t either.”
“I know that’s right.”
After cutting a few more ends, he loosened braids as Nieema breached the Jasper subject yet again.
“I gave her a job at the shop.”
“I mean, we need the help, but do you think she’ll be okay? I still don’t wanna let her outta my sight.”
“I told Maggie about it,” Nieema reassured. “She’s willing to charm the store.”
“That’s quick thinking, my love. On your toes!”
“Aren’t I always?”
Buck barked in laughter and trashed his last batch of hair. “Hell nah.”
“I know you better hush.”
“What? I’m supposed to lie? You said there ain’t to be no lies or secrets between us. I will hold to the vow we made allllll them manymanymany years ago. I know you probably don’t remember. Senile self. We gotta get you to bed, it’s late, Grandma!”
“Shhuuut uuuup.” She cackled right along with Buck. “And it’s you who gon’ put me to bed.”
“Damn skippy!”
As always, Nieema and Buck found solace in each other. There wasn’t a quiet, dull moment between them. After decades, ten and some change, they’d become the best of friends. Marrying the person who made him laugh was the best decision of his life.
The night they’d met, he’d made her chuckle and vice versa. Within hours, Buck had become enamored with some Ravensguard soldier he was likely to never see again.
After a passionate day in bed, Buck had said goodbye. He promised to find her someday.
Turns out he didn’t have to look hard, because ten years later, Nieema showed up at the tavern wearing his favorite smile.
“Ooooooo baaaaby, listen!” Nieema relaxed as Buck scratched her scalp. He focused on the middle of her head and the kitchen, just how Mrs. Sunside liked it. “You know how to use them hands… mmmm, yes you do. Little to the left, litt—ooop!”
Buck cackled and carried on with their routine, which led to the bathroom. These times, the few they shared with such busy lives and a large family, he cherished. They were his priority. Taking care of his dame wasn’t always top of mind. Buck regretted them days, when he didn’t put Nieema first. She belonged on the pedestal he’d built only for her.
After washing, rinsing, and stripping down to nothing, he covered Nieema’s conditioner-soaked tresses with an extra-large shower cap.
“Thereeee you go.” Buck popped the elastic, and Nieema flinched. “Now come here and get what’s coming to ya.”
She giggled as Buck plucked her plush behind off the tile and carried her right on into the shower stall.
Steam laced with lavender and chamomile soothed the mind while Nieema’s lips roused every nerve.
Scolding hot water pelted his back and cascaded, dripping from his tight braid. With little finesse and impatience, Buck set his woman on a stone bench and loomed.
“Well,” Nieema prompted, “go on and satisfy your vicious sweet tooth.”
Her crimson stare provoked several emotions. Buck had never been one to beg or snivel for pussy. That was until he’d met Nieema. He’d snuff the sun if it’d bring this woman peace. He’d vanquish all evil and become the worst version of himself if it pleased his queen.
Nieema spread her delicious thighs and blessed him. Plump and glistening, her southern lips beckoned a motha fucka. She wept for a kiss, and he’d never deny Nieema a thing in this world.
Buck’s knees gave as he was enchanted by velvety brown softness and glittering blush pink. Nieema presented herself and dipped a finger between what he knew to be sopping wet walls.
Buck growled and bristled, snatching her hand away.
“Hands off my goods, old woman.”
She laughed and undulated, cupping her buxom bosom. Nieema’s scent drew him closer.
Buck kissed her flesh, and she hissed. He sniffed and grunted, growling as the beast within longed to devour.
Her wetness coated his lips as he circled her large clit with his nose. His wife was insecure about her precious rosebud. For a time, she hated how it protruded and swelled with her arousal. It took time, care, and reassurance.
Buck loved to suck and tease her large clit.
“Mmmm,” Nieema moaned with every kiss and nuzzle. “Babbbee, pleaaase.”
“You so fuckin’ wet, woman.” Buck clutched his dick and flicked her with the tip of his pierced tongue. “I need another batch for my tea. I’m almost out.”
“You know what you gotta do.”
He responded by suckling her button and mashing his god damn face into her pussy. Buck worked her clit. Around and around while Nieema rocked slowly. She sang his favorite melody and melted with every lazy lave and lap. He sipped from her with gladness and appreciation.
Buck swallowed her rich decadence and vowed once again to be her last devotee. If there was no one left to bow, he’d be the queen’s final hand to bend the knee. If there were none to adore her, he’d be there to shower her in affection. He’d be the last to obey the Ravensguard queen. His final breath would be that of dedication! Of his love, in this life and the next. Until the goddess called him to the Soil of Soul Buck promised to stand tall at Nieema’s side.
Mating be damneed. In truth, he didn’t need it. His lifeblood was hers the second they spoke.
“Oooo shit!” Nieema keened. “You like how I taste, love?”
He responded by gripping her hips. Buck yanked Nieema forward and gorged on his favorite meal of the night until she thrashed, on the cusp.
It was in the tremble of her words and curl of her chubby toes.
Buck studied her body, inside and out. Her arch stiffened and lip curled.
Buck stopped, and Nieema roared. Panting, she pulled his braid and cursed.
“You had better have a good reason, fairy boy!”
He only laughed and stood, taking her with him. Leaving her no room to complain, Buck hoisted Nieema high and flipped her ass.
Nieema cackled as she dangled upside down. This woman loved her some vertical sixty-nine, and once she got to sucking, so did Buck. With her pussy at home on his tongue and thighs framing his face, he lapped with fierce edge.
Nieema’s nectar turned a decent fae feral. As her soul mate, fated, and begging fool, he dove headfirst. And his queen was no slouch, taking him deep.
Buck stumbled and leaned against wet tile, locking himself in place. He lashed at her clit and drank from her blessed fount.
Nieema coughed and cussed. “Ooooo shit! Bite it, baby! Bite—“
Buck tensed as she swallowed him down from root to stem. There was nothing left to do but deep throat.
He came up for air and shouted to the Goddess. His eyes rolled as Nieema sucked him down and continued, nuts and all. Her jaw unhinged, and she devoured.
Claimed and choked.
“Youuuuu devilish slut!” Buck roared. He growled, thrusts meeting her sinful rhythm.
“I’mmmm—ooweeeee…” Needing to shatter and release, Buck screwed his eyes shut and penetrated her with his thickening tongue. The pierced muscle caused her majesty to squirm and writhe, body slick and plush.
Buck tightened his hold and fucked his beloved in quickened fashion. He curled the tip and twirled, twisted, tasted.
She moaned and bobbed, using that neck for the greater good. Sweat and water collected between them, dripping from toes and nipples.
Nieema clung to him, scoring his thighs. Buck grunted and lavished her with his love. Nieema pumped and rolled as he punched. Their shared desire and passion coalesced and seeped through bone.
It pooled in the marrow and heated, setting his soul to a rolling boil.
Buck clutched her ass and drove his tongue deeper. He was set to tear this woman apart until she bit down and let him loose. His spine steeled, and thighs burned with the effort to remain standing.
His fight and refusal to fold were futile. Nieema pulled an orgasm from the body, leaving him for dead. Euphoria sprouted from every cell and limb, enveloping him completely. She wrenched it from the root, and he attacked her gushing pussy without delay.
The woman howled as Buck lost the use of his legs. They’d turned to moss and were unable to bear his weight. Before his ass collided with the floor, Nieema belted his name and flexed them vampire skills by righting herself in half a second.
When his behind greeted wet tile, Buck laughed, allowing his queen to straddle.
“You ain’t tired?!” Nieema kissed his neck and cupped his stiffening dick. “Damn woman, you gon’ put me in the coffin one day.”
“And I will be right there with you, old dog.”
They shared a bout of laughter and reconnected. No matter the time, day, or year, there’d never come a moment when Buck Sunside would ever get enough. She was the mother of his children, the beat of his heart, and the rich soil nourishing his soul.

Chapter 21: Ghouls & Gourds

Nine in the morning was too early. Bullshit before his first sip of coffee? Erroneous. This was too much for a sober workday. Blinking and listening, Jo ignored the chirping voice in the back of his head. The one telling him to do something outlandish. His magical dark fae biology begged for blood.
Jo slurped and grinned as hot, life-giving bean juice burned his throat.
“Am I a clown to you?” Mr. Voaremont asked. “Did I make a god damn joke?”
Jo dropped the smile and set his mug on the front desk. “No, suh. I had a long night, and the coffee hitting this morning.”
“You’re welcomeeee,” Marci sang from behind, tapping them keys.
Trevor sneered, forcing Jo to speak. “I know you’re upset, but—“
“This isn’t me upset, Sheriff. In fact, I’m fine. If I were upset, that mother fucker wouldn’t be bre—“
“Let’s not be hasty, Mr. Voaremont. You’re talking to a man of the law. Threatening folks ain’t nice, and depending on how deep it is, might land you in some legal trouble. Threatening the Queen’s consort, however, can and will be seen as a declaration of war.”
The angry, ugly white man with skunk breath rubbed his face and pointed at Jo. He didn’t appreciate it, a wing twitched with mounting irritation. Anyone else would’ve bitten his digit clean off.
Jo’s stomach lurched at the thought of that dirty ass finger in his mouth.
“I don’t give a shit who he is. I’m pressing charges.”
“You have every right to do that.”
“But you’re telling me, because of his status, the queen has to clear it first?”
“Yeah.”
“What use are you then?”
“Common folk do exist ‘round here.”
Mr. Voaremont groaned, slammed a fist on the desk, and grumbled. His antics got Powell’s attention. The ninety-year-old werewolf wasn’t about no bull and didn’t take kindly to outsiders, neither. Also, he hated the Voaremont clan for reasons he hadn’t stated.
“We got a problem here, son?” The seasoned deputy approached with a hand on his ancient revolver. “What can I do you for?”
Trevor re-assessed, obviously.
Powell was fully gray with a bad knee, but he was big as hell with arms the size of whiskey barrels and a smoky timbre even grown grizzlies envied. The city boy bowed out like an intelligent bitch and ran fingers through his hair.
“What do I need to sign?”
“Marci,” Jo called, spinning in his steel toes, “Get this man his papers.”
“Way ahead of you, baby.”
“Thank youuuuuu.”
Jo gulped his brew and smiled at Kit’s knitted brow. He scribbled in his notebook and hummed, as if pleased. The demon looked up from an elegant script and squinted. His eyes were unnatural, large, and a dazzling shade of lavender.
“So, one must file a report after a crime?”
“Mhm, yeah.”
“Becasuuuuuse you have to investigate the matter?”
“You got it.”
“So there are no mind scribes to sort through their memories? How tiresome.”
Jo canted his head and dropped into his squeaky chair. He didn’t have an office, only a desk. Right next to Renata’s. Their workspace was small but functional. One breakroom, one bathroom, and two jail cells. Not much else. With only four deputies and two dispatchers, they didn’t need a lot.
“I think you on to something,” Joe muttered. “But we ain’t never needed it really. Nothing to investigate.”
“What about the Platter Boys?”
“Yeah, we gon’ see about them in a bit.”
Kit stroked his smooth chin and hummed again. “What about gun crime? Knife crime? Magical crimes? Arson, vandalism, and theivery? You don’t have such problems here?”
Joe laughed and shook his head. “Nahhh. Look, Indigo Plains is a place of peace. Folks don’t come here looking for shady shit. They go to Carver or Misthill for that. Crime be so low here ‘cause this where the Queen lives. Folks know better than to run crazy with her right up the street. My great-grandma don’t take no mess. It makes my job easier.”
“Speak for yourself,” Powell said in passing. “Lazy, good for nothing. Mr. Inkwells dog bit the milkman. Sadie Nile accidentally shot her boy in the ass while hunting. He wants to press charges on his own mama, the bitch. And Pickle got so drunk last week he tipped a god damned bison. You don’t do that! Them is sacred animals. Ogres, think they own the world. I might take him to the high court behind this.”
The old man grumped and sat at his desk. He kicked his feet up and crossed them with a hand on his mouse. He loved digital solitaire most and was probably in the middle of his fifth game. Powell earned the right after serving as Sheriff for thirty-five years.
“That ain’t crime, bruh. That’s town shenanigans.” Jo giggled into his mug while Powell glared. He swigged and said, “Anyway, major crime isn’t a problem, and I don’t go searching for it ‘niether. I keep out of townsfolk business unless called. I don’t wear a pistol and—“
“You need to,” Powell piped.
“Play your little game and stay out of my mouth, damn.”
Kit tapped on his notebook and nodded. “I understand, completely. And you know what? I find this all quite fascinating. Even in the most affluent Undervell neighborhood, someone is bound to get stabbed or disemboweled.”
“Demons. Y’all too sensitive.”
“I know you ain’t talking,” Marci said, on her way to the restroom. “Crybaby ass.”
“I pay you!” She slammed the door, and Jo cussed. “Folks don’t respect me around here.”
“Insubordination, check.” Kit cocked a manicured brow and sniffed. “You should take a toe for their back talk.”
Jo lost his coffee and howled in laughter. He redecorated his desk with heavy cream, dark roast, marshmallow creamer, five cubes of sugar, and whipped cream.
“Excuse me?!” Powell barked.
Kit shrugged. “Where I come from, there are consequences for such treachery.”
“Treacheryyyy? Whoa, bruh. Calm down. You gotta relax.” Jo accepted the napkin Marci offered and wiped his goatee. “You a mess, you know that? Can’t slip around you, Kit.”
The demon straightened and gave an affirmative nod. “I don’t tolerate disrespect in my ranks.”
Jo’s brows hit the ceiling. “Ranks? What ranks?”
“My militia. Battalion. I see over five and have won my fair share of battles. Not without incident, mind you. I have tried my damndest to not—“
“Wait waiiiiiiit.” Waving his hands, Jo laughed. “You? A commander or head honcho of the military?”
“General. The one and only general of King Spires army.”
It was unimaginable. This here man is some cutthroat vet. It was wrong judging folks by their cover, Jo’s mama taught him better, and with GG Nieema’s past, he knew better, but daammmmnnnn.
Kit was shorter than Jo. Five-nine and cute as a button. Fat cheeks, dimples, and a soft, round frame, he looked like a fucking demonic doll. Kit was scared of the woods and flinched at any old sound.
He’d told Jo about the tiny stuffed Feldspar pooch—whatever that was—he carried in his bag. It made him feel safe. That same man was a general… of an army.
To think Kit a ruthless killer was absurd.
Jo glanced at Powell, who scoffed. “I call bullshit.”
“Good sir! Are you calling me a liar? Because there is nothing to gain in me doing so. I don’t even like—“ Kit clamped his mouth shut and slapped his notebook closed. “When are we leaving? I want to settle this buffoonery with the Platter Boys post haste.”
“Post haste? Bufoooonery?” Marci giggled, “What year do you think it is, Sherlock?”
“What?”
Marci cackled and tapped Jo’s shoulder. Her peridot eyes twinkled as she rocked in her chair. The sensual tree nymph was gorgeous and top-heavy.
“Uhhmm, Buck did call earlier. Said he wanted to talk to you about some weird cult shit.”
“Huh?” Jo winced and shook his head. “Cult shit? I don’t—what?”
Marci popped a shoulder and went back to her business of writing. She was fifty years old and tech-savvy. Jo didn’t know a damn thing about computers; that’s why he never owned one. The woman wrote action and suspense novels in her downtime, or so she told him.
Marci was talk of the town with her pistachio complexion, wide hips, and autumn red afro. Everyone wanted a piece, except Jo. They’d been friends since birth, and he never once tried it.
Not that she wasn’t attractive and built like a goddess, but he never thought of her as an option. Marci was his sister, best friend, and bodyguard. Folks tended to think Nymphs were gentle and peaceful creatures. They were, until you stepped on over to their bad side.
“Damn,” Jo cursed. “This is the most action I’ve ever seen. We should go. Let’s roll fren!”
“Finally!” Kit shot to his hooves and slung that purse over his shoulder. “Off to clean the streets! Swift, with a heavy hand. It’s time to impart law and order! Yes, let us roll.”
Jo and Marci deadpanned each other until they erupted in a cackling fit. This man, demon, funny as hell newcomer would soon find himself bored with Indigo Streets. There wasn’t shit to tidy up, save for a few leaves wilting in the gutters.

“Go for their dammed innards!” Kit yelled, panting and winded beyond the usual. “Undergods taint! There’s more of them!” Indigo Plains was a beautiful, scenic wonder Kit had come to love in a matter of hours. He figured it quiet and quaint, even after the giant spider debacle. Perhaps he’d misjudged Indigo Plains because this was far from quiet.
Jo flew overhead, swinging a lasso. “Jesus Christ! Powell bite their stems off!”
The massive werewolf bounded after the monstrous gourd while the others corralled the smaller possessed pumpkins. Kit struck another with his axe and roared in victory. He swung and severed their stems. The strange, sentient devils squealed, scratched, and whipped his arms with their barbed, curled vines.
“Vile beasts!” Kit ducked, rolled, and parried with swift, demonic precision. He missed the howling behemoth’s hoof by a hair. “They’re growing!”
Jo was certain that when they arrived at the Platter ranch, their objective would be simple. Retrieve stolen goods, give a final warning, and relay Mr. Carol’s message. Kit assumed it’d be a breeze, given how adamant Jo had been.
He reassured Kit on the way. This mission wouldn’t end in bloodshed. Kit had been hoping for a squabble and was saddened to learn, ‘Indigo just ain’t the place for that kinda thing.’
“I will flay you alive!” Kit shouted, slicing through a line of growling pumpkins. He squashed the tinier sort with his own hoof and batted away vines with bloody claws.
Steaming gourd viscera pelted his face as their platoon handled the carnivorous savages. The troop was small but capable, each possessing their own skill set.
With chaos erupting on the Platter Ranch, Kit called forth the heat wallowing in his roiling belly and expelled his fury. He sprayed a group of bloodthirsty abominations with his purple flame.
The bulbous creatures exploded.
Their entrails painted the day in gorgeous hues of death. One by one, they popped and melted.
Their crew worked tirelessly and well. Kit was impressed with Jo’s deputies. He respected Powell’s brute strength and Renata’s drive to kill. And Jo, he was no fighter, but the young man had heart and ingenuity. He’d become their eyes in the sky and an important asset as he worked from above. His support was much appreciated and essential, as the gourds were unable to simply look up. Jo used the art of surprise to murder, and Kit loved that.
Spewing fire, Kit galloped through the mass, flinging his axe. With the smaller pumpkins dead and dismembered with their scalps scattered about, they attacked the alpha. A tottering beast of ten feet and half the size of a cricket field.
With Powell and Renata scaling the monstrous gourd, Kit aimed low.
He chopped their squat, stalk legs. They flailed as Kit put his all into felling this beast. As he sliced into their limb, chunks of chitterlings rained upon him.
Kit inhaled hot pumpkin stink and roared. He vowed never to eat pumpkin pie ever again.
“Down with you!” Kit howled with a final swing of his axe. The wobbling giant squealed and screeched. “Jo! Take them down!”
Jo was quick with his lasso. He snagged hold of its thick stem and pulled with every ounce of his might. The fairy was stronger than he appeared.
His strength and ability were impressive. He managed to throw the monster off balance and yank it to the ground.
Kit moved in and released a stream of fire, focusing on the stem. From outside and within, their group attacked.
Renata crawled into the pumpkin’s wide, fang-filled maw and Powell heaved, pulling on the weakening stem. Kit was beaten, bloody, and exhausted, but he was elated to be of service.
The cursed creature wailed its final breath as the stem snapped and separated from its dome. Not a beat later, the beast erupted. The blast plucked Kit off his hooves and sent him spiraling.
Colors whirled as his lungs sputtered and heart skipped. He tumbled and twirled until crashing through solid wood.
Mammal stink and hay.
He dropped and bounced on impact. He had never been so thankful for animal shit in his life.
Rolling onto his back, Kit groaned as a horse nipped at his horns. “Get—madam or sir, please! Do fuck off!”
“Kit?! Kit!”
He bolted upright and greeted Jo with a smile. “What a thrilling experience.”
Jo laughed, climbed onto the heap of dried grass and excrement. He extended a hand Kit didn’t need but accepted nonetheless.
“Thrilling, huh?”
“Indeed.” Once steady and standing, Kit dusted himself off. It did absolutely fuck all, but it was something to do. “It’s been at least a year since I’ve had a good fight. This was just what I needed. I am refreshed!”
“Bruh, refreshed is a strong word for somebody covered in horse shit.”
Because the moment called for it and Jo had given Kit no other choice, he released a squeal of laughter. The snorting variant. The show of joy Kit reserved for kin. It was a dad joke, and Kit needed a decent chuckle after dueling with mutant pumpkins.
Jo clapped Kit on the shoulder and sighed. “Let’s see what them boys got to say for themselves.”
“Throw them in the pit!”
“You know? We don’t got one of those, but I’ll keep it in mind.”
“The pit has many uses, and to be frank, when you add flesh eaters, most tend to rethink their wasted life of crime.”
Jo giggled as they marched toward the Platters’ home. “I bet.”
Kit growled as the boys slouched and snivelled on the steps. They were scared, pathetic, and worried. Good, they should be. It was due time they served time for this foolery.
Powell stomped outside, wearing the clothes he’d arrived in. “You boys got some talkin’ to do.”
“I—we—we didn’t mean to—“
“Stealing?!” Renata shouted. “You didn’t mean to steal? Because that’s something you boys planned to do and have been doing for months. So tell us, what didn’t you mean? Speak up, Jed!”
The woman troll person was large in stature. Much like a warrior demon from Undervell. Broad with hard planes and toned curves. The sun kissed her pink eyes just so. Its effect may have distracted Kit for a moment.
“We only wanted to experiment,” Jed confessed.
“Yeah.” The smaller of the three nodded and crossed his arms. He wiped tears and looked to his elder. “We only wanted to do some magic. That’s all. Mama said we had enough pumpkins and wann’t buyin’ nomore.”
“So you decided to steal them? From Mr. Carol, of all people.
Jed’s head hung low as he apologized. The middle brother, Sam, didn’t have much to say. He had reiterated what the others expressed and left it at that.
“You gonna tell Mama?” Jed asked.
Jo lifted his chin with a wing twitch. He studied the horizon and shook his head. Kit stepped in to set this right. These boys needed structure, and the fear of the Undergods struck into them.
Consequences must be faced.
Jo lifted a hand, and Kit quieted. This was not his army or his job at the moment. He had no authority here and understood.
“I won’t tell Leah, under one condition.”
“Name it,” Jed said.
“You three will put in work. On the Cresstooth farm for six weeks. Three hours after school, Monday through Friday. I’mma give y’all slips Mr. Cressthooth will sign after each working day. You will earn ten dollars every hour. After them six weeks is up, you can have every dime earned.”
“What magic were you boys foolin’ with anyway?” Renata asked.
And it was a good inquiry considering they’d created monsters found only in the smoldering depths of Undervell.
He shrugged, eyes pinned to the ground. “We want—we wanted to make our own haunted curiosities show for Hollwscream week. We already got some stuff cooked up, but Sam said we needed an attraction.”
“Suhun’ to woo the audience,” Sam said.
Kit scoffed at their waste of an entrepreneurial spirit.
“Why didn’t y’all just ask somebody in town who knows magic?”
The littlest brother huffed and kicked rocks. “Mama said we can’t be asking magic folk for stuff if we ain’t gon’ pay.”
“Your mother seems wise,” Kit said. “You ought to listen to her.”
“We did,” Jed interjected. “We got it our way.”
Powell growled, making the Platter Boys shrink. “And you made a right fool of yourself. People could’ve died! If Jo hadn’t shown up there ain’t no telling what woulda happened.”
“We’re sorry, Mr. Powell. We didn’t mean for none of this. Honest.”
Jo nodded. “We hear you boys, but you’re still gonna handle your business at the goat farm. You understand? Jed, Samuel, Randy? You got me?”
Jed lifted his watery stare and sniffled. “Yes, sir.”
Kit wasn’t sure about human growth rates. But Jed looked to be fourteen, perhaps fifteen cycles. He’d remember this moment for the rest of his life, and good for him. It was a journey taken the hard way around, as Carriont would say. Thinking of his father, Kit grimaced.
“A’ight, y’all.” Jo wrinkled his nose and spat a pumpkin seed. Kit shuddered at the sight and sound. “Go’on and wash up. We’ll call sanitation. This’ll be gone by the time your mama gets home.”
The Platter Boys scrambled and ran inside, the odd door covering clapped shut behind them.
“You went too light on them,” Renata said.
“Back in my day,” Powell rumbled, “I would have been picking switches from that there peach tree.”
“My father would have made me carry a pack loaded with severed heads and walk a hundred miles across the Shovah Badlands.” Kit examined his filthy, pumpkin-mucked claws. “It taught me discipline and character.”
“And trauma,” Jo announced, smiling. “Abuse is not cute, and I feel sorry for y’all. Anyway! Come on, let’s help sanitation and get the hell outta here. I need a shower and a pan of Grandma’s scones.”
“Maggie baked?” Kit asked, perking with the news. “She’s prepared more vestiges?”
“Just for me!” Jo barked. “Get your own god damn scones, Kit.”
“How rude. I am a guest, and as such I should get the first serving.”
“Shiiiiiid.”
Powell sniffed and glanced at Kit. “He’s possessive of his food and will bite you over Maggie’s.”
Kit squared his sopping wet, poop-crusted shoulders. “Good thing I can take a bite or two.”

When I initially started this series, I knew I wanted a large cast. A cast of potential couples and family dynamics and shenanigans. I want Indigo Plains to be its own character and for y’all to live there and meet the community. I don’t want this world to feel stuffy or confined because there is so much I see for this place. There’s a lot of world-building going on for this world, for Ravensguard and territories beyond it.
Everything else I write is so dark and serious. World-ending high-stakes type shit. I never wanted that for PWPF, and I still don’t. Y’all will get more chapters with more characters down the line.
This season is focusing on Jasper, but I wanted to give these two some page time. For obvious reasons, Kit’s pov is important. I’m not apologizing for Jo’s arrival. I love him and Kit together. I’m still uncertain about where they are headed or if they’ll go anywhere. They’re cute together, but that doesn’t mean they have an HEA.
I am a shameless panster who gives the characters free will. In truth, I have no clue what I’m doing or where a book is going until I start typing.
That said, I have plans for Kit. Just don’t know if they’ll include Jo. I guess we all have to keep reading to find out. And yeah, that includes me.
As always, thank you so much and have a lovely week, y’all. Hydrate, rest, and STOP DOOM SCROLLING.

Chapter 20: Twice Shy

Unbelievable. How had she folded so quickly? Jasper was celibate and didn’t want to fuck anyone. Hand jobs don’t count! They didn’t count in her world, so this was fine. She was okay with what had transpired, but her heart said otherwise. Her anxiety, fear, and hesitations called her bluff. Jasper was a liar and a coward.
Popping upward, Jasper peered into Nieema’s lustrous carmine eyes and shook her head. “I have to go.”
And she left, in a puff of gold smoke. This was the quickest mode of transportation for a demon, though not her favorite. With a flick of the mind, Jasper could go anywhere she’d already been in seconds. Buuuut, she didn’t travel that way often because her stomach hated the motion and magic. Despite being born with the ability, her body wasn’t built for it. Moments after transporting, Jasper was irrefutably fucked.
The short journey was unkind, rough, and always sent her straight to the god damn lavatory. Her guts were too sensitive for the trip, and with everything else, she was in shambles.
Jasper popped up in her cabin, on the pot, and stayed there for a torturous thirty-five minutes. Every so often, Kit’s terrifying demon cat shoved its furry paw under the door. Their claws were menacing and creeped her out. After what seemed like an eternity, Jasper flushed, washed hands, and even showered.
She needed to recalibrate and refocus to get sex off her mind. Lust and sexual gratification gave Succubi purpose and essentially made them happier. Jasper loathed the peace and joy riding her bones. She was elated, energized, and ready to dance under a harvest moon for hours.
Why were they meant for pleasure? Her only real sustenance was an orgasmic release, sexual energy, and a thick masculine soul. Without sampling at least one of those things, she’d die. Could she ever truly be celibate? No. And she’d never really, actually been that. According to the Internet, she was abstinent. Buuuut, she fucking tried. Nieema’s fingers had been the only thing inside Jasper after months of nothing. And gods, did it feel amazing. She wanted more, but it’d be a mistake on her part to carry on down that road. They were a royal couple, and Jasper couldn’t go there. No matter how desirable the Sunsides were.
Being a celibate Succubus was hard as fuck at the moment, but it was better than getting married off and showcased like a doll. She cursed her mother’s strong genes and traits every fucking day. Carrion spread his seed about without shame. He sampled every pussy and hole Undervell offered. Succubi were his favorite, however. They were everyone’s favorite.
Jasper could’ve been half Leer demon like her sister; they were common brimstone types with normal sexual appetites. They weren’t highly sought-after commodities. Comely but not stunning.
Because Succubi conceived when they wanted and how, their population was small. The last time Jasper checked, there were eighty-four living Succubi left in Undervell. The High Mother protected most of them because of their numbers and how gross demonic males were around them.
“Uggggh!” Jasper roared as her body hummed with desire. She’d be frustrated for a few days and needed to keep busy. After moisturizing with citrus-scented body oil, she donned a pair of boxers and a tank top. Jasper wasn’t in the mood for night gowns or robes. “I need games and food.”
She trekked into the kitchen and grabbed whatever. Sparkling water, muffins, and hot chips. It’d be good enough for now. On the turnaround, she jumped and growled at the ugly cat.
“Shoo!” It hissed, tail flicking with their ass on the counter. “Get off! That’s disgusting.” Jasper went to shove the beast, and it scratched her. “Ow! You shit! Move or so help me—thank god,” she exclaimed as Kit waltzed through the door. “Please get your asshole cat off the kitchen counter.“
“Yoooooou wretched thing!” Kit slammed his satchel and notebook on the island and chased the cat away. “I have told you, Julep! No felines in the kitchen. Gods. He is by far the most stubborn soul I have ever encountered. How are you, sister mine? How was your night?”
“Well, not great to be honest.”
“Pardon? What’s the matter?” Kit opened the fridge and snapped his head around. “Did someone slight you? Touch you without consent?”
Eyes sharp and sparking with fury, he was a sight. Her heart warmed and swelled as her big brother threatened harm to anyone who had hurt her. It kind of made Jasper rethink her silence on the Trevor matter. Maybe he deserved to suffer and shit, if anyone could do the job, it was Kit.
“No, no nothing like that.” Jasper sighed, dropped her goodies on the counter, and snatched up a muffin. She tore open the plastic and bit into it. She didn’t know what to say without divulging too much information. So, she went with the obvious. “I went to look at my house for some construction stuff and got attacked by tiny rock-eating fairies. They messed me up pretty bad, thank Undergods we heal fast. I mean, they were tiny but quick. Also, like half of my roof caved in. The whole house is shit, and it’s ruining my mood.”
Kit tsked and rummaged in the fridge. “Gods, you’ve had a bad go of it. I think your house is cursed.”
“Me too.”
“Who sold it to you anyway?” Kit asked, slipping into his apron. “What piece of shit had the audacity? It is abundantly clear that the home was inhabitable. Whomsoever sold it to you knew this. What was their name?”
“Hawke, uhhhh Nathan Hawke. He was the real estate agent.”
“Hmmmm.” Kit got that look. The flaying look. The expression he took on moments before someone saw their end. “I’ll talk to Joe about this matter tomorrow.”
“Joe?”
“Yes, he’s Nieema and Buck’s great-grandson.”
While Kit busied himself in the kitchen, opening his giant cookbook and gathering ingredients, Jasper jumped up onto the island. She polished off the muffin and grabbed another.
“The young man is chatty and knowledgeable. He’s snappy but a complete goof. Not someone I’d fraternize with in Undervell, but pleasant company. And, he’s also the Sheriff.”
Jasper recalled Buck saying something about this. “Sheriff, huh?”
“Mhm.” Kit nodded as he cracked open large brown eggs over a big bowl. “Yes. He’s allowing me to accompany him on a ride-along tomorrow.”
“What the hell is a ride a long?”
“It’s when a civilian rides with the Sheriff in their motorized vehicle for the day. And possibly, we’ll dispatch a bit of law and order. The Platter boys have been running amok, don’t you know. Thieves are about, sister. Stay vigilant and watch your gourd.”
Jasper cackled, feet swinging. The thought of somebody stealing squash in this town was funny but Kit didn’t think so. His scowl shut me up.
“This is no laughing matter. Mr. Carol has worked hard to grow just enough pumpkins for this year’s festivals. He can’t afford to lose anymore. It’d be a travesty.”
Jasper chuckled despite his grumbling. “How do you know more about this place than I do?”
“Because you, Jasper, are a solitary creature. You’re not curious about others, and you don’t like people. You’d rather stay locked in your chambers with bits and baubles. You’ve always been this way and don’t think you’ve changed much. Are you less than for preferring your own company? No. I think, it’d be good for you to explore Indigo Plains. Especially if you intend on calling it home.”
“I am curious. I like to try new things and go places. I went bowling today, thank you very much.”
“Good for you! Say, how about you and I visit Maggie in a few days?”
“The witch?”
“Indeed. How do you know about her?”
“Buck mentioned her.”
“She makes fine cakes.” Kit lifted his chin and folded hands atop his belly. “Yeees, that is my reason for scheduling another visit. What a delectable bite. You’ll see. Oh, after that, we can go into town and buy more wares.”
“With my money?”
“Yes.”
Kit spun around, turned on the radio, and fussed with it until finding classical music. That was her cue to leave. Jasper slid off the counter and snatched her loot.
“Same goes for you, Jasper. Keep your rump off of my counters!”
“What are you making?”
“A common quiche.”
“I don’t know what the fuck that is, but call me when it’s done.”
“Will do.”
Kicking her door shut, Jasper mulled over what her brother said. He was right, she was a loner, and so the fuck what? She didn’t want to be bothered, and the best way to make that happen was to be by herself.
Jasper ignored the ache at the base of her tail and threw snacks on her bed. She’d had it coiled around her thigh all day. It often had a mind of its own, but she was the boss. Over the years, she’d become self-conscious about it, thanks to who? Trevor Fucking Voaremont. He, didn’t like her tail. Said it was weird and trashy to leave out in public.
“Leave me alone,” she muttered, plugging in her laptop. Settling on her bed, Jasper placed her computer on a tray, donned her headset, and booted up Streamer for the first time in weeks. After finding a cheap game to download, she popped open her chips. He hated eating in bed, hated her eating junk food, and hated the way she crunched so loudly. “Go to hell, Trevor Voarmont.”

Chapter 9: Fairy Friends

“A quart of beef stock? What in the Undervell is that?” Kit read the recipe for a common stew and was confounded by three ingredients. “Stock, corn starch, and russet potatoes…Perhaps I can research each ingri—“
“Or,” Julep shouted from his post on the windowsill. “Forgive me because this is a crazy idea, but how about you ask someone!? Maybe Nieema. I like her. She’s vampyre and quite sensual. If I weren’t cursed to hold this feline form I’d make her mine.”
“She is betrothed you whore.”
“Semantics.” Julep’s tail flicked and rolled as he watched chickens peck the soil searching for grubs. He was intent on killing them for how they’d treated Kit earlier. “My suggestion stands. Ask her. Land dwellers seem amiable and dare I say, kind. Encouraging even. I hate them.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
Kit removed his apron, hung it on a hook shaped like a kind of nut, and grabbed his journal. He stopped to boop Julep’s nose. The testy cat hissed and tried to fight him off.
“I hope to have lunch, supper, what have you, at least started before we leave. I’m rather excited about this demolition business.”
“Yes, you ache for violence.” Julep lapped at a paw and brushed it over his ear. “You and I are such alike it scares me at times. Say, on your return would it be alright if I took a walk?”
“Why?”
“I’m bored.”
Kit blinked at his friend, who stared with indifference.
“Julep, you are a liar. You bring me rodents when I’ve expressed how foul they are. You tell me they attack you. Lie. You leave refuse in my bed and say you were ‘sleep shitting’. Lie. Youuu, want at the chickens.”
“I do not!”
“I counted fifteen hens. And I will come back to the same amount or I’ll give you a bath then fit you with a leash!”
Julep hissed once more and lunged at Kit. The bastard took chase and clawed at his ankles.
“You’ll bleed, demon! If you even dare, I’ll fill your shoes with mice!”
Kit yanked open the front door, and Julep escaped in skittish, feline fashion. “You had better run, petulant beast!”
The sun shone in a clear blue sky and mammals bleated. One could say it was a lovely day if not for a seething gentleman blocking the exit.
“Ah, you,” Kit intoned.
“Yeah. Me. I know you touched my eggs.”
“Were those your eggs?” Steeling his spine, Kit sneered. “I didn’t know. I was sure they belonged to the chickens that laid them.”
“Don’t get smart with me, jack!”
“My name isn’t Jack, it’s Kit.”
“Don’t you ever go digging for my eggs.”
Kit growled as Hank’s red eyes sparked. He was within range to catch his death. Clove and bergamot swirled about. The scent was oddly comforting and contradictory of his boorish behavior.
“They are everywhere!” Kit pronounced, holding his ground.
“I don’t give a shit, they’re mine.”
“Surely you’re not using all of them.”
“I am.”
“Liar!”
Hank hissed like the uncouth cave dweller he was and begged for a fight. Kit was born for battle, molded by it. He’d won many wars and made a name for himself. In Undervell, he’d have ripped Hank’s tongue out, pureed it, then spoon-fed him the mush with glee. But this was Indigo Plains, Ravensguard territory.
He did not need to kill this man.
Done with the whole conversation and Hank’s dewy complexion Kit stomped across the porch.
“I have nothing more to—“
“Don’t you walk away from me! I ain’t done. Don’t bother my chickens or my eggs, do you hear me?”
Hank blocked Kit’s path for the second time.
“Get out of my way or I will be forced to cause bodily harm.”
“There you go, threatenin’ me again.” Hank huffed and hiked up his trousers. “You sho’ you wanna ride this stallion, boy.”
“I’m sure Granny not gonna like you pestering her guest.”
The disembodied voice turned Kit around. There, on the overhang, sat a fellow with magenta locs and a bag of crisps. His legs dangled as he smiled and looked to the sky.
“This guest is too god damn nosy!”
“And you too grumpy,” the roof-sitter claimed.
“Indeed.”
“You hush,” Hank grumbled.
Kit pivoted and faced his nemesis. “You have no authority here. Good day.”
“You heard him, Hank. Get goin’.”
“Jo, I wann’t talking to you.”
“You know I do not give a fuck. I will tell Granny.”
Hank resigned and mumbled expletives on his trip down the stone path. With the cantankerous vampire on his way, Kit watched him go. He was a brute with the stature to match.
“Whyyyy, are you on the roof?” Kit asked.
“I was bored, didn’t have nothin’ pressing to do so I figured why not say hi.”
“Hello.”
“Where were you goin’?”
Kit shifted his gaze up and over. “To ask your grandmother a question. Nieema, right?”
“Mhm. Yeah. But she ain’t up yet. ‘Bout another two hours.”
“I’ll wait. But, again, why are you sitting on th—“
Jo laughed, swinging his legs. “’Cus it’s the best place to think. Where you do your best thinking?”
“In the bath.”
“I can see that.”
Kit yelped, clutched his journal, and slid from the landing zone. Jo had jumped from the roof and touched down with unnatural agility. He was rangy and wolfish. His smile remained, showcasing more than several fangs. Kit was unsettled by his friendliness and pointed features.
He’d never seen such a thing.
“You have quite the pair of wings,” Kit said, noticing the subtle twitch and flit. “Your grandmother is a vampire, no? As would be your mother or fat—“
Jo stuffed an orange colored crisp into his mouth and said, “We all mixed up ‘round here. My Mama wasn’t even all vampire. The only one who is, is Granny. My Mama is only half. I got fairy blood mostly. As you can tell from the lifts.”
“Lifts?”
“Another word for wings.” Jo looked to the winding walkway and laughed for whatever reason. “You wanna come with me somewhere?”
“Where?”
“To see a witch.”
“Yes!” Kit gasped. “Let me get my satchel first.”
After running inside for his bag, he filled it with his journal, a bottle of water, and two cashew butter and blackberry jam sandwiches. “I’m set.”
“Why you look like a hobbit on their first adventure?”
“A whaaat?”
“You got the sweater, purse, and hairy hooves.”
“What is a—“
Jo cackled and started their pleasant journey through the field. It was hard to believe this entire stretch of land belonged to a single family. Of course, Carriont owned a manor with thirty-five rooms, a botanical garden, and an amphitheater but to Kit, it felt more like a soggy shoe box.
“Who was the fairy?” Kit asked.
“My dad. He still in Lightbridge. The classless fuck. Got my mama pregnant and bought her a train ticket home. Fairies don’t much like melting pots if you know what I mean.”
“I do not, unfortunately.”
Jo smiled and dragged his feet, the strange coverings slapped the ground in annoying succession. They were hardly useful with the bit of plastic between his toes. Kit shuddered at the sight. Five digit freaks.
“Most folks up north in fairy land don’t mess with vampires.”
“Ahhh, I understand. In Undervell, many don’t like sleep paralysis demons. My father calls them ruffians. The general population ignores them. They’re labeled lazy trash by the media.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“I suppose, in a sense.”
Kit kept a wary eye on the woods. He’d kill a lion and make quick use of its hide. If one even dared try a surprise attack, he’d throttle them.
“Are their lions here?”
“Lions? What, like Simba?”
“Who?”
“Damn, what y’all be watching in hell?”
“Lions, you know? Big golden cats with impressive claws and—“
“Oohhhh, shit!” Jo laughed, and his wings fluttered. “Noooo, no. We don’t got them here. That’s like down south, across Pearl Gulf. Nahhh. No lions. But we do got like, Ore bears, bear shifters, Burling bears, Dust peckers, Harpies, and uhhh spiders. Them big ones.”
“I saw one.”
“Whaaaaat? And you still breathin’?”
Jo tsked and crumpled the empty crisp bag. He slipped it into the pocket of his checkered shorts and smirked. “You’re a bad, bad man, Kit.”
“I was shoved into a closet. I didn’t even get to fight.”
“Ohhh, you know what? Grandaddy said something about that.”
“I’m sure.”
If Jo never spoke, one might be frightened of the young man. He was covered in tribal ink, draped in gold jewelry, and his claws were the darkest shade of red Kit had ever seen. As if he’d dipped them in blood. The color faded at his third knuckle, where an amber, sun-drenched brown shimmered.
Faeries were hideous creatures.
“I’m quite excited to meet a witch,” Kit said.
“You ain’t never seen one?”
“No, never.”
“My grandpa was a witch. Warlock, really. It’s why I got magic in my bones.”
“Sooo, you’re the Sunsides, great grandson.”
“Mhm. Yup.”
“Where’s the rest of your family?”
“Hell if I know.” Jo shrugged and waved at the sheep. The poor devil was insane. “Not everybody set up for town living, and most don’t wanna die here.”
“What nonsense. Indigo Plains is magnificent!” Kit inhaled a deep breath, enjoying the outdoor stench. “It smells terrible, but even I see the beauty here. It’s peaceful and bright. Magical. After sunset, the moon casts an incredible light upon this land. I didn’t want to come here. I mean, I did. But not this soon, and certainly not under these circumstances.”
“What circumstances?”
Kit stopped himself from saying too much. He still had six days to get Jasper home and he was no closer than he had been hours ago.
“My sister, I came to help her with the dire living situation when we were attacked by the spider beast.”
“Riiiiight, right.”
“Young man—“
“Whoa, I’m forty-five.”
“I have trousers older than you.”
The fairy laughed again and shoved Kit’s shoulder. He stumbled into the grass and tried to hold his own chuckle, but failed. They followed the path for another thirty minutes. During such time, the loquacious Jo had stated facts and opinions. He tossed rocks, twirled sticks, and skipped along.
Every so often, Jo stopped to speak with sheep and a huge fucking blue goat with an immaculate set of horns. In that moment, Kit wished he hadn’t shaved his.
He touched the bumpy, raised edge in need of a touch-up and sighed. The Duke had said wild horns were improper for a general with status.
“Why are we going into the wood?” Kit asked, stopping in his tracks.
“This ain’t no forest. Calm down.”
“Woods.” Kit looked from the snaking road to an amused Jo. The damned stones vanished into a void.
Twisting the strap on his bag, Kit took a step back. “I can’t.”
“I told you it’s not a forest, woods, whatever.”
“Not the same thing.”
“This, is a garden.”
Kit scowled. “A garden?”
“Yeah, swear it on my Mama’s heart. Maggie keeps plants and shit like Papa Buck.”
“Wait, he has a garden?”
“Yeah. You saw it on the tour.”
“The greenhouse is his?”
Jo nodded and waved a hand. “Let’s goooo. Got things to do, geezer.”
“What’s a geezer?”
Jo giggled and extended a palm. Kit stared at it, not knowing what to do. “What would you like from me?”
“You somethin’ else, demon man.”
Kit flinched as Jo snatched his hand and gripped it with cold fingers. It’d been a while since anyone other than Jasper had touched him. Shocking and strange as it was, Kit needed the support as they inched forward.
It was fact, he’d led an entire army into battle sixty-four times and had the scars to prove it. Yes, he was known as General Raze the Great Impaler and yes, he saved all of Undervell four years ago, but by gods, the woods turned him into a hatchling. A cowering wee thing on the verge of pissing themselves.
His heart thudded. He couldn’t hear Jo’s prattle over his own chattering teeth. Towering trunks and creaking boughs. They were going to eat him alive! Swallow him whole and dine on his entrails!
A golden light bobbed, causing a brief distraction. Kit sucked in a breath as the tiny being landed on the tip of his nose.
“What—“ The insect buzzed away and Kit tracked its winding movement until it perched atop a luminous flower. “Oh my, it is a garden.”
Flanking their path was an unfathomable amount of blossoms, bushes, and vines. He didn’t know what any of them were called and dared not ask. Miniature winged insects fluttered about while frogs lazed on lily pads in a nearby pond. Sculptures, fountains, and sitting areas gave the area personality.
“Yeah,” Jo said, sighing. “She’s a pack rat. Like, bad. Almost bad as Old Man Joyner. I been telling her they’d make a nice couple.”
“I don’t know what a pack rat is, but it sounds lovely.”
Jo snickered and knocked on a pink oval door. He released his hold and hugged a portly woman with coral-hued curls. Kit appreciated her bespangled hair, studded with beads, both colorful and dissimilar.
“Come, my boy, come. And you’ve brought a friend! Welcome, Kit.”
“You know my name? We have never met how—“
“I know everything that happens on this ranch. I’m Maggie, honey. Now come inside so I can feed you.”
He smiled on a nod and entered the witch’s home. It was a storybook cottage and smelled of freshly baked bread. Kit was pretty good with flour and yeast as well. Though no one had ever tried his loaves except for Jasper.
Herbs hung from the ceiling and above the wood-burning stove. Jars, tea cups, and pottery cluttered every surface. Bowls of fruit and veggies straddled a large tome. Kit was awestruck. Her home was everything he figured it to be. Witches weren’t the neatest bunch. They had spells to complete, wards to cast, and medicine bags to fill. He’d done research on them, too.
Kit had been fascinated with witchcraft its wielders for many years. Powerful beings who pulled words from a page with intention and purpose.
“Sit, sit.”
He obeyed and settled on the sofa next to Jo, who lounged upside down. Feet kicking, he crunched on something and erupted in a squeal of laughter.
“How’s the house business going, Kit?”
“I can’t say. We’re supposed to do the demolition tonight.”
“Yeah, right. Leave it to Grandma Nima. All she wanna do is swing that hammer. There are things you gotta do before the actuarial construction begins. I’m sure Papa Buck is handling it as we speak .”
Kit twisted around to examine the witch. “Are you a relative?”
“I was married to their son, Carter.”
“Was?”
“He caught the travel bug,” Maggie said, cutting into a cake Kit would devour in seconds. “Went off to fight in a war that was no business of ours. Trolls. Quarrelsome. Bah! Anyway, Carter transitioned some twenty years ago. I’m Jo’s grandmother.”
“Ohhh, this is getting rather confusing.”
“I can see how it would. We got ‘bout four generations of Sunsides in this town. Be prepared. Not everyone stayed, but I got more cousins than I can shake a stick at. Here you go, baby.”
Kit hurried to accept the gift of sugar. “Thank you, this looks divine.”
“Divine? You flatter me.”
“Never.”
Maggie blushed and slapped the fairy’s foot. “Jo, sit your behind up. Every which way on my couch. You lost ya mind. Huh.”
“Oooo. Cake!”
Jo hunched over his plate and smiled. “Grandma, is there extra raisins in it?”
“You damn skippy.”
“Mmmm. Carrot cake is the only cake I eat.”
Kit didn’t know what carrot cake was, but the moment bits of carrot, dried fruit, and cinnamon greeted his tongue,e he understood Jo’s comment. It was unlike anything Kit had ever tasted. Soft, moist, with a slight crunch.
“What is that toffee-like morsel?! What brand of heaven is this? Ohhh, Maggie, I have been gifted food from a skilled god of fare!”
Maggie exploded in a crackle of giggles and clapped her hands. “Take that Culinary Arts and kiss my Black ass!”
“Yes!” Kit whooped and raised his fork. “Kiss her Black ass Arts of the Culinary.”
Jo hollered in laughter and choked. He hacked while Maggie patted his back. “Slow down, baby. I told you, chew before you swallow. You know, he came out of the womb with a spoon in his hand.”
“Seriously?” Kit gasped, and Maggie waved a hand.
“You’re hilarious. Not many demons are. I like you, Kit.”
He perked at the compliment, as no stranger had said such things to him before. After scraping crumbs, Maggie ordered him to have another slice. Of course, he agreed.
“Jo, you know them Platter boys stole two more pumpkins from Mr. Carol again.”
“Come onnnnn, Grandma no work talk.”
“No, you gotta do somethin’ about ‘em.”
“I already did, I—“
“You gave them a stern talking to. That ain’t gon’ cut it, this is the third time. You know Mr. Carol is getting his patch ready for the fair.”
Jo finished his last bite and groaned aloud. Kit didn’t see what the issue was.
“Are these ruffians?” Kit asked. “Barbarous thieves?”
“They’re teenagers,” Jo said. “Seventeen and eighteen. Kids. They have an obsession with pumpkins. I don’t know.”
“Are you their ward?”
“What? Nah. I’m the Sheriff.”
“And as sheriff,” Maggie piped, braiding strands of ribbon dangling with charms, “its your job to stop crime.”
“I got deputies for that shit.”
“Boy.”
“Sorry, ma’am. But why I gotta do it?”
Maggie hit Jo with a telling side eye, one even Kit evaded by looking at a stack of thick books on the coffee table. Herbs, stones, and trees. He’d love to read each volume for research purposes.
“You wanna go on a ride-along with me tomorrow?” Jo asked.
“A what?”
“Do you want to ride with me while I’m working. Doing boring sheriff stuff.”
“Absolutely! I’d love the chance to dish out laws and orders. And rid Indigo Plains of all tomfoolery.”
Kit waggled his brows and nudged Jo with an elbow. he snickered.
“You not doing none of that. But I love the enthusiasm.”
“Aw.” Kit slouched into the sofa. “Can I at least arrest someone?”
“I can’t remember the last time I arrested somebody. Maybe five years ago?”
“Wait, but you’re a land-dwelling patron of order, as we call those with authority in Undervell, you must detain and judge.”
“Our courthouse is for like, property cases. Civil suits. There’s virtually no crime here.”
“Save for them Platter boys,” Maggie mumbled.
“Grandmaaaaa.”
“How odd. Jasper said crime is a huge issue in the capital.”
“I bet,” Jo chimed. “And Johnny Law makes it worse.”
“How?”
“I don’t got it in me for a talk like that. Grandma, more cake!”
“You want another piece too?”
Kit tapped his lips and scrunched his nose. “Do…uhm…do a pig shit?”
Jo cackled, stomped his feet, and smacked Kit in the arm.
“Lords,” Maggie rolled her eyes and said, “You sound like Buck already.”

Chapter 2: In Which An Invitation Is Extended

“Where is it? Wher—yes!” Jasper found her favorite scarf in a box titled ‘books’. There were books inside, but also non-book items. With a telling whimper, she scurried into the bathroom and tied the rainbow silk length tight. The bright, colorful theme continued all the way down to her boots.
Pink overalls made her hips pop. Jasper had no business trying to look put together. She was celibate! A sexless succubi was a thing of myth, but she was here to defy the odds. Sex, love, and companionship brought nothing but pain into her life.
Of course, when a handsome couple lusted after you it said something. She hadn’t lost her touch. Jasper still had what folks wanted. From the tips of her gold-tipped horns to the soles of her feet she was…she was…
Jasper stared at her reflection in a cruddy, broken mirror and sighed. She was still trying to find herself. Trying to recover tiny shards after a terrible ordeal.
A shrill ring and clatter made her flinch. Jasper rushed from the washroom and saw to her phone. She smiled at the photo and name.
“Kit?”
“Hay.”
“What’s up, lovebug?”
“I… well… Jasper, I quit!”
Her heart bloomed with warmth and hope. “Oh, my god. Kit you didn’t. Oh shit. You, when—quit?”
“Yeah, and Dad’s pretty mad. I—that would make two of us and well—he kicked me out.”
Jasper stopped dead and stared at her laptop. She had orders and shit to fulfill but holy hell, she was going through a lot. Tugging on her necklaces she nodded as Kit went on about their father’s lecture and anger. The Duke was mad and who cared. Not every demon belonged in hell. Not every demon knew how to harvest souls, make contracts, or even kill. Jasper didn’t and had never committed murder. Other demons treated her like a pariah.
“Okay, Kit?”
“Mhm?”
“You’re gonna stay with me. Of course. No questions asked.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to…”
Her brother mumbled as always, doubting his usefulness and station in her life.
“Yes! Now shut up and get over here. And hay—“
A heavy-handed knock had her jumping out of her skin.
“Just come right in, don’t knock. I’m having my house looked at. Don’t mind the mess and behave. Also, that fucking cat stays outsi—“
“He’s not a feral outside cat!”
“I don’t—“
A third knock put her in motion. “I gotta go. See you in a minute.”
“Kay. Bye.”
Jasper ended their call and jogged downstairs, forgetting about the warped wood. She slipped on the second to last step and stumbled into the vestibule. “Holy god damn.” She was a mess and in a hurry, it seemed. The Sunsides were attractive and soooo off-limits. She hadn’t participated in a threesome in years. Not that it was an option, because it wasn’t. Jasper set aside her obsession with vampires and her curiosity about Buck Sunside to open the door.
“Hayyy.” Jasper waved a hand. “Come in. And watch your step.”
“Forgive Buck,” Nieema said, crossing the threshold. She carried herself like a queen and resembled one. “He’s in writing mode. Ain’t no talking while he’s walking. I’m going to throw some things at him and he’ll jot it all down.”
Jasper scrunched her nose as Nieema turned up hers. She was a gorgeous Black goddess with obsidian skin and a shock of teal braids. They were bound in an elegant crown and suited her regal features.
“Water damage,” Nieema pipped, strolling into what might be formal living one day. Jasper loved the giant fireplace. “Mold damage. Termites are having a time wallowing in their rot. The floors gotta go. There’s a leak below. Solid bones, though.”
Nieema stomped twice and nodded.
“The foundation is crumbling, child. I can hear mice chattering in the walls and squirrels are in the attic. They’ve chewed through the wiring, I’m sure. I wouldn’t turn on a single light if I was you.’
“They don’t work,” Jasper added, though given the lanterns and fake candles, Nieema probably knew.
Buck followed his wife, scribbling every word. They traveled through the house, making Jasper dizzy. There was shit wrong she hadn’t even noticed. They conversed about what to do in the kitchen, leaving her to stare.
Buck was enormous. Taller than them both. Nieema was tiny, maybe five-two, so everyone was taller than her. But it wasn’t every day Jasper found a man over six-two. And he was at least six-three, perhaps five. His brawn caught her quick, but his mysterious nature and impeccable bone structure captured her attention. She found his down-home country attire funny next to the Mrs. Nieema dressed as if she fronted a metal band.
Corsets, chokers, matte lips, and the color black. Yesterday it was a corset dress. Today it was leather pants. Her bottom—
“Jasper? Hello?!”
“You expecting somebody?” Buck asked.
“Shit, Kit. I’ll be right back.”
Jasper hightailed it out of the musty pantry to see about her brother.

The house was a piece of shit. On a quiet, cozy street it was an eyesore. Boarded, abandoned, and inhaling its last breath. Buck smelled rot and decay. The wood swelled and them termites, yeah. They were eating good. Mother fuckers. Nobody should be living in this house. It was one light breeze away from collapsing. He heard every creak, groan, and snap. Beams screamed under their weight and bolts rattled.
“She shouldn’t be staying here, mama.”
“I was about to say the same. This place is a ruin. I’m wondering how much Hawk Shade got outta her. It ain’t worth more than ten thousand. Knowing his greedy ass he milked the poor woman.”
“You know it too.”
Buck opened a crooked cupboard door and let it slap to a close. Her house was in dire need of an overhaul. There wasn’t shit worth repairing, everything had to go. Down to the nails.
Jasper’s voice was a nice distraction. She entered the kitchen with a stout young man who was much older than he appeared. He cradled an ugly, fat, hairy cat and shook his head.
“What a—Jasper are staying here? It smells terrible. I can taste the mildew. I can get sick. My chest feels funky…”
Nieema hummed in her way and twirled, facing the duo. They were kin, Buck saw it in the eyes. As his wife dallied and pulled on a wobbly drawer, he got to thinking.
“This fella is right, don’t ya know.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Well…” Nieema examined the sink and clucked her tongue. “It’s a health hazard, a health violation. I wouldn’t allow nobody to stay up in here, much less let you buy the place. The realtor was wrong, Jasper. Now, if you want us to fix the house fine. But I can’t imagine y’all staying here overnight. I know you demonic and all, but it smells nasty, looks worse and where is this man gonna sleep? Like I said, I can—“
The second a Wicker Spider come bursting through the floor, Buck pushed the soft fella into the pantry and slammed the door. The eight-legged beast was foul, quick, and mad as a wet hen. They clawed for Jasper who had jumped on the counter.
Nieema was bucking on the fucker like the rodeo goddess she was.
“Don’t worry, mama! Imma—“ He spotted a cast iron skillet in a box and snatched it. The creature with razor thorns lining each limb flailed about and lunged at him. As Jasper screamed and the man in the closet cried, Buck bashed the thousand-eyed freak in the head. “That’s it, baby! Get that sucka!”
Nieema tore into its gray, fibrous exoskeleton. “Don’t let it scratch you!”
“WomanI been fight—“
He danced with the screeching as it tried and failed to throw his wife off. With a final blow, he called every root beneath and above. Vines, nettles, brambles, and barbed boughs fractured planks and studs. They snaked through wallpaper, around rusted pipes, and weaseled through outlets.
From below and behind, branches and trunks pierced the giant bug, spraying guts everywhere.
Nieema shred them to bits until it collapsed in a heap and wheezed. Their neon green eyes flickered and died as its vitality waned.
“Well at least there won’t be much to dismantle up in here.”
Nieema laughed and Buck rushed to her aid. He helped his sweet darlin’ down off the beast.
“Don’t be funny, Buck. She’s terrified.” Nieema extended a gentle hand and Jasper squeezed it. She helped the shaken woman onto her feet. “I think you got more than a termite infestation. Which is even more reason for you and the—“
Jasper cursed and waved at the mess Buck done made.
“My brother!”
“Oh my. Honey, I am sorry. Buck, get the man outta there!”
“Yes ma’am.”
Buck, thanks to his Drendt side, had a way with nature and a strong connection plants. The mess of thorns, sticks, and needles parted for him like any pair of curtain might. He rushed to free poor boy.
“Oh my god is that Wicker Spider?!” Jasper;s kin balked, holding their cat close.
“Mhm.”
“How did it get here?”
“Probably migrated or was brought over by a no good sumabitch. You let these heffas start making babies and you’ll be in a world of trouble. They love meat, ya know?”
“Meat?”
The man was sweating now, and that cat was a fuckin’ mess. His deep brick complexion was washed and damp. Given how his horns were sawed down Buck would wager he wasn’t no killing demon.
“They sure not herbivores,” Nieema said. “Now, seeing as your kitchen is gone and we don’t know if this thing has created a nest, I think you should stay someplace else.”
Jasper nodded as she tugged her brother’s arm. She looked him over and agreed. “Okay. Yeah. Whatever. We’ll get a hotel and—“
“Didn’t nobody say nothing about a hotel, Missy.”
Jasper whipped her head around. “Wait, what?”
“We have more than enough room on our ranch.”
“Nieema, I—“
“That’s settled. Come on now. Get a bag and let’s get going. I got ox tails and rice on the menu.”
Jasper looked to Buck, as if he’d intervene. First of all, what Nieema says goes. And second, he wanted and needed to know her better. This was a fine invitation and beneficial for everyone involved. He smiled and nodded, his wife was never wrong about these things.