Nieema

“I know what you thought, with your fast ass.” Nieema entered their home through the rear patio doors. They were ajar with the air blasting. “Quincy! I swear to hell. It’s only him. The bill will be sky-high. He runs hot, I told his mama he’s about to shift next full moon.”
“It’s that werewolf blood, baby.” Buck popped his gum and hustled to close the wide, shutter doors. “And how you mean I’m fast? I see something I like, you know I’ll go after it by all means.”
“I know that. I do too, but Jasper seems guarded I don’t think Miss Ma’am is the smash-and-pass type. Which means?”
Buck grunted, stomping across the great room in boots he’d patched and polished for eighty years. He loved basilisk skin and looked most dashing in red scales.
“She’s not an option.”
“Correct,” Nieema stated, on a mission to find their great-grandchildren. “And don’t sound so hurt. We’ve had plenty Succubi.”
“True, but it’s been what? Two years since our last. And, Jasper look like she’d ride an angry minotaur real good. She look tough, rugged, and—”
“Feminine.”
“I don’t think—”
“I sensed it. Her energy is strong.”
“Well, she got the best of both worlds and I believe—”
“No,” Nieema snapped. She spun and faced her stubborn husband. He huffed and scowled. It was his version of pouting. “Strings are prone to tangles, beloved. We went there before. He vacated our home with little care. It was… I don’t ever want to see you like that again. You and I have never been the monogamous sort, but a polycule is too much work, it’s hard. I don’t want anyone with baggage when we have our own.”
“Darlin’, you talk too much and I need caffeine before we start in on feelings and heartbreak. Go’on, see about the boys. I’ll get brunch started.”
After many years of wedded, bliss she was no longer bruised by his dismissive comments. Buck processed alone and then opened like any night-blooming jasmine. He’d have words but not at the moment. Nieema would never push him, she’d learned such tactics would only harden the old man.
“I know they’re causing hell down there.”
“Skillet or omelet?”
“Omelet, and add the pickled blood peppers, please. Extra!”
“Ohhhh, it’s nice to meetchya. My name Buckley what’s yours, pretty lady?”
Nieema smiled and waved him off. “Smart ass!”
On her journey, Nieema ruminated. The attraction to Jasper was there, and almost immediate. The realization mighta had a hand in her current hesitation.
Ever since Li’s departure they’d jumped into beds and disappeared at dusk. No questions asked. Nieema hadn’t loved the idea of monogamy or strapping herself to one gender or race. She was more fluid and free than that. Some in her world would call her filthy for copulating with other species. The bigoted assholes would never say it to her face, they were cowards.
After traveling to the West end of her home and descending, Nieema balked at the thick smoke and bass-heavy music.
“What the hell are y’all doing? And Quincy, we turned the air down.”
“Grandma! I’m hot!”
“You’re always hot.”
Nieema surveyed the too live crew and arched a brow. How and why had she agreed to this. Four working men used her home for vacations, parties, and retreats. They wanted freedom, peace, or some other nonsense. Only one had a husband, and Tre, the youngest lived with them. He stayed in a cabin two miles north of their home, but it was still on their property.
“Hm. Who wants to go grocery shopping?”
“I do!” Jo raised both hands. “I do, Grandma! We going to Costmore?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Samples!”
She shuffled over to Jo and tugged on the elastic at the end of his braided locs. She went to fix the loose whip and eyed Mace, the married one. He shouldn’t be here when his home was a mess.
“Granny, I don’t wanna hear it.”
“Like hell.”
Nieema watched her fingers and said, “You talk to your Mama?”
“I did.”
Mace kept his red eyes on the video game and shouted a cuss.
“She’s moving up here,” Nieema announced.
“I know. Me and Pops got into it.”
“I hope you didn’t hurt the woodland nymph. He’s harmless.”
“He cheated on Mama and now that woman is pregnant. Ain’t nothing harmless there.”
“I—Wilma didn’t say nothing to me about that. Are you serious?”
“You’re an idiot, Mace.” Tre was the quiet type but spoke his mind more often than not. “Grandma might just kill him.”
Nieema growled and snarled, binding the sweet boy’s hair. When his locs were neat and tight, she kissed the top of his head. “Put your shoes on, honey. We leaving in a minute.”
With a final pat on his shoulder, she let them boys be. With seven kids, ten grandkids and eight greats, their home was never empty. And she loved the noise. Nieema had been raised in a communal environment and was happier in the company of others. She’d never known a lonely day in her life and hoped she never would.
Back on the main floor, she fished for her phone. It was tucked into her corset and cradled by her left breast. After finding the device, she tapped and waited.
A single ring and he picked up.
“Now why are you bothering me? The night has barely started. I got my paper and my coffee in hand. Gyat! What, Nieema?”
Grinning from ear to ear, she entered the kitchen and beelined for her steaming espresso. Nieema inhaled pressed tropical beans, fatty blood, and three tablespoons of cane sugar.
“I need you to head over to cabin-c and dust.”
“Excuse me? I am not the maid. You call Merry for that shit.”
“Dust and clear the pipes. Buck said the water had a tint. I want them washed. Check the water pressure and the heater. And also change the purification—”
“If you want to do my God damn job, then say so.”
She smiled against the rim of her mug. “Thank. Youuu.”
“Kiss my Black ass.”
“I loooove you.”
“If I was you I’d love me too. Bye!”
Tossing her phone on the counter, Nieema studied her busy husband. She clutched her cup with both hands and sighed.
“Was that Hank?” Buck asked.
“Yeah.”
“He still mad?”
“What you think?”
Buck grumbled, pouring eggs into a sizzling pool of bacon fat. “I’m not sure what he expected from us. That girl was killing folks.”
“It’s been a year. I don’t know what else to do.”
“Not a damn thing,” Buck said. He added leftover brisket and blood peppers by a heaping spoonful. “You’ve done everything. More than I would have. Sorry for what? For protecting family? Hell.”
Nieema loved her man’s ruthlessness but loathed his steely spine. Try as she might, Nieema had yet to break him. No matter the amount of pressure she applied, he withstood it all.
“My thing is,” Buck started, “Darlin’. I don’t wanna let Li have the last say. It has been long enough. He don’t got no hold on me. He can’t have me after ducking out like’at. And if we continue to live in fear of getting hurt, then Nieema, it means we haven’t healed. And I don’t know about you, but I’m good.”
The baron of lies and mischief was honest with her. His relaxed posture and loose features said he was telling the truth. And it scared Nieema, because maybe in this case, she was the holdout. It wasn’t her blooded mate, who was the problem, it was Nieema.
Gulping a mouthful, she scooted into the breakfast nook booth. “Jasper needs work. I can see it. And we don’t even know her or what she likes. We coming on like teenagers. But you’re right. I’m apprehensive because of Li and I hate that. I’ve had enough heartbreak. I’m too old and dusty for this shit.”
Buck cackled and dropped a massive six-egg omelet on a plate. He added toast, and knowing what she wanted, he smeared a clot of redberry jam on its fluffy top. O-positive and fruity was her favorite.
The moment he slid her the plate Nieema stabbed a mound of cheese and egg.
“I tell you what, baby.” Buck groaned cozying up to her. “You ain’t never been dusty. I got great taste.”
She laughed and nodded. “You better tell it like it is.”
“I always do.”
Nieema chewed on a perfect mixture of meat and peppers. “I love you, Buckley.”
“Today, that is.”
Nieema smacked his thigh and kissed him flat on the mouth. “For an hour or two.”
“Forever?”
Nieema scrunched her nose and said, “I suppose forever is okay too.”

Kit

,, The odor was awful. Whether inside or out among the animals. Land dwellers lived like beasts. Reeking of excrement and decay. Every twig, leaf, and rock held a scent. Most of it Kit couldn’t name. He was unfamiliar with this world, of course. Birthed and raised in Undervell —hell as humans called it— he possessed meager knowledge of how the surface operated. Textbooks and hearsay were close enough. Kit never wanted personal experience nor had he volunteered for this mission.
“Dreadful,” Julep muttered. His disembodied voice breached the sound barrier as a ghostly rasp. They were still in the dark about how his vocal abilities worked when his maw remained shut.
“At least they have homes with running water.”
“Yes… at least.”
“Honestly,” Kit started, “I assumed the absolute worst. This is far better than anything I had in mind.”
“They’re primitive and filthy.” Julep surveyed furnishings and leaped onto the fireplace mantle. He sniffed a trinket and swatted at the damned thing. Kit rushed to catch the dainty porcelain creature before it shattered. “I give you four days, tops. We aren’t cut out for the surface, Kit. This is asking a lot of me.”
Julep was a pessimistic son of a bitch and Kit’s best friend since phase-one schooling. Though, at that time, Julep was a gangling demon with fur, horns, and hooves. During their time at the university, Julep had bound himself to a cat while visiting Hemshire Netherlands. It was a deserted union within the Lightbridge fairy territory.
Days after his accident, Julep moved in and never left. For reasons unknown, Kit was the only demon Julep communicated with.
“Four days is all we need.” Kit blew on the green avian-shaped sculpture and situated it next to a bouquet with no scent. “I think those are fake flowers.”
“Ghastly.”
“Indeed.”
“This is my dominion now,” Julep declared, preparing to smack the flying decor once again. “It is of no use to me. I don’t like this vile thing, Kit. I find it offensive!”
“No matter. It isn’t yours to break. This isn’t our home. So get down and don’t humiliate me.”
“I would never.”
Kit deadpanned and snatched his satchel. He rooted through the bag and found incentive. Shaking the canister, he smirked. Julep’s yellow eyes enlarged, making Kit coo. He was so cute when channeling his inner kitten.
“Is that nip?” Julep asked.
“It is.”
“Can I have?”
“That all depends on your behavior. No scratching.”
“No.”
“No biting.”
“Understood!”
Kit waved the tin from right to left, Julep tracked his movement like a brimstone-born feline. They were three times his size and quite carnivorous, but Julep had stayed in their caves a time or two. It was odd how obsessed they were with the house cat. He was tiny in comparison and lacked proper armor. Fluffy and furry was rare among Vellish beasts.
“If you want to mark territory go outside,” Kit commanded. “If your claws itch or what have you, go outside. I don’t see a box. It seems I have to purchase one, so if you must defecate—“
“Outside! I heard you, asshole. Give me the nip!”
Kit snorted and cracked it open. He plucked a grainy, greasy ball and tossed it. Julep jumped from the mantel and nabbed his treat in midair.
“You are getting good, my friend.”
Julep didn’t respond as he attacked the morsel, purred, and flopped about. What made felines lose their minds over nip? Julep was reduced to yowls and mewling. It was pathetic and hilarious.
“You have fun. I need to unpack and make a call.”
Finding his bag yet again, Kit fetched folded piles and stashed them in drawers.
The colors on land were too warm for his taste. Natural and organic, their decor was fashioned from trees instead of stone. He preferred volcanic glass and loved a great obsidian console or a dining table carved from the bones of their enemies. His father had such good taste in furnishings.
Humans and fae shared an affinity for dirt and sea. Their shoddy dwellings were least to be desired, but again, it was better than Kit expected.
He pointed at the drugged cat in passing and chuckled. Julep was no better than a demon addicted to spiced marrow. “Sad.” With garments and necessities in their rightful place, Kit grabbed the seeker stone from his pocket. “This is good. This is your chance.”
His hands shook and heart dropped to the floor as he set the faceted gem on a hideous quilted rug.
“Father?”
Emerald sparks accompanied an ominous billowing smoke. A repetitive crack and snap caused Kit to wince. He hated ancient technology. The Duke refused to adapt and purchase a phone. Tarot, his father’s moody lover, never let him live it down.
“Fat—”
“I heard you, child. What—where are you?”
Carriont, Duke of the Fourth Seal, Bringer of Turmoil and Strife, appeared within an undulating green smokescreen. He was indecent and disheveled.
“Father, you could have at least dressed.”
“Bah!” Carriont donned a pair of steel-framed spectacles and squinted. “Have you found Dautina?”
“Jasper, Father.”
“That is not the name I gave her. Where is she?”
Wringing his hands, Kit clicked claws and said, “You see, I haven’t—”
“Haven’t whaaat?”
Carriont’s sharp, high brows arched. As a child, and even now, the Duke intimidated Kit.
“It has only been several hours and I require more time. She’s grown quite fond of this hellscape. It won’t be easy cleaning house, so to speak. She’s purchased a dilapidated home within a town called Indigo Plains.”
“Mmm. I know of it. Interesting. Go on.”
Kit divulged info about the strange, large insect and how they now resided on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. Kit was worried about the dark woods beyond. Undervell had no such environment. Heavily wooded areas terrified him as a hatchling. Kit had suffered from sleep terrors for eons and had even wet the bed.
“This entire situation is testing my patience.” Carriont collapsed into his solid throne and snarled. He looked exhausted and in need of a freshly damned soul. “I want you to bring your sister home. Am I understood? You have seven days, General Raze.”
“Yes, Father.”
Carriont snapped his fingers, ending their correspondence. The smoke dissipated and the rock went dead.
“Well, he was in good spirits,” Kit said, snagging the seer stone. He dropped it into his pocket and rubbed his rumbling stomach. “What do they eat here?”
“Meat,” Julep purred, licking his paw. “And by the barrel. They also consume frozen dairy products.”
“I think I read about that.”
Kit grimaced on the way out. He couldn’t fathom eating frozen foods. He was used to high temps, cozy firestorms, and electric blankets while lying atop a heated mattress. The current season in this world was perfect. Nausea roiled in his belly at the mere thought of frozen meals.
He didn’t love the idea of being here or swallowing cold dairy, but he loved the chance to try new cuisine. With his mind and hunger working as one, Kit headed for the kitchenette.
“Jasper, have you taken a look at the fabricated artwork?” Kit bent the corner and halted. A pair of cruddy boots and a long trail of denim disappeared into a cupboard beneath the sink. “What are they doing?”
Jasper lounged in the living area with her dirty shoes on the coffee table. She was a blunt sword and had never joined ranks. Kit begged her on more than one occasion. The demoness had the build and smarts for it. Shameful how his sister had run from a promising future.
“What ar—“
“Don’t know.” Jasper scrutinized a vintage quilt and picked at its threads. “He said pipes. His name is Hank.”
Kit sniffed and went to see about this Hank and the pipes. “Hello, there. May I ask what is wrong with the plumbing?”
Resting hands on his hips, Kit cleared his throat and kicked Hanks mud =mucked sole.
“Yes?!” Hank shouted, cranking something or the other.
“What’s wrong wit—“
“Nothin’ now.”
“Terrific.”
Kit stepped over the man’s legs, stared down the drain then turned on the faucet.
“Off! Turn—“
“My apologies.”
“Ghat dam—why—shiiit.”
Hank cursed as Kit located a hand towel and offered it. Water dripped from thick lashes and streamed from his goatee.
“Did I ask you to turn it on?”
“No, but I was checking to see if you had in fact, fixed the problem.”
“You a plumber?” Hank asked, craning his neck to scowl at Kit.
“I don’t need to be a plumber to lend a hand.”
“A hand I ain’t ask for.” Hank wiped his face, tossed the terry, and lowered onto his back once more. “Leave me be so I can finish or y’all can drink brown water.”
Kit could tell a lot about a person from a ninety-second conversation, and he was certain he’d hate this man.