Neon Blue by E Frost (best big ereader .TXT) 📕

work on the little Elemental. It’s in an open vial, tucked away at the back of my worktable on a ceramic trivet, because even though I brewed it several months ago, it’s still boiling. I pick it up with a set of tongs. “Sorry, Izzy, you are my favorite salamander, but I draw the line at licking scaly lizard tail.”

How ‘bout hairy demon balls?

A hot shiver runs through me at his thought, but I fire back, Ugh.

The demon chuckles wickedly, but also, I think, a little wearily. Your mind ain’t the only thing I can read.

I carry Izzy and the healing potion back into the kitchen. In case the salamander belches, or worse, vomits, after I feed him the potion, I’m going to give it to him in the sink.

Jou’s standing next to the coffee machine, his arms braced against the counter, head down, dreadlocks hanging around his shoulders. The grinder is whirring and the life-giving smell of freshly ground coffee fills the kitchen. I inhale, hold the breath in my lungs. Wonderful. It does more for the remnants of my hangover than the healing potion I dumped into the Bloody Mary.

There’s clearly something wrong with the demon. But he’s not bleeding, at least not anywhere I can see, so I’ll deal with the salamander first. One wounded infernal creature at a time.

Izzy takes the potion without complaint, flicking out his tongue to lick it off his scaly lips. He wriggles in my hands as it goes down. Shakes his tail like a rattler. I watch the wound fill in, pink flesh rising up through the raw slash. The flesh lightens to cream, and then darkens to scarlet. I brush my thumb down it experimentally and smile when all I feel are smooth scales.

“There you go, Iz.”

The salamander gyrates madly, legs waving, and I give him the tummy scratching he seems to be begging for while I turn toward the other injured creature in my kitchen.

“Jou, you’re clearly not okay. What’s wrong?”

The demon starts, pushes back from the counter. He grabs the grinder and dumps the beans into the coffee pot’s filter. A few grounds spatter onto the counter. I’ve never seen him spill anything before.

“Nothin’,” he grunts.

Okay, he doesn’t want to talk about it. “Is there anything I can do?”

He doesn’t answer, and for a moment I think he’s ignoring me, because he turns his head away. But then I hear the hiss coming from behind him. From my gas stove.

He backs away sharply, arms spread to either side. He shoves me behind him and keeps backing up.

We’re past the refrigerator, almost to the door to my herbarium, when the stove explodes. Blue flame billows across the kitchen. The plastic placemats on my kitchen table curl and melt. The wooden table chars. With a roar, the gas jets shoot up to the ceiling, scorching the plaster.

A white-hot inferno washes over me. Sucks all the air out my lungs. Jou reaches back, wraps his arm around me, tucks me tightly against his back. In the pocket of his skin, I can breathe again. I clutch at him with my free hand, feel the rock hardness of the muscles under my fingers, the familiar, bearable heat that radiates off him. His tail snakes between my legs, wraps around my waist, bringing more of my body into contact with his. The whip of his will lashes out at the stove.

At the face that appears in the flame of the gas jets.

“Insolent scut!” the face roars. Rage turns its classically handsome features hideous, stretching a Van Dyke beard and moustache around lips peeled back from too many, too-sharp teeth.

“Fuck off, old man,” Jou growls. “We’re done.”

“You dare turn your back on me, you worthless pizzle-spit? I’ll impale you on the Barbicon for a thousand days!”

“Yeah, yeah. You gotta catch me first, and you’re down there and, oh, look, I’m up here. So shove your threats up your fuckin’ ass.” Jou’s snarl makes the cups and bowls in the drying rack rattle.

“The Furies will sharpen their whips on your bones!” The face roars. Paint peels from the walls to crisp in the flames. The glass cabinet doors over the sink shatter and the glassware within chimes in agony. “The little witch cowering behind you won’t save you. Hide amongst the humans as long as you’re able, whelp. When you return, I’ll be waiting for you.”

The face disappears and the flames die, leaving just my blackened, smoking kitchen.

“Well, that’s somethin’ to look forward to.” Jou’s shoulders slump. His head, crowned with horns, bends as though under a great weight.

I clasp his shoulder with my free hand and press myself against his back. I’m shivering, and his heat doesn’t seem to warm me. “Jou, who was that?”

“Asmodeus. Prince of Hypocritical Bullshit. My sire.”

“Jou—”

He straightens and turns. The horns and whip and tail are gone. The arms he puts around me are warm and firm, but not demon-warm, not demon-strong. I look up at him uncertainly and he kisses my forehead. “It’s okay, sweet meat.”

That’s hard for me to believe, given what I just saw. But I can’t see him lying to me if there was any danger. He’d want me on my guard.

He pushes my hair back from my face. The singed tips of my hair flutter around his fingers. He reaches between us and gives Izzy a scratch. “Nice to hear from home, huh, Iz? Looks like nothin’s changed.”

The lizard promptly flops over in my arms and presents his belly for scratching.

“Nothing’s changed here, either,” I murmur, watching the salamander.

“No?” Instead of scratching the lizard, he strokes my hair and when I look up, I find him watching me closely.

“What?”

“Thought you might feel different after last night.”

I rub my temple uncertainly. “Why?”

“Took me a long time t’get where I wanted to go. A thousand years of control, hard to break. Harder than I thought. You weren’t exactly enjoyin’ it by the end.”

No wonder I’m so achy this morning. “I don’t really remember.”

“Good. It’ll be easier