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I leave Sharpe’s side to link my arm through Darius’s. “Did business pick up?”
Darius smirks. “Indeed. This one”—he tips his head toward the departing demon—“wants something stylish but accommodating for all those appendages. A challenge that I look forward to.”
I grin, proud that he’s enjoying this new step in his life. “Can’t wait to see what you come up with.”
Darius leans down to kiss my cheek, and a burst of fiery warmth spreads through me. “I appreciate your attempts to enjoy fashion.”
“Fine, but Flint will be excited.” I nudge Darius in the side. “When will you make him an outfit?”
He smirks. “When he asks.”
So far, Flint’s resisted the temptation of Darius’s shop, but since he lost most of his clothes with the destruction of our cabin, his love of quality suits will eventually outweigh his pride.
They both know it’s coming. It’s just a matter of how many times Flint will wear the same suits before he seeks Darius’s assistance with a replacement wardrobe. The fact that he hasn’t ordered from another store just makes it more obvious he plans to cave.
I’m shocked he’s held out this long. “Ready for a greasy burger and fries?”
Darius sighs. “I will not be ordering that.”
I hug his arm and refrain from teasing him about his fussiness. “Lead the way then.”
Darius’s shop is close to the exit from the Grave Yard, which leads to the access road that connects Clearhelm to New Clearhelm. It makes it safe for his non-demon clientele, of which there are many. Word of his tailoring skills spread fast, and now Fumontis Designs have become the height of fashion in the human world.
Near the archway, raised voices reach us.
Sharpe and I exchange worried glances. I release Darius to unclip a baton from my belt, and Sharpe pulls a matching one from his pocket.
Chief Lynch took Sharpe’s police-issued gun along with his badge, and while he uses one within the demon city, his license to carry outside the Yard was revoked.
We’ve been training him with the baton since then, and despite losing his memories, some part of his body must remember the skill, because he picked up on it fast.
We step through the archway, where we spot Vicki engaged in a heated argument with the guard on duty, trying to negotiate her way inside.
I sigh and return my weapon to my belt. She’s a nuisance, but not dangerous.
Spotting us, Vicki’s attention latches onto me. “Hey, Cay, tell them I can go in just one more time. I promise I won’t stay more than an hour.”
“Not happening, Vicki.” I look at the guard behind her. “The restriction remains in place.”
He nods in acknowledgment and reaches for Vicki’s arm. “Come on, lady, move along.”
She slips his hold with the ease of practice and shifts her focus to Sharpe, playing with the ties of the trench coat she wears, despite the heat. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Officer Hot Stuff. It’s been too long.”
Sharpe moves to stand on Darius’s other side, putting distance between them. “Not interested.”
Good call, since I doubt she’s wearing anything under that coat.
“Go home, Vicki. Or go have your fun with the Clearhelm Police. I don’t care.” I make a shooing motion. “You’re not getting inside into the Yard until your suspension is up.”
Vicki curses at us and stomps away, heading toward New Clearhelm.
We nod at the guard and keep our pace slow to avoid walking alongside her as we head in the same direction.
Darius glances at us. “What was that about?”
“She’s a repeat offender from back when I worked for the Clearhelm Police.” Sharpe shudders. “Back then, she liked to roll around naked in the mud, then taunt whatever officer answered the call of public indecency into trying to catch her. She got off on it.”
“Now, she’s addicted to the Yara-Ma-Yha-Who demons. She’ll do anything to get inside one.” My stomach twists at the memory of her slimy body being thrown up on the sidewalk. “Johannsson hauled her in yesterday, and she’s been banned from entering the Yard for the next six weeks. One of these days, she’s going to get herself killed while chasing her addiction, but it won’t be on our watch.”
