Page 46 of Playing with Fire

Officer O’Daniel pinned my arms to my side, and with a grunt, picked me up and backed away so I couldn’t keep kicking the shit out of the gorgon at my feet. At least the three females cooperated, donning sunglasses and hiding their snakes under heavy shawls to prevent accidental petrification.

Calems stepped between me and the gorgon male. “All right, Gardener. Don’t kill him.”

Ignoring my protests and threats of violence, the werewolf carried me over to the waiting CDC truck and growled, “Spray.”

Instead of a spraying neutralizer, I got a bucket of pink, thick fluid dumped over my head. The werewolf released me and hopped around like an excited puppy. “Me next. Me next!”

Damned werewolves. While they could be excellent cops, sometimes their second nature reduced them to excited two-year olds on a sugar high, and I’d never met one who didn’t love a spray down with neutralizer more than life itself.

“You may as well or he won’t be happy,” I muttered. Dripping neutralizer, I raided the truck for a proper sprayer, steel brushes, a mop, and a bucket so I could start cleaning the damned sidewalk. “If that gorgon even thinks about touching me again, I’m shoving this nozzle right up his ass and pulling the trigger. Do I look like a baby factory to you?”

No one answered, a wise decision all things considered. Still fuming, I headed to the contaminated sidewalk and unleashed a torrent of pink foam, got on my heads and knees, and blew off steam scraping drying bile off the concrete. Everyone else watched from a safe distance, and I wasn’t sure if they were avoiding me or worried about accidental petrification.

At least they made themselves useful and brought fresh buckets of water to make my job a little easier. It took me five hours to reach the bar, and when I peeked inside, I groaned at the collection of naked statues arranged in compromising positions. A bat-winged male was tangled with three human women.

How lovely. The gorgons had teamed up with an incubus. Who the hell knew what would happen in nine months? The CDC would have its hands full, that was sure, and the reporters would have a field day with the headlines.

By the time the evening news aired, ‘Come here often?’ would be the new inside joke at the bar. I really needed to burn my certification. Damn it. The CDC had already done that for me, and yet I was still doing their dirty work. What the hell did a girl have to do to lead a normal life?

I sighed, turned around, and banged my head into the door.

Unfortunately, the damned werewolf stopped me before I could pummel myself into blissful unconsciousness.

The trick to dealing with a petrified orgy usually involved one sacrificial lamb in a hazmat suit, several sprayers, and backup—non-human backup lacking a reproductive system.

Unfortunately, the sacrificial lamb—me, in this case—didn’t get a hazmat suit. At least I had left my wallet with Calems, where it would be safe and sound.

I ordered everyone to stay at least twenty feet away from the bar’s entrance; even petrified, the incubus was doing something to the place. Fortunately for me, my pride, and my dignity, I’d been living in a state of sexual frustration my entire adult life. I could handle some discomfort. The incubus had nothing on what Quinn did to me, and I could handle close quarters with him without humping his leg.

I could escape the bar without losing my grip. I couldn’t say the same for anyone outside or the patrons in the bar when the neutralizer reversed the incubus’s petrification, but I would be fine. How bad could it be? Every CDC representative tangoed with an incubus at least once in their careers. I’d escaped three incidents without losing my virginity.

What was once more?

I prayed Quinn would forgive me if I rubbed myself all over him or humped his leg the instant I saw him. It’d be a battle. How could I lose? I doubted I could. Quinn just had to look at me to light my panties on fire. Add in the influence of an incubus, and I’d be the happiest woman on Earth.

If I blamed the incubus, would anyone really care? Quinn might, which popped my bubble of wishful thinking. I sighed. No matter what, I wouldn’t jump Quinn until I got him somewhere at least semi-private. He wouldn’t mind if I jumped him somewhere discreet.

Muttering a curse, I went all in and requested an angel. Angels could turn a petrified orgy into something a little easier to manage. So much divinity in one place would suppress the sexual urges of an incubus long enough to get the victims separated, herd them out of the bar, and get them clothed.

I had no idea what I’d do about the incubus, but I’d figure that out after I hosed everyone down and reversed the petrification.

In a miracle of the highest order, the CDC sent two angels. In typical angel fashion, they manifested outside the bar in a column of golden light within five minutes of my call. On the surface, they looked human—almost. They had two legs, two arms, and a chest connecting all the pieces together. Feathered wings of white with bands of gold and sky blue sprouted from their shoulders. Neither one of them wore a single stitch of clothes, but they didn’t need them.

With nothing to cover, what was the point of clothing?

One day, maybe if the seas parted and the skies burned, I might get used to an angel’s lack of a head.

“Hi. I’m Bailey. I’m certified with the CDC. Have you been briefed?”

“They said you have an incubus problem.” I couldn’t tell which one spoke. How could they speak without a mouth? If they didn’t eat, how did they not fall over dead?

I suspected immortals enjoyed toying with humanity just because they could. Angels could pull a far better teleportation trick than I could. I was willing to bet they could manifest a head with eyes, nose, mouth, and even hair if they felt like it. Instead of voicing my opinion, I replied, “You could say that. A quartet of gorgons hunting for a human surrogate joined forces with an incubus, so I have a bar full of petrified people, more gorgon bile to clean up than I care to think about, and an incubus in the middle of a foursome. When the reversal of petrification begins, it’s going to get rather rowdy. I’d like to start spraying the area down and save the incubus and his girlfriends for last. Unless you’re immune to petrification, if you could stay by the door until hell breaks loose, I’d appreciate it.”

“Wise. We can help you once hell breaks loose, so do not worry. We will leave the details to you.”

I got the feeling the angels wouldn’t notice a gorgon even if it tried to gnaw on their ankles. “Thanks. I appreciate the help.”

Look at me, capable of mastering the art of being polite to people in the face of gorgon bile. Since pissing off an angel or two would end my existence on Earth, and probably elsewhere, too, I grabbed the nearest sprayer, yanked out the pin, and went to work. I went the deluge route, soaking the whole bar down, ceiling included, and hoped I neutralized the bile and other gorgon fluids in the place long enough to get the naked revelers outside for a proper decontamination.