Page 27 of Druid Dreams

Step three: Kill him myself.

And somewhere in between those steps...

Get rid of this godsdamn ache.

Sloane

Saturday Afternoon

The car ride home was exactly the same way the walk to the car was… agonizing torture. The Demon's dexterous hands were on the steering wheel instead of my thighs. I’m not sure if that makes the ride better or worse. Even though it was only a little over an hour, I felt like I was ready to explode. As I shifted uncomfortably in the back seat Stone eyed me in the rear view mirror. I wanted to throat punch that Demon for the havoc he reeked on my libido. Between that and the pent up frustration from months of self induced orgasms, need was going to kill my immortal soul.

I glared at him and he fucking smirked at me. I knew then and there that not only was he trouble, but every single one of them were. I would either die horny or I was getting laid tonight. I knew I sounded dramatic. I didn’t care though. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t one to rush into things, but these were my mates. What was that saying about test driving a car before you bought it? Yeah. I’d like to test drive my mates before I sealed a bond with them that would last forever. I don't even know how long forever is. What if it’s like five hundred years and I end up hating their guts!? But we’re stuck together until one of us dies…

Like that fucking Druid. I cared about him once. Loved him even. Was he good in bed? Yes. Would I be welcoming him into my bed again? Nope. Not for a long damn time, if ever. Would I save his ass from certain death? I sighed as I thought about it. Part of me wanted to let him sweat it out a little longer. The other part of me knew he had been sweating it out for the last two years, and he’d only reached out because he was about to die. That thought made me angry. Why not reach out to me before?

As if the day hadn’t been hectic enough, the moment we parked in front of my house I noticed Franklin was waiting outside the front door for us. What’s worse? Well, he had two glasses of whiskey, one in each hand. Whiskey is our ‘it’s been a rough day’ drink. As I dragged my ass out of the back seat he took a sip from one. He handed me the other and took my elbow to lead me inside, never saying a word. Stone and Briggs followed us from the front entrance, all the way through the kitchen and into the pantry, where a spice shelf doubled as the hidden entrance to one side of the basement.

The basement had been spelled soundproof. No audio could penetrate the walls. No security feeds picked up down there. Not even the cell phones would have reception. I knew whatever he was about to tell me wasn't good.

We pushed into a bubble of sorts at the top of the staircase. It feels a little like walking through electrified water. It made the hairs on my arms and neck stand on end but it didn't hurt. Once you moved past the popping sensation everything would return back to normal.

We wandered soundlessly down the stairs, listening to the flurry of conversation on the other side of the barrier. When we stepped off the last step, they all ceased talking at once when they spotted me.

Novak, Vaughn and Palmer all scanned my body, up and down and back again, as Franklin corralled me to the new table that had appeared in the open room since I was down here days ago. Before my ass had time to even hit the seat Vaughn jumped right in.

“David Preston is dead. Murdered. In his office no more than 24 hours a-“

“Why didn’t you call me?” My concern was evident in my hushed demand.

“Your phone went straight to voicemail,” he supplied.

“Because she threw it out the window after talking to Samuel,” Stone confirmed, like it was the most important detail of the day. “We all did.”

“Right, we’ve all ditched our phones too, and Franklin gave us new ones before he took Palmer’s laptop. He’s not happy about that, by the way. Now he has to start his spank bank all from scratch.” Novak pouted his lower lip at Palmer. Palmer threw a pen at Novak, hitting him dead in between his eyes.

“Ouch!” Novak whined as he rubbed at the red mark the flying projectile left.

“Oh yeah, it's all about ma spank bank and nothin' at all ta do wit' the spells I've been workin' on an' have saved on me lapto-” Palmer defended himself before being cut off.

“Right.” The other four muttered in unison, disbelief clear on their faces.

“Okay, let's get back on track. New phones? Great. Murder at CBP? Not so great. Tell me what you saw.”

Vaughn swallowed hard as Novak rolled his eyes and began to describe the gory scene. “Vaughn can be a bit squeamish, so I gathered everything that I could find that might be useful in the office, then we loaded it up and left.” He finished by pointing to a few stacked boxes on the floor and a computer plugged into a television that had not previously been down here. They’ve been busy.

“Yeah, and tell them about how you touched the dick.” Vaughn grinned triumphantly.

“What dick?” Briggs inquired. “You can’t just go around touching dicks, dude.”

“I think ya mean whose dick,” Palmer replied.

“It’s not important.” Novak argued.

“It could be,” Stone countered in a tone that said he was urging him to finish the short story Vaughn started.

“It’s not!” Novak shouted at them.

“So, you had to touch the dead guy’s dick?” I clarified just to make sure we understood the situation at hand. I gave him an innocent look and motioned with my head for him to keep talking.