A Girl's Guide to Demon Hunting by Emily Miles Read Free Book Online Page B

“Because I kinda was hoping that…well, maybe you wanted to go out with me and a friend.”
     Oh no, I’d fallen for this before ; Jenny the hopeless romantic was trying to set me up.  
    “No way. Do you remember last time?”
    “How was I supposed to know that his friend was a Demon? It’s not like they wear signs. Although if they did...”
    “Did you forget the clean-up that took? We had to drug your date so he’d blame it on a bad trip. It was dangerous and…well…awful.”
    “But he’s hot and I went to school with the friend; no way he’s a Demon. Please...” she begged, giving me her sad puppy look.
    “Fine, but make it clear to his friend it’s not a date and I’m not looking.”
    “Okay, but you may like him. It wouldn’t be so bad if you did.”
    “Right, ‘cause that’ll work. Could you imagine the questions...‘So where do you go to school?’   ‘I don’t, had Jenny forge me a diploma and school records.’ Or even better. ‘What do you do for work?’ ‘Oh, I work for a secret society, killing Demons. Wanna watch?’”
    “Okay,” She said, sounding defeated, “but you can still go out and have a good time, it’s just a movie after all, there shouldn’t be much talking.”

Chapter 8
     
    "Do they make cordite cologne?"
                                  -Shooter
        I slept later than usual, not waking until mid afternoon. Thankfully I had the presence of mind to leave Pancake’s doggie door unlocked or I would have woken up to a nasty mess. After showering and feeding Pancake, I took two hundred dollars from my hiding place and grabbing my bag I walked to The Strip. It was a beautiful day, the sun was bright and I soon found myself wishing I hadn’t worn my wool socks.
    Traffic on The Strip was backed-up more than usual. I looked ahead and saw the cause right away: Christmas decorations. Lots of Christmas decorations. White and Red rope lights were wrapped around the palm tress, which at night would turn them into giant candy canes. Big white snowflakes hung from the street lamps. The decorations were beautiful, sure, but not the reason for the traffic jam. Tall, slim and dressed in elaborate costumes of red, green and gold, a group of performers walked down the Strip. Must be a new advertising gimmick. It worked since even I stopped and stared for a moment.
    I loved Christmas in Vegas. I’ve spent the last two Christmas Eves going from Casino to Casino ogling the elaborate Christmas displays. Maybe this year I’d see a show instead. Snapping out of my thoughts, I walked to the edge of the sidewalk and hailed the first cab I saw. Climbing inside, I gave the driver the address and after ensuring I had the money for such a long distance, he did a u-turn and cut around the traffic jam.
    I made the cabbie get on and off the interstate three times before I allowed him to finally take the exit for Royal Oak Lane. After his assurance he would wait for me, I climbed out of the cab and walked to the old Spanish style home. The small house was painted a bright white and Christmas lights hung from the red tile roof. It was surrounded on all sides by empty desert. I told Pancake to wait by the front door and punched in the door code, taking a step back as the door swung open revealing the entryway.
    A woman stood waiting under one of the many beautiful archways that decorated the house. She wore jeans and a pale pink sweater and her blonde hair hung over her shoulder in a long braid. I wasn’t surprised to see her or the taser on her hip. She had known a visitor was coming the moment the cab tripped one of the many sensors scattered throughout the grounds.
The hidden cameras would have used facial recognition software to identify me long before I ever made it to the front door.
    “Good afternoon, Ms. Montgomery. I trust your trip out here was