The Devil's in the Details by Kimberly Raye Read Free Book Online Page A

rhythm, for the next few seconds until I heard the soft
poof!
The smell of sulfur faded, and as quickly as Gio had dropped in, he was gone.
    I let out the breath I’d been holding and headed back to the living room and the forgotten remote control. I’d just upped the volume on the TV when my nose twitched with the familiar scent, although it was much more subtle this time.
    Foreboding rippled through me, followed by a rush of relief when I turned my head to find Blythe standing behind me.
    She was tall and voluptuous, her long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail above a pair of double-D breasts barely contained in an itty-bitty pink tank top that read
Limos Are Luscious
. Tight jeans and strappy stilettos completed her party-girl ensemble.
    “Doesn’t anyone knock anymore?” I frowned at her. “I thought you were a bloodthirsty demon.”
    “One out of two.” She whistled. “Not bad. And I would have knocked, but my hands were full.” She made a beeline for the kitchen and set her grocery bag down on the counter, then pulled a bottle of champagne from inside, followed by a carton of orange juice and three bags of peanut M&Ms. “I had a twenty-first B-day celebration that got cut short tonight because the birthday girl turned out to be preggos, which totally killed cocktail hour. She was craving all-you-can-eat pancakes, so I dropped them off at an IHOP and brought the party favors here. I figured you could use some cheering up, i.e., alcohol.” She popped a few candies into her mouth as her gaze dropped to my clenched hand. “What’s with the cake server?”
    “Spiders and horny demons.” When she arched a brow, I gave her a quick rundown of my day, including the brief encounter with Cutter Owens.
    “I’ve heard about him. He took out one of my second cousins a few years ago. Sliced his head clean off before he realized that Apopyr—that was his name—wasn’t the demon he was looking for.”
    “Who was he after?”
    “Azazel.”
    “Why do I know that name?”
    “Everyone knows that name.” She popped the champagne top and took a long swig of the bubbly. “He’s one of the oldest demons in existence,” she added when she finally came up for air.
    “That’s right.” I’d heard stories about how smart and cunning and elusive he was. There were even a few who claimed he’d been the one to tempt Eve in that garden so long ago instead of my ma. Not that anyone said that to her face.
    “Why does he want Azazel?” I handed her a champagne glass from a nearby cabinet. “I mean, I know why he wants him—he’s a demon slayer and Azazel’s a demon—but why this demon in particular?”
    “He stole Cutter’s soul.” Blythe mixed the orange juice with the champagne and handed me a mimosa. “Azazel is a collector. He travels this realm, imprisoning as many souls as possible. He’s supposed to hand them over to your gramps, but rumor has it he’s been keeping some for himself.”
    “Gramps would never allow that.”
    “He would if he’s too busy worrying about your ma and aunties. He doesn’t have the time to micromanage every ancient in existence. Sure, they bow down to your gramps because he led the way, but they don’t do it because they
have
to. It’s their choice. Your gramps knows that, so maybe he looks the other way on purpose. To keep the peace.”
    “How do you know all of this?”
    She shrugged. “My great-great-great-great-uncle is the chief demon of gossip, remember?”
    Duh. I knew that. I’d just been too freaked out by recent events to remember that all-important fact. “So tell me more.”
    “Well, it seems Cutter has been hunting Azazel forever. He’s pissed and he wants revenge.”
    I didn’t blame him. I knew how much I loved my favorite pair of shoes. I could only imagine how it would be to have your very essence ripped away.
    “He almost caught him.” Blythe sipped her drink. “Cutter actually narrowed down Azazel’s location to some ancient castlein Rome