Page 7 of Dragon in Boots (The Immortal Tailor #2)

CHAPTER SEVEN

“What do you mean ‘it’s all my fault’?” Sitting in his living room, Damien folded his arms over his chest as Pet tried to translate Sky’s newest rant along with Pet’s sex menu for the day. So far, all he’d gotten out of it was that Pet was hankering for another orgy with his liquor cabinet.

“Pet, for the last time, I am not giving you the key, and that is final. I’m tired of finding little slug trails all over my scotch.” She truly was indiscriminate when it came to getting off, riding anything with or without a heartbeat. “Now focus and tell me what Sky said. Why did they take her family?”

Pet fluttered in his face and shook a finger at him. “ You . You’re the reason. SBP knows you love Sky.”

“I do not love her,” he scoffed. “Not anymore. But what does that have to do with Amelia and Miguel?”

“Lie to yourself, tailor, but a sex fairy knows what you desire most, and it’s not that frog I just humped in your garden.”

Poor thing . “Just get to the fucking point. Why did SBP take them?”

“SBP thinks you’ll seek revenge for Sky’s murder. When the time is right, they plan to use Amelia and Miguel as leverage to make you back down.”

He had to admit they were clever, but he did not plan to retaliate. Sky was a grown woman and had made her choice. As for rescuing Amelia and Miguel, he could be persuaded to help, but Sky would need to do things his way. Groveling wouldn’t hurt either. Also, it would have to wait until after he tracked down Cimil.

“All right. So what does Sky want to do now?” he asked. Say it, Sky. Admit you need me.

“She needs you to kill yourself,” Pet said.

Damien tilted his head, unsure if he’d heard her correctly. “Kill myself?”

Pet elaborated for Sky, “They’re only holding Amelia and Miguel hostage to prevent you from retaliating against them for murdering Sky. If you’re dead, her sister and nephew will be released.”

“Sky actually wants me to…die?” he asked stiffly. It was a bitter pill to swallow and irrefutable proof that she did not love him. Never had. Never will.

“Eye for an eye, Sky says. You owe her.” Pet snickered.

With a sigh, Damien ran a hand through his thick, brown, manly hair. Sky’s request needed no explanation because the ugly truth was that he’d ended Sky’s first life—a fact he tried not to think about.

And she’s never going to let me forget it . Yes, he’d been on a job, and there had been extenuating circumstances, but at the end of the day, he’d run her over with his SUV. He’d squished her like a little bug right outside her own house.

Meanwhile, he’d been given three lifetimes. Four if you took into account that most men only lived to fifty in the 1800s. It all added up to deep remorse for shortening the life of a woman he’d unexpectedly come to love.

Not that I do any longer, but I still feel like an asshole for killing her that first time . Which was how she’d come to haunt him and why the question before him now had a clear answer.

“No way,” he said.

“No?” Pet arched a little brow.

“Yep. No.”

Suddenly, Sky’s faint form appeared before him. She wore a black suit and had her dark hair in a high ponytail. It must’ve been what she was wearing when SBP offed her. Either way, she looked so sexy that he wanted to take a nap.

A hard, long nap. Dream sex was the easiest way to get it on with a ghost.

Damien swallowed a dry lump in his throat. “Sky, you look lovelier than ever—all steamy and translucent.”

“Cool it, Damien,” she said with a faint but furious voice. “You owe me.”

“Correction: I owed you until you were given a second chance at life. It was your choice to throw it away, along with everything else. So, no, I will not kill myself to save your sister and Miguel.”

“Damien, when I died this second time, I went back to the underworld. And when I sat there trying to decide if I should just move on and rejoin the cosmos or return here, do you know what happened?” Sky asked.

“Obviously you chose to haunt me again because torturing me gives your dead heart deep joy,” he said dryly.

“Wrong. I was determined to let you live your life. I knew how much I hurt you when I left, and I wanted you to be free of that. Then I hit the poker tables, just to have a little fun before signing off, and guess who I ran into: your father.”

“My father?” Damien’s father had died of the plague about one hundred and eighty years ago. He had been a hard man who took his tailoring seriously and taught Damien well.

“Yes, and then we got to talking, and he told me that if I was still feeling a pull to go back to you, it was for a reason. He told me that I had unfinished business, and you were meant to help me with it.”

“Maybe he simply wanted you to fold.” Poker was the only game played in the underworld, and they took it seriously. So he’d heard.

“Damien, I only have a few seconds left, but your father told me what a selfless, loyal, and honorable man you are. He said if anyone could help, it’s you. So help me. Please? Because you know I died trying to stop SBP. You know I gave you up because some things are more important than ourselves, and I know you understand that because you lived alone for nearly two hundred years simply to protect everyone around you from your fake curse. That is the man I fell in love with and will always love.”

Always love? Bull crap. Damien watched as Sky’s form vanished like a wisp of steam. “Sky…”

“Sky says we can fake your death in public,” Pet relayed. “You just have to lie low until Amelia and Miguel are free.”

So she didn’t want him dead-dead? Why the hell didn’t she say so in the first place? “Fine. I’ll do it, Sky. But first I must track down Cimil in Dallas.” At least, he hoped she’d be there.

“She says thank you.” Pet dove for his glass of scotch again and began rubbing her tiny hairy pits. “Also, Sky says we’re going with you to Texas.”

“No, you’re not. I work alone.”

“We can’t let anything happen to you—”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’ll be fine,” he grumbled.

Pet added, “We don’t care if you die, but it has to be public. Won’t help Sky if some dragon gobbles you up and no one sees.”

Damien drew a long breath. “You are true friends.”

“Yes, I am,” said Pet. “But mostly I’m coming along for the free jizz.”

Damien pulled up behind his tailor shop and parked his black convertible Jaguar, giving his hair a quick finger comb before going inside. He would have to ensure his temporary assistant manager, MF, could handle things while he was away.

MF, short for Mountain Flower, was another unwelcome fixture in his life, mostly because she’d recently decided to use his shop as a launchpad for her line of Victorian gowns. The original designs had been his—something he enjoyed doing for stress relief—but then MF took over and began selling different versions. Now she had dozens of orders each week for weddings, costume parties, and the occasional movie set.

Honestly, I just don’t understand why she doesn’t get her own shop. MF knew he was a solitary man who did not like sharing. The only positive side was that she was an excellent seamstress and took good care of his clients.

Damien entered through the empty workshop in back and headed out front to the shop, finding only Bonbon and Gorgonzolina snoozing in their tuxedo-shirt dog beds by the window. Both looked like your average Chihuahuas—one white, the other tan. Of course, they were anything but cute and cuddly canines. One stroke of their furry bodies and most humans became sleepy. Too much petting led to coma or even death since love-sucking demons fed off physical affection. It was fortunate that most of his human clientele didn’t linger long. Men tended to come in knowing exactly what they wanted and left quickly.

My kind of customer . No awkward small talk or exchange of insincere niceties. Sometimes, they’d just grunt at each other. Like real men.

“Hey, where’s MF?” Damien asked, quickly rearranging the rack of new seersucker suits by size. A thirty-two long after a forty? He didn’t see the dresses on the opposite wall with tens before size sevens. MF is slipping.

Bonbon barely lifted his head, his big white belly inflated. “How the hell should I know?” he groaned. “Gods, I’m so full. We got a bus of Japanese tourists in yesterday, and I haven’t been able to move since.”

“I told you not to overeat,” Damien scolded. “And use the alley to do your business this time.” Damien was tired of finding little demon “presents” in the dressing room. “I have to head to the airport on business, so please let MF know I might be gone a few days.”

“Sure, boss.” Bonbon drifted back to sleep.

Just as a precaution, Damien grabbed a pen and paper from behind the register to leave a note. Suddenly, he heard a rustle in the workshop.

Dammit. Pet must’ve caught up with me. Yes, he’d ditched her at the house. He did not need help on this job.

He heard another loud clank.

“Pet?” Damien went in the back just as MF came out of the storage room, tucking in her black fishnet shirt. No bra.

“MF, what did I say about free nipples in the store?”

MF looked up, her big brown eyes wide. “Boss? What are you—”

“Hello, tailor.” Maxton popped out of the storage room behind her, zipping up his pants.

Damien felt his anger percolate. “Maxton.”

Maxton wore a stylish dark green suit with a black paisley tie and maroon silk scarf. It was a solid look. Maxton was also a vampire and, until recently, the very last. Now there were two vampires in the world. Him and his new mate, MF.

MF’s pale cheeks flushed. “Sorry, we were just looking for some fabric.”

No, they’d been fucking. Again. “I understand that you are both still in your bloodymoon phase, and MF, I know your new vampire libido is, well, strong as a randy ox, but how many times must I tell you to leave it at home.”

Something wet nudged the back of his neck. He turned his head, but there was nothing. Nothing that could be seen with the naked eye.

“And for fuck’s sake, leave your hellhound home, too!” Damien was at the end of his rope with this posse of horny, needy nitwits encroaching on his life.

“Sorry, boss. I swear it won’t happen again.” MF smiled shamefully and then glanced at Maxton with a giggle.

Gods help me. They are not going to stop. When he returned from Dallas, he would have to sit down with MF and insist she move to her own space.

“What’s that, Sky?” MF said, looking over Damien’s shoulder.

So Sky was here now. Great .

There was a moment of silence, followed by MF and Maxton gasping loudly. The undead could hear ghosts, apparently.

“What did she say?” Damien asked.

“Nothing,” MF said. “It’s just…errr…”

Sky was talking about him? How much more could he endure from this sexy ghost? Damien, you made me a ghost the first time, he mocked her voice in his head. Now you owe me forever. Damien, I love you. Damien, I’m leaving you. Damien, die for me.

Women! “I do not have time for this.” He had five days to track down Cimil. Otherwise, all hell would break loose. That, or Votan would break his neck. As an immortal, Damien could still die if his body was destroyed or severely damaged. Not that he would mind ending his long existence, but he was not a fan of pain. “I have to locate Cimil and will return in a few days. Please look after—”

“She escaped? Again?” MF asked, apparently responding to something Sky said.

“Yes,” Damien confirmed.

“What about Amelia and Miguel?” MF asked.

“I will deal with that situation upon my return.” Damien had to prioritize. “I must go now.”

“We would love to accompany you,” Maxton said to him. “After all, I am still indebted to you for bringing MF and me together.”

Yes, Damien was responsible for their coming together, but it wasn’t as if he’d had a choice. Cimil had forced him to hunt down the last “living” vampire, who at the time had been “hermitting” in a South American jungle. Now Damien knew why Cimil had made him do it. She’d hoped to persuade Maxton to create an army of vampires for her war. Luckily, that would never happen. Maxton and MF were too busy humping to start siring newbies.

Little-known fact: new vampires were a hungry handful and needed constant supervision—thus the reason Maxton was never far from MF’s side. Other little-known fact: vampires could go out in the sun, though it severely weakened them, which made newbies an even bigger threat since they could literally hunt twenty-four seven if you let them.

“Uh, no, no,” MF interjected, speaking to Maxton. “We have to stay here. Remember? Look after the shop?” She gave a knowing look to Maxton.

“Oh. Yes. We must stay here.” Maxton nodded enthusiastically.

They were going to screw in the storeroom again while he was away.

Grrrr… “Just—clean up after yourselves.” Damien turned to leave, feeling something breathing down his neck as he got to the door. “And keep Parrot away from me!”

Parrot was the name of Maxton’s hellhound. Why any vampire would want one as a pet was anyone’s guess. They were violent, unpredictable creatures, born deep within the fiery pits of hell. Not very cuddly.

All Damien knew was that his solitary life of fine suits and fabrics had been overtaken by a supernatural zoo. And now Sky was coming on this trip to find Cimil. At least Pet hadn’t caught up to him. Probably got distracted by a telephone pole.

He went outside to his car and opened the door, sliding behind the wheel.

“Heya!” Pet said from the passenger seat.

“It was too good to be true,” he mumbled to himself, starting the engine.

“Not was. Is. You’re lucky to have me along,” she said with her squeaky voice. “Did I ever tell you about the time I banged a dragon?”

“No. And please do not start—”

“Start telling you until we’re on the plane? Good idea!” Pet clapped. “That way I can take my time and give you all the details. Oh look! A stick shift!” Pet jumped on top of it and began licking.

Classy.