Demon’s Test (Demon Mates #4)

Chapter One

Four years later….

Milo stared at the envelope he had just found in his mailbox. As letters went, it looked kind of ominous. It wasn’t an invoice—those had a special look and feel he had learned to dread over the past years. It also wasn’t something medical, for which he was grateful. Despite only being twenty-two, Milo could live the rest of his life without ever getting medical-related letters again. He also knew this was wishful thinking. His mother’s cancer had been officially cured, but she had to stay vigilant nevertheless, which, in Milo’s opinion, told them more about the illness than he wanted to know. Cancer was an asshole that could sneak back into a person’s life without warning. He turned the envelope over in his hands. It had an unfamiliar weight, the paper thick and nice to the touch. There was also a seal, an honest-to-god wax seal, depicting what Milo thought were an S, a B and a W, but he couldn’t be sure because of all the loops. The wax was royal blue. His name and address were printed on the front in the same loopy writing, in gold, which complemented the blue of the seal. Milo could imagine what their postman would have to say about it when they saw each other the next time. Larry had opinions on everything and no problem in sharing them. Loudly. Repeatedly. In case the other person hadn’t understood him the first time. The best course of action was to avoid him altogether and, if that failed—the man was suspiciously good at sneaking up on people—to nod and say ‘Yes, Larry’, at the appropriate moments.

Milo weighed the envelope in his hand while he contemplated his options. Opening it right away might have been the obvious choice for any innocent and clueless bystanders, but Milo had long ago stopped being innocent and clueless. If he thought about it, the moment the last of his innocence had died, had been when the demon Dresalantion, Dre for his friends, had followed his summons. Reading about demons and actually meeting one were two very different things. For many people, the difference was being able to keep on breathing after meeting the demon.

His second thought was to go to his mentor and friend, Sammy, the person he had tried to sacrifice to Dre, thus inadvertently introducing the two fated mates. Sammy still gave him credit for it, though Milo felt uncomfortable when he did so. Yes, he had been a desperate, lonely, mobbed teenager, but killing another human being to make life more bearable for himself was abominable. Perhaps, one day, Milo would feel like he had atoned enough for this sin. He didn’t hold his breath. Sammy would definitely be interested in the letter, especially in the wax seal and the calligraphy. He had a lively discussion via letter with his demon-in-law, Quirion, who also happened to be Milo’s second employer—his first employer would always be Sammy, even though he rarely helped at the bookstore anymore—about everything regarding books. The two used a paper similar to the one Milo was holding in his hands, they played with different seals and wax colors and the correspondence never failed to get Quirion agitated, which, according to Dre and Barion, was a good thing. Gets him out of his funk , were their words. Milo wasn’t always convinced, because he failed to see where Quirion might be in a funk , though he did have to admit that Quirion was definitely looking forward to every letter.

Then a horrific thought crossed Milo’s mind—Sammy and Quirion would never involve him in their discussion, would they? He was good with books, yes, but he was also more of a numbers and formulas kind of guy. Mathematics and biochemistry were his forte, not libraries. He stared at the letter with newfound trepidation. If this was from Sammy or Quirion, they would expect an answer in kind. Milo shook his head. No, they wouldn’t. He didn’t have the appropriate paper, for one. Or wax. He had no wax, no fancy seals. And he was sure Quirion would have dropped a hint. The big green demon thought he was so subtle. Milo had to grin. Like a sledgehammer to the forehead.

He turned the letter around a few more times and decided to go to Quirion. If he was supposed to take part in his and Sammy’s writing game, the demon could at least lend him the materials he needed. Milo took his phone from his pocket and sent a short text while marching back inside the house. His mother was out meeting with some of her friends, which made it safe for his demon to come. And he should probably stop thinking of Quirion as his because that was simply youthful infatuation and would never lead to anything substantial. Ha. He even sounded like Quirion in his head.

As for it being safe—of course Milo’s mother had met Quirion. When he had started working for the demon, he had still been a minor and his mom had been adamant about getting to know the miracle employer who shelled out enough money for Milo to pursue his scholarship at MIT and keep on helping her with the bills. The meeting had been sufficiently awkward for his mother to satisfy her curiosity while at the same time ensuring she would never think about inviting Quirion again.

Quirion, as always, hadn’t been able to read the room. He had happily gobbled up the lemon cookies his mother had baked, had taken one sip from her rosehip tea, declared it inferior, then launched into a detailed monologue about the history of tea, the evolution of rosehips, why and how they were used in the kitchen, and ended with the promise to get her the best rosehip tea in the entire world. After those partly interesting seventy-five minutes had passed, his mother hadn’t protested when Milo had brought Quirion outside. The demon had honestly thought the meeting had gone perfectly and, from a certain perspective, it surely had. And whatever misgivings Milo’s mom might have had about Quirion were erased the next morning when she found a package with the best rosehip tea in the world on her front porch. These packages kept coming, always when her supply was getting low, and whenever Quirion’s name was mentioned, she praised him to the heavens for his excellent taste in tea and his generosity.

Milo had asked Quirion once how he did the thing with the tea and his demon employer and mentor had only winked and said, “I was owed a favor by a witch. She’s delighted to get out of it so easily.” And that had been that.

Milo had reached the kitchen when he felt the by now very familiar pull he associated with the opening or closing of a rift in space and time.

“Hi, Quirion,” he welcomed his mentor, who had appeared next to the sink in the kitchen.

The huge demon smiled and lifted his hand in greeting. Milo knew that he had his glamour on in case his mother was here, but apparently once a person had seen a demon without their glamour, it didn’t work anymore. Just like Sammy, he saw the demons in his life in their true form. Or rather in the true form they chose in the moment. They could actually control their size, which varied between the six-foot-eight the glamour showed the world and the seven to eight feet when they went full-on demon. They also could hide their scales, though not the color, another reason the glamour was necessary. Barion, Quirion’s youngest brother, for example, looked like a Smurf with his deep blue hue. Dre’s color was that of a cooked lobster and Quirion sported a gorgeous linden green. Wings and claws were retractable and usually hidden, with the claws coming out quickly and regularly whenever the demon was agitated. When Milo concentrated hard enough, he could see the humanoid form—Milo had yet to meet an actual human man who looked like the demons and wasn’t Photoshopped to the high heavens—the glamour gave them, but why bother? He had stopped being afraid a long time ago. And now I sound like an old man .

“Greetings, Milo. Why have you called me? Isn’t today your day off?” Quirion furrowed his brow. “You need to relax on your days off, Milo. We talked about this.”

Yes, they had talked about this, repeatedly. When Quirion had helped him to study for his scholarship at MIT. During the first semester, when Milo had worked himself to the ground for fear of losing said scholarship. During his studies for the undergraduate tests. Then afterward when he was trying to narrow down the field he wanted to work in and couldn’t make a decision and tried to keep up with everything. And now that he had found his field, nanotechnology, the trend continued. Quirion had always been and was always there to remind him to take care of himself. Just like the perfect boyfriend. Again, a thought he should probably tamp down on.

“Greetings, Quirion. I’ve called you because I got this.” Milo held up the envelope. He had learned quickly not to beat around the bush with Quirion. The demon didn’t understand the concept of leading up to something. According to him, bad news didn’t get any better by delaying it, which was right, of course, but doing it nevertheless was a very human trait. Social convention . Well, human social conventions lost a great deal of their power once a person dealt with the supernatural on a regular basis. Declan and Troy, the two werewolf alphas, probably wouldn’t recognize it if it bit them in the noses. Mavis and Maribel, the two witches, used social convention as a source for their personal amusement. Amber, the banshee, had no clue anyway. Emilia, the vampire, had stopped heeding social conventions of any species a long time ago—and who would contradict a gorgeous vampire who could rip your spine out through your stomach without breaking a sweat? And Jon, well, Jon lived behind his computers and in Barion’s arms. Milo was pretty sure social convention didn’t dare touch him there.

The letter was snatched from his fingers with a speed Milo had rarely seen on Quirion and which was usually reserved for the snagging of rare books.

“It was in your mail?” The demon scrutinized the seal as if he was afraid it would bite.

“Yes. I went out about ten minutes ago to get it and there it was. First, I thought you and Sammy want me to participate in your letter exchange, but I was sure you would have mentioned it before sending me something.”

“Of course we would have mentioned it! How would you be supposed to get the right paper, wax, and seals? That’s a delicate matter that can’t be rushed. We would have given you ample notice!” Quirion turned his mesmerizing green eyes to him—and yes, his eyes were green as well. The whole demon was a mixture of pretty, pretty green shades, his eyes two emeralds in his linden green face. “Do you want to partake in our correspondence?”

“What? No!” Milo lifted his hands in a defensive gesture. “You know me. Numbers are more my thing.”

“Sammy and I both thought so when we discussed the matter, but I do realize it might have been rude to simply make the assumption.”

“You’ve discussed including me?” Milo was touched.

“Of course we did. You work for both of us, and we were sure you could have provided a level estimation of our positions on various topics regarding books.”

So they had wanted him as kind of a middle man. Milo was glad they had decided to keep him out of it. When Sammy and Quirion started discussing, things could get heated quickly. Milo gladly left Dre the honor of smoothing things over.

“I feel flattered. And you were right, I would have felt out of place in your correspondence.”

Quirion nodded. Then his gaze went back to the letter. “I’m amazed it took them so long to find you.”

“You know who sent this?” Milo stepped next to Quirion to stare at the seal.

“Yes. The Society for the Betterment of the World . Quite the pompous title, if you ask me. They are a more or less secret society, consisting of both human and supernatural creatures who have united under the banner of science to bring this world forward as a whole.”

The way Quirion pursed his lips at the end of that sentence made clear what he thought of the idea.

“If they are secret, why do you know about them?”

“I’ve been around for some time, Milo. There’s little I don’t know.” Quirion lifted his nose high. His haughty tone suggested there was more to this story than the demon let on.

Milo could be accused of many things, stubbornness chief among them, closely followed by a curiosity that didn’t care for danger as long as it was satisfied.

“So you know them how?” He was trying to sound nonchalant. As if he wasn’t dying to hear more about Quirion’s connection to this secret or not secret society with the pompous name and the grand letters who seemed to have somehow set its sights on him.

“I was one of the founding members.” Quirion huffed so violently that the thick envelope in his claws vibrated.

“Aaand?” Milo thought he could see where this was going. He wasn’t bragging when he said he knew Quirion by now. In his head, the scene unfolded almost like a little movie.

“There were creative differences and we decided it was best to part ways.”

“So you started out as a rock band which then became a society for science?”

Quirion lifted one eyebrow. Well, without the glamour, it was an intricate pattern of scales in various sizes and shapes in the place where humans had their eyebrow. The principle was the same. “You’re being sarcastic.” He grinned. “It means you’re relatively relaxed. That’s good.”

“Don’t try to change the subject, Qui. I think I know what happened but please tell me.” Milo wasn’t above using his pleading eyes, as Quirion called them. They weren’t as good as Sammy’s, who could move a rock to do his bidding, but they weren’t shabby either. He could see Quirion’s resolve crumbling like a cake that had been left out for too long.

“Fine. They didn’t want to see things my way and when I, very politely I might add, told them about the error of their ways, they strongly suggested I would be better off bettering the world on my own. I could only agree, because who wants to work with a bunch of stuck-up amateurs who wouldn’t recognize their mistakes if they ate their books? They kept the name though.”

“I knew it!” Milo punched the air with his right fist. “The name was your idea. And now it’s pompous, hmm?”

Quirion rolled his eyes. The demon was a master eye-roller. Any teenager would be grateful to sit at his feet and learn from the best. Usually, the eyeroll was reserved for the dumbest errors in books and close family members. That he got it now told Milo more about the subject than anything Quirion could have said. “It’s pompous because how do they think they can make the world a better place without my invaluable input?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

In anybody else, the arrogance would have sent Milo running for the hills. Quirion, though, was simply stating a fact. His input was invaluable because Milo doubted there was a topic he didn’t know at least something about. And with Quirion, something was usually more than most pros in these respective fields would know.

“I concede that point.” He stared at the envelope in Quirion’s claws. “Shall we open it?”

“It’s addressed to you. You decide.”

“Fine.” Milo reached out for the expensive paper. If his hands trembled a little, Quirion was polite enough not to mention it. I hope he’s not unwell . Milo broke the seal and pulled another thick sheet of paper from the envelope. He unfolded it. While doing so, he felt Quirion shuffling behind him, to get a better look over his shoulder. There had been a time when Milo would have freaked out when having an apex predator looming over him like that. It was in the distant past. Now he reveled in it, as well as in the knowledge that said apex predator would rip to pieces anybody who meant harm to Milo. Although Milo would have rather wanted for Quirion to shred his clothes and get more intimately acquainted with his body, he would take what he could get. The whole story with Sammy had shown him how delicate and angst-filled being with a demon could be. Quirion had never given any indication that he was on the lookout for his soulmate, but Milo couldn’t imagine why he wouldn’t be. Didn’t everybody yearn for their second half? He himself definitely did, and he wouldn’t have any complaints if said soulmate was a certain demon with green scales and a penchant for books.

Focusing back on the task at hand, he started reading. At the top of the letter was a header printed in gold, a crest with the same abbreviation as on the seal, SBW. Below somebody had gone to the trouble of writing in ink.

Esteemed Dr. Abber,

We are more than delighted to inform you that your work has been chosen to participate in our bi-annual funding contest. We find your research on the matter of nanotechnology most ingenious and would love to give it the funding it deserves.

If you decide to compete with the best and brightest minds in the world, please send your confirmation to the address below. Once you are added to the list of participants, you will receive further instructions and all relevant dates in an email.

You must understand that the funding we offer is not only monetary, though there will be plenty of coin to help you achieve your goals, but also in spirit. Through our connections you will have access to almost every source of information there is on this planet. We will do our very best to see your research blossoming into the gorgeous flower it is meant to be.

Yours very sincerely,

Beverly Nyx

Founding member of SBW

Below followed the aforementioned address, again in gold lettering. Milo looked up at Quirion. “Is this as good as it sounds?”

“Probably better, if you’re thinking in terms of money. As far as I know, the funding is for a minimum of five years, no questions asked once it’s granted. Also, no upper limits.” The demon sounded gruff.

“Do you know this Beverly person?”

“Yeah. She’s a vampire. Has a decent library in her castle in southern France. Nothing compared to mine, but she does have an interesting collection of first editions of religious books.”

Meaning her collection was good enough for Quirion to want it. The words decent and interesting were reserved for things the demon wouldn’t mind getting his claws on. Once he started using terms like passable and advanced , the books in question would find their way into his library, no matter what their current owner might have to say about it. Quirion never outright stole books, unless he deemed them unsafe—unsafe meaning the room they were stored in didn’t offer the right air conditioning, for example, or the shelves weren’t sturdy enough to withstand an earthquake—but he had a way about him to make people chafe to his demands sooner than later. The only person who had ever managed to get Quirion to depart with a book was Sammy, and the jury was still out on which of them had actually won that round, because it had been a trade-off. Both Sammy and Quirion thought they had gotten the better end of the deal, which prevented serious family drama, at least.

Milo was glad he had been a mere bystander during the negotiations. He and Dre had bitten down on their fingernails and claws while Sammy and Quirion had first negotiated, then discussed and finally argued about the worth of their respective books. All in a polite manner and while calmly drinking hot peppermint tea in Sammy’s case and an interesting blend of coffee, cocoa, and cream Quirion loved. Sammy had invented it just for him—further proof how sneaky the man was. The beverage forced Quirion to come to Sammy’s bookstore regularly to get his fix.

“I’m tempted.” Milo tapped the paper with his fingertips. “Rumor has it the higher ups at MIT want to cut part of my funding because it’s too theoretical still, and also the son of one of the major donors for MIT wants to start researching coral reefs, supposedly to find a way to save them.”

“That does not sound bad.” Quirion’s tone was careful. The demon sometimes struggled with the deeper meaning behind sentences that were not written down. No doubt Milo’s tone had suggested there was more to the statement, and he now didn’t want to offend him by outright saying that researching corals was a noble quest indeed. It was. Or would be, if the research would really happen. Milo knew for a fact that the son in question had chosen the Bahamas as his main research territory, simply because the partying options were so great there. The man had loudly bragged to some friends that MIT would finance at least two years of leisure for him.

“It would be fine if this son was a serious scientist. Unfortunately, he isn’t. But that’s neither here nor there. I will lose part of my funding and getting into this program”—he tapped the letter again—“would allow me to keep on working without having to worry about getting taken off MIT’s money completely, once another offspring of a wealthy donor decides that research in exotic places is their thing.”

Quirion nodded gravely. A hint of red in his eyes suggested he wasn’t as calm as he tried to appear. “People abusing money meant for worthy causes are the worst. Karma will take it up with them.”

Milo wasn’t so sure about that but didn’t comment. He turned toward the kitchen table, getting a ballpen and a sheet from the side cabinet.

A large, green-scaled hand closed around his wrist. “What are you doing?”