“Wow,” I said, slipping an arm around Christina’s waist. “I always knew black cats were demonic…”
Christina laughed, shimmering in my arms. Now that we’d reached the Academy she had no need for her disguise—she shrugged it off like a too-warm coat. Her body reverted to its new demonic form, her less-revealing clothes replaced with a tight white tank top and cutoff daisy dukes. She looked like a Spring Break partygoer ready for some debauchery, except she was the demon who caused the debauchery.
“That’s better,” she growled, licking her lips with her forked tongue. “Oh, the look on your face is so fucking sweet, Luke. I wish I could take a picture…”
Mareth came up behind us, throwing her arms over each of our shoulders in a gesture of camaraderie. “Welcome to the Infernal Academy! Home to imps, demons, abominations, and all manner of hellish creatures!”
“My new home,” I growled, hugging the demons tighter. “I can’t fucking wait to get settled in…”
Chapter 9
As Christina, Mareth, and I stared up at the entrance to the Infernal Academy’s admissions building, a door opened at the top of the stairs.
Heads turned around the quad as a tall, beautiful demoness made her way down the steps, flashing an upside-down peace sign to a couple of people she knew as she reached the bottom. Long blonde hair reached almost all the way down to her ankles, wrapping around a sleek, pale body wearing what turned out to be very little clothing. In fact, I was fairly certain that, were it not for all that hair, she’d be standing topless before us. What kind of demon could be comfortable walking around showing so much skin?
Maybe that’s how they all are around here, I thought, devouring the newcomer with my gaze. After all, there’s no Puritans down here—they mostly all end up in the other place...
The demon came to a halt before us, sizing us up with dark, knowing eyes. Those cheekbones could cut glass, and she knew it—this woman looked regal, like the dark fairytale reflection of the beautiful princess waiting in the tower for her prince to come and rescue her. Something equally dark stirred inside of me at the sight of her, and I wondered if I’d just activated my powers again.
“Greetings,” the demoness purred. Her voice had a thick Russian accent, which only made her seem even more exotic. “You must be Mareth’s new adherents. My name is Xora. I have been assigned to walk you around the grounds and give you a tour of the Academy. It is my hope that it will be most enlightening for you both.”
I definitely felt a little intimidated locking eyes with Xora. The demoness had an almost other-worldly beauty; she looked like she should have been crawling through someone’s window during a full moon, not acting as a tour guide. From Christina’s expression, she felt much the same—with a dollop of feminine jealousy on top.
Mareth, however, already knew our guide well. Her face lit up as she leaned in, bumping elbows with the beautiful demon. “What up, Xora?” the succubus giggled. “Keepin’ it wet?”
“Always,” Xora concurred smoothly. Now that she mentioned it, I couldn’t help but notice the tiny droplets of water sticking to Xora’s cleavage. I’d taken it for sweat, but of course none of the demons down here felt the fires of Hell thanks to Lucifer’s dark blessing. Had this girl just come from the pool or something?
Mareth nudged me. “Xora’s a rusalka,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows at the taller blonde demon. “Water demon. Her kind used to drag sailors in Russian folktales down to their deaths in the briny deep.”
“We did not have to drag,” Xora laughed, preening before us like an underwear model. “One look at us and they gladly jumped overboard.”
“Like a siren,” I said, nodding. But with a sexy Russian accent. Cool. Nice to meet you, Xora…
To my surprise, Xora’s eyes narrowed at the compliment.
“He’s new, Xora,” Mareth said, detecting the icy change in the rusalka’s expression. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
It was an opening, and I took it. “She is absolutely right,” I said, reaching out and taking the rusalka’s hand. Right there on the steps, in front of more than a few gawkers, I brought her pale hand to my lips and kissed it, like a suitor at an old-fashioned ball. “My apologies.”
The hurt look in her eyes faded. “Sirens are beautiful,” she explained. “But they are lazy bitches. All they do is sit around and sing all day, trying to give people hard-ons.”
“I can think of worse ways to waste time,” I said with a smirk.
Mareth nudged me. “Xora is very driven,” the succubus said, a distinct waggle in her eyebrows as she stage-whispered the words loud enough for the rusalka to hear. “She’s the captain of the Infernal Academy’s swim team. Just last week, she set new records for the 500-yard freestyle, the water-walker long jump and the no-holds-barred water polo Royal Rumble. No other demon can touch her in the water, Luke. You should really go see her at the next meet.”
I could read between the lines of Mareth’s statement. She’d make an excellent addition to the team, those eyes said. With a driven personality and a long list of accomplishments, I had no doubt.
“I prefer the breaststroke,” Xora said, crossing her arms beneath hers like the signature on a contract. Okay. The two of them had to be
