Make Me A Match (The Matchmaker) Read online

  Large oaks and maples shaded the area from the setting sun and provided enough shadows for me to easily blend into the darkness. Extending my senses, I searched for the demon. Hell yes, definitely in the area.

  Dinnertime. The town was quiet, the cemetery even more so. What sort of person cut through a graveyard when walking home? The woman had no common sense. Didn’t she realize that demons and other supernatural beings harnessed their strength in cemeteries, harvesting the lingering emotion humans left behind? Apparently she didn’t. She was completely clueless.

  Fortunately, she had me. And I knew much, much more about her than she realized. I knew she owned no car and the vehicle she’d driven in her haste to escape had been her friend’s. I knew she lived in a converted loft with her sister in this small lakeside town, although her mother had moved to Florida. I knew she supported the family with the PI business. I knew her life was about to change drastically.

  What I hadn’t known was she’d be so bloody stubborn, and, damn it all, so attractive. I wasn’t sure which annoyed me more. Her looks I could deal with, her stubbornness was another matter. Then again, what had I expected? For her to smile prettily up at me, pack her bags, and eagerly leave to start her new career?

  She followed the dirt path as it curved around a mausoleum, the stained glass window of an angel staring down in judgmental censorship. How would she react when she knew the truth of my sudden appearance? I had a feeling it wouldn’t be good. I certainly didn’t look forward to that moment, but the sooner it happened, the better. I tore my gaze from Emma and searched the cemetery.

  The demon was there, lurking in the shadows. I could sense the beast, the whispered warning swirling low in my body, building, flaring like alarm bells going off. Not surprising that the demon had found her so quickly. Their instincts were spot-on. But if the demon knew, that meant the others might find out as well.

  Where was the bloody bastard?

  Something shifted, morphing from the shadows behind the mausoleum. Emma sensed the demon as well, for she paused there on the path. The setting sun sent rays through the trees and highlighted her body with a heavenly glow. She started to turn. I stepped behind an oak, leaning against the rough bark. Emma was working with heightened instincts now that the powers had transferred. What would she do when confronted by the monster?

  She scanned the small, secluded cemetery on a hill that overlooked the lake below. Perhaps her skin tingled. Maybe her stomach clenched as heat swept through her form. But, like most humans, she’d ignore the unsettling feeling. Much to my disappointment, she turned back around and continued down the small trail winding through Victorian headstones, dismissing her sixth sense. Fortunately for her, I was there to protect her back.

  A Bubontic Demon, with the skill to seduce, suck you dry, and take over your body. Most women didn’t see it coming.

  “Excuse me.” The demon stepped out of the shadows in all his brooding maleness. I rolled my eyes, disgusted. Dark and mysterious, they never failed to attract the attention of the female population.

  Emma spun around, startled. “Yeah?”

  He smiled a slow, sexy smile that annoyed me more than I wished. And like most females, she unwillingly stepped closer, drawn to the demon. Perhaps her instincts were warning her that something wasn’t right, but her attraction was obvious. She should have known better. I shifted, moving from tombstone to tombstone. The sun had set and the lights that lined the path threw eerie shadows across the marble headstones.

  “I’m lost,” he explained in a French accent.

  I frowned. The demons even knew which accent women liked best. The bastards were becoming more evolved every year.

  Emma stuffed her hands into her pockets, looking oddly bemused, as if she wasn’t quite sure why she remained there, listening to this strange man.

  “Come on, Emma,” I whispered. “Use your instincts.”

  She merely tilted her head to the side. “Where you going?”

  Hadn’t she been taught not to talk to strangers? Especially in secluded cemeteries at night? Next, the demon would be offering her candy. I knelt behind a tombstone, the damp grass soaking the knees of my trousers. A crow called from a branch above. Territorial birds, they didn’t appreciate the demon near their home.

  “Red Brick Pub.”

  “Oh.” She seemed to relax, hearing the familiar name of a local restaurant.

  The demon had done his homework; they knew how to play the game. How the hell had he had time to research, let alone find her? With an arrogant grin, the beast stepped closer, knowing he had her in his grasp.

  Surprisingly, she stepped back. A reluctant grin tugged at the corners of my mouth. So, her instincts were overriding her attraction.

  “Can you tell me the way?” the demon asked.

  Emma glanced toward Main Street, just visible through the iron fence. “Uh, yeah, sure. You just head out of the cemetery and go left. You’ll see it. A brick building.”

  My fingers curled as I resisted the urge to interfere. This was Emma’s first test, and I wasn’t about to get involved…yet.

  The demon stopped a few feet in front of her. Too close. “You’re quite lovely.”

  She paused for a moment, as if trying to make sense of his words, or maybe make sense of her feelings. That near the demon, her instincts would be dulled. I made my way closer, the vegetation underfoot soft and supple with spring rain. I’d hold out until the last minute, but if she didn’t react quickly, I’d have to interfere.

  “Seriously?” She released a sharp laugh. “You’re trying to pick me up in a cemetery? I don’t know what kind of women you have in your country, but I’m not interested.”

  I felt a moment’s relief, until she turned her back to the demon. Dear God, even children knew you never turned your back to a monster. Her footsteps were quick as she started for the gate that would lead onto Main Street.

  The demon smiled. They loved the chase; it fed their sick need. He rolled his shoulders, preparing to transform. There in the cemetery, the demon’s handsome face melted away to reveal gray, boiled skin. His broad shoulders hunched as his vertebrae bent at an odd angle. More animal than human, he leaned forward, preparing to lunge at her. He’d have her throat torn out within five seconds.

  Unfortunately for the demon, he wouldn’t make it. I disappeared and reappeared in front of the monster, placing my body between Emma and him, hoping my ward was out of sight so I could kill the beast without her interference.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “Yes,” the demon said, curling his clawed hands. Gone was the French accent and in its place, a menacing growl. “But apparently I’ll be waylaid for a moment.”

  The demon burst forward. I ducked, swiping my leg wide and hitting the thing in the shins. If he had shins; I really wasn’t sure about demon body parts. Still, it worked because the demon stumbled.

  I straightened and shrugged off my jacket, placing it upon the top of a tombstone while the demon regained its balance. Before I turned, I pulled a small bottle from the pocket. “You do realize I’m going to have to kill you.” I rolled the cuffs of my sleeves, unveiling a dagger strapped to my left forearm.

  The demon drew to its full height, impressive at eight feet tall. “You can try.”

  I laughed and placed my glasses atop my jacket. “Try? My, such a big threat coming from so small a brain.”

  “Say what you will, Protector, you’ll die just as easily as they all do.”

  I glanced behind me, searching for Emma. The path lay empty. Good, but I still had to get rid of the demon before there was a witness. “We’ll see about that.”

  The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, a warning of what was to come. My only warning. In a blur of movement the demon burst forward, faster than I’d thought possible. I spun around, searching for the beast. Too late. The demon’s claws sliced through my left bicep, shredding the white dress shirt. Numbness swept from the wound up to my shoulder and down to my f
ingers, but I knew the symptom would only be temporary. A hiss escaped my gritted teeth as I grasped at my injured arm.

  The sound of laughter and conversation permeated the evening air, seeping through the cemetery in warning. Innocents were coming. The demon chuckled, strolling in a wide circle around me, pausing behind. “More for me.”

  Blood rolled down my forearm, dripping to the ground. Shite. I glanced toward the fence, seeing a small group of humans strolling down Main Street. I needed to get rid of the demon and fast. The numbness in my arm was giving way to a burning ache that pulsed through my veins, spreading through my body. Pretty soon it would be useless, and for the next hour or so I wouldn’t be able to fight, let alone move.

  Breathing through clenched teeth, I ignored the pain and waited for the demon. The water wouldn’t kill the beast, but it would hurt him enough to slow him down and give me the time I needed to recoup. I felt the beast’s heated breath on the back of my head, stirring the hair, and resisted the urge to turn. He was waiting for the poison to make me useless. Sharp claws pierced my neck, more fiery poison seeping into my blood. My throat constricted over the burning pain.

  This wasn’t going as I’d planned, but I’d never actually fought a Bubontic Demon, merely read about them. Grappling with the bottle, I pulled the cork loose with my teeth and tossed the holy water backward. The demon let out a scream that sounded enough like a cat in heat that it wouldn’t draw attention from passersby.

  I snatched the dagger from the sheath attached to my forearm. My heart slammed wildly, urging me to do the deed. But this was the moment of truth, and I knew I couldn’t rush things.

  Fortunately, every demon had a heart, a spot where they were most vulnerable. Unfortunately, every demon’s heart was located in a different area of his body. Fortunately, I had done my homework while training.

  I spun around and shoved the dagger in the demon’s left side. Black liquid seeped from the wound and the giant beast began to shudder. Unsure if I should be thrilled or disgusted, I pulled the dagger free and wiped it clean upon the grass. The demon fell to the ground with a thud that shook the cemetery. A nearby stone cross toppled over. I felt the soft swoosh of the demon’s energy being sucked into the ground, back to Mother Nature. The demon grew still. The night went quiet once more.

  “Well then, that wasn’t so difficult.” I slid the dagger back into the sheath, watching with a wary eye. It wasn’t my first demon kill, but there was something oddly satisfying about seeing the rotting body upon the ground. Perhaps I could protect Emma after all.

  As my chest grew numb, I realized I had only moments to hide the demon and myself. The world spun around me as I struggled toward the monster, my legs like leaden weights. I grasped the demon’s arms, my fingers sinking into his rotting flesh, and dragged him toward the closest and oldest mausoleum, a perfect place to hide a monster from human eyes.

  The rusty lock broke easily. My entire torso was numb. Time was running out. Sweat broke out across my forehead, my body trembled as it fought the demon poison. Using what little strength I had left, I pulled the demon inside and closed the doors, trapping us both. Only then did I give in to temptation and collapse to the floor.

  An hour. I had an hour for the poison to work its way through my system, and then I’d be able to control my body again. Until then, I was forced to lie on the ground, my body frozen, the side of my face pressed to the cold marble floor, staring into the face of a rotting demon.

  Just another typical Friday night.

  Chapter 3

  Emma

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  The insistent pounding tapped at the edges of my semiconscious mind, tearing me from the comforts of slumber.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  For a moment, I thought our neighbor was doing construction. I lowered the duvet just enough to curse at him through the wall, when the thump sounded again. I frowned, clamping my mouth shut. Not construction. No such luck. Someone was knocking on the door. With a groan, I tossed aside my favorite childhood stuffed cat, rolled over, and glanced at the clock.

  Eight a.m.

  Who the heck would be at my door that early? I was so not a morning person, as anyone who was acquainted with me knew. The pounding sounded again.

  “For God’s sake!” I shoved aside the cover and surged upright. The room spun, a dizzying swirl of objects and light, as if I were on a merry-go-round at a fair. Had I moved too quickly? Gotten too little sleep?

  I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut and pressing my fingers to my temples. The huge floor-to-ceiling windows in our downtown apartment had been a bonus when Lizzie and I first moved here, but today I hated that obtrusive sun.

  Crap, it was probably the flu. I recognized the symptoms well enough. Aches, dizziness, exhaustion. The room slowed its spinning and I tentatively slipped my feet into the fuzzy pink slippers Lizzie had gotten me for Christmas. I couldn’t afford to be sick. I didn’t have time.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  “I’m coming!”

  I shuffled out of my bedroom and toward the door, intent on murdering whoever stood on the other side. I hadn’t felt this horrible since freshman year when I’d gone to my one and only high school party and had ended up completely wasted. That was the end of my drinking binge. But here I was…my brain fuzzy, my mouth dry, almost as if I were hungover. I hadn’t had an ounce of alcohol yesterday, had I?

  Standing on tiptoe, I peered through the peephole into the face of a warped, hideous monster. So frightening, she could give children nightmares. She sure as heck had given me and Lizzie nightmares throughout our teenage years.

  “I know you’re there, Emma. I can see your shadow under the door.”

  I groaned, threw the deadbolt back, and opened the door. “Good morning, Grandmother.”

  The woman swept by in her pink tweed suit that would no doubt get the thumbs-up of approval from the Queen of England. The overwhelming scent of Chanel lingered behind her. I waved my hand in front of my face and gagged. I’d hated that scent when I was a child because it reminded me of my mother’s scolding mom. Hated it even more now, for it reminded me of regret and disappointment. She was the antithesis of the warm and loving stereotypical grandma.

  “Someone die?” Someone better be dead for her to interrupt my much-needed sleep.

  “Very amusing, darling.”

  I shut the door, glaring. “Coffee?”

  What the heck did the woman want? She rarely visited, preferring we go to her townhome in Chicago instead. In the rare moments when Grandmother did visit, she made me painfully aware of yesterday’s clothes scattered across the floor, last night’s dishes in the tiny sink, and the overall quaintness of our apartment. Grandmother didn’t appreciate the history of the building, the scent of doughnuts cooking in the bakery below, the exposed brick walls, or the fact that at night I could use the fire escape to climb onto the roof and look out over the town and lake.

  Grandmother settled on the edge of the sofa, her back ramrod straight, hands folded primly on her lap as if she feared catching a disease from the cushions. Funny thing was, when she’d been married to my Grandpa they hadn’t exactly had money, which was why I was positive she’d dumped him. She’d broken his heart. When he died, I’d sworn to keep his business going, the one thing he had left in his life after she left.

  “You know I don’t drink coffee. I prefer tea, if you have any.”

  I rolled my eyes. Since marrying William the Second, or “Junior,” as I loved to call him much to my grandmother’s horror, Grandmother had decided tea was more refined. “Is there a reason why you’re knocking on my door at eight in the morning?”

  I poured water into a kettle and placed it on the stove. The old woman knew that in the summer I worked most evenings and nights. Something must have happened for the bat to drive up the coast this early.

  “Actually, I’m here to inquire about your welfare.”

  I glanced over my shoulder, shocked to say the least. “
My welfare?”

  Unless I’d gained weight, Grandmother was never concerned with my welfare. I scrubbed my hands through my hair and glanced down at my flat belly. No extra weight there. I didn’t have time to gain weight when I spent most of my day sprinting away from irate cheaters.

  But as I met Grandmother’s eyes, I swore I saw genuine concern there. Ugh. It was way too early to have a caring conversation with the woman. I wasn’t at my best in the mornings, and one definitely needed to be at their best when confronting Grandmother. Maybe that’s why she’d arrived so early, to catch me when I was weak.

  “Well, how are you feeling?” She followed that comment by looking me up and down with a critical eye. And the grandmother I knew was back in full swing. I wasn’t surprised when she frowned. It was her typical expression when she studied me. Grandmother didn’t appreciate my low-slung jeans and vintage T-shirts.

  Crap, I hadn’t even changed last night, merely fell into bed after having been up until three in the morning going through photos and listening to the taped conversation I’d gotten before Owen Emerson had arrived. I frowned, just thinking about the annoying man.

  “Emma?”

  “I’m good, but apparently you don’t think so.”

  Grandmother didn’t respond. Was she suddenly abiding by the “if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all” motto? That would be a first. I leaned over, using the stainless steel toaster as a mirror. My hair was something a squirrel might mistake for a nest and mascara smudges marked the area under my eyes. Lovely. I ran my fingers through the snarls. I’d always envied Lizzie’s sleek auburn hair.

  “A bob would be nice.”

  I shivered at the thought. Dear God, I’d look just like Grandmother. I might as well buy a closetful of tweed suits, and settle in for a life at the country club. The horror.

  Grandmother lifted a perfectly drawn eyebrow. “Were you out drinking last night?”

  “No, of course not. I don’t drink.” At least, I didn’t normally. The way this morning was going, I might have to rethink that idea. “Why do you ask?”