Demon Lord 6: Garnet Tongue Goddess Read Online Free PDF Page B

We’re big in Moscow.”
    I ignored the offered hand; I already had two.  I raised an eyebrow.  “Russia?”
    “Moscow, Kansas.” He pulled back his hand.  “I’m hoping exposure on this show will help me go national.”
    No longer smelling of fear, Deedee returned to his side and hugged him possessively.  “Clifford makes the best BBQ chicken and pork you’ve ever tasted.”
    Still holding the vibrator by two fingers, Lillian pushed open the door to her room.  “Excuse me.  I need to go sterilize this.”
    Clifford cocked his head sideways, peering intently at me, his eyes naturally bulgy.  “You never did tell me why you’re here.”
    “I’m Caine Deathwalker, a paranormal investigator.”
    Deedee gasped at my full name.  I had a certain notoriety in the supernatural world.  Her fear was back, a hint of cumin to spice her apple essence.  “Demon!” she said.
    “Demon raised,” I said.  “There’s a difference.”  Apparently, I wasn’t quite as well-known as I thought.  “Tell you what: you keep my secrets and I’ll keep yours—though I don’t know how you’re fooling the cameras.”
    “That calls for a high-level charm.”  She fished a chained medallion out from under her sweatshirt.  It was carved jade with some kind of Elvin inscription in really tiny letters; possibly an equivalent to the Demon Wings tattoo across my shoulders. If I warmed that area, I’d vanish from perception just like Deedee had done, except my magic stopped scents as well.  She was too used to fooling plain, ordinary humans.
    Deedee put the charm away.
    I asked her, “So, how did you get picked for the show?”
    She grinned at me and her appearance went back to what everyone else saw.  “I didn’t get picked.  I just walked onto the set and made Teresa believe I was supposed to be here.”
    I pressed my point.  “But they’re trying for a celebrity version of a show.  What’s your cover?”
    “Oh, I have a garden show on cable TV.  I teach people how to properly appreciate and worship their plants.”  She whispered.  “I’m a tree whisperer!”
    “Why are you whispering?” I asked.  “I’m not a tree.”
    Clifford took her arm and guided her away.  “Come along, Dee.  I want to have a few words with Teresa.”
    “About those floating lights?” she asked.
    I called after them.  “What floating lights?”
    They didn’t stop, or answer.  Maybe I made them nervous.  I shrugged.  A moment later, Lillian was back.  “That was a fast boil.”
    “I just went with a sanitary wipe; didn’t want you cooling your heels too long and maybe wandering off.” 
    She grabbed my arm and tugged me inside her room.  The original decayed walls had been replaced with fresh drywall.   Three walls were painted a garish pink. Behind the tufted headboard of the bed, a patch of wallpaper assaulted my eyes with its peacock feather pattern.  The poufy quilt added a counterpoint of rich burgundy cherry.  A cherry wood armoire had been wheeled in.  There was an old-fashioned vanity with an oval mirror suspended between carved, wooden horns.  And a three-tier crystal chandelier hung over the bed.  Just the thing for swinging maneuvers.
    A quick sweep of my eyes reassured me there were no cameras in here to catch the blow-by-blowjobs.  For a TV exec, Teresa seemed to have a few boundaries. 
    What happens in bed should stay in bed.
    A space heater produced an island of warmth as Lillian tugged me toward the bed.  My foot kicked a stack of paperbacks on an area rug that looked like it might have come from a polar bear—but the scent told me it was synthetic fur.
    “Just a sec.”  I stopped and picked up one of the books.  The back cover had a picture of Lillian Black-Rose and a blurb.  I read: She was an insatiable slut who devoured men like chocolate kisses.  He was a creature of the night cursed with two sets of reproductive organs. It was a match made in hell for all who knew