“Otters? What otters?”

  “The ones on the other side of the complex that I will be stealing.”

  “Lucifer, you can’t steal the evidence,” I scolded.

  “Like hell I can’t steal the evidence!”

  “No.”

  “I’m taking the otters.”

  Arguing with the Devil wouldn’t result in anything, so I grabbed my phone, dialed his wife’s number, and listened to the ring tone.

  “Hello?” Darlene answered, which warned me something held her attention.

  “Please tell your husband he cannot steal my evidence, Darlene. We haven’t even registered them as evidence yet, so he can’t steal my evidence.”

  The Devil’s wife laughed. “Did he find some otters at the crime scene?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Tell him to come home and fill out the paperwork to adopt the otters properly. The CDC will play ball with him, as he has no sense and an ever-growing love of otters, but I’ll make him follow protocol this time. Thank you for the warning. Ask him how many new residents we’ll be getting, please.”

  “How many otters, Lucifer?”

  “Fifteen,” he announced.

  “I heard him,” Darlene said with laughter in her voice. “I’ll have some of the fucking assholes get to work on their residence. In the meantime, tell him he is to compensate you for being a pain in the ass and bothering you while you’re working. I’ve also been notified you’ll need a second safe space for coffee for your cadet.”

  “Yes, considering how today has gone, I expect Alec will need a safe place for his coffee. While you’re working miracles, tell my bosses they are mean, mean people, and that I will be crying myself to sleep tonight because I have to pretend I’m qualified to wrangle the FBI and CDC. They’re all up in my investigation!”

  “Made you stand around and just confirm if you’re okay with how they’re proceeding?” she guessed.

  “Basically. I get to investigate after all the evidence is carefully gathered. I don’t know anything about pulling evidence off fish tanks, so I’ve been watching Alec pet a stingray.”

  “Enjoy the view?”

  I chuckled at her well-aimed tease. “They’re both adorable, but I don’t have space to house any stingrays, so he can’t take one home with him.”

  “Miniature stingrays exist, and some of them are cuddlers.”

  “Repeat that, please?”

  “Miniature stingrays exist, and some of them are cuddlers.”

  I heaved a sigh. “I’m surrounded by animal-obsessed freaks, aren’t I?”

  “You absolutely are. Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it. And once you get used to it, you’ll join us. This is your fate, wolf wrangler.”

  “I’m getting a police dog, not a wolf. And I’m just in line.”

  “That’s what you think,” Darlene said, before hanging up on me.

  I bowed my head and heaved a sigh.

  “She told you about the wolf, huh?” the Devil asked.

  “You will follow proper channels for the adoption of your otters, and you will not ruin any of my evidence. You ruin any of my evidence, and I will give you a taste of hell you will never forget, Lucifer.”

  “I’m telling my wife on you,” he muttered.

  I held out my phone. “Go ahead and try me.”

  The Devil stared at my phone, narrowing his eyes. After some hesitation and a sigh, he took my phone and called his wife. “I was just tricked, my darling. She’s making me try her, and she’s going to win, because she’s going to make me use filthy words again.”

  I rubbed my temple, wondering if I could ask for hazard pay for babysitting the Devil. “I don’t have all night or nearly enough painkillers for this headache you’re making, Lucifer.”

  “I said I would tell on her to you, my darling. She said if I ruined her evidence, she’d give me a taste of hell I’d never forget. She shouldn’t be flirting with me when her cadet is nearby.”

  Alec glanced up from playing with the stingray to raise a brow. “You aren’t even competition, so why are you posturing? We’re not even in the same league. I’m a bachelor of sterling reputation. You are not.”

  Oh. My eyes widened. Would Alec survive? If he did, would I need to nurse his wounds when the Devil snapped at the implication of being inferior to a mere mortal? I could handle caring for him while he recovered from whatever evils happened to him in the next ten minutes.

  Lucifer sighed. “Darling, her cadet’s joining in, and I feel it is unfair I’m being goosed by a pair of mortals. The one keeps rejecting my incubi, and the other keeps rejecting my succubi, and they are being absolutely rude.”

  I turned my attention to Alec. “You’ve been rejecting succubi?”

  “I figured if you could tell a bunch of incubi no, I could tell a bunch of succubi no. It was a challenge to see if I had the emotional fortitude to handle daily temptation. He’s been sending succubi over daily since the day I joined the academy. I made them dinner, and when they discovered I’m barely capable of cooking, they gave me daily cooking lessons. I’m no longer a scourge upon this world—or at least a scourge upon any kitchen I step into.” Alec gave the stingray a final pet before joining us. With zero evidence of caring, he faced the Devil, and stole my phone. “Hey, Darlene. How are you tonight, sweet angel?”

  Lucifer’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t even get mad at him, because whenever he does that, she becomes so damned happy.”

  I patted his shoulder. “It’s okay. She is a sweet angel, and it does not appear he’s flirting with her.”

  “Her favorite hobby is torturing fucking assholes in my many hells, and you two think she’s an angel.”

  I grinned at Lucifer’s disgruntled tone. “She protects my coffee. This is important. I have never seen her be anything other than an angel.”

  “Haven’t you learned angels are assholes yet?” the Devil asked, scowling at me.

  I had, although I appreciated Sariel’s asshole tendencies, and I made a point of sending him a card once a month thanking him for sparing me from a living hell within my uterus. “But she’s a nice angel.”

  “Sorry about that, Darlene. I suspect Josefina is hungry, so she’s getting snappy at your husband. This sort of entertainment can’t be purchased for any price. At what point should I save him?”

  Lowering his head, Lucifer muttered something and sighed. “Outdone by mere mortals.”

  “She says you should come home so she can tend to your mortal wounds. She is offering to kiss it all—”

  The Devil disappeared in a faint cloud of sulfur, and I coughed, waving the fumes out of my face. “Well played, Alec. I thought he’d never leave.”

  “Darlene hasn’t fed in a week, she’s hungry, and he’s been busy with really important matters, so he’s hungry, too. The chiefs texted me earlier and asked that I make sure he headed home for some attention before one of them snapped and killed somebody. While you two were verbally sparring, she confirmed there will be dinner at our hotel along with a few presents in the form of gaming laptops. We’re children who need toys. I have no idea why she thinks that, but I’m not going to argue, not when I get a free gaming laptop. Our salary does not allow for gaming laptops without a lot of preplanning.”

  Damn. Alec had played the Devil. “Has anyone told you competence is sexy?”

  “I may have heard something like that, from the incubi determined to figure out how you tick. For some reason, demons keep showing up and dropping hints when they aren’t teaching me important life skills, like how to cook, clean, and not bring shame to my household.”

  “They made you be domestic?” I rubbed my brow above my eyes, questioning everything about my life. “I don’t know if I should be sorry on their behalf or concerned you needed lessons—or disgusted at myself to understand how much I appreciate someone who can handle half the household chores.”

  “Honestly, I expect to do most of the chores. I do my best thinking when I’m cleaning, and it only took a succubi a few weeks to teach me how to clean effectively and mindlessly so I could think while I work. And cooking is like math with food, and I really like math and food.”

  I picked up the pharmacy bag, gathered everything I had brought with me, made certain I had my cruiser keys, and nodded my satisfaction over my checks. “I am finding those FBI and CDC liaisons, and I am telling them we are going to the hotel, where we will be inaccessible for twelve hours. I’ve been told there will be food at our hotel, and I’m sure I can figure out a math problem you can help me solve.”

  “What sort of math problem?”

  “It’s a very complex algebra equation.”

  Alec snickered. “Algebra, is it?”

  As I wore the ugliest sports bra on the planet, he’d get to witness my bra vanish and become a mystery. “Chemistry is science, so we’ll have to play with that after we explore the mathematical possibilities of algebra.”

  “How long does it take to ditch the FBI and CDC?”

  “Good question, but if they know what’s good for them, less than five minutes. I’m hungry.”

  “Are you, now?”

  I smirked at his tone, which implied he’d caught onto the double nature of my comment. “Starving, even, and I have plans on enjoying dessert tonight.”

  About R.J. Blain

  RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.

  * * *

  When she isn't playing pretend, she likes to think she's a cartographer and a sumi-e painter.

  * * *

  In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Should that fail, her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until she is satisfied.

  * * *

  RJ also writes as Susan Copperfield and Bernadette Franklin. Visit RJ and her pets (the Management) at thesneakykittycritic.com.

  Follow RJ & her alter egos on Bookbub:

  RJ Blain

  Susan Copperfield

  Bernadette Franklin

  Putting the Chic in Psychic

  EVERYDAY DISASTERS

  Diana Pharaoh Francis

  Copyright © 2022 by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual or fictional characters or actual or fictional events, locales, business establishments, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The fictional characters, events, locales, business establishments, or persons in this story have no relation to any other fictional characters, events, locales, business establishments, or persons, except those in works by this author.

  No part or portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without prior permission from the author.

  All rights reserved by the author.

  Chapter One

  I couldn’t deny I was having a damned good start to the day. My fake mother—aka Aunty Mommy—remained dead and had thus far been unable to rise from the grave and haunt me; my savagely vandalized business was under reconstruction; nobody had tried to kill me recently; my dog loved me unconditionally, as did my three best friends; and I was enjoying the nectar of the gods—aka an extra large 9-1-1 espresso—with a gorgeous man.

  Yeah, maybe I had a few problems, but at the moment, I could ignore all of them and enjoy the lovely weather and the very fine specimen of masculinity sitting across from me.

  I sipped my ultra-caffeinated brew, eyeing Damon over the rim of my cup. He was flat out hot. Like HAWT. I’d seen him mostly naked and could attest to six pack abs, broad shoulders, and thighs that could crack walnuts. And his ass. It could make a nun wet her panties. With that body, his dark blond hair, stormy blue eyes, and chiseled jaw, he could have been a model. The fact that he was eyeing me with the same orgasmic appreciation I’d just given the first sip of my coffee made me want to lick him like a lollipop.

  Just at the moment, my life was closer to perfect than it had ever been, which of course meant that everything would shortly be going straight to hell. Murphy’s Law and Mercury in Retrograde are the ruling forces of my life. Trouble was always lying in wait just around the corner. At least it meant life was exciting. Often hideously painful, but still exciting. It also meant I knew enough to enjoy the good while it lasted.

  I am an almost twenty-eight year old business woman and witch. I run Effortless Estates, a high-end estate liquidation business. I hold wealthy estate sales and have a showroom of the more valuable pieces. Or I did, before a former colleague destroyed it out of frustration, all because I refused to die when he was trying to murder me. Luckily he did succeed in offing Aunty Mommy, which made me almost willing to forgive him for my attempted murder, except he’d also tried to kill my three BFFs—Stacey, Jen, and Lorraine—not to mention Damon and my recently discovered uncle.

  Nobody fucks with the people I love and gets away with it. Nobody.

  Anyhow, my business had really taken off in the last few years, growing like a weed on steroids. Damon’s a lawyer. My lawyer, as of recently. I’m his only client. When Aunty Mommy kicked the bucket, all sorts of cockroaches crawled out of the woodwork, including my real parents and a bunch of other family, also all witches. I’d also learned I was the product of a birth contract, and that the entire witch world revolved around bloodlines and eugenics, and my eggs were in high demand. All of which was enough to make me throw up in my mouth.

  But I also inherited a convoluted mess of money and property, and Damon had taken on untangling and managing it all, so I wouldn’t have to. If I’d had my way, I’d have refused to take it. I considered it blood money—specifically my blood—but I had to be practical, one of my least favorite things to be when I was pissed off. It turned out I wasn’t the only target of Aunty Mommy’s, just her favorite. She’d been a category nine tornado and had left a whole lot of damage in her wake. Since nobody else would, I had to try to fix what I could, and that meant money and plenty of it.

  Between the money, the fact that I’d never been trained in magic, my current lack of a home (my ex-colleague had destroyed my apartment along with my showroom), Damon and I were practically glued together these days. He was super protective of me, and though he hadn’t said much, I knew he was scared some witch family—or just as likely my own—would kidnap me and turn me into an Easy-bake Oven for magically powerful babies. He’d been giving me a crash course in witchcraft. Not that I didn’t have good command of my power—I did. I just didn’t know how to create spells or what ingredients to use for what, nor did I really know the dangers, or even what I could or should be doing to protect myself. Other than that, I was in good shape.

  His concern and me being his only client made it hard for him to peel away from me, which was both flattering to my female sensibilities and annoying as fuck. I didn’t need him under foot twenty-four/seven, no matter how pretty he was, or how much I enjoyed his company. The constant togetherness had started to feel claustrophobic, which could be totally normal, or could be me panicking over being in a relationship.

  Just at the moment, however, everything gleamed shiny perfection.

  “What are your plans for the day?” He asked, interrupting my rambling train of thought.

  “I’m going to check on the construction progress, and I have a couple potential clients to meet with about sales this weekend. Later, I’m having dinner with the girls. What about you?”

  “More of the same. Sorting out your aunt’s financial estate. It’s like picking apart a gordian knot.”

  “Sounds horrifying.”

  The corners of his mouth kicked up. “I enjoy puzzles. There’s no satisfaction like solving a difficult one.”

  “I like puzzles just fine, but that mess is sheer torture.”

  “Which is why you have me to sort it out for you.”

  “Lighting it on fire would be more satisfying.”

  “But far less profitable. Anyway, you can bask in the knowledge that your aunt would have hated knowing that you are the sole beneficiary of her financial empire. Milking it for all its worth is the best sort of revenge.”

  “I don’t know. Peeing on her grave felt pretty good. The girls and I plan to make it a regular thing. Weekly maybe.”

  “I’ll keep bail money on hand. Just in case you get caught.”

  He smirked, unfazed by the idea of me, Jen, Stacey, and Lorraine out in the cemetery and squatting on Aunty Mommy’s grave. Chalk up another reason to keep him around.

  “Have you thought any more about what you want to do with the estate?”

  “Much as I’d like to burn it to the ground, my Uncle Mason is right. Until I can free the gargoyles, I have to keep it. I don’t suppose there’s any way to curse Aunty Mommy, is there?”

  Damon shook his head. “There’s no reaching across the veil, I’m afraid.”

  “Karma has seriously let me down. I hope there’s a hell, and she’s burning in it,” I complained.

  He lost his smile, his gaze turning dark. He still hadn’t come to terms with the things my aunt had done to me. Not that we talked about it. As far as I was concerned, that part of my life lived behind a locked door, and I was never opening it again. Out of sight, out of mind. As a coping mechanism, it worked most of the time. Like when I was awake.

  “Believe me, if there was a way to get at the bitch, I would already have done it,” he said in a stone voice.

  “I know. And I appreciate it.” I stroked my fingers over the back of his hand. He grasped mine. “The idea of making the estate a sanctuary appeals a lot to me,” I said, returning to the subject at hand. “Lorraine could potentially move her vet clinic there and focus more on rescues if she wants, and I could fund the whole shebang. I’ve got to talk to the gargoyles, though. The place is their home more than mine, and they deserve the deciding vote on what happens there.”