How to Love a Blue Demon (2 page)

“I know, sire.”

Carlow sighed. “I know you do. I am sorry to have to burden you with my responsibility, but there is no one else I can trust with this task. You know that.”

“I do, sire.”

“You are dismissed.”

Rierdane just inclined his head. Firmly entrenched in their respective roles while in the company of others – and there were almost always s
ervants everywhere – each knew how the other really felt.

Rierdane had served Carlow for centuries, had been around
for Eyoen’s birth, for all of his siblings births. He’d stood bearing the rings at the royal wedding. He knew the King was scared. If he’d been the average servant this would have frightened him badly enough to loosen his bowels. But he wasn’t the average servant, so he wisely kept his counsel and put his faith in the King and his magic and the magic of his seed. It was magic that would save them, or else lead straight to all of their deaths.

The job he’d been asked to undertake was a special one
– consort and protector to the youngest prince on a space journey to a distant planet. Space travel was nothing new on Cyanus, but rarely did demons venture as far away as Earth, though everyone learned about the watery blue planet in school.

Eyoen had been petitioning for
a long time for this visa, but only Rierdane and the King knew this sudden approval of a trip to Earth was nothing but a diversion. Carlow could barely stand to have his youngest – and favorite though he’d have his claws gouged out one by one with a fire poker before admitting it – child in sequesterment, let alone as far away as Earth. But the enemy Unjel, an evil, jealous demon who’d been making a lot of dangerous noise lately, might force their hands at any moment. The King would not allow any of his flock to stray far from home without a good reason. He’d rather see them all dead than fall into the horror that awaited them if he lost control of Cyanus. And he would lose control if Unjel managed to kidnap Eyoen. He had seen it.

Their way of life, the
star demonarchy was in mortal peril, and its main savior had no idea what lay before him. Eyoen was a powerful and loyal demon, a good son, but his magic was untried. He had no need to practice. There were servants to grant his every wish before he could make one known.

He’d gone through the Cyani guard, graduated at the top of his combat class, but that was still just a class. He’d engaged in two minor skirmishes in the field.
During both of which he acted in a support role, well protected behind his father’s first impenetrable line of defense.

D
efense or offense would mean nothing if Unjel gained a foothold on Cyanus. He was devious and cruel, and he cared nothing for the rules of war. He would strike with the vengeful fury of a Cyani lizard, sinking his poisonous teeth in and slithering away to watch from a safe distance the chaos his actions had wrought. Then when Carlow was drawing his last, all footing lost, Unjel would return to pick apart the bones and pride of his enemy while he lay dying, dignity and defenses in the dirt.

Few remembered, and those who did knew better than to recall the fact aloud, that o
nce Unjel and the King had been best friends. They’d grown up together as boys. They’d run roughshod over other demons in their class until something happened – no one knew exactly what – to turn friends into enemies and to force Unjel off Cyanus to a lesser star where he’d plotted and stewed and nurtured a galactic sized grudge that now threatened to come to fruition.

Carlow
sighed. He wanted to share his burden, badly. But now was not the time. He didn’t have to be a seer to scry that. The voice of experience spoke loud and clear in his inner ear. He had to wait. Wait almost until the moment of death, of utter catastrophe in order to unleash the weapon they’d need to triumph. He prayed he’d have the strength to keep his family and his constituents’ safe until that time. He prayed that his sons would not have to stand with the guard to defend him and their home. That time and life on the star would continue without concern, normally. Happily.

That was
part of the reason he’d granted the petition to visit Earth. The King could have sent his son to a star so distant no one would think to look for him there. But he wanted Eyoen to fall in love with this woman he’d found, for them to treat each other the way he and his dear wife behaved. He refused to risk his youngest cubs’ life before he’d known the pleasure that he had known for centuries with his Queen. Love was only slightly less important than family, and both reigned supreme on the star.

The King could only
pray when the moment came he would be strong enough to guide his son, to guide all of his children, in saving their home and their lives.

******

“What’s she doing now?”

The prince looked absurdly childish lying on
a fur on his belly, his strong chin propped on two large hands. His robes hid a tall, impressive body, but emphasized the wide cast of his broad shoulders. The veneer of childishness was exacerbated by the fact that he could stare into his Owe crystal for hours, completely absorbed by otherworldly happenings involving his favorite Earth celebrity, Cassidy Dodge.

“Being interviewed by
the box people.”

“More TV, sir?”

“Yes, the box people really love her.”

“TV,” his servant corrected gently.

Eyoen nodded, absently opening his mouth to receive one of the pink
strita
berries a female servant waited patiently to place on his tongue as another woman brushed a thick lock of shiny black hair out of his eye. She’d done the same thing every few minutes for hours and showed no sign of impatience for her repetitive task. Why should she? It was an honor to serve the prince in any capacity he might require. Any one of the servants currently dotting every room of the palace would have happily lay down and allowed members of the royal family to wipe their soft leather shoes on their backs if asked to do so.

“I have news, sir.”

“Can it not wait, Rierdane?”

“Of course, sir
e, but it concerns your request to visit Earth.”

Eyoen
turned so quickly, the servant tumbled to the carpet, berries flying in every direction.

To her credit, the woman said not a word, merely
picked herself up, bowed and helped the other female scoop up the mess before they scuttled out under Rierdane’s laser glare of disapproval.

Eyoen
was on his feet, one hand waving at the TV broadcast he was watching to halt it mid word.

“Well, man?” He put both hands on the shorter man’s shoulders. “What does he say?”

“After much debate, the King has agreed that you may go and view this female you’ve found more closely. Under two conditions.”

Eyoen
blinked impatiently, gold eyes flashing as his scowl warned his faithful retainer not to string him along farther.

“You must bring back three lessons to share with the Council.”

Eyoen smiled so big, Rierdane thought emotion might split the prince’s face in two.

“And, you must find a host.”

The grin fell from his face as though pushed.

Gods take him straight to the frigid underworld! He should have known his father would find a clever way to throw a spanner into the works.
To find a host meant he had to take over a human’s body. He’d be bound by most of the physics of the land, which meant he’d be more vulnerable. His natural defenses would be stifled, his strength constrained by his human body. Even the thought of it made him nervous.

Earth was such a primitive place.
In the city of Chicago – the equivalent of a small village on the star – where he wanted to go, there was no royal family. Everyone was considered – he shook his head at the oddity – equal. He’d be completely alone, in a strange, weaker body.

“We’re wanted in the throne room,” Rierdane said now, and Eyoen rose obediently and donned a suitable robe to meet his father.

“I know you think this is your lucky day,” his father said, watching the thoughts flow across his youngest cubs’ face. “But I’m sending you there as a punishment. You’ll have to take care of yourself, by yourself, apart from Rierdane.”

The valet shimmered into the room at the sound of his name.

“And him you will have in an advisory capacity only,” his sire said darkly. “You will learn how to get along and do things on your own. Chicago has something called values,” the King paused.

“Midwestern,” Rierdane whispered.

“Midwestern values. They’re similar to our laws, unspoken, but fairly binding. You shouldn’t have trouble fitting in. We’ll find you a white host as they are often tall and share our facial features. Humans are not a tall people, traditionally, nor are they of our skin.”

White! White was the color of poverty on Cyanus. And even then it wasn’t really white, merely a pale,
almost translucent blue. But he did recall seeing a lot of white people in his crystal.

“In Chicago, most of the people in power are white, though they have many shades there to choose from.
” His sire sighed. “I hope you’re back in time for the solstice, my son.”

Eyoen sucked in a shocked breath. The solstice celebration was more
than six months away in human time. Would he need that long to woo Cass and convince her to leave Earth and come back to his star? Surely not.

His father lectured him for a few more minutes, the impo
rtance of making a good show, to behave with propriety and – here Eyoen swallowed nervously – of the criticality that he not hurt anyone, and then dismissed him.

Back in his apartment
, Eyoen eyed his valet. Rierdane was talking his new role as advisor very seriously. He insisted on preparing his master for what lay ahead so thoroughly Eyoen felt like he was back in the schoolroom. He hadn’t stopped talking since they left the throne room.

“You’ll have $5,000 per week spending money.”

“How much is that in Cyani coin?” Eyoen asked.

“About 50 credits.”

Eyoen shuddered; it was a pitiful amount. It appeared his father did indeed want to punish him, sending him to another land a pauper!

“
Never fear, my boy. You can actually live quite well on $5,000 a week in Chicago,” Rierdane assured him. “We’ll find you a host with several credit cards.”

“What?”

“Credit cards. Small rectangles of plastic that act as cash.”

“What is cash?”

“Credits.”

“Ah.” Eyoen summoned another of his three servants to get him something to drink as he turned on the OWE crystal and looked at his favorite program – Cass’ life.

“Sire? Sire!”

“Yes?”

Rierdane sighed. Eyoen wouldn’t listen to a word he said as long as Cass was on the seer.

“What is that?” He asked. Best to give in a little otherwise the prince would be uncooperative.

“One of the box people, a
CBS reporter, is doing what’s called a live interview,” Eyoen whispered. “Listen. They’re asking her about her work…”

“Well,
I give 100 percent for every performance, no matter where it is, no matter what size it is. I refuse to give less to my fans. They pay good, hard-earned money to see me, and I want them to keep doing it. Plus, I enjoy what I do,” Cass grinned, and the reporter smiled helplessly.

Her appeal
was much more than an honest desire to serve, of course,
Eyoen thought.

Nor was i
t solely motivated by gratitude, however humble Cass was. The enjoyment she mentioned, that was the reason her live shows were memorable. She simply loved to perform. She drew every eye in the room even before she became a star. Now she had a limitless audience, and fans fainted or screamed, crying and throwing themselves at barricades trying to touch her as she signed autographs.

Peop
le couldn’t help responding, males and females, and this reporter was no exception. Whenever she appeared in public, her beauty, her energy, her very presence inspired a longing tethered only by the thinnest veneer of civility. She made people want her, and she did so effortlessly.

Cass understood
this too, and Eyoen believed she didn’t mind when reporters asked her about her status as a sex symbol.

In a Rolling Stone Q&A he watched la
st year she said, “It’s funny,” and laughed, that rich, deep trademark tumble of sweet water over the ear that had earned her a spontaneous marriage proposal from a young prince when she performed at his birthday party in Dubai. “But it’s not complicated. I’m a sex symbol because I’m sexy. Fame didn’t do that. I’m the same person I was before I famous. I wear the same clothes, still cook my own food, and use the same soap. I still got the same four or five friends around me all the time.

“
Being sexy is about being yourself, being happy, deep down happy, and that don’t necessarily mean your mouth is smiling. It means your eyes are lit with spirit. People are either drawn to the spirit, or they’re repelled by it. That’s sexy.”