Magic & Mayhem

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Chapter 1

Crouched on the edge of a rooftop overlooking a dark, narrow alley, Lucy watched the fight going on below, and waited to see if she’d need to step in and save the day. If she had to make an assist here, that would up her kill count for the night to three. She’d already taken care of one demon that had been assaulting a woman a few blocks away.

The fight was two to one. A male human against two demons. She assumed the guy was either a fellow witch, or a warlock. He had to be - a human would have been toast by now. She was rooting for him, obviously. Demons didn’t get cheerleaders.

Clad in all black - jacket, top, jeans and boots - she went unnoticed. Course, she was several floors up and the boys below were distracted - throwing and dodging punches and fireballs as they were.

The breeze was stronger up here, and cool against her cheeks. She’d thrown her hair back in a ponytail and the wind caught some strands, flicked them forward over her shoulder. She swept them back.

If she was honest, she wasn’t so much monitoring the fight as she was watching the stud in jeans and a grey long-sleeved T-shirt with broad shoulders, narrow hips and well-honed muscles. He looked kinda like a dark-haired Chris Hemsworth.

The guy should be an underwear model. He’d make bank.

Lucy mentally cheered when he knocked one of the demons off his ass with a right upper cut.


Scratch modelling. The guy should be a UFC fighter - knocking a demon on his ass with one punch was impressive.

Looked like he didn’t need her help.

That thought had barely crossed her mind when two more demons appeared in the alley below.

She shifted in her crouch, readying to fight. Hitching up the left leg of her jeans, she pulled out the knife hidden in her boot. It was just one of many knives she had on her, but it was the one she usually went for first. She may not know the Hemsworth lookalike, but anybody fighting demons was A-okay in her books and deserved back up.

The demon that had been sent to the ground regained his feet, helped his brethren corral ‘Hemsworth’ into a corner.

Not good. Never good.

They were definitely done pussyfooting about.

Lucy stood, was about to teleport herself down to the alley when ‘Hemsworth’ got down on all fours.

She paused, brow furrowed...was he?...


Guy was a werewolf. She watched as he quickly shifted forms, strong limbs changing shape, handsome face elongating, skin sprouting fur.


As a man, he was an Adonis. As a wolf, he was beastly large. Larger than any dog she’d ever seen. His fur was a beautiful jet black, his teeth and paws huge. His size alone was intimidating. When he bared fangs, growled deep and long and low? Lucy got chills. If he hadn’t been outnumbered and cornered, she would have bet on him to win.

Teleporting, she disappeared off the roof and reappeared on the ground behind the four XL sized demons.

“Can I join?” she asked sweetly, tilting her head, her ponytail swaying behind her.

She gifted the first ugly ass demon that whirled to face her a saucy smile, quickly followed that up with her athame in his temple. Demons also didn’t get handshakes.

She yanked her knife free, watched the lifeless body fall to the ground, turn to a small pile of ash. One demon down, three to go.

The one good thing Lucy could say about demons? She didn’t have to dispose of their bodies after she killed them. She appreciated that.

Ugly demon number two came at her. He sported the same blue skin as his deceased compatriot, same horns, same claws, same snarl.


She hadn’t been intimidated by the first demon and she certainly wasn’t by the second. She bent, catching him in the stomach with her shoulder, stood, and flipped him ass over horn. She spun, her ponytail whipping around behind her, planted a booted foot on his barrel chest, keeping him down, and introduced his heart to the pointy end of her blade.

Two down.

She smiled.

Demon number three came at her from the side, she gracefully sidestepped him. This asshole had dark red skin, bigger horns than the smurfy demons, and a tail. She booted him in the back as he went by, sending him sprawling into one of the piles of mysterious yuckiness that sullied the pavement.

Demon number three didn’t like that. She didn’t blame him, but she also didn’t give a rat’s ass.

He growled viciously, a blur of red as he regained his feet, his tail swishing back and forth.

Ooh, someone was pissed. She smirked at him, adding insult to injury.

Braced in a fighting position, waiting for him to make a move, she wondered why demon number four hadn’t come at her yet. Usually demons weren’t so polite as to wait their turn to attack. A quick look over her shoulder answered her question. Demon number four had a werewolf nipping at his balls.

She turned back to demon number three, her eyes immediately drawn to the fireball now hovering over the palm of his raised hand. He launched it at her.


Quickly, she stopped the fireball with her powers, raising her hand as if to catch it, freezing it halfway between her and the demon, sent it back at him, ending him with his own weapon. Nicely done, if she did say so herself. And she did.

Now, how was wolfy faring with demon number four?

She turned, checking on the wolf’s sitch...and rolled her eyes when she saw he and his opponent were still in the flirting stage of their fight.

“End him already.” she prodded, making a ‘hurry-it-along’ gesture with her knife wielding hand, adding an impatient facial expression for good measure.

Dilly dallying was not her thing.

Two sets of eyes turned on her. One red. One bright silvery-blue.

‘Red-eyes’ squared off with her. If looks could kill...well, she’d be dead a million times over already, so one more of those looks from a demon didn’t phase her.

‘Red-eyes’ growled at her, slowly stalked forward, a fireball growing above the hand he held out in front of him. With the demon’s attention focused on her, Lucy expected the wolf would take advantage of the opening and end him...

...but he didn’t.

She frowned.

Hello? What was he waiting for? He could have gone for the demon’s jugular, but he was just standing there, like a frickin’ tool.

She shook her head, not impressed.


She’d dust ‘red-eyes’.

She threw her athame at the demon before he pitched his fireball at her, her aim flawless.

Bullseye. Right in the heart.

You wanted to put a demon down? You aimed for the head or the heart.

Black blood leaked from the hole she’d just made in the demon’s torso, trailing down his front as he slowly collapsed to the ground.

And she was four for four. Go her. Too bad she couldn’t make a living killing demons.

She straightened, swept her ponytail back over her shoulder as she approached the demon’s body where it lay on the pavement. She’d just get her knife and be on her way.

Unimpressed with how unhelpful wolfy had been, she didn’t feel the need to chat.

“Who the hell are you?”

She turned at the question snarled at her from behind.

Wolfy was human once more. Having destroyed his clothes when he’d shifted, the man now standing before her was very naked.

She had no complaints about the view.

It took her a while to get her eyes up to his face - there was so much bare skin and muscle and dick to enjoy - but once her gaze did make it up to his face, she read annoyance in his expression.

He was annoyed with her? Why? She’d just helped him with his demon problem.

Going on the offensive, because it was always better to play offense than defense, she cocked a hip out, rested a hand on that hip.

“Really?” she asked, an eyebrow hooking up.

He couldn’t cover himself with a hand?

“I didn’t ask for the dick shot, thanks.” she said.

She was enjoying it, sure, but she hadn’t asked for it.

Silence, embellished with a scowl, was her response.


She dropped her hand from her hip, turned back to ‘red-eyes’, giving the werewolf her back - a deliberate insult. Turning her back on him told him loud and clear that she didn’t believe he was a threat.

“I needed one of those demons alive.” the male behind her growled as she squatted beside her kill.

She pulled her knife from the demon’s chest with a gross slurping sound. Two seconds...and corpse became ash. Using her powers, she wiped demon junk from her weapon with a pass of her hand over the blade.

“Now you need a medium.” she replied glibly, tucking her knife back in its sheath inside her boot.

She stood up, turned and faced him.

“And if I hadn’t joined the party,” she continued. “you would have needed a body bag. Now say ‘thank you’ and I’ll be on my way.”

“Thank you?” The male asked incredulously, his face a mask of indignation. “Give me one bloody reason I shouldn’t off you right now.”

She snorted.


This guy was getting on her nerves. It was really annoying that such a douche had such a ripped body, and - forgive her for saying so....but it was right there - a nice sized package - even at rest. That wasn’t fair. Even the scrapes and bruising he’d acquired from fighting didn’t detract from his looks.

Slanting an unaffected look over his body, standing at ease, she let him know she wasn’t intimidated by him in the least.

She was a witch. She’d own him, no question. Witches had better fighting tricks than werewolves.

“Listen, stumpy,” she called him, going for the easy insult to his manhood.

His back teeth clenched, the only tell she saw from him that he didn’t find her nickname amusing. Oh well. She amused herself.

“From what I saw, those guys were about to end you. Am I supposed to apologize for ruining that?” she asked.

Cuz she wasn’t gonna.

She slid into motion, her booted feet eating up the pavement between her and magic mike.

“As for ‘offing’ me....” she said as she stopped right in front of him, up close and personal. “If you’re talking about killing couldn’t best me even if I had my hands tied behind my back.”

She tilted her head, smiled a little wickedly. “If you’re talking about sexually ‘offing’ me...I respectfully decline.”

Dropping her smile, adopting an eat-shit-and-die look, she added - “I don’t fuck assholes.”

On that note, she saluted a ‘fuck-you’ toodle-loo, turned and strutted down the alley.


Deklan’s wolf huffed a growl in the back of his mind.

I know, buddy.

Little miss witch was lucky he hadn’t sunk his teeth into her. She deserved to be ripped a new one - she’d ruined his plans, and she’d been a right, cocky bitch.

His eyes narrowed as she turned right out of the alley.

They were not done.

He shifted back into his wolf, followed in her footsteps. At the mouth of the alley he went right, saw her up ahead.

His wolf rumbled his pleasure, eager to catch up with their annoying quarry.

He kept a couple of blocks between her and him, kept to the shadows, his black fur allowing him to blend into the darkness seamlessly.

He hated to admit it, even to himself, but the most annoying thing about her?

She was fucking gorgeous. Like Michelle Pfeiffer gorgeous.

Even pissed off, he’d appreciated her full lips, round cheeks, almond shaped eyes, shapely curves.

Personality wise? She left something to be desired.

In form? She was delicious.

It was a shame she’d just added herself to the short list of women who didn’t have a chance with him.

He almost felt bad for her misfortune.


He was following her.

Lucy didn’t have to turn around for visual confirmation, she could sense him. She rolled her eyes.

He probably wanted to get some of his own back. He’d been shown up by a woman in a fight. That would rub a lot of men the wrong way. Not that she cared. She tended to rub a lot of folks the wrong way. She was a ‘love me, or fuck off’ kind of girl - ahem - woman.

She smiled. Kept walking. How did she want to play this? She could double back on him. She could disappear. She could freeze him in place and have some fun. That last option held appeal.

Decisions, decisions.

She turned into the next alley she came to, disappeared off the ground, reappeared three floors up on a roof. She watched from above, a smirk on her face, as wolfy entered the alley below and slowly moved forward, his gaze panning left and right as he scanned for her in the darkness.

Nope, she thought, watching wolfy stalk around a dumpster - I’m not behind there.

He checked behind a couple of over-stuffed trash cans.

Not there either.

He proceeded to check all possible hiding places, then came to a stand still. Lifting his nose in the air, he sniffed, looked around, obviously getting frustrated he could smell her but wasn’t finding her.

She smiled.

Neener, neener.

She hadn’t planned on confronting him, had intended to ditch him, but when he started slowly heading back toward the street she changed her mind, teleported herself down to the alley.

“Looking for me?” she asked, suddenly a few feet in front of his snout, arms crossed in front of her chest.

Unable to give an answer in his current form, he started to shift shape. Black fur became smooth, tanned skin. Bones and muscles shifted until a man stood before her, once again gloriously naked.

“Stalker much?” she asked, letting her eyes drop from his face and travel over the front of his body. His delectable, meant-to-be-licked body.

If he didn’t mind showing it to her, she didn’t mind looking. It had been a while since she’d seen the full Monty. Longer still, since she’d seen one this impressive.

“I got nothing else to do tonight.” the male replied.

She frowned, told herself she did not find his voice sexy.

“Thanks to you.” he tacked on, crossing his arms in front of his chest, his biceps bulging.

Those things were Olympic size.

She rolled her eyes at his words. He was also not dead, thanks to her.

She was about to lay into him about his lack of gratitude when she noticed that the contusions she’d seen marring his skin earlier, post fight, were gone. Healed. Cool trick. Her body didn’t just mend itself in minutes. Maybe he hadn’t been as bad off in that fight as she’d thought - ?

Oh, well. She still wasn’t apologizing. She’d only been trying to help.

“You’re healed.” she told him now, as if he didn’t know.

He looked down at himself, arms dropping back to his sides, looked back up at her.

“I wasn’t hurt that badly.” he scowled at her. “I didn’t need your help.”

Whatever, buddy.

“It sure looked like you did.” she retorted. “What’s done is done.” she told him, with a hiccup of a shrug. “I’m sorry if I messed up your little rendezvous.”

Apologies never tasted good. She didn’t give them often. Meant them even less often.

“That’s it?” the male asked, propping his hands on his hips.

Her eyes dropped below his waist. Was it her? Or had he gotten longer, thicker? She blinked, quickly shifted her gaze back up to meet his. Good thing she was wearing her jacket... her ladies were suddenly saluting.

“That’s all I got. Take it or leave it.” she suggested.

It wasn’t her problem if he didn’t like her half-assed apology.

“You’re something, you know that?” the male scoffed, looking at her like she was something he’d scraped off the bottom of his shoe.


“I’ll take that as a compliment.” she smiled cheekily.

Since she didn’t like wasting too much of her time on assholes, she went ahead and made her parting remarks.

“It’s been fun, really, but I’m bored now.” she said with a little wave and teleported, disappearing from the alley, magically transporting herself home.

“Jackass.” she said under her breath, reappearing in her bedroom.

She imagined wolfy was pretty pissed at being ditched. That put a smile on her face.

What a douche.

She pulled off her jacket as she walked over to her bed, tossed it on the chair in the corner. Her mattress creaked a complaint as she sat on the edge, took off her sturdy boots. She tossed them aside, the pair of them landing on the floor at the foot of her bed and tipping onto their sides.

She stood and stripped. Off came her long sleeved, black T-shirt, her black jeans, her concealed knives- of which there were many - and finally, her socks and bra. In just her panties, she crossed the room to her dresser, stepping over the mess of clothes that littered her bedroom floor, and pulled out a tank and shorts.

The shorts were pulled up her long, toned legs, the tank slipped over her ponytail.

She climbed into her queen sized bed, propped herself up against the headboard with a couple of pillows. Grabbing the TV remote off her bedside table, she turned on the small flatscreen TV that sat on top of her dresser and started flipping through channel after channel.

There were hundreds of channels, there had to be something on. Otherwise, why the hell was she paying so much for cable?

Eventually settling on a late night talk show, cuz nothing else was on, she snuggled down, covering herself with a sheet, and listened in as the host and his guest bantered.


The interview bombed - both host and guest, making lame-ass jokes that did not score with the audience.

Luckily, what didn’t make for good TV, made for a good sleep aid.

Eyes droopier than they had been twenty minutes before, she turned the TV off, rolled over on to her side, turned out the lights with a snap of her fingers and waited for her cat, Jinx, to join her as he did most every night.

Right on cue, the black cat nimbly hopped up onto her bed, trotted up the mattress and snuggled into a ball, pressed up against her back.

In minutes, they were both fast asleep.


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