Clyve’s chin lifted, a hard knot pulsing there, yet he couldn’t take his eyes off Marcella. “I said, who the fuck are you?”
Smiling wide, flashing her perfect white teeth, Marcella closed in on him with a wink. She cornered him, eyeing him like he was what was for lunch. Her lips moved dangerously close to the demon’s, so close Delaney cringed for her. Then she dragged a nail seductively over the stubble on his cheek, stopping at his lips, letting that digit tug at his lower lip with a playful tweak. “I’m the crazy Puerto Rican bitch that’s gonna make you squeal for your mama, pig,” she purred into his face, snapping her fingers together.
When the pads of her fingers released, she let her hands drop to her shoulders, stroking the sleek skin of a very long, black snake that had appeared out of thin air. Its head reared up in Clyve’s face. “This is my friend. Pretty, sí?” Marcella wrapped her hand around the snake’s head and held it next to Clyve’s cheek, rubbing it with a sensuous glide over the surface of his skin. “He wants to be your friend, too, Clyve. Loooook,” she said with a malicious smile and a coy, schoolgirl tone, “I think he likes you—wanna play with him?”
Clyve’s face went white. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
With a jerk so quick Delaney almost couldn’t believe Marcella’d pulled it off her shoulders, she hurled the snake at Clyve, who skittered backward, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, his Ad am’s apple bobbing in rapid glides while he tried to swallow.
Marcella widened her stance, planting her hands on her jean-clad hips, watching with satisfaction as the snake gyrated at Clyve’s feet.
Delaney’s amazement at this new feat Marcella had apparently acquired was mingled with a mondo shudder. Bleh on snakes. Fuck, where had she packed her prism and salt? There must be salt in this hotel room—maybe she could help Marcella. There wasn’t time to find out as the snake began to inch its way toward the demon, his tongue striking aimlessly in forked fury. She hated snakes—almost as much as it would seem Clyve did.
The demon hopped from foot to foot, a look of angry terror streaking his bony features. His greasy ponytail flopped up and down from behind his head while his face turned a lovely shade of crimson. “I’ll fucking kill you, you bitch!” he hollered with a high-pitched wail.
Marcella pouted at him, her full, glossy lower lip distended while she toed the snake with a gentle nudge toward him. “You’re hurting my feelings, Clyve, calling me names. Though bitch is rather all-encompassing, don’t you think? Wise choice. And really, if you don’t like this snake, all you had to do was say so. I bet I can find one you will like. I aim to please.” She snapped her fingers again, this time letting them ball into a fist and plunging her hand toward the floor. A slithering swarm of coiled snakes, the color of garden hoses, appeared, hissing toward Clyve at a rapid pace.
Infuriated, Clyve screamed a shriek of whistling fury, hurling a fireball from his fingertips in Marcella’s direction while he threw himself upward onto the small table in the room. Flames bounced off the wall behind Marcella and headed directly for her glossy, black head.
“Duck!” Clyde roared, throwing his body on top of Delaney’s as they crashed to the floor.
Delaney peeked out from under Clyde’s body to see Marcella roll her eyes at the demon’s effort like he’d just lobbed a beach ball at her.
Dayum, who’d gotten her demon on all of a sudden? Since when did Marcella go all 666?
Marcella flicked her wrist, letting her fingers splay apart; from their tips came a crackling bolt of light aimed directly at Clyve.
The demon dove for the far side of the bed, the zigzagging current nailing the picture above the headboard and splitting it in half. Clyve recovered quickly, bellowing a “this is war” cry. He rose on his knees, his rotted teeth clenched together, and raised his fists skyward. Grimy palms fell open and out of them came flecks of color, becoming a metamorphosis of rats, twitching and scurrying across the floor in a million directions.
Oh, no. Nuh-uh. No can do. She loved animals, but rats should always, in her humble opinion, be loved from afar—like, big afar. Delaney heaved upward as the ball of rats raced along the floor, forcing Clyde’s heavy weight off her. They jumped up together while Delaney made a beeline for his chest, throwing herself on him and wrapping her legs around his waist. Her ankles hooked behind his back and she wasn’t letting go.
The first gust of wind made even Clyde and his thickly muscled thighs wobble. He gripped her to him with protective hands while swirls of bone-chilling air picked up speed. The room grew instantly arctic, small particles of ice forming on Clyde’s eyebrows.