Friday, October 4, 2013


Everybody looked at each other.  But nobody produced a weapon.

“Come on!” I whined.  “Half of you guys are demons!  You’re not exactly pacifists or anything!”  I turned to Gavsot.  “You run a police force and lead an army!  How do you not have some kind of weapon?”

“Our usual form of fighting involves a mixture of hand-to-hand combat and the clashing of telekinetic powers,” he explained.

“You can still use knives in hand-to-hand combat,” I said irritably.  “I hear they’re actually pretty useful.”

“You could check the armory,” Sylnie suggested.

I turned to stare at her in awe.  “The what?”

Gus smacked himself in the forehead with his open palm.  “That’s the kind of thing I was supposed to think of,” he mumbled.

“When you had me find something to wear, I passed a door near the staff wardrobe storage room that said Armory on it,” she said.

“Fantastic,” I replied, my foul mood starting to lift.  “Show us where it is.”

As we headed toward the back door of my office, I heard Azraal’s head chuckling softly from its perch on my desk.  “What exactly is so funny?” I snapped.

“I just find it terribly amusing,” he explained with a cheeky grin, “That you made your sexy, busty secretary put some clothes on.”  He let out a brief cackle.  “Too excited to get any work done?  No wonder Kivra keeps making you her bitch.”

Frowning, I yanked open a drawer at the bottom of my desk, tossed a protesting Azraal inside, and slammed it shut. Then I hurried after Sylnie.

My foul mood wasn’t lifting anymore.

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