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Description
The Only Good Demon is a Smug Demon
(Also known as 'Further Proof that Cal is Always Right')

She was running down the alley. Even if she wasn't already a smart girl, Andy imagined that she'd have a pretty good idea right now that her night was going completely to hell. It was supposed to be an easy job: a nice, simple binding with a banishment on the side. Nothing she hadn't done a couple hundred times before, even without Cal.

But—she was running down the alley.

"This isn't supposed to be happening," she panted as she hopped a puddle of stagnant filth, teetering for a moment on the heels that Cal had insisted went with the dress. The dress that he'd insisted she wear in the first place.

As one heel snagged and Andy steadied herself on a filthy dumpster she frowned deeply. This wouldn't be happening if she'd just ignored Cal and done what she'd wanted to do in the first place. Granted, getting locked up by the local cops until everything was cleared up would be an unfortunate annoyance. But if she'd told Cal to shove off and worn jeans and sneakers she wouldn't be traipsing around with a draft up her butt.

The faint fantasy wove itself along in the back of her mind for a moment, but Andy couldn't maintain the thought because she was running down the alley. Oh, shit. No, she was tripping down the alley. "Goddammit," she shrieked as she went down violently. The skin of her knees was scraped and bleeding, and she—ew, God, what was that?—had grime sunk into new gouges on her palms.

Well, if the sound of her tapping heels as she ran hadn't told everyone where she was, or the tripping before, they sure as hell knew it now. And so did the mark, because there was no way he missed her taking God's name in vain AND bleeding. She was going to be a fucking smorgasbord before the next few minutes were over. Yeah, maybe she should have done a little more research before she'd gone out.

If there was one thing Andy hated more than anything else in the world (besides demonkin who were completely insane and slaughtering people for spells making her go to strange cities where she had no binding and banishing licenses) it was admitting that Cal was right. He never let her live it down on the few occasions she did. It was only the mental image of him smugly saying 'I told you so' that nearly kept her from even thinking it.

But, of course, as she was lifted up and slammed into the dirty brick wall on one side of the alley, the fact that Cal was right was pretty much all she could think of. Well, that, and that Cal was going to kill her.

The pale face alarmingly close to hers sneered as inky dark eyes inspected her. "So you're the little demonkin sent to banish me, then?" he demanded as his fingers dug into either side of her neck, cutting off her air and her ability to answer. "No matter," he told her, squeezing harder. "I'll just do you like I did the rest."

In the split second before he threw her to slam into the other wall, Andy suddenly realized why everything had gone so far south. He wasn't demonkin.

He was a demon.

Then she hit the wall and everything went painful and dark. If it were proper unconsciousness Andy doubted she'd have a problem with it. But it wasn't, Andy knew. Through the haze of nails being driven through her skull and the blackness that covered her eyes she could still hear perfectly well—at least, she could when she could concentrate as she blindly struggled to force herself upright.

She was about to be eaten, or worse, and she wasn't even properly unconscious. These things only happened to her.

The rumbling that echoed through the alley as she blinked at the blackness, turning it from inky dark to a spotted gray, rose through the bones of her head from jaw to crown. It was unpleasant, to say the least. Andy tried clenching her jaw against the feel of it as she finally sat up and began clawing her way upright, fingers gripping the filthy wall.

The snarling sound only felt worse as it intensified. Now when Andy blinked she could definitely see color and shape. And the fact that she wasn't being eaten (yet) was certainly a plus. She blinked against, pushed a few strands of hair out of her face, and saw—

A late model mustang in gleaming black parked menacingly at the mouth of the alley. Well, shit.

"Cal," she muttered, finally clearing her vision enough to be of some help. Arming herself with a piece of asphalt she scooped up, Andy dove at the demon. He was ready for her and she hit the ground again. The brain bending noise suddenly stopped as she lay there.

"Get your hands off of my human!"

The demon exploded in a messy soup of human parts the instant the mustang finished growling its ultimatum, and though Andy tried not to gag, she couldn't help losing what little she had in her stomach. "Oh god, Cal," she groaned as she got up, picking pieces of body parts off of her.

The mustang's lights flickered. "He touched you, Andy." It was resentful and angry. Great, now she was going to have to coddle a damned car. She sighed and limped her way over to him, careful to rub as much blood across his shiny black finish as she possibly could. It steamed and sizzled along the paint for a moment before sinking in, the slightly less black scale lines brilliant for the moment.

"Hey, Andy," Cal said as she slid into his front seat. "Nice thong."

She flushed brick red and smacked the dashboard. "Go possess a chicken."

Description
The Only Good Demon is a Smug Demon
(Also known as 'Further Proof that Cal is Always Right')

She was running down the alley. Even if she wasn't already a smart girl, Andy imagined that she'd have a pretty good idea right now that her night was going completely to hell. It was supposed to be an easy job: a nice, simple binding with a banishment on the side. Nothing she hadn't done a couple hundred times before, even without Cal.

But—she was running down the alley.

"This isn't supposed to be happening," she panted as she hopped a puddle of stagnant filth, teetering for a moment on the heels that Cal had insisted went with the dress. The dress that he'd insisted she wear in the first place.

As one heel snagged and Andy steadied herself on a filthy dumpster she frowned deeply. This wouldn't be happening if she'd just ignored Cal and done what she'd wanted to do in the first place. Granted, getting locked up by the local cops until everything was cleared up would be an unfortunate annoyance. But if she'd told Cal to shove off and worn jeans and sneakers she wouldn't be traipsing around with a draft up her butt.

The faint fantasy wove itself along in the back of her mind for a moment, but Andy couldn't maintain the thought because she was running down the alley. Oh, shit. No, she was tripping down the alley. "Goddammit," she shrieked as she went down violently. The skin of her knees was scraped and bleeding, and she—ew, God, what was that?—had grime sunk into new gouges on her palms.

Well, if the sound of her tapping heels as she ran hadn't told everyone where she was, or the tripping before, they sure as hell knew it now. And so did the mark, because there was no way he missed her taking God's name in vain AND bleeding. She was going to be a fucking smorgasbord before the next few minutes were over. Yeah, maybe she should have done a little more research before she'd gone out.

If there was one thing Andy hated more than anything else in the world (besides demonkin who were completely insane and slaughtering people for spells making her go to strange cities where she had no binding and banishing licenses) it was admitting that Cal was right. He never let her live it down on the few occasions she did. It was only the mental image of him smugly saying 'I told you so' that nearly kept her from even thinking it.

But, of course, as she was lifted up and slammed into the dirty brick wall on one side of the alley, the fact that Cal was right was pretty much all she could think of. Well, that, and that Cal was going to kill her.

The pale face alarmingly close to hers sneered as inky dark eyes inspected her. "So you're the little demonkin sent to banish me, then?" he demanded as his fingers dug into either side of her neck, cutting off her air and her ability to answer. "No matter," he told her, squeezing harder. "I'll just do you like I did the rest."

In the split second before he threw her to slam into the other wall, Andy suddenly realized why everything had gone so far south. He wasn't demonkin.

He was a demon.

Then she hit the wall and everything went painful and dark. If it were proper unconsciousness Andy doubted she'd have a problem with it. But it wasn't, Andy knew. Through the haze of nails being driven through her skull and the blackness that covered her eyes she could still hear perfectly well—at least, she could when she could concentrate as she blindly struggled to force herself upright.

She was about to be eaten, or worse, and she wasn't even properly unconscious. These things only happened to her.

The rumbling that echoed through the alley as she blinked at the blackness, turning it from inky dark to a spotted gray, rose through the bones of her head from jaw to crown. It was unpleasant, to say the least. Andy tried clenching her jaw against the feel of it as she finally sat up and began clawing her way upright, fingers gripping the filthy wall.

The snarling sound only felt worse as it intensified. Now when Andy blinked she could definitely see color and shape. And the fact that she wasn't being eaten (yet) was certainly a plus. She blinked against, pushed a few strands of hair out of her face, and saw—

A late model mustang in gleaming black parked menacingly at the mouth of the alley. Well, shit.

"Cal," she muttered, finally clearing her vision enough to be of some help. Arming herself with a piece of asphalt she scooped up, Andy dove at the demon. He was ready for her and she hit the ground again. The brain bending noise suddenly stopped as she lay there.

"Get your hands off of my human!"

The demon exploded in a messy soup of human parts the instant the mustang finished growling its ultimatum, and though Andy tried not to gag, she couldn't help losing what little she had in her stomach. "Oh god, Cal," she groaned as she got up, picking pieces of body parts off of her.

The mustang's lights flickered. "He touched you, Andy." It was resentful and angry. Great, now she was going to have to coddle a damned car. She sighed and limped her way over to him, careful to rub as much blood across his shiny black finish as she possibly could. It steamed and sizzled along the paint for a moment before sinking in, the slightly less black scale lines brilliant for the moment.

"Hey, Andy," Cal said as she slid into his front seat. "Nice thong."

She flushed brick red and smacked the dashboard. "Go possess a chicken."