CHAPTER 4

Mammon

It had been a mad couple of weeks. I’d had a crash course in statesmanship, seeing as my approach to any situation was to either smite the dipshit or throw them in a fiery pit for eternity. Seems smiting was frowned upon these days and as for fire pits, they were right out. Shame, because they were really effective. Now I was sitting in my new headquarters in a small office building near the coffee shop where Charlie worked.

It was the perfect location to be ‘seen’ by the locals, and Ryan had been hard at work getting the office setup. Till now I’d never realized just how much simpler my existence would be if I’d had a PA to help me.

“Boss, I’ve got those lists you asked for. Who knew there were so many support people needed to run for office?” Evren’s comment had me puzzled till I looked down at the list he’d placed on my desk. Flicking from one page to another.

“We really need all these…? There seems to be quite a bit of role duplication. I mean, aren’t a Field Manager, Project Manager and Mobilization Associate the same thing?”

Evren turned a shocked expression my way and stage-whispered, “Don’t let the Wiccan hear you say that.”

Ryan and his Nan had become a vital part of my team. Who knew that a busy-body meddling mature woman would be perfect at Political Strategy?

“How is Ryan’s Nan settling in?” I watched the play of emotions as they crossed Evren’s face, everything from frustration to confusion to aggravation. Not that it surprised me in the least. I’d had many conversations with Nan over the last few weeks and yes, there was no doubt she liked to meddle in the love life of her nearest and dearest. But her heart was in the right place. But I can see why Ryan had mentioned that he and Jack were thinking of eloping. At the very least, giving Nan a new point of focus was a great distraction.

“I fear she’s adding me to her match-making list.”

“Oh.” Was the only word I could muster between my burst of uncontrollable laughter.

“Oh yeah, you may laugh. You’re lucky that Nan’s not turned her efforts your way. For now.”

I was, I really was, but I was all but devoid of hope that one day I’d meet my mate. Although Karriel and Charlie’s chance meeting meant that the fates hadn’t completely forgotten demon kind. It just felt like it.

“But I’ve got so much going on right now, like trying to come up with policies that will turn voters away from Cross.”

“How’s that coming?”

That was a great question I wasn’t sure how to answer. I’d analyzed the shit out of every word that Mervin Cross had spewed out during his campaign message. And that was a return to the ‘Boom-Town’ era on a country-wide scale. Much like after the Great Depression of the 1930s. But if memory serves, it actually took the second world war for that to happen. Let’s hope that’s not Cross’s plan here.The fundamental problem I was having was that I disagreed with every single word Mervin said.But to appeal to his followers, I was going to have to beat him at his own game. Which meant I’d have to adopt at least some of his policies and adapt them in a way that made me the preferred candidate. Why was I struggling so much with this? I was a demon prince of greed. Fuck, I needed a coffee, and not the crap that was sitting in the kitchen.

I was standing at the counter of Bean there Donut, waiting for inspiration to strike and for me to select the perfect beverage. Only after several minutes pondering, I was no further forward than when I arrived. The human barista was the same hipster guy from the meeting at Ryan’s cottage.

“You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world, sir. Are things not going well?”

“I think I’m too honest to be a politician. Lying doesn’t come easy to me, which is kind of funny, all things considered.”

“Well, when you put it that way, that does seem like a problem. Maybe just go with smaller ones, you know. The little white lies and half-truths? It’s something to think about. But in the meantime, what can I get you?”

I took another look at the order board, hoping inspiration would strike

“I don’t suppose you have an Espresso Martini?”

“Ugh, no, we don’t have an alcohol license. How about a Salted Caramel Macchiato?”

“Ugh! Not really the same, but I’ll take it.”

“You go grab a seat and I’ll bring it over.”

I looked around the room. Young mothers occupied half the tables with their babies and the other half were taken by men tapping away at their laptops. Which left me few options but to share a table. Quickly weighing up the options, I headed over to a table in the far corner. The young man who sat there was absently playing with the sugar shaker, totally oblivious to what was happening around him. The closer I walked toward him, the more I felt a pull, like a fishhook tugging at my soul. I stood there silent for a second, waiting for him to look up. As soon as our eyes met, it felt like the air had been stolen from my lungs.

“Do you mind if I join you? All the other tables are occupied.” My voice was gravelly and barely above a whisper.

“Sure.” His softly spoken word danced over my senses, sending bolts of lightning down my spine, making my balls tingle. Twin pools of slate-blue met my gaze and held me captive. I couldn’t resist the tantalizing scent that surrounded him. It tempted me to stretch my arms across the tabletop. Pull him toward me and tenderly brush my lips over his. My pulse raced as the reality of the situation hit me with the force of a tsunami.

That the man that sat before me was my MATE.