The Devil in the Details (Bedeviled Book 3) by Meredith Spies

Author:Meredith Spies [Spies, Meredith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Meredith Spies
Published: 2022-01-03T05:00:00+00:00

“WHEN YOU SAID THE STAIRS had killed someone, I thought you were being hyperbolic. Like they’re steep, and someone fell. I didn’t think you meant they’d actively try to murder me.”

“The Witch who incorporated the library into the Frost home had a very laissez-faire attitude about banisters. The stairs aren’t sentient, just wobbly. Stick to the inside curve, and you’ll be fine.” Alastor turned to head back to the topmost level to retrieve another round of books.

“Yeah, no. My happy ass is sitting right here. You have fun being all Demonic and sure-footed. Oh, wait—are you so good at balancing and heights because of the goat thing?”

When he stared at me with slack-jawed horror, I could barely hide my grin. I pretended to read the thick journal in front of me, written in barely legible modern English, smelling of oranges and incense and dust.

“Goat thing?” he said slowly. “Goat. Thing.”

“Yeah. Demons. Goats. I mean, I’ve seen the movies. And those fliers the Satanic groups put out downtown for Pagan Pride Day. I mean, I don’t think they’re actual Satanists—those folks tend to be pretty chill. These flier ones are more in-your-face—but goats. And Demons. I figured that’s why you’re so sure-footed.”

“Like. A goat.” Determinedly, he paced towards me.

I bit my lower lip to keep from giggling. Part of me wanted to bolt, recognizing Alastor was not human, was stronger than me, powerful in ways I’d never be. But the rest of me…well. It was exhausted and battered and wanted to feel secure, and apparently, jerking Alastor’s chain was the way to do it.

“Do I look at all caprine?” Alastor demanded.

“Caprine?” That made me look up. “That’s a new one.”

“It means goat-like. Cap being the root for ‘goat’ and -rine being—”

“That shouldn’t sound so hot, should it?” I leaned back on the divan I’d chosen for my perch after our first trip up and down Mount Doom. Alastor stood over me, frowning but with a slight crinkling at the corners of his dark eyes. Maybe he was just playing along, trying not to smile. “Caprine. I like it. It sounds like an exotic drink. One I might need a few of before we’re done here today.”

“I’ll invent it for you.” He dropped gracefully to his knees. “Though I suggest holding off on imbibing until we’re completely done with the Council. Don’t want to give them any excuse to cast aspersions on your testimony.”

I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t talking about coming to the hearing drunk. And oh my God, what is my life, that I’m being so casual about this?”

“You’re really not.” Gingerly, Alastor rested one hand on my knee. Just laid it there gently, like he was afraid I’d leap up or smack it away or something. Something must have shown in my expression because he gave me a tiny squeeze then. “I don’t want to presume,” he finally said, “because of what happened between us before…before you knew. I don’t to make you feel pressured or like you have no choice.

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