Demons Prefer Blondes Read Online Free

deep breath, she turned her attention back to the chest. Although Gerardo said it was evil, even with its strange electromagnetic shield and bizarre etchings and carvings, Lucy didn’t get that vibe at all. Weird? Yeah. Mysterious? You bet. Evil? Nah. She usually had a good sixth sense about those things. She looked forward to Serah’s little escapade tonight—lunar eclipse and all.
    Filled with an odd curiosity, Lucy wandered over to the chest. Running her fingers across the engravings and inscription, she allowed the tingles to travel up her fingers and into her body. She moved to the handprint in the center of the chest. Amazed at the perfect fit, she closed her eyes. It was as if the imprint molded to her hand. Warmth spread throughout her entire body, right to the pit of her stomach, then moving lower.
    Oh dear.
    The doorbells chimed, ending her semi-orgasmic encounter with Serah’s… erm… chest. Ripping her hand from the box, she turned toward the door.
    Speak of the devil. In pranced Serah, holding two department store bags in each hand, while two others were stuffed under her arms. “Hey! Check out my new shoes!” She wiggled her red polka dot patent leather kitten-heeled slide as if she were Cinderella admiring her new glass slippers. How the hell could she wear shoes like that in the dead of winter?
    Lucy raised her eyebrow in bemused wonder. Here, just the night before, she’d complained about destroying her most recent antique store purchase. Wasn’t there anything thing else she did besides shop? Not a discriminatory shopper either. Lucy turned a covert eye to her chest and back to the gaudy designer shoes. Old, new, weird, ugly. Serah would buy anything.
    Red wasn’t her color, but it went well with Serah’s bouncy brunette curls. “Cute, if you like fire engine red polka dots.”
    “Cool, because I bought you a pair… in purple.” She dropped all her bags, except the one in her left hand, on the floor. Rummaging inside the bag, she pulled out a shoebox and ripped it open. “Look!”
    “You shouldn’t have,” Lucy said, taking the box from her. She really shouldn’t have. They’d come in handy, along with the other two hundred or so other pairs of shoes she’d bought Lucy over the years.
    Gerardo attacked her other bags, oohing and ahhing at their contents. Some might think it odd, but Lucy wasn’t into the fashion and style thing. She’d much rather be stuck in a pair of jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers than some of those torture devices those divas try to pass off as shoes. For someone who was on her feet all day, some of those shoes made no sense. She didn’t want to end up with feet like Mrs. Gunderson, anyway.
    Lucy turned a surreptitious gaze back to the chest. What was the deal with it? She grumbled beneath her breath. She was almost as excited as Serah—if not more. Maybe it was contagious? Whatever it was or whatever it held, it was now a distraction. And Serah had to take it with her.
    “Hey, Serah. Gerardo’s scared of your box.” Lucy just couldn’t resist. “You need to take it with you when you leave.”
    Serah rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Are we still on for tonight?” Her eyes twinkled with childish delight.
    “Yeah, sure.” Lucy wouldn’t let her know she was excited to open the box. Perhaps it was excitement about holding the episode over Serah’s head after nothing happened. Yes, that was it. It had to be. Hell in a box? How absurd!
    ***
    “I should sue you!” Mrs. Carlson shrieked. “My hair is ruined!” Fuming, she glared at the mirror. “I look like a giant mushroom!”
    Lucy had nothing to say. She truly did look like a giant mushroom. Like she’d just stepped from the 1970s where the people wore their afros with pride. A big puff of gray frizzy hair burst from her head. If this had been a comedy, Lucy would’ve been rolling on the floor laughing. But it wasn’t a comedy. It was her life.
    “It’s not so bad, Mrs. Carlson,” she lied. This was