Accidentally Demonic Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  EPILOGUE

  PRAISE FOR THE ACCIDENTAL HUMAN

  “Ms. Cassidy’s knack for the outrageously hilarious is evident throughout the story . . . Has a laugh-out-loud twist. I could not put this one down.” —Fresh Fiction

  “I have to admit that Dakota Cassidy is one of my favorite authors. I haven’t come across any of her books that didn’t deliver a strong, funny, and fabulous story line packed with passion, and The Accidental Human is no exception. You won’t want to miss this one!”

  —Fallen Angel Reviews

  “A delightful, at times droll, contemporary tale . . . Dakota Cassidy provides a fitting twisted ending to this amusingly warm urban romantic fantasy.” —Genre Go Round Reviews

  “A paranormal romance with a strong dose of humor . . . The characters are fun as hell.” —Errant Dreams

  ACCIDENTALLY DEAD

  “Funnier than hell. If you like the writing styles of MaryJanice Davidson or Katie MacAlister, then you will love Dakota Cassidy. She’s in a class all her own!” —Bitten by Books

  “A laugh-out-loud follow-up to The Accidental Werewolf, and it’s a winner . . . Ms. Cassidy is an up-and-comer in the world of paranormal romance.” —Fresh Fiction

  “Jumping from one supernatural species to another . . . Cassidy’s snappy dialogue and outlandish situations ensure snickers aplenty.”

  —Romantic Times

  “An enjoyable, humorous satire that takes a bite out of the vampire romance subgenre . . . Fans will appreciate the nonstop hilarity.”

  —Genre Go Round Reviews

  THE ACCIDENTAL WEREWOLF

  “Cassidy, a prolific author of erotica, has ventured into MaryJanice Davidson territory with a humorous, sexy tale.” —Booklist

  “If Bridget Jones became a lycanthrope, she might be Marty. Fun and flirty humor is cleverly interspersed with dramatic mystery and action. It’s hard to know which character to love best, though—Keegan or Muffin, the toy poodle that steals more than one scene.”

  —The Eternal Night

  “A riot! Marty’s internal dialogue will have you howling, and her antics will keep the laughs coming. If you love paranormal with a comedic twist, you’ll love this book.” —Romance Junkies

  “A lighthearted romp . . . [An] entertaining tale with an alpha twist.” —Midwest Book Review

  MORE PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF DAKOTA CASSIDY

  “The fictional equivalent of the little black dress . . . Funny, sexy, and a must-have accessory for every reader.”

  —Michele Bardsley, national bestselling author of Over My Dead Body

  “Serious, laugh-out-loud humor with heart, the kind of love story that leaves you rooting for the heroine, sighing for the hero, and looking for your own significant other at the same time.”—Kate Douglas

  “Dakota Cassidy is going on my must-read list!” —Joyfully Reviewed

  “If you’re looking for some steamy romance with something that will have you smiling, you have to read [Dakota Cassidy].”

  —The Best Reviews

  “Ditsy and daring . . . Pure escapist fun.” —Romance Reviews Today

  Berkley Sensation titles by Dakota Cassidy

  KISS & HELL

  THE ACCIDENTAL WEREWOLF

  ACCIDENTALLY DEAD

  THE ACCIDENTAL HUMAN

  ACCIDENTALLY DEMONIC

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

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  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

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  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,

  South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2010 by Dakota Cassidy.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions. BERKLEY® SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley Sensation trade paperback edition / February 2010

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Cassidy, Dakota.

  Accidentally demonic / Dakota Cassidy.

  p. cm.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-17163-9

  1. Vampires—Fiction. I. Title

  PS3603.A8685A67 2010

  813’.6—dc22 2009038687

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to the usual suspects; Renee George, Michele Bardsley, Terri Smythe, Jaynie Ritchie, Vicki Burklund, Erin, Qwill (you rock the mod, baby), Kaz, Sheri Fogarty, my group of “Accidental Fans” and “The Babes.” Also to my son’s friend Terrence. Dude, I love your accent so much I based a character on you, who has one that I hope reads just like it. So in your honor—“Fo sho, you da bomb- diggety!”

  Mucho thanks to the makers of Guitar Hero World Tour and Rock Band—uh-huh, you read that right. I know what you’re thinking: but she’s too old for video games. Ah, but old people rock, too. Just not as hard, or nearly as long before we need Ben-Gay massages and warm milk. Anyway, you have no idea how many plot issues have been solved while I beat those drums during the Foo Fighters “Everlong”—or the utter and pathetic joy I feel when pretending I’m the drum player for Boston.

  Picture me, fist held high, index and pinky finger skyward, my tongue hanging out à la Gene Simmons and hear my rebel yell, “Rock and Roll, Hoochie Koo!”

  Next up to conquer: Dancing with the Authors.

  Huge, huge thanks to my editor, Cindy Hwang, who gives my whacked sense of humor a forum. Elaine Spencer, my agent, and everyone at The Knight Agency. Crystal Jordon, whose librarian skills
bar none.

  And always the fans. You gave the accidentals a shot—you’re the reason I can’t go to a reader convention without someone asking “Is this in my color wheel?” You crack me up when you let your heads hang low and sheepishly tell me narrowed of eye with hushed defiance, “I like the color yellow—so—so there!” That my crazy has spread speaks devotion—and forever I’m beyond grateful to every single person who’s picked up a copy of one of my books, shared it with a friend (you brave warriors), got it from the library, or even bought it from a bargain bin. Thank you, thank you!

  Never to be forgotten, Rob—a man who loves me even when I wander around in my pajamas with greasy hair, bemoaning my lack of word count, and worrying I’ve written myself into a corner. A man who totally understands that this profession means sometimes he takes a backseat. With my dirty laundry revealed publicly, it only goes to show you that true love really does exist, even if it needs glasses and a thorough psychiatric evaluation.

  Dakota

  forum.wordreference.com

  www.vikinganswerlady.com

  www.tshirthell.com/hell.shtml

  www.speakjamaican.com/jamaican-slang-glossary.html

  www.straightdope.com

  CHAPTER 1

  “Wandaaaaa!” Casey Schwartz whispered low and harsh into the mouthpiece of a black phone attached by—of all the demeaning, degrading things—a rusty chain to its base. It was debilitating. No, that wasn’t the right word. It was debasing. Debilitating meant to incapacitate.

  Oh. My. She was officially so freaked she had the disease known as contextual error.

  Though, in her defense, and despite her almost sickening anxiety, this situation could very well be debilitating, if, say, Big Sue next door decided to make good on her threat to yank her intestines out through her belly button.

  “Casey?”

  Her gulp was undoubtedly audible, but she refused to allow her voice to wobble. If Wanda knew just how hysterical Casey was, she’d only get hysterical, too. The Schwartzes hysterical together equaled hysterical to the millionth power. “Ye—” She cleared her throat, wiping away the squeak and hoping to keep the tremor of her bottom lip in check. “Yes, Wanda, it’s me. Your long-lost sister who never calls you.” Well, except when she’s in some deep doody. Like now. Yes, now would be the kind of doody one might call deep. Either way, that wasn’t exactly how she’d hoped her opening line would come out.

  If she’d ever felt like complete shit for not calling Wanda and her parents more before today, it would never compare to the steaming pile that was her remorse right now.

  “Oh, honey.” Wanda’s tone grew gentle and admonishing all at once. “Don’t be like that. I told you to call me whenever you’re able, didn’t I? No strings attached. I know your life is busy and getting away from that tyrant you work for is difficult. I totally understand your not being able to even so much as pick up a phone until maybe as far into the future as when Mars and Venus align. Really, I do. But believe it or not, I can’t talk right now. I’m on my way for a girls’ weekend in lovely Connecticut with Marty and Nina. We’re off to a B and B for some quality girl bonding.”

  “Yeah.” Casey heard a disgusted grunt in the background. “Quality girl bonding, Wanda. Is that what we’re calling dragging me to stupid-assed antique store after antique store to look at overpriced junk while in between hunting garbage we stop at quaint little sidewalk cafés and order prissy tea with names I can’t even pronounce—or drink—then have massages by some weird guys with weirder names like Bjorn who really just wanna see chicks naked.”

  “Nina!” Casey heard yet another voice interrupt, much sweeter in tone. “First of all, no one forced you to come, whiner. We only invited you to scare off anyone who might potentially want to become our friend anyway. Because honestly, the idea of adding someone else to our friendship mix when we have you is about as appealing as inviting the devil himself to play Russian roulette with the gun of his choice. Second of all, she’s on the phone with her sister. You know, the one who lives in Manhattan and doesn’t visit much. Just shut up, already!”

  Casey sighed into the mouthpiece, avoiding at all costs letting her lips so much as graze the black, marred surface. Another pang of regret settled in her stomach knowing Wanda’s friends were apparently aware she was a total slacker when it came to keeping in touch with her family. She’d dwell on that if there weren’t more pressing matters at hand.

  Like her life.

  Or, at the very least, her wool socks—which, oddly enough, they’d let her keep and were no doubt warm and desirable in a place like this. But definitely not worth the threat of sawing off your feet with a nail file for.

  Nausea turned her stomach in waves. Casey pressed a hand to her belly.

  Her orange-clad belly.

  A rustle of what sounded like material scraping against the phone ensued; then Wanda growled with a snap, “Nina, Marty, knock it off, now! You know damned well I’m not kidding with the two of you, either.”

  Growled? Wanda had growled? Had the second coming of Christ been scheduled, and she’d missed the memo? Wanda didn’t growl. She didn’t swear, either. Wanda always went in whatever direction took her as far away from growling and swearing as she could get. Baffled at her sister’s confrontational tone, Casey cocked her head to listen more closely.

  “Casey, honey?”

  “I’m still here.” Still. Here.

  “Did you hear me? I can’t talk right now. Especially with these two beasts in the car. If you only knew what road trips are like with the two of them. Hell, I tell you. Utter and complete hell. Like total submersion in the ninth level of Purgatory. How about I call you when we get back from Connecticut on Monday? We can set up a time that’s convenient for you. Maybe when the Big Dipper’s in full view?”

  Panic rose to lodge in her throat despite the fact that Wanda was taking a potshot at her. She peered over her shoulder at the line forming behind her. “No! No, you don’t understand, Wanda—”

  “No, sweetie, I really do. I’m just teasing you about your utter lack of communication and acknowledgment of any and all familial ties. Honest. Now, you go do all the important things that keep you from pressing my number on speed dial and we’ll talk next week—or next year—your call.”

  “Wanda!”

  “Casey?”

  “Please just listen to me.”

  “Of course I’ll listen, but wait. Hold on for just a second.”

  Hold on? Sure. She could hold on. She could hold on for as long as she could hold off the very angry mob of people closing in on her. A rather imposing, large woman with a small head and square shoulders like a linebacker butted up against her and whispered so the guard wouldn’t hear, “Hey, four eyes, hurry it the fuck up or you’ll be reading Braille.” Casey self-consciously pushed at her glasses, glasses a very nice guard had given her a Band-Aid to hold together after they’d been viciously stomped on with a red stiletto worn by a woman with a thigh the size of a tree trunk. She clamped her fingers firmly above the rims in case the hardened bully behind her decided to make good on her threat. “Wanda?” she squeaked, fighting for composure.

  “One more sec, Case. Nina!” Wanda bristled once more. “Give Marty the frickin’ map and give it to her now. You know good and well you couldn’t read a map even if your IQ suddenly shot up fifty points. Hand it over, and hand it over this instant. I knew we should have taken Marty’s car. She has GPS.” More rustling occurred; then she heard her sister’s exasperated sigh. “Do you see why I can’t talk now, baby girl? It’s just madness when the three of us try to do anything like normal girlfriends do. An all-consuming trip into insanity.”

  “Wanda!” She’d resorted to a whisper-yell to get Wanda’s attention. And really, who, in the position she was in now, wouldn’t at the very least whimper?

  “I’m just not getting through to you, am I? What’s this sudden need to talk all about, Case? You almost never want to talk. Not willingly, anyway. And to reiterate,
I’m not blaming. I’m just stating a fact. I only wish you’d chosen a better time to call. If the timing were right, I’d yak with you for all of the three seconds you devote to saying the words I’m fine. But I just can’t right now. We’re lost somewhere in New York City, and believe me when I tell you: no one wants to be lost with Nina and Marty. No one. In fact, I’d bet the man upstairs himself would rather have a do-over of World War Two than he would be lost with Marty and Nina.”

  “One minute remaining,” an automated voice boomed in her ear.

  “One minute remaining?” Wanda queried. “Are you calling me from a pay phone, Casey? Do they even still have pay phones anymore? Where’s your cell, honey? I didn’t even check my caller ID to see who was calling. I—”

  “Wanda! Quit talking and listen closely!” she yelped, finally blurting out the most heinous statement she’d probably ever make in her entire life. “Seventh Precinct, lower east side of Manhattan. Come get me—please, please come bail me out!” She realized her voice had risen to stratospheric proportions, but her mounting hysteria couldn’t be contained.

  “Bail you out?”

  A click in her ear meant the one minute she’d had remaining was up, but it wasn’t up before she’d heard the disbelief Wanda’s voice left ringing in her ear.

  Yes.

  Bail her out.

  Of jail.

  Of the poe-poe.

  From the big house.

  From the hoosegow.

  For assault and battery.

  Of an off-duty police officer.

  A half an hour later, Wanda showed up just in time for the scheduled visitation with her two friends in tow. “Oh, Casey!” her sister fairly shrieked, gathering Casey in her arms and hugging her tight to her slender frame. Despite her dire circumstances, she couldn’t help but notice how pretty and healthy Wanda looked these days. Since she’d married Heath, her cheeks were always glowing and her eyes were bright. More ugly guilt ate at Casey’s gut. Seeing Wanda reminded her she hadn’t been able to take time off to attend Wanda and Heath’s wedding on the Island. Noooo, she’d been too busy catering to the grown women she literally babysat.