From my current WIP:
“Put the brownie down.”
“Stig hungry.”
“Stig’s gonna be hurting in three seconds if he doesn’t put the brownie down.” I made the threat while letting my hands transform so he’d realize that I meant business. The usual ache preceded the cracking of bone and cartilage.
Stig, a small, dark gray critter with pebbly skin and stunted wings, tilted his bulldog head at the noise, and blinked his big, yellow eyes. “Sheriff said she wouldn’t hurt Stig.”
“Sheriff—I mean, I said I wouldn’t hurt you as long as you didn’t eat any brownies. Now put the goddamned brownie down or I’ll trim your ears.”
His long, pointed ears drooped and he pouted while carefully setting the brownie down. Once released, the brownie cursed in its mosquito whine of a voice, kicked the demonling’s stubby toe, and then hauled ass.
My hands returned to human as I took two steps to reach Stig. Grabbing the scruff of his neck, I hauled him to eye level. “Miz Terry doesn’t want you coming into her yard anymore.”
“But…”
“No buts about it, Stig. Keep it up and I’ll stick you in a box bound for Mexico.” I narrowed my eyes. “They feed your kind to hellhounds over there.”
The demonling’s round face crumpled. I put him down and nudged the toe of my left boot against his rear. “Get out of here.”
Stig slunk away on all fours, his short tail tucked between his hind legs. I watched until he disappeared from sight, and then went to let Miz Terry know I’d run the little creep off.
Some sheriffs get crack dealers, fugitives, and car chases.
I get demonic pests, shifter bar fights, and migrating beasties with a taste for human flesh.
