Dashing Devil Omnibus 2: Books 4-6, page 41
“Of course.” The big demon chuckled. “I would rather you not aim for center of mass until we have Hope on hand to clean up any messes my failing to block would create.” He turned to call over in the vixen’s direction. “Silver won’t be going all out, and there isn’t anything important behind any of these walls.”
At some silent cue, all three of the Heroes shifted their positions.
Dashing Devil took a position on the scorched circle in the center of the room—wings flared, feet planted like roots, head cocked slightly as he stared into the middle distance. Silver floated over to the north edge of the training ground, hands at her sides in something that looked like a gunslinger’s pose to Kayla, bright eyes locked. Kitsune came over by Kayla.
Whatever command Devil gave his body, it happened without delay. There was no evidence of an internal monologue, no warmup. The transformation was instant.
Kayla wasn’t sure what she was seeing at first. It began with a faint shimmer along his wings. Then, his Black Flames appeared. They were a darkness that wasn’t just the absence of light but the full, surging presence of something deeper. They flickered like dancing shadows at the edge of each large limb.
Silver smiled as loose strands of her hair snapped around her face. She vibrated in place with kinetic anticipation. What Kayla saw from the bubbly woman wasn’t her ‘for the camera’ smile, but something much more honest. It was hungry and predatory, a dare written in full lips and flashing white teeth.
This pair had the most interesting relationship; they were simultaneously each other’s competitor and greatest supporter.
When it began, it happened—literally—in a flash. Silver launched herself at Dashing Devil, blurring into a horizontal streak. In a moment, that streak became one continual silver ring that encircled the demon. At least, that’s how it looked to Kayla’s unpowered eyes.
From every angle, a lance of silver-white eyebeams erupted. At first there were three only seconds apart, then four, then nine. They zipped, arced, and lanced forward, causing the air to crackle with the violent release of energy aimed at one point.
The big Hero that was the target of this barrage hardly moved. He tucked his chin, rolled his left shoulder forward, and caught the first volley with the leading edge of his wing. Instead of ricocheting or burning through, each shot was simply erased—consumed by his Black Flame. The rippling shadows surged with each impact.
Then, he became a stationary dervish, whirling in place to get his wings and large hands, in position to block the bright silver bolts. Kayla only realized when she rewound some of the footage and slowed it down that several of the energy attacks were blocked by his tail.
The barrage continued, so did Devil, holding his position and maintaining a solid, three-hundred-sixty-degree defense. Kayla watched as the big demon seemed to grow more comfortable—though Silver ramped up both the rate and intensity of her attacks as she mimicked a porter’s attack pattern.
Kayla gripped her camera, knuckles white. “He’s not just blocking,” she muttered. “He’s learning the pattern.”
Kitsune, who’d drifted over to stand beside her when Kayla wasn’t looking, nodded. “That’s how he works. If he can’t fight to win, he fights not to lose until his enemy makes a mistake or runs out of stamina. Maximum conservation of Power and energy. Every step you force him to take is a win for you.”
The sexy fox-Changed gave one of her velvet chuckles. “But chances are it costs you more than you gained.”
On cue, Silver ramped the pace up again. Her eyebeams grew thicker, the silver glow ringing Dashing Devil brighter. A rolling thunder built as she circled, mixing rapid-fire pellets of her blue balls of energy with sweeping, scythe-like arcs. But even as the barrage intensified, it seemed the Black Flame only grew hungrier.
“He’s so casual about it,” Kayla murmured, more to herself. “Is Silver even pushing him?”
Kitsune’s mouth curled into a predatory grin. “It’d never show, even if she was.”
Kayla narrowed her eyes. The energy expenditure here had to be enormous—if a normal person took one of those blasts, well… there probably wouldn’t be anything left of them. But Devil looked… alive.
He thrived on the danger.
The next wave of attacks came, and this time, Silver tried to fake him out. She doubled back, firing from above, then sending a cross-cutting eyebeam from the opposite side. Devil tilted his head, twisted his tail up high to intercept the blast from above, then swept a wing low to catch the cross-cutting eyebeam.
Kayla, unable to suppress the urge, asked, “Is she really going all out? Or is it all flashy and little real power?”
The redhead’s emerald eyes sparkled as she leaned in. “Oh, Silv’s already past where she is supposed to be. She just can’t help showing off. Watch what happens when I distract her.”
Without warning, Kitsune flicked a hand out and the wall opposite them exploded outward as a resurrected Last Dragon burst into the training room to claim its revenge.
Silver yelped and reflexively fired the eye-beam she had been aiming at Boyd at the illusory Last Dragon. It lanced through the air, a blinding line of silver, to strike the reinforced wall. The dragon vanished, but where it had been, the concrete groaned and sizzled.
A smoking, perfectly circular hole appeared on the wall, leading into darkness beyond.
Silver floated to a stop, mortified. “Uh-Oh… Oh wow. Um… that was… darn it, Babe, you’re going to get me in trouble!” She pouted cutely at Kitsune from across the room, one foot stomping the air and hands forming fists at her sides.
Devil dropped his arms and let the Black Flame recede. He dusted his hands off, shrugged, and said, “Nope, Kitsune knew exactly what she was doing.”
His grin turned positively devilish, and Kayla couldn’t help the pleasant shiver that ran through her.
“It was her fault… so she gets the spanks,” the big demon concluded.
“Goodie!” Kitsune added a little extra purr to her velvet chuckle.
Kayla blinked, staring at the neat hole in the armored wall. She’d assumed that Silver was holding back quite a bit. But the beams that did that looked just as bright as any of the dozens she’d aimed at one of her lover’s arms or legs.
Silver floated over to the big demon, voice and posture almost comically contrite. “So… you’re not mad at me, Darling?”
The big demon smiled warmly at his childhood friend as he reached out to stroke her cheek. He shrugged a shoulder at the smoking hole. “Tinker already finished her wall patching drone; this will give her an excuse to use it.”
“Aww….” Silver cooed happily, drawing her face close to Devil’s until they were nose to nose. “Thank you, Darling! For being so understanding, I’ll have to reward you… later.” The last word was a low purr, pitched for one set of ears only.
She drifted back, eyes still locked on the big demon’s, not bothering to hide her adoration or the hunger in her gaze that made Kayla’s cheeks heat.
The demon smiled and shared a moment with the silver-haired Heroine before muttering something to her before turning away. He started walking in Kayla’s direction, his tail scooping up his previously discarded towel and using it to dry the sweat off the back of his neck.
His stance visibly softened, and Kayla smiled up at him. “I see now why you wanted this off the record.”
That devilish grin that made her melt inside reappeared. Archangel had no idea what was coming for him.
* Chapter 42
It never failed to amaze Boyd how a room could be so empty and so loud at the same time. The Tower’s media suite was soundproofed better than most interrogation cells. Yet, when the double doors parted to let him and Silvie in, every voice, every camera servo, and every whine of lighting ballast seemed to hit him at once.
A good part of him—make that most of him—would rather have stayed at the base and done more training. But Silvie had insisted that this would really help. When Raev, Laura, and even Daisy had supported his bubbly love, Boyd realized he didn’t really have a choice.
Only Tinker and—surprisingly—Kayla had insisted that Boyd should only do this if he wanted to. Boyd could understand Tinker’s empathy. His little inventor would rather face the Last Dragon again than take an interview with the likes of CosmoHeroic. He had to admit Kayla’s not supporting Silvie had been a surprise.
But then he thought about it. He quickly realized Kayla would see whoever he ended up sitting across from and answering their questions as competition. He chuckled to himself at the thought of the honey-blonde reporter wanting him all to herself—professionally speaking, of course. Then, the sight that met them finally registered.
The big demon stopped dead, unconsciously flaring his wings.
He’d expected a reporter, maybe a hair-and-makeup person, along with a grumpy Handler if Royce thought it was worth coming down from his office for. What he got was a room full of media techs and photographers with a full spread for a photoshoot: six spotlights, five standing reflectors, and—he counted—at least nine cameras all aimed at a central point. While the room was large one, a good chunk of it was left empty around three chairs and an accent table. But the periphery of that open space and just about everywhere else was filled with photography equipment and techs.
Boyd blew out a long exhale through his nose. It was just loud enough to draw Silvie’s attention. “Looks like they’re going to take the ‘well, since we’re already here’ approach.”
“Don’t be too grumpy when you tell them no.” Silvie giggled and put on her biggest ‘isn’t this fun’ grin before dancing ahead of him. She ignored the swarm of nervous, star-struck media techs.
Her silver hair practically glowed under the bright lights, but they’d never get a lens on her that would do her justice.
The producer was a stout man in an ill-fitting suit who had the sort of practiced smile Boyd had seen only on used grav-sled salesmen. He intercepted them before they could reach the interviewer. He held out both hands in a show of welcome, then paused and blinked up at Boyd’s full height.
“Dashing Devil! We’re honored,” he boomed, instantly two decibels above everyone else in the room. “And Silver, you look absolutely radiant. Can we get you in the chair for a test shot?”
Boyd let the weight of his gaze settle on the man. “I agreed to an interview,” he rumbled, “not a photoshoot.” While it would be easy to out shout the producer, he kept his tone low enough that it likely didn’t reach most of the staff.
Yet.
The producer’s smile twitched, but otherwise didn’t waver. “Oh, don’t worry about all the equipment. This is just our standard setup! We do this for all of our exclusive interviews. Our readers love to see their favorite Heroes in the best light, and, well—” He flicked his gaze up and down, clearly rehearsing a line he’d used before. “CosmoHeroic’s mission has always been to empower our audience through candid, honest portrayals of the men and women who protect us. And, candidly, our female readership is extremely…”
He hesitated, as if searching for a word less embarrassing than ‘horny’. “They are particularly enthusiastic about you.”
Silvie snorted. “The only people more ‘enthusiastic’ than CosmoHeroic’s readers are the writers. Or so I hear.” She slid into the designated chair, crossing her legs and propping her chin on one knuckle. “But I suppose a little ogling is the least we owe them after so much dedicated and positive coverage.”
The producer’s cheeks dimpled in gratitude. “You get it! That’s the spirit.” He turned to Boyd, hands still up, and dared to put a hand on the back of Boyd’s chair. “Would you mind? It’ll be quick, I promise. And if you could, please keep your wings out. Our lighting tech has been dying to try his setup on them.”
Boyd folded his arms, flexing just enough to cause the sleeves of the simple but classic three-piece suit his ladies had talked him into wearing to strain ominously. “I agreed to a couple of shots for the cover and some profile photos.” He eyed the camera bank. “Your standard setup seems… excessive.”
It looked absurdly excessive, especially after hearing how much tech Tinker had built into the camera drone he had gifted Kayla with. The drone handled its own set up.
“On the contrary,” the producer chirped, “most of these are calibrated to capture an extremely high-definition image for the cover shot. It’ll be classic! Iconic, even. Then a few for the profile page, then we’ll get to the interview. I swear.”
He gave Boyd a quick up-and-down and quietly added, “The wings are a real winner.”
Silvie leaned over her armrest, catching Boyd’s eye. “Come on, Darling. They know better than to do something naughty like use a fancy setup then alter the photos later to make you topless or something. Not only would you never work with CosmoHeroic again, but who knows what you might do to Mr. Trenton Parr here.”
“True,” Boyd muttered, half to himself. “And it’s not like he’d be dumb enough to ask me to take my jacket off, or something like that.”
“You wound me,” the producer said, laying a hand over his heart. “Totally professional. Not a single midriff. I promise.”
Boyd rolled his eyes, but ultimately sat, squaring his frame to the barrage of glassy optics. He gave Silvie a look that, in the old days, would have gotten them both sent to the demerits pit for a week. “If they ask me to take my shirt off, I’m walking.”
“They wouldn’t dare,” Silvie replied, sotto voce. “But if they do, make them strip first. Principle of fairness. Then we walk.”
The lighting test part was, thankfully, short. There were some clicks and flashes, then they moved on. The photo part was equally short, given both he and Silvie had long practice at posing. He went with a simple standing pose for the cover shot, once again flexing enough to strain the suit in a way that showed off his arms. Silvie draped herself over his shoulders, wrists crossed over his sternum, with her face next to his for the profile piece. One or two more closeups and the photographers retreated to their screens and tablets.
When they finally finished, Boyd resisted the urge to shake out his wings. He watched as Silvie wandered over to the edge of the set where the producer was already reviewing previews on a tablet. She leaned in, her voice low enough not to carry but not soft enough to escape his sharp ears.
“There’s a couple more on here that your readers should love.” From the pocket of the snug white slacks she’d paired with a pale blue halter top, she produced a slim data storage stick.
The producer’s eyes went wide. “Is this—?”
“Nothing too spicy,” Silvie purred, “but there is one you’ll love that would be even better for the cover. But the important one that I must insist you include in the profile piece is a group shot with Hopewing, my Darling, and me in our teens.”
Boyd had received a copy of that picture, something Mindy had helped them re-produce with Raev’s illusion Power. Tinker had even touched it up a bit. Now he knew which media outlet Silvie had made it for.
“I… thank you, Silver. You’re a legend,” the producer whispered, fumbling it into his vest pocket like it was contraband.
Boyd didn’t need to ask what the other photo was. He’d seen the look Silvie had on her face when she’d handed it over. It matched the completely not guilty expression she wore when he’d discovered Tinker had a photo she shouldn’t.
The big demon met Silvie’s gaze when she returned and arched an eyebrow. She just shrugged, all innocence, and whispered, “If you want to maintain your brand, Darling, you have to give them enough of a leak to keep them from making stuff up themselves.”
Boyd sighed. “I knew that photo would go public at some point. I suppose this way it serves a purpose.”
“Exactly!” she said, smiling like the cat that got the canary. She twined her arm through his as they moved toward the interview chairs. “But it’s a shame you won’t do a spicy shoot today. Kayla would kill for this lighting.”
Boyd grumbled softly to himself about what they could do with their fancy lighting.
The two Heroes took their seats across from the interviewer, who had thus far been content to remain in the background reviewing notes and, probably, getting a rundown on which of her questions had passed muster with the Authority’s legal teams.
Silvie made a show of arranging herself to maximum photogenic effect—there was a real art to ‘candid’ for these things. Boyd faced a similar challenge, but as a male, fussing like his love did would be frowned upon instead of viewed as endearing. He had to sit smoothly, quickly establish a photo-genic pose, and stick with it.
The producer came over, all slick efficiency, and gave them a quick rundown. “You’re scheduled for thirty minutes, but Jamie Chen is flexible if things run long. She’ll do the basics first—motivation, history, all that—then some lighter CosmoHeroic questions for our lifestyle pages. If anything’s off limits, just say the word, and we’ll skip it.”
“I’m ready to start whenever you are, Mr. Parr, Ms. Chen,” Boyd rumbled with a nod to both the producer and interviewer. “I’m confident we’ll stay away from topics that might be considered off limits.”
The producer’s face fell a touch, but he nodded and signaled to the rest of the room. Instantly, the lights dimmed from ‘surgical theater’ to ‘friendly bar’ ambiance. The crew pulled back to leave only Jamie Chen and the two Heroes in the circle of a soft glow.
Someone slowly counted down from three… and they started.
Jamie Chen smoothed her blazer, flicked a quick glance at her tablet, and smiled with the poise of a natural performer. “Mr. Devil, Silver. Thank you both for making the time.”
She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair, dyed silver in a pale imitation of his love—though the reporter but had taken it a step further by adding an asymmetrical cut with attention grabbing bangs. “Before I get started, I must admit your hair inspired me.”
