Page 9 of Catnapped

“You should see what I had done to my other nephew. I may have informed him just how much work I’d put into making certain he’d be suitable for the precious seed I’d cultivated just for him. Be grateful you’re not part of my plans to protect my unicorns.”

Right. One of his poor nephews worked as a police chief in New York, and he’d married one of the Devil’s favorite creations, a cindercorn. “How are the cindercorns doing, anyway?”

“The last of the wild herds didn’t survive the winter, although I saw to it they passed peacefully. But she’ll be the first of the next line, and they’ll be much more robust and better suited for modern life. I have all the seeds of my cindercorns, but they’ve earned some rest. They’ll be back one day, though. With those two as the starting of the new line, the cindercorns will be even randier than my standards, so they’ll become stable within a few generations, and my nephew’s contributions will make it easier for them to convert mates. That’s part of why the cindercorns ultimately failed. They simply weren’t driven enough to convert a mate, so their numbers dwindled. That will not be a problem in the future.”

I winced, as the Devil’s file made it clear he had an unreasonable interest in unicorns. “Dare I ask what your next unicorn project is?”

“There’s one celestial left. She’s from a rather proud line of unicorns. Her parents were old when they had her—in unicorn years, mind you. Unfortunately, her parents died before teaching her the trick of converting a stallion, so I’ll have to take some steps. I think she’ll be all right otherwise. She has a very healthy interest in children, although she has some issues she’ll have to work through first. I almost pity the stallion who’ll tame her. She’ll keep him busy.”

Somehow, I kept from rolling my eyes. “Let me guess. You’ve already picked her stallion for her.”

“I haven’t, actually. It’s a real problem. Are there even any men worthy of my last celestial?”

“Obviously, as there was one worthy of your cindercorn,” I muttered.

“I cultivated that seed very specifically for my cindercorn, thank you very much. I’m debating a lycanthrope for her, although I’m not sure how the virus and her unicorn genetics would interplay. It could be an interesting experiment.”

“No.”

“Don’t ruin my fun.”

“You do not need to play matchmaker for her if she does not want a man.”

“She wants a man, but she has no idea what to do with one. She’s shy. The poor little thing is an introvert, and she works as a waitress.”

I winced at the thought of an introvert struggling through day-to-day life working as a waitress. “I’ve changed my mind. Do your matchmaking, but partner her with someone who can help her develop a career she actually likes. And with someone who will treat her well, is a good match for her, and doesn’t just meet your genetics standards.”

“I’m blaming you when I get into trouble for matchmaking again,” the Devil warned me. “And I never just match based on genetics. Well, usually. Having the right genetics is no good if I can’t convince the couple they want to procreate. Nothing puts a kink in my plans quite as much as a pair absolutely hating each other and refusing to share the same room. The refusal to share the same room with each other puts a damper on any potential children. And while I’m the Devil, I do play fair. In that regards. Getting the right seed planted does no good if I can’t cultivate a nurturing environment for it. Well, mostly. Some seeds require adversity to thrive, and in those cases, I just toss them at two amorous humans who opt against using birth control.”

The Devil operated by really strange rules. “You’re already in trouble for trying to play matchmaker for me. What’s a little extra trouble? Be serious. When are you not in trouble with somebody?”

“I don’t know. Have I ever not been in trouble with somebody? That’s a really good question, one I don’t have the answer to.”

Heaven help me. “I need to get clothes for tomorrow, and I’m sure Darian likewise needs to pack for a week at this hotel. Also, you need to make arrangements for his work as necessary.”

“He has a flexible schedule.”

I twitched. “If that means unemployed, I’m going to be rather irritated, Lucifer.”

“Oh, no. His mother would never let him get away with unemployment. He wishes he could some days, though. Your new companion is a money-grubbing thief.”

I considered the various jobs that might fit that bill. “That doesn’t really narrow the field all that much, Lucy. Give me something a little more concrete than that.”

Darian laughed. “I ruin businesses for a living, and I’m very good at it. I target the ones Father dislikes, use Dad’s advice and general inclinations to bring them down, and once I’ve done the dirty work, I buy the companies out before I restructure and reorganize them or plunder them for profits. I’m between jobs right now, as I haven’t picked my next target. Father makes that sort of thing easy, as he’ll complain to my mother when he sees anything particularly unscrupulous. He does it knowing I’ll go on a hunt to see if I can add them to my trophy collection. It’s a good way to get rich in a hurry.”

My eyes widened, and I could see several ways a wayfinder could make a fortune digging out intel on nefarious businessmen. “You use your wayfinding tricks to get dirt on the company, and then you put them in a position where you can take them down or buy them out to either hide the evidence of their misdeeds or you shut them down because of their misdeeds and purchase the dissolving company?”

Darian dipped into a bow. “And neither of my fathers can really get upset at me for doing it because justice is served with a hefty dose of ruination—and I take steps to take care of the employees caught in the fallout. And while I bitch about the mortgage on a house, the reality is, I could afford to buy a house, but I need the liquid funds to handle the buyouts, so I make sure to live within my means. I don’t want to end up one of those adult men living in his mother’s basement.”

Well. I could make use of his skills in the hunt for my cat, which elevated the Devil for providing someone who might be able to help me find my poor cat. “It’s not a big corporation destined to make you a lot of money or bring you prestige, but I’d be appreciative if you used those skills on whatever sleazebag cockgoblets stole my cat.”

“Sleazebag… cockgoblets?”

I shrugged. “It seems appropriate to me. Only a sleaze would steal a traumatized former lab cat, and I’d totally stuff the asshole’s dead body into a bag and chuck it into the drink.”

“But cockgoblet?”

Well, he hadn’t run away yet, which was a point to him and the Devil’s meddling ways. “It has a nice ring to it.”