"Demon hunter, not demon fucker. Hunter. Not fucker. Got it?" Damon's boss slammed a huge case file down on his desk, glaring at him, looking like nothing so much as Wilford Brimley on crack. "This makes what, six--"

"Eight."

"Eight! Eight that you've had to have sex with in the line of duty? In the line of duty! Who in hell has sex with a demon to bring them down?"

"Hey, this job has very few perks." Damon started counting the detriments of the job down on his fingers. "No hazard pay. Singed clothing. Lots of slime. I figure if there's an attractive demon I might as well enjoy him before I send him back to Hell."

"It's bad for our reputation."

"As what? We're not exactly the kind of place you look up on Dunn and Bradstreet."

"We still have to prove that we can pull the trigger or do the damned spell when we have to."

Damon let his feet slam to the floor, rolling off his desk. He stood, looming over his boss so fast that the man backed up a step. "I never, ever have trouble sending their asses to Hell. No matter what I do to said asses beforehand."

His boss stared at him for a long moment, something weird flashing in those mossy old eyes. "One day, you'll meet one you can't let go of. Then what the hell are you going to do?"

Damon just sneered. "I do the dumping, Boss. Don't you worry. The demon who can snare me doesn't exist."

From Absolutely Magic, out todat at www.torquerebooks.com