That Damn Imp Ch. 00

Prologue

I've been wanting to do a fun romance story for a while, but wasn't inclined to go into the tropes and cliches I see all too often in both Harlequin novels and erotica. Not that there's anything wrong with said tropes and cliches because I will admit I have some guilty pleasure from certain ones, and I know I'm not alone in this. But if this is not your first story of mine, then you know I like to try different things for my works.

I'd been stuck on ideas for an m/f romance story for a while because many of the ideas that popped in my head simply didn't feel satisfying or interesting enough to me. Several months ago, I bought Gargoyles (the cartoon) on DVD, and damn, that was a fucking great cartoon... its too bad it went to hell with Goliath Chronicles. As an adult, I was able to appreciate anew the cartoon I loved as a kid. And Owen/Puck is my absolute favorite character in the show. The duality/difference between two sides of the same person is really interesting, and damn if both of them aren't also pretty damned hot. I feel terrible for Puck after what Oberon did to him (Oberon and Titania are both douchebags btw. They did so many things wrong and pooh poohed their own poor behavior more than once.)

I've wanted to do a lighter/more comedic story as well, with a less serious tone than my other stories. I've also been wanting to do a story set in the modern-day world, as my other works are set in fantasy. With all these percolating in my head, Puck gave me the final burst of inspiration I needed for this story. I also drew inspiration for the handsome, sexy male lead of this magical tale from other sources, including old gods like Dionysus, and I'll admit, a touch of Tom Hiddleston's Loki. Mmm.

Koshka is in part inspired from Anya from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I'll admit she is my favorite character of the show, and I enjoy her blunt attitude and love of money. I would like to thank my boyfriend for the great inspiration and feedback he gave me for this story, and for getting me hooked onto Buffy in the first place. :P

There are a few Easter eggs here and there, if you find them, good for you! :P As always, reviews and feedback are more than welcome, and I sincerely hope you enjoy this story!

o0o

Magic was an ever-present force in the world. While it was true that belief in it had waned over the centuries, it remained no less real. This ancient power was channeled through various sources, big and small, with the majority of the world's population having no knowledge that it existed, or merely dismissing it as fanciful tales.

Floating in front of the television, Puck stroked his chin as he listened to the news report that was sweeping the nation. The bereaved grandmother of a murdered young man had, according to a number of eyewitness reports, had gone on a murderous, machete-wielding rampage. Every member of the gang that had taken her boy was dead or mutilated.

According to some reports, the woman had been stabbed, shot and otherwise wounded dozens of times... only to shrug it off. She'd laid a wide swath of destruction in what was known as a very dangerous neighborhood, and oddly, the next day, she was found in her apartment, having some tea. There was no clear, conclusive photographic evidence of the rampage -- something that was odd in this day and age of smartphones -- and no physical evidence to be found anywhere in Pam Voorhees' apartment, or on her person, considering all the injuries she had been said to take.

Many experts were baffled. Some spoke of adrenaline; women lifting cars to save their trapped kids or husbands. Others talked about inflated, sensationalist reports. The story had become viral as the background of the story was revealed, showing that due to suspected corruption in the police force, as well as over a year of legal maneuvering by well-paid lawyers, the men responsible for her grandson's death had gone off with little more than a slap on the wrist. Many in the community were outraged, but the gang had also terrorized any potential snitches to hold their tongues.

All of this had culminated into a spectacular tale of a rampage that had ended with several houses burning down, and more than a dozen people dead, all of them affiliated with the gang. Sensationalism carried the news across the nation and overseas, and through the Internet, with many praising Pam Voorhees for what she had done, regardless of whether there was evidence or not that she did it.

"Bloody 'ell, anyone goes after my kids like what with that old bird's grandson, I just might take a machete and take care of business myself," one of the men uttered gruffly. His companion snorted, taking a pull on his cigarette. At the moment, some footage of the gang leader's house ablaze filled the screen, casting the faces of the two men who were having beer on a porch, in an orange glow.

Puck grinned, barely listening to the men converse, as his eyes fixed on the screen. Where the humans saw exaggeration and adrenaline, the ancient fae new better. This was old magic. Vengeance magic. The kind that, like his, could do just about anything. Grinning, he clapped excitedly, and vanished in a burst of white light, briefly startling the two men who looked around for several moments before resuming their leisure.

o0o

Such magic left its mark on the world. When you altered reality in such a way, it was inevitable. Puck followed that magic, invisibly flitting over city streets and unsuspecting crowds, even visiting the place where the rampage had occurred. Despite some clean-up efforts, the damage was still very much visible, and the residual magic beckoned to him, tantalizing him further with its familiarity. The trail might have ended there for a lesser being, but he was the Puck, ancient, wild magic coursing through his veins. This magic called out to him, and he followed the trail.

When it brought him to rest outside of a small, tucked away, coin collector's shop, he regarded it curiously. "Hmm... not what I expected," he murmured, his lips turned to one side. Still, his curiosity was powerful enough that it was worth checking out.

The shop itself was also guarded by old magic. Most would have never sensed it, but for one like Puck, such magic was not easily hidden. It acted as both a guard and a snare. Anyone who would break into that shop to steal the merchandise would meet a rather unpleasant end, that much was obvious. Whoever owned or guarded this shop certainly held his or her wares dear.

There was movement inside. An attractive redheaded woman stood behind the counter, assisting an older man with locating and purchasing a coin. The exchange seemed cordial, for the man did mot remain long, tucking the folded bag with his purchases into his jacket before heading out of the store, the barred door swinging closed behind him. She stood there for a moment before closing the register and flipping her mid-back length dark red hair over her shoulder. Clad in an attractive black and dark blue sweater, Koshka Dengiov carried just the right balance of elegance and professionalism.

When the old man exited, Puck popped inside... literally. Appearing in a burst, he crossed his legs and floated at a height just above the counter. Getting a closer look at the redhead, he grinned, rubbing his hands together.

"Koshka?" he inquired, all smiles and bright eyes, the light of the shop reflecting off of his pale skin and silver-white hair. "Assuming you're still going by that name, that is. I thought that Voorhees thing was vengeance magic! Didn't know it'd be you though. Must be my lucky day."

The woman in question raised her eyebrow, making no attempt to conceal her irritation as she looked up at the infamous Puck. He could be rather cute, if he wasn't so god damn annoying. Her sense of humor was considerably different -- and more bloody -- than his own.

"Why would you visit me over the simple matter of a grieving grandmother who was taking things into her own hands? The men who killed her grandson were getting away with it, and Pam Voorhees was only doing that she -- and many others, even if they won't say it -- felt was right. She's waited over a year for justice to be served, and when the system failed her..." Koshka shrugged. "These men will never be able to hurt others again." The effects of Pam Voorhees' vengeance would be felt for a long time. Already members of other gangs were exercising caution, lest that they unwittingly trigger another rampage.

"Vengeance is your thing; not mine. I don't care about that. I just wanted to know who was flinging around old magic, because this goes way beyond some outcast girl casting a hex on the most popular girl in school. How could I not take notice? And, when I saw it was the lovely Koshka, I figured I'd drop in. Why so glum, hmm? I know you're glad to see me."

"No matter how many times you try to flirt with me, the answer is no. You're just not my type," Koshka replied casually as she turned away from him to file away the receipt from her recent purchase. "Or are you just sticking around because you want a good show? Want to watch me work my magic around here for more machete rampages?" Her voice bore traces of a Russian accent, and was one many men found sexy, especially in the 'hardcore Russian bitch' way. This effect was only furthered by her pale green-blue eyes, the irises so light that under certain lights it appeared as if she only had pupils, which gave her a penetrating stare.

"A good show? All that blood and carnage? Nah. I'm here for the flirting. And your voice may say no, but your eyes," he floated closer, laying on his belly in the air, resting his head on his hands, "tell a different story." Finally dropping to the ground, Puck maintained his grin, running his hands through his long, hair as if primping himself for her. "Come on. I've seen you checking me out..." Puck flexed his core teasingly, part of his chest and stomach visible through the loose white shirt he wore, the fabric open almost all the way to his navel. Around his legs were loose mottled green and blue pants, held up by a braided leather belt. Several bracelets and bands circled both of his wrists, made of various materials -- hemp with several beads woven into it, a smooth wooden band, an ornate braided leather cuff, a silver band with a few gemstones, and a gold wire one with a Celtic woven design.

Some might describe the look as Bohemian, and in certain places, it would indeed draw a glance. But Puck's most arresting features were his silvery-white waist-length hair, and pointed ears. Koshka studied the familiar pointed face, and the age and power that she saw in his gaze, somehow further emphasizing his youthful features.

"You can't go around looking like that, and then expect people to not notice." She rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively. "Besides, you couldn't handle someone like me." She bit back a smirk as she issued this unexpected challenge, never before had she responded to his flirtations thus.

"Couldn't..?" he pretended to choke on the words, "..couldn't handle you? Come on! I've got more energy than the next hundred Fae. Weave a bit of magic, and I can't get tired. What makes you think I 'couldn't handle you'?" He asked the question, complete with air quotes, before hopping up to sit on a glass display counter.

"You're just a little fae," Koshka responded. And compared to the average human, he was indeed slight of build. "I am a mighty vengeance demon, as you so handily pointed out. You already said you can't deal with the blood and carnage, so as I said before, you're out of your league." She smiled to herself as she turned away from him to tidy the display a bit, pretending that he wasn't on her counter, his ass on the glass. Stupid ass...

"I'm sure you keep the blood and carnage off of whatever large pile of money you probably have sex on," he shrugged. "And if it's because I'm short, I can be taller." Grabbing his hair, Puck pulled up, his body stretching with the movement. "Shapeshifter, remember? Though between you and me," he slid down the counter, gliding closer as if the surface were slick, "it'll feel the best if I'm.. well, just me. Not having to worry about maintaining any magics. I've had a good long while to learn how to please someone, you know. Maybe you're the one that couldn't keep up with me."

"Bloody persistent, aren't you?" Koshka said with a small snort. "And what is it going to take for you to realize that I'm just... what was it the mortals said, 'not that into you'." she said, using quotes. She made no effort to respond to the money comment.

"Not that into me, huh?" he sighed, a hint of sadness in his voice. Whether it was sincere or not was another matter entirely. "Is it my charming disposition? The fact that I believe in fun?" he teased. "I suppose it's your loss," he smirked. "For now. I have an eternity to wear you down."

"You should know that my heart is as cold and hard as the coins I so hold dear," Koshka replied flippantly as she turned back to him. "Come on, now, don't pout, it makes you look like a boy."

"Right. Sure it is. You admitted to checking me out earlier. There's gotta be some fire in there for that," his grin returned. "You can't tell me you don't wonder what it'd be like. Despite your jibes, I'm one of the only beings out there that can keep up with you." He floated from the display case, slinking forward, getting face-to-face with the demon. "Just give it a try. Unless you're worried that I'll ruin you for humans or something."

She reached up with her finger, lightly pushing him back through the air by pressing his nose, and using a bit of her magic for it. "You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat. You like to slink around and be petted, I'm sure. I see the same exact behavior from the tomcats in the alley. Meow." she gave him a playful swipe. "Now I need to be getting back to work."

"Dodging the offer? Can't refuse me, hmm?" Puck turned upside down in the air, his hair hanging to the floor. "I'm wearing you down. You know it. I know it."

Flipping and landing on his feet, Puck regarded the store with a shrug. "You wanna work? Fine. I guess I'll go. But you're going to miss me. Yep. Before long, you'll be wanting me to come back." With that he headed slowly toward the door.

"Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out. Have a lovely day," Koshka said as dryly and neutrally as if she was serving a customer she just wanted to be rid of. Though he did have a nice ass... She snorted to herself. She was an ages-old vengeance demon, and he was a little fae. Powerful, but still, most fae were afraid of her and the old magic she wielded so easily. Not the Puck though, his power was around equal to her own, and they respected that despite traveling in different circles.

Puck looked over his shoulder, regarding her with a little pout before he hung his head, playing up his moping. By the time the door was closed, he had vanished.

Koshka scoffed to herself. When was the last time she'd seen him? Eleven or twelve years ago? It'd been quite a few years, but for over a thousand years, Puck would appear in her life, every few years or decades, to flirt with her and to try to seduce him. And given his old habits, she knew she would be seeing him again soon. He always hung around for a while to renew his attempts to court her her before he wearied of her constant rebuffs and would disappear again for a while. That damn imp.