Free Devil's Own by Susan Laine Page B

strolled in like he owned the place, the bell above the door pinging as he entered. Like before, his clothes were too tight and too black, and his black feather boa seemed to be a regular part of his look. His black, gelled hair stood up in rigid spikes, and he wore makeup on his eyes and lips.
    “Autumnsong,” Gus greeted the young man politely but not warmly.
    The boy walked up to the counter, chuckling and swishing his hips. “I love how you don’t like me.” Gus remained silent, part of him wishing the guy would just be gone, but another part of him was curious about this unexpected visit. “Ooh, can I have one of those?” Autumnsong pointed at the pamphlets.
    “Sure. Help yourself. They were donated by the Beltane event organizers anyway.” He shoved the wooden box closer to Autumnsong, who eagerly started to flip through them. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in Beltane festivities.”
    Autumnsong looked up through his startlingly long black lashes. “Why? Because I’m not Wiccan like you? Why couldn’t I enjoy a festival of the start of summer, pretty flowers, and unabashed sex?”
    Gus shook his head, stifling a chuckle in his throat. “Figured you’d have an agenda.”
    “Oh, you think you know me that well… Gus?” Autumnsong batted his eyelashes in a lurid spectacle of flirtation.
    Annoyed, Gus wasn’t having any of it. “What can I do for you today? Would you like to purchase something? We have a wide assortment of supplies for all neo-pagan faiths.”
    Autumnsong quirked an eyebrow. “You admit Satanism is a neo-pagan faith?”
    Gus gritted his teeth. “No.”
    “I would’ve expected such hostility from representatives of Christian denominations, but not from you.” Autumnsong didn’t sound pissed or offended, simply amused. “But I digress. So, what’s on sale today?”
    “Herbs, essential oils, and incense sticks. They’re over there.” Gus pointed toward the opposite wall, which was filled with cubicle-shaped shelves with tiny bottles, bowls, sticks, and pouches filling each and every one. “Twenty percent off this week.”
    “You’re a good businessman, I see.” Autumnsong glanced in the direction of the items on sale but made no move to rush over.
    “I try.” Gus looked around the shop. There were a couple of female tourists browsing the jewelry and amulet section, and two teenage girl witches checking out the literary section on the other end of the shop. In short, not enough folks about to distract him from his irksome guest.
    “You’re open long hours,” Autumnsong commented, seemingly innocently, but Gus had a bad feeling. “When do you take lunch?”
    “Around one,” he replied reluctantly, not comfortable with or good at lying. “I usually eat in the back. I make my own lunches. Easier, quicker, and cheaper that way.”
    Autumnsong perked up and clapped his hands, his eyes sparkling. “Excellent. I wanna take you to lunch today. It’s almost one now. Oh, this is beautiful! How much for this?” He picked up a rose quartz pendulum, the stone silky smooth and pink.
    “That’s a chakra pendulum piece,” Gus stated automatically. “Nine ninety-five.”
    “Mmm, I love it. I’ll take it. Do you gift wrap?” His big brown eyes gleamed with an excitement that made Gus uneasy.
    “Sorry, we only gift wrap during the winter holidays.” That was a lie, but he wanted the boy gone. Gus vowed to make peace with the Goddess at some later date.
    Autumnsong chuckled as if he knew the truth. “Fine. Ring it up, my good man.” Gus held back his snappish words, rang the charge, and accepted the cash. “Keep the change.”
    Gus was ready to throw the junk change back in the boy’s face, but that would have been rude. After all, Autumnsong had done nothing wrong, just showed up. The only crime he had committed—in Gus’s eyes—was his satanic faith. And that was no reason to treat the man like a second-class citizen, or worse yet, like trash.
    Especially