make a deal with a devil?”
“I’m not a devil. I’m a demon.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Vast. Devils are small, purple, angry, and tend to poke things with their pitchforks. And that’s actually what they call their insanely pointy genitalia.”
That was an image she’d prefer to lose as soon as possible. “And all demons look like you?”
“Tall, dark, and handsome?” There was humor in his voice as he said it.
“I meant
“Demons… have varying appearances.”
Her mouth went dry just thinking about it. “That’s vague.”
“It is, isn’t it?” He was silent for a moment. “Now, unless you’d like to call Malcolm and his mom back…”
“I’ll pass.”
“Then I’m going to rest. I’m tired and my energy is very low right now.”
“That’s what happened when you lost form at sunset? You rested? I couldn’t hear you for a while.” Which is when she’d had the chance to consult the Yellow Pages and make the exorcism appointment.
“When I’m very weakened, I sink down to a deeper level of consciousness. To communicate with you like this I need a lot of energy to stay at the surface.”
Eden twisted a finger nervously through her long hair. “Did you hear what that woman said about me not being completely human?”
“I did.”
“What do you think she meant by that?” She leaned over to pick up a file folder that had fallen to the floor earlier. Then she spun her Rolodex to find the number of the door repairman.
“I’m not sure. I’ve never possessed a female before, so you do feel…
“She was probably just talking about my psychic ability.” She thought back to working at Psychic Connexions. “I do shuffle a mean deck of tarot cards, I’ll have you know.”
“That must be it. Do psychic abilities run in your family?”
Eden thought about her mother. Other than an addiction to gambling, drinking, emotionally neglecting her daughter, and working her way through a long line of hairy men, she didn’t recall anything unusual. Maybe her father had been psychic. She remembered one brief visit from him when she was a very little girl — a man with a big warm smile and hair the bright red color Eden’s would be if she didn’t make regular trips to the salon to keep it the darker auburn she preferred. But nothing like Ouija boards or crystal balls rang out in her memory.
“I don’t think so. But I haven’t exactly been all that close to my family over the years.”
“Think about it. But I’m going now. I’ll be back.”
“Darrak,” she began.
“Yeah?”
“What’s your real name?”
There was a long moment of silence and then a tired sigh. “I understand your fear and misgivings about what is going on, Eden. And I also understand why you called the exorcists. But if I ever tell you my true name, that would give you a great deal of power over me, so it’s something I must keep hidden from those who might do me harm.”
The pleasant tone had gone out of his voice and was replaced with something much icier. He was pissed about what had nearly happened. She’d nearly destroyed him — it wasn’t simply a matter of forgive and forget.
If someone had done the same thing to her, she’d have the same reaction. Darrak hadn’t harmed her, and yet she’d tried to hurt him out of fear and confusion.
“I understand,” she said softly.
“I’ll return soon.”
“Take your time.”
With a soft chuckle, his presence faded away.
After making a quick call to the twenty-four-hour repair service to come and fix the door, she sat in the office in silence waiting for them to arrive. She hadn’t even begun to work on the data input Andy wanted her to do, but she didn’t give a rat’s ass about that. She was exhausted. And she wanted to go home and fall into a big glass of red wine. Maybe when she woke up tomorrow morning she’d realize this had all been a bizarre dream.
The part about her and Ben going out for dinner tomorrow was the one good thing in this nightmare.
She’d nearly been stabbed by a serial killer. She was possessed by a demon. An exorcist had slapped her around. And to add insult to injury, she’d lost fifteen hundred hard-earned dollars.
She really should have checked her horoscope today. She made a mental note not to let that oversight happen again.
She’d just made a deal with a demon.
What in the hell had she been thinking?
It took until nearly eleven o’clock to get the door adequately fixed. Then Eden drove home, making a detour to the drive-through at McDonald’s to grab a garden salad and a McChicken.
As she distractedly pulled up in front of her apartment complex, something darted out in front of her car. She slammed on the brakes and her car skidded to a halt.
She groaned. “Please tell me that was not a black cat.” But it was. The feline glared at her from the bushes at the side of the driveway as she continued on.
“Bad luck omen,” Eden said under her breath. “You’re about eight hours too late.”
She parked in her assigned spot and got out of the car into the chilly October night, juggling her purse, takeout bag, and keys. Her leg bumped into something furry. She looked down.
The small black cat looked up. “Mrrroww?”
“Meow, yourself. Shoo. Go home.”
After entering through the main doors, she went directly to the elevator and took it up to the fourteenth floor, her mind overflowing with replays of her day with a killer, a cop, and a demon. She worked her key into the lock of her apartment and opened it. Something dark moved along the floor and scooted into the apartment ahead of her. It was the cat.
Had she been too distracted to even notice it in the elevator with her? Tricky little thing.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Eden flicked on a light by nudging the wall switch with her elbow. The cat had made a beeline for her brown corduroy couch, jumped up, and curled into a ball.
“Great,” she said, dropping her purse and bags on the coffee table. She pulled off her coat and threw it over the easy chair. “Sure. Make yourself comfortable. Same goes for your fleas. Fantastic, really. Just what I need.”
The cat lifted its head, then put it back down on its paws and closed its eyes.
“You can stay for a couple minutes to warm up,” Eden told it, “but then you need to go back to your home. I don’t have pets — no matter how smart they think they are. I don’t even have houseplants. Trust me, it’s better that way for everyone involved.”
She went into the kitchenette to pour herself a glass of wine — which she drained as she attempted to forget about her problems for thirty seconds — then sat down on her couch in the living room and pulled out her McChicken and forced herself to take a few bites before putting it down. The food sat heavily in her stomach. The cat raised its head, its attention fully on the sandwich.
“Mrrrow?”
She waved a hand. “Help yourself.”
The cat got up, jumped over to the discarded sandwich on the coffee table, sniffed at it daintily, and then chowed down, sesame seed bun and all, as if it hadn’t eaten in days. Then it returned to the couch and lay down next to Eden, resting its head against her leg. It began to purr.
So much for her plan to kick it out of the house. A quick glance out her balcony window showed it had started
