She took Harmony’s hand and Damon’s and brought them together under the table. Damon’s fingers were hot and dry. Her body gave a little leap, remembering the feel of that hand sliding over her bare skin, doing the most amazing things. . . .
A cup clattered against a plate. Harmony squeaked and tried to pull away, but Eudora hissed at her. “No.”
“But—”
“No!” Eudora placed her arms over Harmony’s shoulders, Damon’s, too, and drew them close. “Believe in your power to defeat him, and you will. Fill your minds with goodness, and together push it outward. He’ll not be able to stand against you.”
“That sounds too simple.”
“It is. That’s what too few people remember. Good and evil. Right versus wrong. Yes versus no. There’s nothing complicated about it. Good repels wickedness. If it were otherwise, the world would have gone to hell in more ways than one eons ago.”
“Aye,” Harmony heard Damon murmur, as if he understood.
“Hold it right there, you three.” Robbie pushed back from the table. “Great picture!” He snapped a shot on his digital, and in the distraction of showing everyone the image, Eudora spoke under her breath to Harmony and Damon.
“Whenever it seems the Devil is near, join hands and think of goodness—of God.”
“Like a séance?” Robbie asked.
Eudora frowned at him. “Eat your eggs. Go on,” she urged Harmony and Damon. “The two of you. Try it. You are weak alone and most powerful together against the force of evil. Gather the light of goodness around you, the power, and then use it to fight Satan—to thrust him away. Let the light expand out from you, then push. Together, you will not lose.”
“Grandmother,” Daddy warned.
“Hush, boy! Can’t you see I’m teaching a lesson here? What is it with this family sometimes?” Eudora made a cluck of annoyance. “Together you can fight him off. And in fighting him off, you can fight
“The snotlings,” Harmony whispered.
“Now, let’s practice. Close your eyes and hold hands.”
Damon’s hand closed over Harmony’s as he shut his eyes. Their arms rested on Eudora’s lap, on the bright blue wool of her skirt.
“You, too, girl. Close your eyes.”
“Yes, Great-grandma.” Oh, how she didn’t want to listen! Not with little green men on the loose. If her mother were to see them, or Daddy, then the explanations would have to follow, and they’d learn about Damon—
“Now,” Eudora growled.
Harmony squeezed her eyes shut.
She could hear something scratching on her plate. Maybe the snotling was trying to dig out from under the biscuit. If she could just squish it back down . . .
But Damon held fast to her hand. Eudora pressed her hands over their clasped ones. “Think of good . . . as hard as you ever have.”
Harmony pursed her lips and concentrated, thinking of heaven and light, of faith and eternity . . . and the quiet hush of a snowy morning, of the softness of a baby’s head, the ripple of grass in the fields . . . the tenderness of Damon’s kiss, and that way he looked at her that morning in the twilight of dawn, when he’d held her so close. . . .
To her amazement a sense of assurance came over her, a strange and quiet confidence. And then, she sensed the press of Damon’s mind against hers, the first time she’d felt him reaching out to her with his thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she opened up and let him in.
A burst of light exploded behind her eyes. Damon’s hand convulsed in hers, and Eudora made a quiet sound of approval. “Yes, children. That’s what you do. Now fight. Push.”
Gather the light, Harmony thought.
The table started vibrating. Harmony’s eyes shot open. The orange juice in everyone’s glasses shook, and the silverware rattled.
“He’s angry,” Damon murmured.
The shaking continued and Mama made a gasp. “What is it, Jake? An earthquake?”
“A small aftershock to one we had some time back,” Damon explained with utter calm.
The little kitchen chandelier swung crazily, and juice splashed on the tablecloth. But Harmony wasn’t afraid anymore. She had control now. “Bring it on,” she told Lucifer and gripped Damon’s hand with all her might. “I’m ready to kick some devil’s ass.”
“Harmony!”
Harmony smiled a bit sheepishly at her mother’s incredulous glare. “Sorry, Mama. It just slipped out. Great- grandma’s got me all fired up about good versus evil.”
Her brothers laughed.
A tearing noise dragged all their gazes upward. The tremors had knocked the chandelier loose. Plaster sprinkled down. It dropped a couple of inches, swinging on its wire. Then it plunged to the table with a mighty crash.
The tremors stopped. Bracing herself, Harmony glanced around the table with the fallen chandelier looking like a gaudy centerpiece. The strawberries were behaving like strawberries were supposed to behave. Same with the cups. And no little green men cavorted over the tablecloth.
“Yes,” Harmony whispered. “Yes. Thank you, Great-grandma.”
Cackling softly, Eudora patted Harmony on the thigh and resumed eating her breakfast. Jake Jr. moved the chandelier to the floor, and Mama plucked a piece of plaster out of her coffee. After a few nervous comments about the rarity of earthquakes in the Rocky Mountains, the conversation returned to its normal volume and enthusiasm.
“A toast,” her father called out and raised his glass of orange juice. “To getting to know our daughter’s new friend. Damon.”
“Do you think you can join us for Christmas, honey?” Mama asked him. Then her apologetic gaze swerved to Harmony. “Or will that be too soon?”
Harmony smiled. “No, not too soon at all. I’m kind of hoping he’ll be staying around for a while.”
The look in Damon’s gold-brown eyes was one she’d never forget. “Aye, lass. I’ll be around for a while. As close to forever as heaven allows.”
Harmony was terrified no one would ever return to church after the flying monkeys, but as the week went on the casseroles started arriving, brought by sympathetic townspeople, and even cookies, baked, incredibly, by the terror triplets Withering, Scornful, and Derisive. Jeanie stopped by, of course, and the Tawdrys, Mrs. O’Cleary, and her great-granddaughter Annabelle, all impressing the Faithfulls with their good words about Harmony and Mysteria Community Church, while Damon devoted his energy to acting the part of the perfect suitor, an ex-demon trying to win the hand of the preacher’s daughter. It drove home the uniqueness of Mysteria. Everyone was welcome here, no one was ostracized, no matter who—or what—you were.
When the crowds returned that next Sunday, Harmony smiled from the pulpit at her father, looking so proud as the guest of honor in the front pew. Next to him were her brothers, Mama, and Great-grandmother Eudora, whose hand rested affectionately, and rather appreciatively, on Damon’s rock-hard thigh.
Later that night, after the Sunday dinner dishes were cleaned and put away, and her family was gathered around the television in the living room, Harmony and Damon sneaked outside.
Taking her hand, Damon led her to the garden and under the apple tree where he’d landed naked only a few months before. Fireflies floated all around them. Frogs and crickets provided a ceaseless chorus. Damon slung his
