The Demon in Me

  Malcolm cast a dark look back at Eden before returning his attention to the cop. “I’ll remember that. Come, Mother.”

  He and Rosa left, their shoes crunching against the shards of glass from the broken door.

  Eden got up and moved across the office toward the coffee machine. She poured a cup, black, and brought it shakily to her lips. She could have used a much stiffer drink, but it would have to do.

  “Thanks for that,” she said after a moment.

  He just looked at her. “You want to tell me what that was all about?”

  How must it have looked to Ben? She had no idea what to tell him. All she knew was that the truth was not an option. “Like I said before, a misunderstanding.”

  “So you know them?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Who are they?” he pressed. “And what did that woman mean when she thanked you for your business?”

  “Avon reps are really aggressive these days.”

  “Eden—”

  She shook her head. “Just drop it. Please.”

  “Drop it?” His expression tensed. “I broke your door getting in here to save you and you won’t even fill me in on what I saved you from?”

  Despite what had happened, she couldn’t help smiling at that. “My hero.”

  “I thought it was just the serial killer earlier, but you’re obviously a magnet for trouble. Or maybe this is just your lucky day?”

  “I forgot to check my horoscope. It probably said for me not to leave the house this morning. Or possibly ever again.” She tried to make it sound light and almost succeeded.

  He eyed her skeptically. “You’re not going to tell me who they were, are you?”

  “It really doesn’t matter anymore. They’re gone and they’re not coming back.” She took another sip of the strong, bitter liquid.

  “How do you know that?”

  She didn’t. She looked at the door again. “Looks like I’m going to have to call a repairman.”

  “You’re trying to change the subject.” He rubbed his temples. “I should have arrested them.”

  “If I say pretty please let it go, will you?”

  “I’ve always had a hard time letting things go. Even when I probably should.” He actually laughed a little at that, then closed the distance between them, taking her face in his hands. He rubbed his thumb gently along her cheek. “He didn’t even leave a mark when he hit you. That’s one good thing.”

  “Like I said, it wasn’t a big deal.” She bit her bottom lip and looked up at him, feeling awkward at being this close to the gorgeous cop, especially after what he’d witnessed. “Uh… not that I’m complaining, of course, but why did you come back?”

  His expression was still tense from having his questions unanswered. It probably wasn’t something he was accustomed to. “I forgot my sunglasses.” He nodded toward the table next to them that held the now unappetizing-looking donuts from earlier. Sure enough, his dark wraparound sunglasses were still there.

  “You drove all the way back to get these?” Eden asked, surprised. “I could have dropped them in the mail for you.”

  “I know.” He shrugged and a small grin twitched at his lips. “I guess I also had an urge to break a door. And here I am.”

  “Eden,” Darrak said weakly from inside her head. “He’s come back because he likes you.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. “I’m glad you came back.”

  At the moment, she meant both of them. For a moment, she’d thought Malcolm had been successful in exorcising Darrak. An unexpected swell of relief filled her to hear her inner demon’s voice again.

  Ben’s grin widened, finally breaking completely through the tense look he’d worn. “Oh, yeah?”

  She nodded but found it difficult to speak again. What was it about the cop that made her tongue-tied? Especially when she thought he might actually be interested in her.

  “Look, I probably shouldn’t have come back here, but I’m glad I did.” Ben moved toward her to inspect her face again. “Did that bastard hurt you?”

  She shook her head. “It—it stung a bit, but I think I’m okay now. Why? I thought you said there’s no mark.”

  “There isn’t.” His warm touch moved along her jawline. “Looks perfectly fine to me.”

  “Oh. Uh… well, that’s good.” She cleared her throat and stepped back from him, then cursed herself for being a total, awkward wimp-girl.

  “You like him,” Darrak stated. “But you’re shy, aren’t you?”

  She didn’t reply. She wasn’t shy. She was just… reserved. Yeah, that was a good word. Reserved.

  “I have an idea,” the demon said. “A good one. If you promise to help me find the witch who cursed me, I’ll help you with the cop.”

  She really wanted to ask him how he intended to do that. In fact, she was curious enough to venture a “How?”

  Ben frowned. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Just talking to herself, as usual. Nothing strange or remotely bizarre about that, was there?

  “How will I help you?” Darrak replied. “I can tell you what to say and what to do to make yourself completely irresistible to this or any other man. It’s obvious he likes you already, so that will definitely help. You just need to get over your fear. A little inner prodding will do the trick. I think it’s a fair trade for what I want from you in return. What do you say?”

  Darrak was offering to act as her Cyrano de Bergerac?

  That was completely and utterly ludicrous.

  She didn’t need his help. She didn’t want anything to do with the demon at all. He’d turned her life into a complete nightmare in only a few hours.

  However, nightmare or not, after what had nearly happened with the exorcists she’d hired, she was feeling very guilty. A few more minutes and she knew that Darrak would have been completely destroyed.

  And he was right about one thing. She seriously needed some help in the romance department.

  Was she actually considering his offer? She’d do whatever she could to find the witch and he’d help her not be a shrinking violet in front of Ben?

  It was so crazy it just might work. A give-and-take partnership. With a demon.

  “Okay, fine,” she finally said.

  Ben grabbed his sunglasses and put them in his pocket. “So I guess that’s it. Do you need a ride home?”

  She shook her head “My car’s here.”

  It was a rusty old Toyota with over two hundred thousand miles on the odometer, but she still liked to use the word car to describe it, anyhow. She’d taken a cab into the heart of the city earlier for the police case so she could avoid driving on the busy highway.

  He nodded. “And what about the door?”

  She eyed the broken glass. “There’s actually a guy around the corner I can call to patch it up right away.”

  “I can wait with you.”

  “No, really, it’s not necessary.”

  He frowned. “You’re sure?”

  “I am.”

  Ben hesitated as if ready to argue with her, but then had second thoughts. He nodded firmly instead. “I’ll send you a check to cover the damages.”

  “Not necessary. We could use a new door anyhow. Maybe a sturdier one this time. Obviously the old one was a bit flimsy. Not that I’m complaining or anything since its flimsiness came in real handy tonight.”

  Real sexy, come-hither talk if ever she’d heard any.

  “Ask him to dinner tomorrow night,” Darrak suggested.

  She swallowed.

  “Ask him,” Darrak said again.

  “Good-bye, Eden.” Ben smiled. “Again. And if those people come anywhere close to you again, give me… or the precinct… a call right away, okay?”

  He reluctantly pushed the doorframe open.

  “Do it,” Darrak urged.

  “Ben,” she called just before he left.

  He turned. “Yeah?”

  She cleared her throat. “I know I kind of said no before, but list
en, I want to change my mind.”

  “About what?”

  “Um… I was… uh, kind of wondering if you had any dinner plans tomorrow night?”

  A glint of surprise entered his dark blue eyes. “Dinner?”

  “Yeah.”

  “With you?”

  She faltered and felt her cheeks heat up. He was going to turn her down. This was Detective Ben Handsome, after all. She had no idea why he was single when any woman in the world would kill for the chance to date him. “Unless you don’t want to. I totally understand.”

  Another smile touched his lips. “You’d understand, would you? Why, because I called you a troublemaker before? Or because that ass called you a dangerous woman?”

  “Well… both. To start with.”

  “I’d love to have dinner with you.”

  She was honestly surprised by his answer. “Oh… well, good.”

  “Good.”

  Darrak groaned. “Sounds like you’re definitely going to need my help.”

  She gritted her teeth.

  “So I’ll call you?” Ben asked. “Tomorrow afternoon? And we’ll go from there?”

  She grabbed a business card off her desk and gave it to him. “I’ll be here.”

  He nodded and tucked the card into his jacket pocket. “Have a good night. And try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

  She tried to think of a fantastically witty comeback for that, but came up blank. “Yeah, you, too.”

  He grinned at her and left the office.

  “Yeah, you, too?” Darrak repeated. “That was smooth. Why do you have such a hard time talking to him? Are you like this with every man you meet? You’re too attractive to be a spinster. Do you live alone with a great many cats?”

  She pressed her lips together. “Shut up, please.”

  He went silent. She still couldn’t feel him as much as she could earlier. Before, he’d been like a weight on her chest—not enough to hurt, but enough to be noticeable. Now there was nothing but his faint voice as if he was speaking from an adjoining room.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “You mean, did I survive your attempt to exorcise me? Obviously, or I wouldn’t be talking to you now, would I?”

  “I didn’t know it was going to be like that.”

  “Did you think they were going to lure me out with a bowl of warm milk and put a leash on me?”

  “No. But I didn’t know it would cause you so much pain.” She swallowed, then crossed her arms and looked out of the broken door at the parking lot. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t blame you. You didn’t ask for this. You’re going through the five stages of demonic possession. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression… eventually you’ll finally reach acceptance.”

  “Aren’t those the five stages of dying?”

  “Same stages, different issue. Right now I think you’re still dealing with the anger. But we’ve moved into the bargaining stage because you agreed to help me out.”

  She turned and went back to her desk, straightening her keyboard, which had detached from the computer during the attempted exorcism. “I look forward to my inevitable depression.”

  “I think you’ve done great so far.”

  “Great? I just spent fifteen hundred bucks on a crazy exorcist whose son slapped me around.” She held her hand against her cheek.

  “Some people pay much more than that. For the exorcism, that is. Although some people also pay to be slapped around. Humans are strange.”

  She concentrated on his voice. “You still don’t sound too good.”

  “No, well… it was mostly from when he launched into the Latin. That part of an exorcism always tends to be a bit draining. Literally.”

  “I thought you said you’ve never been faced with a real exorcism before.”

  “I haven’t. But I’ve seen them performed—from a safe distance, of course. It’s not pretty. Another thirty seconds and I would have been only an unpleasant memory for you.”

  She sat on the edge of her desk. “Sure, now you tell me.” He was quiet for a moment. “So you really like that cop?” She nodded. “That’s an understatement.”

  “Fair enough. Tomorrow night we’ll make sure you look extremely gorgeous. You’ll go out for dinner with him. I’ll guide you into not saying anything too embarrassing—”

  She frowned at that.

  “And he’ll be eating out of your hand in under an hour. Guaranteed. Then we will focus on finding my witch. Deal?”

  She still felt more than a little uncomfortable with the oddly helpful Darrak. “You’re asking me to officially 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 not small, purple, angry, or particularly pointy.”

  “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… different to me—even aside from your physical body. And I’m able to draw energy from you in order to take form as well as talk to you, unlike my relationships with any of my other hosts. Yet I don’t sense anything overtly Otherworldly about you.”

  “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.

  SEVEN

  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.”