Adelaide Upset (35 page)

“
Why?” he asked wildly.
“Do you plan to set him on fire too?”

I struck the match and shrugged, letting it
drop.

Ben muttered something ugly and strode for
the office, wallet tucked under his arm.

The fire climbed high
right away, crackling orange and blue. I watched it eat Tim’s
stuff, the guitar reduced to charred sticks before its owner found
me. He strolled casually over, feeling good-natured as
usual.

“
Hey, Adelaide,” he
greeted, glancing down into the flames. He did a double take.
“Wait, is that—”

“
You know, I thought it
was a bit extraordinary that Lars didn’t believe me about Reed
Wallace. He was convinced we were sleeping together,” I told Tim.
“You saw us in the bathroom, and what a coincidence that Lars Hurst
arrives just a day later!” I glared at him. “Extraordinary... or
just a rat?”

Tim’s face lost all color.
“I ran out of money in Amsterdam,” he hurried to explain, and I
knew the excuses would be plentiful. “Met a guy, he worked for Mr.
Hurst, said he would help me. It was a lot of money, and all I had
to do was hang around and keep an eye on thin—”

“I don’t care,” I said bluntly. “Just
go.”

He stared morosely down at
the last bits of his guitar, small pieces that fell to ash, but he
said nothing. He wasn’t a bad guy, not really, just weak. And it
was for that reason that he went quietly, without a single protest.
Maybe Ben gave him his wallet back, maybe not. I didn’t
care.

I waited by the fire,
watching until it burned out. It was hot and lonely. More than ever
I needed Smith. I tried to be happy, thinking that if he
had
moved on then
at least he was at peace. But I wasn’t. I’d been so busy trying to
help Smith’s family learn the truth, trying to help them grieve and
move on, that I never stopped to do it myself. How was I going to
get by alone? Without Lucas? Without Smith?

I was a sloppy pot of
emotions when Stephen found me. They were all over the place, and I
even felt a smudge of anger towards him just then. How dare he be
sad! He didn’t even remember Smith, didn’t know him like I
did.

Stephen cleared his throat, lightly toeing
the ashes.

Great
, I thought sourly,
he’s probably here to defend
Tim
.

“
Adelaide, there’s
something I want to say.” He cleared his throat again, nervous and
awkward as ever. “I want to say thank you.”

Alright, I’ll admit, I was a little
surprised.

“
I’m not stupid you know,”
he said defiantly, sparing me a quick glance. “You were involved
somehow, I know it. But I’m grateful that you were.” He pulled the
watch from his pocket, holding it out for me to see. “It was his,
but I’m sure you already know that.” He gazed down at it. “It seems
so unfair that he died for nothing, just some stupid corporate
plot.”

I didn’t want to confirm
his observations, but for Smith’s sake I couldn’t stop myself. “He
was trying to protect a friend,” I corrected. “It wasn’t for
nothing.”

Stephen watched me, nodding thoughtfully.
“The funeral is Friday,” he told me. “I know you never met him or
anything, but I think you should come.”

“
I will,” I said without
hesitation. If I
had
helped Smith complete his unfinished business,
then it might be my last chance to say goodbye.

Stephen went off, taking
the cleaning cart with him, the wretched thing moaning as he
dragged it away. I started to stew all over again, thinking of how
the days would slow. It would be like my first few years on the
island all over again, home to work and work to home. I hadn’t
minded that life then, finding the routine a balm to my new,
volatile gift. But I enjoyed my companionship with Smith, my
relationship with Lucas, both drawing me out, making me vulnerable
in different ways. To go back, to return to my quiet solitude... it
would be bearable, but not enjoyable.

“So Ben says you’ve crossed the line,”
Francesca drawled, startling me from my cheerless thoughts. “He
mentioned something about arson.”

“
I suppose,” I admitted.
“But Tim really had it coming.”

Francesca made a noise, part amusement, part
something else. “I never know what you’ll do next,” she said,
staring into the smolder. “I guess that’s why I’m here, just wanted
to make sure you were still in one piece after last night.”

She was dressed up like
Bettie Page, minus the bangs. She had on a pair of those catlike
retro sunglasses, with cork wedges and the tiniest pair of shorts
I’d ever seen, both showcasing her tanned, long legs. She looked
like a movie star, perfect and interminable. As always, I just
couldn’t believe she was my friend.

“
I broke up with
Lucas.”

Her initial reaction was surprise, but only
a little, as if she’d been expecting this all along. The emotion
that really showed through was her anger. “The hot ones are always
assholes,” she seethed. “Fuck’im.”

“He didn’t cheat on me,” I said. “He didn’t
do anything, really. It just... wasn’t meant to be.”

She thought I was in
denial, but was too loyal to say so. “Spend the night at my place,”
Francesca insisted. “We’ll eat ice cream and you can tell me all
about it.”

I’d been drowning in
misery, feeling sorry for myself, convinced I would die alone. What
a self-centered bitch I was. I hadn’t thought of Francesca. How
could I not think of Francesca? Sure, she might get married and
move on too, but for now she was here, my friend. I wouldn’t forget
it again.

I underestimated Missy’s
interest in Tim. I knew she’d be mad that he was gone, but I didn’t
know she’d
go
mad. After peeling the details out of Stephen (the poor boy
crumbled like dry cheese) she started screaming. She was so
overwrought I thought she might actually slap me.

To be honest, the whole
thing was kind of therapeutic for her. She finally came to terms
with her feelings, namely the anger and resentment she felt towards
me. No longer bothering to conceal them, she called me every name
under the sun, accused me of dying my hair, and said I had
veneers.

I think she intended to upset me, but her
tantrum had quite the opposite affect. I was suppressing laughter
by the time I left Sterling’s, amused for sure.

I went home to grab some things, having
agreed to spend the night at Francesca’s. Her neighbor’s feelings
would seep in my slumber, but I could survive one crappy night’s
sleep. After the demon dreams, I was getting used to it.

I’d just finished up packing a bag when I
heard something, something that set my teeth on edge. It was a
wheezing sound, the wet imitation of breathing. I glanced around my
loft, wildly searching for the creature.

He seeped out of my
armoire, an oily black smudge.

“Get out of my house!”

The blot of darkness drifted around my room,
seeming to see without eyes, taking it all in. Shit.

“
Get out!” I screeched
louder. “I dismiss you, Raulriechmydl. Now,
go!
”

It hacked, a thick sound,
floating over to taunt me. “That would work... if you had been the
one to summon me.”

Bill knew the demon’s
name, well,
if
he’d remembered it after his possession. Lars might’ve
tracked him down, it would’ve been easy enough. But if that had
been the case then I wouldn’t be standing in my room, but tied to a
chair in my kitchen. So...

“
Lars read the diary,” I
concluded.

“
Nooo,” the demon said,
hovering over my bed. “I kept my end of the deal, destroying
Demidov’s diary. Larson Hurst never read under its cover, of that I
am sure.”

“
Then how—”

“
You never forbid me from
giving my name,” the demon told me. “Yesss,” it cooed, seeing that
I understood. “While you hid, cowering and afraid, I faced him.
Such a strong man...”

Shit. Lars might not know how to bind a
demon, but he had the power to summon one.

“
I look forward to seeing
more of you, my little peach,” the demon jeered. It sunk down into
my bed, brushing over the blankets as it disappeared.

Well, crap. My first
summoning and I’d buggered it up.