Adelaide Upset (5 page)

He pulled a book out. The
front cover was a picture of a chesty woman in an artfully draped
gown.

“
That’s not
mine!”

He started flipping pages,
unperturbed by my obvious lie. His fingers moved quickly, with
dexterous coordination, the result of working under a car for
years, piecing parts together in small spaces. Currently leafing
through my romance novel, a secret addiction I’d diligently tried
to hide. He paused. “Sebastian parted her creamy thighs,” he began
to read aloud.

“Shut up!” I said, yanking the book away
from him.

“
That page was creased,”
he said. “A favored scene?”

I threw the book across
the room, embarrassed, but unable to deny the humor of our
situation. “Alright,” I sighed. “You made your point. I’m not
ready.”

By his eyes I knew that he
was amused, that small sign of emotion warming me. “But,” I added,
sliding myself into his lap, no longer shy about wearing my bra.
“Maybe we could make out without our shirts on for a while?” I
asked, plucking at his hem.

He grabbed the back of his
collar, pulling it over his head with one deft move. “Just don’t
call me Sebastian.”

“Shut up,” I said again, this time
laughing.

“Sterling’s Motel, how may I help you?”

“Did you sleep with him yet?”

“No,” I told Francesca, sighing into the
phone. “But I’m sure it’ll be soon,” I added, thinking of the night
before.

“
What are you waiting for?
You need to hurry if you want to secure a guy like
that.”

“
I told you he was
good-looking,” I said a bit smugly.

“Good-looking? He’s hot!” she gushed. “He
should be in a jeans commercial, shirtless, with a horse or maybe a
truck in the background.”

“
He has a truck actually,
this cool old Ford he’s always fixing up—”

“Ugh,” Francesca interrupted. “I don’t
care.”

“
You’re right,” I
apologized. “Sorry.” I must
really
like Lucas if I thought
his boring hobbies were somehow newsworthy.

“Yeah, so he’s hot,” Francesca admitted. “I
was surprised. But it was weird. When you weren’t around he sort of
turned into a robot.”

“
I know what you mean,” I
told her. “He can be a bit... withdrawn, but he’s been better
lately,” I assured, thinking of those few feelings I’d seen, the
rare smile and frown.

“Withdrawn? Uh, no. He was a robot,
seriously. I mean it wasn’t so bad when you were around, at least
then he seemed almost human, but without you he was, like, the
terminator.”

“
I’m sure you enjoyed the
challenge,” I said tartly.

“
I couldn’t help it!”
Francesca answered, voice high and defensive. “Besides, I had to
make sure he wouldn’t stray when faced with temptation.”

“
No more flirting with my
boyfriend,” I said, putting my foot down.

“
Okay. Okay. But,
Adelaide, seriously, sleep with him already. I have experience with
men, and I’m telling you, a guy that hot, if he’s not getting it
from you, he’s getting it from somewhere.”

“
That’s not true, Lucas
likes me.”

“Of course he does,” she agreed. “He should
have broken up with you three times over by now for not putting
out, but he hasn’t, so he must like you a lot. But men have needs.
And hot men don’t have trouble scratching that itch, if you know
what I mean.”

“No,” I said dryly. “You were too
subtle.”

“Don’t get smart, I’m trying to help you.
Have sex with him, the sooner the better.”

“Well I can’t, he went out of town.”

“Where?” Francesca asked sounding
worried.

“He’s picking up some car part in Arizona.
He’ll be back in a few days,” I assured her.

“Are you sure?”

“He’s not cheating!” I said, annoyed at her
persistence.

“Have you checked his receipts?”

“What? No! I don’t even know what you’re
talking about.”

“
Men always leave crumpled
receipts in their pockets. When he gets back, just glance at a few
to make sure he was where he said he was,” Francesca
suggested.

“You are insane.”

“
A smart woman is a
proactive woman. Adelaide, have you searched his house?” She didn’t
wait for me to answer, plowing on. “Take advantage of his absence
and poke around, see what he’s hiding.”

“
I’m hanging up now.” And
I did.

Apart from Francesca’s
call, my shift at work was predictably uneventful. I had one
check-in, an annoying couple, both of them young, barely old enough
to rent a room. The guy was nervous and excited, probably his first
time. I didn’t catch any feelings from the girl, so probably not
hers. I put them in the room furthest from the office, as was my
habit. I’ll let you imagine how disturbing it is to feel someone
else’s sexual experience, especially when you haven’t ever done the
deed yourself.

I dealt with that sort of
situation a lot. Unlike the fancier hotels, Sterling’s Motel got
the local business, townies nipping off to have an affair, kids
escaping their parents to get laid, or parents escaping their kids
to... you get the point. This alone made Sterling’s somewhat seedy,
as did the fact that Ben refused to make improvements on the place
after his wife Mary died. They had decorated together and he was
secretly sentimental. So the blue and ivory paint was faded and
peeling, the pictures in each room obviously outdated, and even the
shrubbery that hung around the L shaped building was overgrown. But
even the Crowne, the island’s fanciest hotel, didn’t have customers
as faithful as ours. Well, they weren’t faithful to their spouses,
but they always chose Sterling’s when seeking a place for their
torrid affairs.

I worked at the Crowne for
a time. That was how I met Francesca, but even though they’d paid
more I didn’t regret quitting. Too many people and too much
pressure. At Sterling’s I was never overwhelmed, and if the rest of
my shift proved anything, it could even be relaxing.

I’d talked Ben into
letting me install a dartboard in the office. Well, actually, I
hung it up and then waited for him to yell. When he was done I’d
compromised by moving it to the back of the cupboard door so our
guests wouldn’t see it. So I was brushing up on my dart skills when
Missy arrived for her shift. She pretended to be all disapproving,
making thinly veiled comments about my lack of professionalism, but
it didn’t take a genius to know when the darts had been moved. I
could practically feel her willing me away so her turn could
start.

Without Lucas around I
wasn’t eager to get home, until I remembered Demidov’s diary. I
could read it without interruption, and if I was really lucky,
there would be a super depressing entry that would make me feel
better about myself. One could only hope.

Through my dealings with
them, I have come to learn of the origins of demonkind. It is
because of their past that they reside in a separate realm, kept
apart, forbidden from parting the veil. So how did they reach me?
How did my ability unfold into this, the now? They sought me
through my dreams, making nightmares of them. At first I was
unaware, believing myself haunted by the memory of my mother’s
murder and nothing more. I dreamt that day over and over, an alley
of shadowed brick, the pressing fingers holding me still, and that
sound, the echo of it spinning like a top in my mind, a maddening
reel. But the dream began to change, voices slipping in, and not
the voices of those men responsible, but a wicked drawn-out out
hiss. Names. At first it was only names they whispered, then
promises. Call my name and I’ll give you wealth, one swore, the
next offered knowledge, another love. The dream continued to morph,
intensifying until the faces of those men were replaced, their
visage taking on inhuman qualities. It continued, reduced to names,
promises, and the monstrous images to match, disfigured faces, with
jowls of slick, wetted flesh and discolored skin, knobs of
sprouting nail where none should be. For a time I tried to keep my
eyes open, my mind alert, refusing to succumb to sleep. But I did,
and then came a promise I could not refuse—Peace. Call my name and
I’ll give you a tranquil slumber, untroubled thoughts and peace
from what plagues you. I swear it, the creature whispered. I woke
and remembered only one thing. Raulriechmydl. I am ashamed to admit
I didn’t hesitate, not even for the smallest of seconds. I just
spit out his name, still reclining in my bed. Immediately following
my utterance there was a terrible noise, a rending, like the sound
of pulled fabric. The air changed too, the pressure in my bedroom
shifting, making my ears tingle, as if a storm were coming. I
waited, but nothing else happened. Little did I know that I’d just
ripped open the veil, parting it in invitation. When it comes to
dealing with demons, I learned my first lesson that night. Know
your desires, they are your weakness, know them and know what
you’re willing to do for them, because the demons surely
will.

It was those first few
hours all over again. With shaking fingers, I touched the back of
my head. My hand came away red. I continued to shift restlessly in
the dirt, but moving my foot, even slightly, was enough to make me
cry out in pain. It was swollen, frightfully so. But I wasn’t
afraid then, not yet, I believed I would be found. I just had to
wait.

Night came and the fear
began to trickle in as the light faded away. My injuries made me
nervous, but the dark, the bugs, they made me afraid. I’d always
hated spiders, centipedes and the like, but now I was trapped with
them. I could no longer see them coming, but felt them wriggle and
creep. I could only swat at them faintly, for jerking too violently
turned me senseless from pain.

I’d felt a range of
unease throughout the waning day, but my first emotion, my
first
strong
emotion, was anger. It was dark and cold, the pain swamped
me, and all I could think of was how much I hurt. Where was my
family? Why hadn’t they found me? I went off for a walk hours
before and now it was dark, weren’t they worried?

With each new discomfort,
it was my family I cursed. I felt bereft and abandoned, certain
they were to blame. The anger and pain rampaged through me in equal
measure.

I’m coming, someone
whispered, their breath stirring my hair. But my hair continued to
move, twitching, and feathered light against my cheek. A bug! It
was crawling through my hair! I screamed, slapping at it, but there
was no insect, just a hand of frail legs, bent and twisted they
reached for me.

I’m coming.

Crack!

I lunged for the light, routine asserting
itself. It was the same, Smith hovering over my bed, the puzzle
spilled along the floor.

“
Just another nightmare,”
I muttered, feeling Smith’s worry and concern. Frankly, I was
surprised to see him so soon after the festival. He could disappear
for days at a time when I pressed him about his past.

Rubbing my eyes, I lurched
from bed. “Thanks,” I muttered, noticing all the lights in the
house were on. “I’m going to Luke’s.” Smith never followed me
there. He was very good about my privacy. The bathroom was strictly
off limits, and so was my boyfriend’s house. I never actually said
these rules out loud, but he had the good sense to follow them
anyway.

My house had once been my
haven. I was somewhat removed, living on a back road where I never
had to worry about emotional intrusion, Lucas being my closest
neighbor. But with the ghosts cropping up and my new nightmares, it
wasn’t so haveny anymore. So it was Luke’s house that I went to for
comfort. He offered companionship without the drawback of offloaded
feelings, plus no ghosts, no nightmares. I practically ran out the
back door to get there.

I didn’t quite make it
that far, pausing in my kitchen where I found the door to every
cupboard hanging wide open. “Smith!” I hollered, wanting him to
know I wasn’t in the mood for his ghosty bullshit. “Turn the lights
off and shut the fucking cupboards! And if you lock me out again
I’m going to call an exorcist!” Yeah, he totally did that, and
yeah, I totally would.

When I got to Luke’s I
bypassed the TV, going straight for the bed. Only when I shut off
the light to lie down I couldn’t sleep. My thoughts ping-ponged
between missing Lucas and dreading the return of that dream.
Throwing off the covers I jumped out of bed, switched the light
back on, and began to pace. I glanced around for some sort of
distraction, pulling open the nightstand drawer almost absently.
Suddenly I stopped, realizing Francesca’s words had wormed their
way into my brain. I hadn’t set out to, but I was
snooping.

I had spent many a night
in Lucas’ bed, feeling at home in his room, but I’d never really
looked around. Why shouldn’t I? Luke wouldn’t care, he didn’t get
mad. Ever. And it wasn’t as if I didn’t trust him. I’d stopped
worrying he was a sociopath some weeks before, so I knew I wouldn’t
find dismembered parts or a bloody chainsaw lying around. But maybe
I could learn something about him. His house was so good at keeping
secrets, the barren bachelor pad... but maybe if I just opened one
drawer.

I sort of sidled up to the
dresser, feeling guilty despite my argued logic as I eased open the
top drawer. I didn’t find anything, not in the dresser, not in the
desk, nothing leastwise that was interesting, not even a porn stash
under the bed. The last place I looked, somewhat disinterestedly,
was in the window seat. At first I only saw a pair of big boots and
a few stacked blankets. I almost shut the lid and let it be, but
for some inexplicable reason I reached down in, my hand rooting,
lost under the contents. My fingers brushed something, and even
before I saw the picture I knew that it would be...
significant.