Demon Can’t Help It (19 page)

Jo nodded in an absent effort to appear attentive. But the strange heaviness in the air seemed to intensify, crowding in around her.

Then out of the counter of her eye, she caught a movement. A shadowy shift, something, or someone, standing at the end of the sofa.

Jo didn’t move, not wanting to see or feel what was happening. It was just her crazy imagination. Everything had been her overactive, overwrought imagination.

And it had to be her imagination, because Erika wasn’t reacting as if anything was amiss. Erika talked about God knows what, while all Jo could focus on was that hint of something to her left.

“What do you think?”

Jo straightened, realizing Erika was addressing her directly. “I’m sorry?”

Erika smiled indulgently, seeing that Jo hadn’t been listening. “I was saying that the band is considering changing bars permanently. And I wondered whether you thought it was a good idea.”

Since Jo hadn’t heard any of the pros or cons her friend had said, she really had no idea. So she just gave her a vague nod. “Sure.”

Erika nodded, too, began to dig through her purse. “I think so, too.”

Well, at least she answered that right, Jo thought. But her dubious feeling of relief was blotted out by another movement at her left, this time closer.

And there was a form now, solid—not just shadow. The hint of black hair, of pale skin. Just flashes like watching a person on a subway platform as the train rushes by.

Jo concentrated on Erika, willing her friend to see this person, thing, whatever it was. But Erika merrily searched through her purse, glancing in Jo’s direction every now and then. Talking animatedly. And certainly not aware of an unexplained vision near Jo.

Jo opened her mouth, ready to ask her outright if she could see something there. But then closed her mouth. Did she really want further validation she was insane?

So instead Jo sat perfectly still, willing the image away. Willing herself to stay calm.

But both of those goals were quickly abandoned when the image beside her reached for her. A pale hand with long fingers and blunt nails stretched toward her arm, coming into clear, crisp view, even as the rest of the apparition remained indistinct in her peripheral vision.

Jo jumped up, blind panic taking over. She headed for the door.

“Hey,” Erika called, confused by her sudden departure.

But Jo didn’t stop. She had to get out of there, her only thought to escape the visions and the oppressive feelings surrounding her. She needed air.
Breathe. Just breathe
.

Erika didn’t catch up with her until she was already out on the sidewalk. “What’s the rush?”

“Sorry,” Jo said, fighting the urge to brace her hands on her knees and lean forward to push away the rush of dizziness making it hard to focus.

Erika touched her arm, and Jo jumped.

“Sorry,” Jo said that her own overreaction, laughing, the sound brittle and tinged with hysteria.

“Jo, what’s going on?”

Jo supposed it was impossible to convince her friend she was fine now. But she wasn’t admitting what she thought she’d just seen. Erika might believe her, being a big fan of all things occult, but telling Erika wouldn’t make her feel better.

Jo just wanted to feel normal. Sane.

“I just felt a little dizzy. I need some fresh air.”

Erika studied her for a moment, her blue-gray eyes roaming over Jo’s face.

“Do you need some water or anything?”

Jo shook her head, relieved Erika wasn’t going to grill her further. “I’m fine. Just need air.”

Erika regarded her a moment longer, then nodded. “Okay. I’m going to get my purse. Do you need yours, too?”

“Yes. I think it’s on the sofa.” And she didn’t want to go back near that sofa at the moment.

“I’ll be right back,” Erika said as if she expected Jo to do something rash in her absence. Which probably did seem likely. She clearly wasn’t acting normal.

“All right. I’ll be right back,” Erika repeated, then hurried back toward her apartment.

Jo remained on the street, her arms wrapped around her middle. She paced, keeping her attention on the cracks in the sidewalk.

Then she heard a noise. Against her will, she looked up, following the direction of the noise. On the upper balcony stood the woman from her other trips to Erika and Maggie’s. Her pale hands curled around the railing as she watched Jo.

From this distance, Jo couldn’t feel the crushing weight of the apparition’s presence. No tingle of electricity ran over her skin, but Jo now realized this was who had reached out to her.

The woman watched her with those pale eyes, her sadness and despair stretching out to her, even if her otherworldly vibe couldn’t. The tenseness and fear faded a little. This woman needed help.

That didn’t make Jo feel better about the fact that she was seeing ghosts. But at least she realized she didn’t need to feel threatened by her.

The woman waved at her, as if testing the theory that Jo could really see her. Jo waved back.

Great, seeing ghosts wasn’t bad enough. Now you know you’ve been interacting with them.

“Who are you waving to?” Erika said, reappearing by Jo’s side.

Jo glanced at Erika, then back at the balcony. When she looked back, the woman was gone. All she could see was a pair of golden eyes blinking down like a lazy owl halfheartedly regarding a mouse.

“That cat,” Erika said, assuming now that was what held Jo’s attention. “He is the strangest pet I’ve ever had.”

Jo couldn’t disagree with that, especially if her thoughts about the creature were true. Good Lord, was she really debating the idea? That the woman and the cat, a male cat at that, were one and the same?

She supposed once you got into ghosts and shape-shifting, gender juxtaposition was really the least unbelievable part, wasn’t it?

“Boris, what are you doing up here?” Erika called to the cat as if the animal might answer.

Then again, he might. Again, that would hardly be the weirdest thing Jo had had happen.

The cat didn’t, though, and Jo was admittedly relieved.

“I swear that cat doesn’t even like any of us, yet he stays.” Erika handed Jo her purse.

Jo nodded, glancing up there again before falling into step with her friend.

“Yeah,” Jo agreed, her voice dry, which was better than hysterical, “that cat is weird.”

M
aksim remained in the doorway across the street, watching. He’d considered approaching Jo when she’d been alone on the sidewalk. She’d been pacing, her movements agitated, nervous.

But he’d remained hidden, distracted by her behavior. She’d stopped pacing and stared up at the balcony on the front of Ren’s apartment building.

He followed her gaze, trying to see what held her so rapt, but the balcony appeared empty to him. Nothing there out of the ordinary. Nothing at all.

Then, to his further confusion, she waved. The gesture was oddly tentative, as if someone waved to her first, and she wasn’t quite sure whether she should respond in kind.

But then, Erika came out to join her, and when they all looked back to the balcony, it appeared that they were watching Erika’s strange cat. Maksim wasn’t a cat person to begin with—although he liked them better than dogs. Needy little creatures, dogs were. But to wave at a cat? But then, that cat was weird, he had to admit. More than once he could have sworn that same cat had shown up at his place—well, his sister’s place.

And like just now, he would have bet money that cat hadn’t been on that balcony moments before?

Something wasn’t right. And given Jo’s behavior last night, with the whatever in the hallway, he wondered if he should be questioning the woman’s mental state.

Maybe that’s why he couldn’t read her mind. She was just too crazy.

But he immediately dismissed that idea. Maksim had met insane—hell, his last tryst had been with Vittorio and Ren’s mother and she’d been certifiable. No—that made Orabella sound just normally nuts—the woman had been batshit crazy.

Jo wasn’t. Something was going on with her. And whatever it was, he’d like it to explain her hot/cold behavior with him, too, but he wasn’t sure about that.

And because of his confusion, he’d resorted to being a stalker. But he didn’t have much time to think about the depths to which he’d fallen—which again for a person whose home base was Hell was really saying something—because Jo was on the move.

Maksim waited a little before following the twosome. He couldn’t get too close, because Erika might sense him. Lampirs weren’t quite as attune to other preternaturals as the regular bloodsucking vampires. Unless they were older, which made him glad that neither Vittorio or Ren were with the women. They’d sense him, he was sure.

But as it was, he only had to stay about a block behind. Not that it mattered; he had a good idea where they were headed.

Sure enough, the two friends headed directly to the bar where The Impalers were playing.

Maksim waited outside, watching them as they wove their way through the crowd. It was still early, so the bar wasn’t terribly crowded. The band played on a stage at the far end of the room. Jo and Erika went up to the stage, waving to the others. Vittorio did a hair toss, clearly for Erika’s benefit.

Ah, the vanity of vampires. Right up there with demons, to be sure.

Jo greeted everyone, too, but she didn’t look like a woman out for a wild Friday night. Instead, she seemed tense and tired and he wanted to just go up to her and suggest they go back to her place. His place. He didn’t care, he just wanted to be with her.

And that didn’t please him. Not when he was getting the brush-off. But he didn’t leave. He came into the bar, staying near the front, finding a bar stool and ordering a whiskey on the rocks.

Jo and Erika stayed up on the dance floor, near the stage for a couple songs, swaying more than really dancing. Then Jo gestured toward the upstairs, and Erika nodded. Both women waved at the band again, then headed to a staircase that was almost unnoticeable if a person wasn’t really looking.

Maksim picked up his drink and trailed along behind. He didn’t even bother to be surreptitious as he passed the stage. Vittorio nodded at him from his spot playing bass. Ren waved as he belted out the lyrics to a Journey song. That man loved his Journey covers.

Even the other guys in the band, Drake, Wyatt, and Elton, their new drummer, acknowledged Maksim, used to seeing him when he bartended. Maggie was the only member to address him with anything less than affability. And even her reaction wasn’t rude exactly, but more one of circumspection.

Her eyes narrowed and she gave him only a slight nod. Then she looked at the stairs as if she wanted to give Jo a heads-up that he was there.

He entered the doorway and climbed the steps. She’d know soon enough.

Jo sat on the bar stool, telling herself this was good, calming. Being with Erika, the music pulsing down below them, the warm glossy wood of the upper bar.

Nothing would happen here. Of course, her visions happened right in front of Erika. So Jo couldn’t say what would and wouldn’t happen. But she hoped, prayed, she could just have an uneventful night.

“This is good,” she said to Erika as if saying something affirming aloud would make her feel even more definite about the whole plan.

“Yeah, it’s nice up here, isn’t it? Not so loud or crowded.”

Jo did like that. Sometimes that kind of massive sensory overload was as lonely and overwhelming as being by oneself. It still forced a person to be stuck inside their own head, unable to really talk or hear, and she didn’t want that. She also didn’t feel like dancing. Fatigue weighed heavily on her.

Then she saw him, and all thoughts of exhaustion and stress left her. Well, the stress was replaced by a different kind of nervous tension. And all hopes of an uneventful evening were gone.

Maksim didn’t notice them at the other end of the bar as he took a seat and held up his glass to the bartender, indicating he wanted another.

Jo stared at him, eating up the sight of him as if she hadn’t just seen him this morning. All of him.

That particular thought didn’t help her already aware body. It was amazing. The man could walk into a room, and she wanted him.

“Maksim is here,” Erika said, the announcement striking Jo as rather funny. The classic after-the-fact sort of comment.

But all she said was, “Oh yeah?” She pretended to follow Erika’s glance to locate him. Then she took a sip of her club soda and lime.

“Aren’t you going to go say hello?”

“No.”

“But you want to.”

Jo frowned. “How do you know that?”

Erika shifted on her bar stool. “Well I just assumed you would want to. Since he works with you.”

“Not anymore.” Jo took another sip of her drink, trying to remain casual and not stir any suspicion in her already too perceptive friend.

“Really?”

Jo nodded, even though she wasn’t totally sure about that fact. She was assuming after her blatant cold shoulder this morning, he’d want very little to do with her. If the slammed door and not showing up to volunteer were any indication, he definitely wanted nothing to do with her.

Yet he was here. Not that he had an idea that she was. Just a coincidence, obviously.

“Oh, listen,” Erika said. “This is my favorite song.” A look of longing came over her face.

Jo smiled, knowing where Erika wanted to be. “Go down and watch him if you want. I’m fine here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” She wasn’t fine, but she didn’t want to let her friend on to that anymore than necessary.

“Come with me.”

Jo shook her head, a little more adamantly than she needed. She did not want to walk past Maksim. She wanted to stay right here. Invisible.

“Go on. I’m enjoying listening from up here. Plus I need to sit for awhile.”

A flash of concern darkened her friend’s eyes to stormy gray. But then she nodded. “Okay. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Have fun. Don’t worry about me.”

Erika rose, and for a second Jo doubted her agreement to let her go. She was going to pass Maksim, too, and then he might know she was there as well.

But he didn’t notice Erika, because he was interacting with the bartender, a young thing with pert breasts and her midriff bared.

So what, Jo told herself. She was the one who’d put the distance between them this morning. Who cares what or who he did?

She shook her head, knowing that answer wasn’t the one she wanted it to be.

She shifted back on her stool, so that the few people between them would shield her from view. And him from her, too. All she needed was for him to see her ogling him at the end of the bar. With any luck, he’d have no idea she was here.

Maksim knew the exact moment when Jo spotted him. Her eyes widened and she shrank back in her seat, trying to hide behind Erika. The reaction irritated him a lot.

The bartender, a girl in her early twenties in a pair of skintight, low-rise jeans and an equally tight black camisole placed a whiskey on the rocks in front him.

She leaned forward, offering him a hint of her cleavage. “Can I get you anything else?”

She smiled invitingly.

Maksim lifted the drink to his lips, downing the amber liquid in one swallow.

“Yeah. Another,” he said, sliding the empty glass back to her.

She looked slightly disappointed by his blatant disinterest, and while he wasn’t particularly worried about her feelings, he could relate to her displeasure. He’d love to have his attention drawn to another woman. Hell, little Miss Bartender would do. But that didn’t seem like a possibility while Jo Burke filled his every thought.

Taking no more notice of the bartender, he shifted forward to sneak a look at Jo. He could only make out part of her face and her shoulder.

Sadly, the partial glimpse of her did more to his libido than the obvious and provocatively clad bartender. He closed his eyes, blocking out the limited image of her.

He was losing it. That was the only explanation. Going completely mad. The cut of a cheekbone, the corner of a mouth, the curl of brown hair around the pink shell of an ear, the curve of a shoulder. None of those features should be enough to drive him to utter distraction.

But they did. She made him nuts. Lust pulsed through his body as much a part of him as his blood. Just from having her in the same room with him. But something else mixed with the lust, making it more powerful, more intense. He didn’t want to consider what they thing could be.

Crazy. That’s what he was.

He opened his eyes, needing just another glimpse. But this time broad shoulders blocked his view of her.

A man in faded jeans and a T-shirt stood between Maksim and her, his elbow leaning on the bar, his body swaying toward Jo.

Maksim could see her hand reach for her drink. The curl of her fingers around the glass, the leisurely lift of it out of sight. Maksim could visualize those pretty lips of hers, as she took a small sip. The movement casual, not agitated. Maybe she smiled at the guy afterward, her lips wet and glistening from the liquid she’d just sampled.

The glass returned back to sight, but she didn’t take her hand away. One of her elegant fingers circled the rim, the swirling hypnotic, a little flirty.

She liked this guy’s attention.

Fuck that.

“So what’s your name?”

Jo debated whether she should tell this guy, or just be straight up and advise him he was wasting his time. She decided that while she was in no mood to make small talk with a stranger, much less flirt with one, it wouldn’t hurt to answer.

“Jo.”

“Jo. I like that. Is that short for Josie?”

Jo shook her head. Did people have nicknames for Josie?

“Jolene?”

She supposed the guy was getting closer. Sort of. And she’d have to give him a little leeway, he was clearly a few drinks into the night.

“Josephine,” she supplied for him, a little afraid of what his next guess might be. Joanie? Jody?

“Oh, Josephine. That’s a pretty name.” He swayed toward her, his gaze on her lips.

She took a sip of her drink, not wanting to risk him moving in for a kiss, although he was likely swaying because of the alcohol and focusing on her lips because the room was spinning.

“What’s your name?” she asked, not that she particularly cared, but it seemed the polite thing to do. And actually, he was doing a terrific job of hiding her from Maksim. He wasn’t necessarily keeping her mind off him, but he was a distraction of some sort.

The guy rocked forward again, this time enough to make Jo lean back in response. Okay, a pretty poor distraction, but she’d take it right now.

“My name is Cameron.” He squinted, looking like he didn’t know why he was telling her that. Clearly her question had become a distant memory in a matter of seconds.

She wished she could drink. Maybe then Maksim could become a distant recollection to her.

“So, are you from here?” Cameron asked.

“Just moved here.”

“Me, too!” Cameron raised his huge plastic tumbler filled with some sort of orangey-pink liquid that looked pretty noxious. It seemed to be doing a number on him.

“To us. And our move to the best city in the world.”

Cameron clearly had been toasting many things over the course of the evening. But she lifted her glass, again to be polite, tapping the rim to the side of his cup.

He sloshed a little of the toxic mixture on his oxford shirt on his way to his mouth, supporting her theory this might be one toast too many.

He just chuckled as he wiped the liquid off with his hand, which made her laugh, too. He wasn’t an obnoxious drunk, just a jovial one, and she decided maybe she was enjoying the distraction.

She set down her drink, her hand lingering on the coolness of the glass. She absently circled her finger around the rim, her thoughts skipping back to Maksim. He was so close, but a lot of good that did her.

Okay, maybe good ole drunk Cameron wasn’t much of a diversion after all.

“What do you do for work?” Cameron asked as if he’d read her mind and was trying to do a better job for her.

Sorry Cameron, but there’s fat chance of that.

“I’m the director of a community center,” she said.

“No way! I work at the Micro Center. It’s a computer store.”

Jo stared at him for a moment, trying to decide if he was making a joke. She concluded he wasn’t, but laughed anyway. Because he was so sincere in their almost eerie kinship that what else could she do.