Demon's Daughter: A Cursed Book (6 page)

Elizabeth’s parents had called our Dad about five minutes after he got home. They said Elizabeth was crying and hysterical about what had happened with Dro’s random knowledge and my mean attitude. After calming them down and hanging up the phone, he walked into the living room where we were sitting on the couch, waiting to get scolded. Dro sat hunched over with her tiny pale hands in her lap, looking down guiltily. I sat next to her with my arms crossed over my chest, looking serious and feeling bored.

Dad put his hands on his hips. He looked exhausted, his overalls and golden skin still dirty from working at the construction site. He hadn’t even had time to sit down and eat dinner before problems started with his kids.

“Okay,” he sighed. “Who wants to explain what happened?” He looked at me like I was the one to blame.

Usually I was, but not this time.

“Elizabeth is just being a big baby,” I complained. “We didn’t do anything.”

“You said she stole something,” Dad pointed out. “That isn’t a small thing to accuse someone of.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Constance. Tell the truth.”

I pouted. I wasn’t going to take the fall for this.

Until Dro decided that she would.

“It’s my fault,” she said quietly from beside me. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to look, but…”

Dro shifted back onto the couch and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and looking smaller than even a five year old should.

“It was an accident,” she whispered.

Dad looked at her strangely, glancing at me for answers. I said nothing. I might have seen what happened, but that didn’t mean I understood it. I still didn’t know if I should believe Dro or not.

“What was an accident? Elizabeth’s mother told me you said Elizabeth stole a doll from that girl Jenny, but how do you know it belonged to Jenny?”

Dro hugged her knees tighter to her chest, biting her lip and holding back tears. Dad walked over to the couch and sat down beside his adopted daughter. He put his arm over her tiny shoulders.

“I’m not mad at you, Andromeda. I know Elizabeth is a drama queen, and I know that neither of you took that doll. But I don’t know how you knew about it in the first place. I can’t fix this unless you tell me the truth.”

Dro shivered and Dad hugged her closely. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll believe whatever you tell me.”

My sister looked at him, blinking her icy blue eyes. “I saw it.”

“You saw Elizabeth take the doll from Jenny?”

She shook her head. “Not in person. I saw it in my head.”

Dad went still. “What do you mean?”

She shivered again, like she was about to cry. Dad kept his arm around her, but his dark brown eyes were uncertain. Usually I was the one he had to be wary of. Dro was a saint.

“It was like a dream. I looked at Elizabeth and I saw these pictures in my head. I saw her taking the doll from Jenny’s house last week and putting it in her backpack when she wasn’t looking. I just looked at her and knew.”

Dad was still motionless, his hand starting to leave Dro’s shoulder. Almost as soon as it was gone, Dro broke down and started to cry. I put my arm over her back and hugged her to me.

“I’m a freak,” she cried into my shirt.

“No you’re not,” I told her.

“Then something’s wrong with me,” she sobbed. “Something’s bad in me.”

I pulled away from Dro to look into her eyes. Tears streaked her pale cheeks.

“Nothing’s wrong with you, little sister. And you’re definitely not bad.”

Dro looked at me, desperate for an explanation. But I didn’t have one, and I wouldn’t lie to her. Dro started crying again. Dad took her from my arms and lifted her onto his lap. She twisted and wrapped her arms around him, clinging tightly. He patted the snow-white hair on her back.

“It’s okay, Andromeda. You must have heard a rumor or had a dream or something. Your sister is right. Nothing’s wrong with you.”

But as Dad looked at me, I could see the hesitation in his dark eyes, mirrors of my own. He didn’t believe what he’d said anymore than I did…

“Con?”

I snapped out of the memory, having forgotten that I was standing in the doorway of a stranger’s kitchen, staring into space. My sister looked at me warily.

“Are you coming?” she asked.

“Yeah. Sorry. Got lost in thought.”

Dro understood when I didn’t elaborate. I didn’t have warm and cuddly thoughts.

We sat down at the kitchen island. The kid’s back was to us as he worked on our drinks, so he didn’t see me looking at the dark stove, the stainless steel fridge covered in notes and reminders, the trinkets and the spice rack on the counter next to the microwave. The kitchen smelled like cinnamon, further reminding me of the home I used to know.

I fought against memories when he turned and placed our drinks in front of us. I glanced in the mug, breathing in the steam and smell of coffee. It didn’t smell tainted, so I took a sip. The coffee was rich, black, and deliciously warm. I could feel the caffeine waking me up at almost the same second it hit my tongue. Dro’s hot chocolate smelled creamy and sweet, and was overloaded with marshmallows peppered with cinnamon, just the way she liked it. She took the mug in her hands to warm them up, looking at her smiling admirer.

“Thank you, Mister…” her voice trailed off, waiting for him to give his name.

“Whoa, don’t call me Mister. That makes me feel like I need business cards.” He grinned. “My name’s Max.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Max.”

Dro reached out and touched his hand, squeezing it gently.

Max looked at her hand and suddenly pulled back. My hand went to my hip. Dro looked confused. Max looked at his hand and then at Dro, like he didn’t know what he was seeing.

“What are you?” he asked her.

“I… I don’t understand,” she said quietly.

“You aren’t human,” Max said, speaking the dreaded words.

Dro looked at me. I had set my coffee mug down and was ready to move if he reacted in a way that I didn’t like.

“How would you know?” I asked.

“Because I’ve got some psychic talents,” he told me matter-of-factly.

I sniggered. “Right.”

“Believe it, Constance.”

I cut the sarcasm. He had my full attention, but his focus was entirely on Dro.

“I got a quick flash when you touched me,” he explained. “You have demons after you. You have for years. That’s why you really came here. To find answers.”

“Demons?” Dro could barely hide the shake in her voice. “Are you sure?”

“I do the occasional palm reading and my dad’s a demonologist. The supernatural is kind of our thing.” An idea must have popped into his head, because he started rifling through the pockets of his jeans. “I’ve got to call my dad.”

“I don’t think so,” I warned. “You still have some explaining to do.”

Max glared up at me. “What do you want me to say? I told you the truth, and you can’t say you don’t believe me. It’d make you a hypocrite, given what Andromeda can do.”

“Max, please,” Dro said. “If you know something about me, about these demons, you have to tell us. They’ve been after me since I was a child. I have a right to know why.”

This was the reason Dro negotiated with regular (well, mostly regular) people. She knew how to ask for what she wanted without pulling out a knife and threatening to cut off a body part. I tended to skip pretense and get down to business.

Max hesitated, then dropped his phone on the counter, wrapping his fingers around it.

“Okay, listen. I can sense certain things about people and things without touching them. That’s how I guessed about the cinnamon and alcohol and how I know your names. But when I touch someone, I can get a flash of who they are. Sometimes if I concentrate enough while touch something, I can even see a little bit of the future. Mostly quick images and feelings, but with you it was more powerful than anything I’d ever felt. It wasn’t just the fear you’ve been feeling, all the uncertainty, but you have more raw power in you than… Than
anything.
More power than any human could possibly have.”

“What does that mean?” I tried. “Do you know what she is?”

Max shook his head at me. “No. Dad might if she was a demon, but you don’t feel quite like that, Dro. You feel like something else.”

Dro hung her head, running her hands through her snow-white hair. Hearing she was being chased by demons was one thing. Hearing that she wasn’t human and something even a psychic had never encountered, was almost too much.

“Does your father know how to kill demons?” I asked Max.

Max started to shake his head, then stopped. “No. Yes. Kind of. If you want them expelled, he’s your guy, but one-on-one combat?” He shook his head for real this time. “My dad’s crazy, but he’s not insane.”

Damn it. “So he doesn’t know.”

“He knows the theories, but not how to practice them.”

Never mind. “Then you should call him. Tell him he can have a student.”

Max blinked. “You?”

Dro looked up at me. “Con, no, it’s too dangerous.”

I held her eyes. “Demons, Dro. Fiends of Hell. It’s the best explanation I’ve heard so far. Granted, Max and his father will give us more evidence when they have it–”

“We will?” Max asked.

“–but if that’s what we’re dealing with, then I want to know more about them. I need to know how to keep you safe.”

I didn’t add that anything they had on demons might lead us to finding out exactly what my little sister was. That it was just as important as understanding the creatures on our tail. Maybe even more so.

She didn’t like it, but she agreed with me. She didn’t have any other choice. I looked at Max.

“Now you can call your dad,” I said. “I could use an expert opinion.”

***

Max described his father, Manny, as a tough, smart man. I suppose he had to be, given that he was a professional demonologist and exorcist that expelled actual, real demons as compared to dealing with people who were having some sort of epileptic fit. Despite Max’s praise, I wasn’t expecting the man who walked into the kitchen.

He was probably younger than I guessed, but you couldn’t tell from the dark shadows under his eyes, or the tired slump of his weathered face. His hair was gunmetal grey with bits of white around his temples. I could see the resemblance between Max and Manny in the shape of their eyes, lips and nose. Manny was a big guy, and only some of the bulk around his middle was fat. The rest was muscle. He looked like a man who’d endured a hard life, carried the scars of it, but came out as a survivor. I hoped I would be as lucky if I ever reached his age, but I was realistic.

He saw the puddles and boot prints on the floor, and the two strange young women in his kitchen, and had been prepared to chew Max out. Then he looked at Dro, and forgot all about his son.

As soon as Max explained the situation, Manny whipped out a Bible, the rosary under the collar of his shirt, and tried to exorcise Dro.

“Dad, come on,” Max said. “If she was a demon, I would have done that already. But she’s part human.” He looked at her. “I think.”

Manny looked at us. Max had let us eat a hearty dinner of leftovers from his fridge, but had stopped when his father entered. I was sitting behind the island next to Dro, watching Manny very carefully. He gave me a quick look, but found Dro much more interesting. Everybody did.

“Ladies, this is my father, Manny Garcia. Dad, that’s Constance,” he pointed to me, then moving his finger to Dro, “and her adopted sister Andromeda.”

Manny raised his eyebrow. “Adopted? From where?”

“It’s a long story,” I told him. There was no need to elaborate.

“Dro’s asked for us to help find out what she is, and Constance wants to be a demon slayer.”

Suddenly, I was the more interesting one. “You want to kill demons?” Manny asked me.

I nodded once.

“Why on earth would you want to do that?”

I kept all emotion off my face. I didn’t let him see the deep, dangerous anger that built up when I thought about the monsters and the way they had destroyed everything we’d ever known. How they’d broken down all the walls of safety we’d built with our parents. How they’d forced me to do things that had stained my soul so darkly that no amount of redemption would save me from the pits of Hell.

I didn’t let him see that I was tired of being afraid of the monsters, the Blood Thorns, life on the run. Of Dro’s hidden nature.

“I have my reasons,” I said flatly. “And they aren’t your business.”

Max shrank back a little, and Manny regarded me as a threat. Which I was. Manny was probably getting ready to kick me out of his house, but Dro came to the rescue.

“What my sister means to say is that these demons, have been hunting us for years.” Her ice blue eyes were haunted. “There have been times where they’ve almost killed us. She needs to learn how to fight them as best as she can, and I need to understand what I am and why they’re after me.”

Dro looked at Manny. “I don’t know what we can offer you, but we need any help you can give. We can’t do this alone. Please.”

I hated hearing Dro beg. It pulled at my heart and made me feel like less of the protective, providing sister I was supposed to be. It wasn’t my fault, or hers. It was our lives. Still, I couldn’t help but look back at everything that had happened to us, and wondered what might have happened if I had done something differently. If I could have kept us both from starving and begging and fighting a little while longer.

There was a long silence after Dro’s request. I didn’t like it. It gave them too much time to think rationally and throw us out. It was going to happen. Nobody wanted to take in strays like us.

Or so I thought.

“Dad, they came here because no one else would help them,” Max explained. He looked at Dro and me. “Right? No one else believed you or took you seriously.”

I did nothing, but Dro nodded. Max looked at his father again.