Save My Soul (8 page)

“A few weeks before you purchased the house, Cain found someone. He checked her out, and we believe she is the genuine article.” Luc hesitated, gathering steam. “She said I won’t be free until the owner of the house burns it to the ground. It’s something to do with the wording of the original curse.”

“WHAT?”

“I need you to set the house on fire.” Luc smiled at Anna in a way that was supposed to be disarming, but from the look on her face, probably wasn’t quite coming off.

“Are you kidding me? Absolutely not. I love this house. Why couldn’t you have bought it yourself and burned it down?”

“We researched that possibility first. The spell was too specific.”

“Did you try just lighting a match and seeing what would happen?”

As if he wouldn’t have thought of that. Did she find him mentally deficient? “Yes. I also used kerosene. The magic snuffed it out.”

“This has got to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. We’ll find another way.”

“But . . . ”

“There is no but . I’ve dreamed about owning this house since I was ten. We’ll find another way.”

Luc dropped the remote on the couch and stood, moving into her personal space. He smiled when she backed up a little. He knew he was intimidating her, and he didn’t care. He’d had enough. Just because she was doing something weird to his emotions didn’t mean he’d lost all sense of what he was. He certainly wasn’t going to let her housebreak him.

“I knew I should have stuck with my original plan with you,” he said, allowing the eerie glow to come into his eyes.

She took another couple steps back, getting perilously close to the wall that would block her in. He was impressed when she didn’t scream or run from him, determined to stand her ground.

“And what exactly was your original plan?”

“To drive you from the house. I knew you were trouble the minute I saw you.” Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from influencing her to buy the house in the first place.

She was pressed against the wall, trapped like an animal, and far too flushed. He lowered his head toward her, his mouth mere inches from hers. What would she taste like?

“I’m going to church,” she blurted out.

Luc was the one who took a step back then. He tried to sort through the conversation up to that point to figure out how they’d gotten from where they were to church.

“Why?” he asked suspiciously.

Anna arched a brow as if quite possibly he was the stupidest demon to ever walk the earth. “You know why.”

He nodded and flopped back on the couch. He’d indulge her this once and let her try to get him out on her own. He’d already been here half a century. What was a few more days? It would give him more time to get a taste of her. If she thought she was coming out of this innocent and unscathed, she was crazier than he was.

***

Anna ignored the pouting demon downstairs. He had to be out of his mind if he thought she’d burn her own house to the ground. Why couldn’t he have been trapped in her apartment back in Atlanta? She would have gladly committed arson on that eyesore. But this house? Not on her life. Or his for that matter.

This house, after all, had inspired Margaret Mitchell. Okay, so she still wasn’t really buying that, but it was like a historic monument. You didn’t burn them down just so a demon with cabin fever could take a stroll around the park.

It wasn’t even an issue of money. With her inheritance, which included a controlling share in Worthington Paper Products, she could have bought the house three times over without denting her bank account. No, it was simply a matter of principle.

She’d loved this house as far back as she could remember. She used to tell Cece she was going to buy it some day. She’d said it looked like a fairy tale. And she still had that opinion. She wasn’t going to destroy it to free some guy she hadn’t even known a full forty-eight hours.

It was a quarter to noon and raining heavily when Anna arrived at St. Francis. Late morning mass was drawing to a close, but the smell of incense was still thick on the air. She sat on the back pew trying not to draw attention to herself. It had been awhile since she’d been to a Latin mass. They only had them one Sunday a month. It was her lucky week.

She could listen to the peaceful droning without having to buy any of the actual content. With Latin she didn’t have to spend the entire service dividing everything into categories of this makes sense, but that’s crap .

Henrietta Baker, the younger and less pleasant sister of Bitsy and Mimi, turned in her pew at the front to give Anna the evil eye. This was no doubt because Anna had arrived late and wasn’t wearing her head veil.

The veil was optional, but it didn’t mean you didn’t have a few nutty traditionalists who thought you were possessed by the devil himself if you weren’t wearing it. Perhaps Luc was punishment for her veil rebellion. Henrietta made a disgusting sound halfway between a curse and a snort, and swiveled back around, waiting for her row’s turn to receive the Holy Eucharist.

Anna had been an official heretic for the past five years, although the pope hadn’t sent her a certificate or anything. She’d just come to the conclusion that she and religion were not mixable. She’d tried to buy the dog and pony show, but there were too many ideas that didn’t make sense to her. And while questions had always been welcome in her parish, even that policy had started to falter under her constant queries.

Despite her lack of faith, she could no longer deny there was an actual bona fide minion of Satan living in her home. She wasn’t too proud to ask for help.

The mass was wrapping up as the last of the stragglers went up to get the thin circular wafer and wine. Despite her intentions not to, Anna found herself becoming nostalgic.

St. Francis had high, gothic spires, stained glass, and the most spectacular hand-carved wooden pews. The interior of the sanctuary was all rich, dark wood. It made the candles appear to burn more brightly. The bluish light streaming in from the windows made the sanctuary feel like a safe haven to hide in.

Anna was ashamed she’d once used her cousin’s pocket knife to carve her and Marshal’s initials on the underside of one of the antique pews. She wondered if she’d have to admit to that in confession before the priest would help her.

The reverie was interrupted by a heavy hand on her shoulder. She turned in her seat to find Mimi standing behind her, smiling like an avenging church pew angel.

“I knew it was only a matter of time before you came back to the fold,” she whispered.

For some reason, after sharing living quarters with Luc, Mimi was seeming less scary. Maybe it was the whole he could suck your life right out of your body while having sex with you thing, and Mimi could only talk you to death.

No, Mimi was still scarier.

Bitsy came to stand on the other side. Anna was beginning to wish she’d taken a seat anywhere but the back row.

“ Dominus vobiscum .” The priest made his way down the center aisle as the congregants stood to sing the benediction.

There was a shuffling of hymnals and bags. Anna made a beeline to the door before she could get caught in the imminent bottleneck as people began to file out the single door that led to the fellowship hall. The priest had taken a separate exit in order to head off the crowd and greet his parishoners.

“I’m Father Jeffries,” he said, taking Anna’s hand in his to shake. “I’m so glad you’re joining us today.”

“Anna Worthington. I was wondering if I might speak with you privately, when you have a moment.”

“Can you stay for lunch?”

She wasn’t about to turn down free food. Religious people made the best potlucks, and the Sunday afternoon lunch at St. Francis was no exception. It was especially true in the middle of summer when potato salad was the dish du jour . Who would turn down a choice of fifteen different delicious versions of potato salad? Not her.

When they’d gotten through the buffet line, Father Jeffries led Anna down the long hallway to his private office. He closed the door and sat behind a large, oak desk. “So, what can I do for you? You’re Quinton’s daughter?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I was sorry to hear about your loss.”

“Thank you.” Anna picked at her food as she tried to think of the best way to broach her request. She settled on blunt honesty. “Have you heard anything about the house on Cranberry Lane? The big white one with the columns?”

“Such as?” His voice was guarded.

“Such as anything supernatural going on. I’m having some problems.”

“I’d heard Mr. Johnson believed there was a demon and had my predecessor try to exorcise it.” He began to pick at his own potato salad.

“Well, he was right, and I was wondering if you might come by and try again.”

The priest started to cough. Anna thought she’d have to come around and do the Heimlich, but he managed to get a sip of water and a moment later he looked at her, red-faced. “I don’t really do exorcisms. I mean we have the book, and I’ve been trained. It’s just . . . I don’t do them anymore.”

There was a long period of silence. She waited for him to explain why exactly that was, but the answer wasn’t forthcoming.

“I don’t want to put you out. I just thought I’d come to the church first.”

“And we’re glad you did.” More awkward silence. “When were you needing . . . ”

“I was hoping as soon as possible. Today.”

Father Jeffries thumbed through the date book on the desk, his face desolate when he found the day empty of previous appointments. He looked up at her, helpless resignation in his features, and sighed. “How’s three o’clock?”

“Perfect.” She ate the last bits of her lunch and dropped the paper plate into the wastebasket.

The priest removed a crucifix from the wall and passed it to her along with a bottle of holy water. “Take this for protection. And sprinkle the water over the threshold.”

“Father, he’s already in the house.”

As if it would help, he handed her a couple more wooden crosses. Did he just stockpile them in his office like Van Helsing? “Hang these on the wall. I’ll see you at three.”

When Anna returned home, Luc was on the couch, still watching the cooking channel. She doubted he’d moved an inch since she’d left.

“The priest will be here at three.”

She couldn’t tear her eyes from his bare chest. It was just wrong. The way he was stretched out, his jeans riding low on his hips, with the beautiful indentations which were only sculpted into the flesh of a truly sleek specimen.

He smirked up at her. “Like what you see? Want to take a ride before our holy man comes by to exorcise me? He might kill me you know, and then you won’t get the opportunity.”

Anna’s mind immediately jumped out of the gutter. Alarm threaded her voice. “Kill you?”

Luc got up and moved smoothly to her, kissing the shell of her ear. “I knew you cared,” he whispered.

“I don’t.” As if to prove her point, she pulled the largest crucifix from her bag and pressed it against the skin of his forearm.

“That hurts . . . my feelings.” He laughed. “I’m not a vampire, Anna.”

“Then I guess this won’t have an effect, either.” She unscrewed the cap on the holy water and threw some in his face. After the crucifix, she knew it wouldn’t hurt him, but his closeness freaked her out.

“It has the effect of pissing me off.” Luc stalked off to the kitchen and patted his arm dry with a towel. “You’re such a child.”

“I am not!” She couldn’t wait for the priest to get there and get him out.

“Yes. You are. I’m five hundred and twenty-six. You are a child.”

“You’re five hundred and twenty-six and you let some human girl trap you with a two-bit spell?” Anna couldn’t help it. She started laughing. His eyes glowed, but she worked hard to ignore him, busying herself with the priest’s instructions. She took one of the other crosses out of the bag and went to retrieve the hammer and nails.

Luc followed her back to the living room as she started to hang the first cross. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Putting crosses on the wall,” she said, flashing him a duh look.

“I don’t think so.”

“I thought they didn’t affect you.”

“They don’t, aside from being tacky.”

Anna continued to hammer while Luc glowered at her, his irritation practically taking on physical form of its own.

“You are putting holes in the wall.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Don’t you care that you’re destroying the integrity of this wall? This is a historic home.”

“What does it matter? If I burned the house down, the wall would be destroyed anyway.” She turned her attention back to hammering. “I think you should put on a shirt before the priest gets here.” If for no other reason, than to keep me from drooling all over you in front of Father Jeffries.

Luc growled then disappeared from the room without another word.

Anna opened the door to find Father Jeffries looking much more pallid than he had at lunch. Maybe he’d picked the wrong potato salad.

“Come on in, Father.” She stepped to the side and made a broad, sweeping motion that was meant to be welcoming, but from the expression on the priest’s face, must have instead conveyed impending doom.