The Demon in Me (8 page)

She pressed her lips together. “Shut up, please.”

He went silent. She still couldn’t feel him as much as she could earlier. Before, he’d been like a weight on her chest—not enough to hurt, but enough to be noticeable. Now there was nothing but his faint voice as if he was speaking from an adjoining room.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“You mean, did I survive your attempt to exorcise me? Obviously, or I wouldn’t be talking to you now, would I?”

“I didn’t know it was going to be like that.”

“Did you think they were going to lure me out with a bowl of warm milk and put a leash on me?”

“No. But I didn’t know it would cause you so much pain.” She swallowed, then crossed her arms and looked out of the broken door at the parking lot. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you. You didn’t ask for this. You’re going through the five stages of demonic possession. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression… eventually you’ll finally reach acceptance.”

“Aren’t those the five stages of dying?”

“Same stages, different issue. Right now I think you’re still dealing with the anger. But we’ve moved into the bargaining stage because you agreed to help me out.”

She turned and went back to her desk, straightening her keyboard, which had detached from the computer during the attempted exorcism. “I look forward to my inevitable depression.”

“I think you’ve done great so far.”

“Great? I just spent fifteen hundred bucks on a crazy exorcist whose son slapped me around.” She held her hand against her cheek.

“Some people pay much more than that. For the exorcism, that is. Although some people also pay to be slapped around. Humans are strange.”

She concentrated on his voice. “You still don’t sound too good.”

“No, well… it was mostly from when he launched into the Latin. That part of an exorcism always tends to be a bit draining. Literally.”

“I thought you said you’ve never been faced with a real exorcism before.”

“I haven’t. But I’ve seen them performed—from a safe distance, of course. It’s not pretty. Another thirty seconds and I would have been only an unpleasant memory for you.”

She sat on the edge of her desk. “Sure, now you tell me.” He was quiet for a moment. “So you really like that cop?” She nodded. “That’s an understatement.”

“Fair enough. Tomorrow night we’ll make sure you look extremely gorgeous. You’ll go out for dinner with him. I’ll guide you into not saying anything too embarrassing—”

She frowned at that.

“And he’ll be eating out of your hand in under an hour. Guaranteed. Then we will focus on finding my witch. Deal?”

She still felt more than a little uncomfortable with the oddly helpful Darrak. “You’re asking me to officially make a deal with a devil?”

“I’m not a devil. I’m a demon.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Vast. Devils are small, purple, angry, and tend to poke things with their pitchforks. And that’s actually what they call their insanely pointy genitalia.”

That was an image she’d prefer to lose as soon as possible. “And all demons look like you?”

“Tall, dark, and handsome?” There was humor in his voice as he said it.

“I meant
not
small, purple, angry, or particularly pointy.”

“Demons… have varying appearances.”

Her mouth went dry just thinking about it. “That’s vague.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He was silent for a moment. “Now, unless you’d like to call Malcolm and his mom back…”

“I’ll pass.”

“Then I’m going to rest. I’m tired and my energy is very low right now.”

“That’s what happened when you lost form at sunset? You rested? I couldn’t hear you for a while.” Which is when she’d had the chance to consult the Yellow Pages and make the exorcism appointment.

“When I’m very weakened, I sink down to a deeper level of consciousness. To communicate with you like this I need a lot of energy to stay at the surface.”

Eden twisted a finger nervously through her long hair. “Did you hear what that woman said about me not being completely human?”

“I did.”

“What do you think she meant by that?” She leaned over to pick up a file folder that had fallen to the floor earlier. Then she spun her Rolodex to find the number of the door repairman.

“I’m not sure. I’ve never possessed a female before, so you do feel…
different
to me—even aside from your physical body. And I’m able to draw energy from you in order to take form as well as talk to you, unlike my relationships with any of my other hosts. Yet I don’t sense anything overtly Otherworldly about you.”

“She was probably just talking about my psychic ability.” She thought back to working at Psychic Connexions. “I do shuffle a mean deck of tarot cards, I’ll have you know.”

“That must be it. Do psychic abilities run in your family?”

Eden thought about her mother. Other than an addiction to gambling, drinking, emotionally neglecting her daughter, and working her way through a long line of hairy men, she didn’t recall anything unusual. Maybe her father had been psychic. She remembered one brief visit from him when she was a very little girl—a man with a big warm smile and hair the bright red color Eden’s would be if she didn’t make regular trips to the salon to keep it the darker auburn she preferred. But nothing like Ouija boards or crystal balls rang out in her memory.

“I don’t think so. But I haven’t exactly been all that close to my family over the years.”

“Think about it. But I’m going now. I’ll be back.”

“Darrak,” she began.

“Yeah?”

“What’s your real name?”

There was a long moment of silence and then a tired sigh. “I understand your fear and misgivings about what is going on, Eden. And I also understand why you called the exorcists. But if I ever tell you my true name, that would give you a great deal of power over me, so it’s something I must keep hidden from those who might do me harm.”

The pleasant tone had gone out of his voice and was replaced with something much icier. He was pissed about what had nearly happened. She’d nearly destroyed him—it wasn’t simply a matter of forgive and forget.

If someone had done the same thing to her, she’d have the same reaction. Darrak hadn’t harmed her, and yet she’d tried to hurt him out of fear and confusion.

“I understand,” she said softly.

“I’ll return soon.”

“Take your time.”

With a soft chuckle, his presence faded away.

After making a quick call to the twenty-four-hour repair service to come and fix the door, she sat in the office in silence waiting for them to arrive. She hadn’t even begun to work on the data input Andy wanted her to do, but she didn’t give a rat’s ass about that. She was exhausted. And she wanted to go home and fall into a big glass of red wine. Maybe when she woke up tomorrow morning she’d realize this had all been a bizarre dream.

The part about her and Ben going out for dinner tomorrow was the one good thing in this nightmare.

She’d nearly been stabbed by a serial killer. She was possessed by a demon. An exorcist had slapped her around. And to add insult to injury, she’d lost fifteen hundred hard-earned dollars.

She really should have checked her horoscope today. She made a mental note not to let that oversight happen again.

She’d just made a deal with a demon
.

What in the hell had she been thinking?

It took until nearly eleven o’clock to get the door adequately fixed. Then Eden drove home, making a detour to the drive-through at McDonald’s to grab a garden salad and a McChicken.

As she distractedly pulled up in front of her apartment complex, something darted out in front of her car. She slammed on the brakes and her car skidded to a halt.

She groaned. “Please tell me that was not a black cat.” But it was. The feline glared at her from the bushes at the side of the driveway as she continued on.

“Bad luck omen,” Eden said under her breath. “You’re about eight hours too late.”

She parked in her assigned spot and got out of the car into the chilly October night, juggling her purse, takeout bag, and keys. Her leg bumped into something furry. She looked down.

The small black cat looked up. “Mrrroww?”

“Meow, yourself. Shoo. Go home.”

After entering through the main doors, she went directly to the elevator and took it up to the fourteenth floor, her mind overflowing with replays of her day with a killer, a cop, and a demon. She worked her key into the lock of her apartment and opened it. Something dark moved along the floor and scooted into the apartment ahead of her. It was the cat.

Had she been too distracted to even notice it in the elevator with her? Tricky little thing.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Eden flicked on a light by nudging the wall switch with her elbow. The cat had made a beeline for her brown corduroy couch, jumped up, and curled into a ball.

“Great,” she said, dropping her purse and bags on the coffee table. She pulled off her coat and threw it over the easy chair. “Sure. Make yourself comfortable. Same goes for your fleas. Fantastic, really. Just what I need.”

The cat lifted its head, then put it back down on its paws and closed its eyes.

“You can stay for a couple minutes to warm up,” Eden told it, “but then you need to go back to your home. I don’t have pets—no matter how smart they think they are. I don’t even have houseplants. Trust me, it’s better that way for everyone involved.”

She went into the kitchenette to pour herself a glass of wine—which she drained as she attempted to forget about her problems for thirty seconds—then sat down on her couch in the living room and pulled out her McChicken and forced herself to take a few bites before putting it down. The food sat heavily in her stomach. The cat raised its head, its attention fully on the sandwich.

“Mrrrow?”

She waved a hand. “Help yourself.”

The cat got up, jumped over to the discarded sandwich on the coffee table, sniffed at it daintily, and then chowed down, sesame seed bun and all, as if it hadn’t eaten in days. Then it returned to the couch and lay down next to Eden, resting its head against her leg. It began to purr.

So much for her plan to kick it out of the house. A quick glance out her balcony window showed it had started to rain outside. The cat didn’t wear any tags, and its ears weren’t tattooed with ID—she was pretty sure the Humane Society did that for strays.

“Fine, kitty.” Eden scratched its head. “One night. Then you’re out of here.”

Eden liked living alone. She valued her privacy. She’d lived briefly—very briefly—with her ex-fiancé, but after that had ended, she realized how much she liked time and space to herself.

She hadn’t even thought about having a pet. She’d had one when she was a kid—a turtle. Her mom had run over it with her Camaro and blamed Eden for leaving it on the driveway. Eden had cried for a week over Speedy’s squishy demise.

Seemed that anyone or anything she loved always left her—either by death or simply…
going away
. It really was best not to get attached to anything. Eden even threw out her magazines after one week. No need for clutter—emotional or material.

“And I’m not a big fan of cat hair.” Eden found that she was still scratching the feline’s head. It was oddly soothing.

She was exhausted and the wine hadn’t helped do anything but make her more tired. Her brain hurt from thinking too much.

The exorcism hadn’t been draining for Darrak alone. She felt the effects of it as well—like a hangover.

Before bed, Eden poured some milk into a bowl and put it on the ground. As an afterthought, she also put down half a can of tuna.

“I know, I’m a sucker,” she told the cat. “You saw me coming from a mile away, didn’t you?”

She went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. She looked long and hard at her reflection in the oversized mirror to see there were dark circles under her eyes. Stress circles.

Gee, I wonder what those are from
? she thought. She was lucky she didn’t have a bruise from when Malcolm had struck her.

Jerk.

She pulled off her shirt and jeans, kicking them over onto her fuzzy pink bath mat, and then reached around to unhook her bra. She let it fall to the floor.

“I’m feeling much better now,” Darrak said.

She stifled a scream and clamped her hands over her bare breasts. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Did I interrupt something?” There was a short pause.

“Oh, I see. Don’t let me stop you from getting naked. Please, continue.”

Eden scanned her reflection with wide eyes. Could she see the demon inside of her? Did she look possessed?

Nope.
There was nothing noticeable. Other than the deep voice in her head only she could hear.

“This should be interesting.” Darrak sounded amused. “As I said before, I’ve never shared living space with a woman before. I honestly never would have guessed black lace panties for you. But I do approve.”

She glared at her reflection, feeling equal parts anger and embarrassment from being caught half naked by the demon. “I think we’re going to need to set some boundaries.”

“Then I suggest you don’t look at yourself in the mirror when you’re in a state of undress. It’s the only way I can see you—
all
of you, at the moment.”

She turned away from the mirror. “Fine.”

“Isn’t it a little early to have Christmas hand towels out? Or do you use those all year round?”

She looked at the floor instead. The last thing she needed was a demon critiquing her lousy decorating skills.

“Darrak”—she let out a shuddery breath—“I need my privacy.”

“That’s going to be difficult. For obvious reasons.”

“I’m exhausted right now and I can’t deal with this. Can’t you just go wherever you’ve been for the last few hours?”

“Afraid not. I need to be much more drained in order to fade like I did earlier. I can stay quiet, if you’d prefer, and enjoy the view. I’m just happy to have somebody to talk to after so long. You have no idea what it’s been like for the last three centuries.”

She couldn’t even imagine. “I’m sure it hasn’t been fun for you.”