A Demon's Desire (11 page)

She released him and her jaw clenched.

Tristan left to cool his anger at the
stubborn woman. He went for a long run, took a shower, then braced
himself to deal with her again. When he entered the bedroom, she
was stretched on the bed once more, staring at the ceiling with the
pillow fort down the middle of the bed. She had switched them so
she was closer to the door and the light switch.

She gave him a dirty look as he approached
the light switch to the room and flipped it off. Her eyes snapped
shut. He walked around the bed and lay down. She crossed to the
door and turned on the light once more.

He willed the light off. She muttered
something he knew to be a curse directed at him and turned it back
on.

“I want it on, Tristan,” she told him.

“I don’t care,” he answered. He willed it off
again. She all but leapt into bed, tugging the sheet up over her
head defensively. Tristan watched, entertained, and leaned over the
pillow fort, poking her side. “You think a sheet stops
anything?”

“
You
have nothing to be afraid of,”
she growled and swiped at his hand. She curled into a ball.

“You survived Demon’s Alley after dark. You
don’t seem like someone who’s scared of much.”

“No, I’m not,” she agreed. “But some things
that go bump in the night can hurt you, Tristan.”

“How, Emma?” he asked softly. She said
nothing. Tristan reached over and tugged the sheet from her head,
brushing her soft, warm cheek with his fingers. She didn’t move,
and he felt the wetness of tears. They burned his skin, as if
punishing him for causing them.

At once he felt guilty for torturing her,
even if she refused to help him figure out what evil had made it
into the apartment. He ran his fingers through her hair, and her
body relaxed, her eyes closing. She found his hand with her own and
held it tightly, her grip relenting only when he commanded her body
to sleep.

He removed her pillow fortification once more
and adjusted his grip on her hand. With a deep breath, he carefully
gathered his darkness to use on her.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” he whispered. He released
his darkness into her and found the evil taint she’d brought back
from the grocery store. He nudged for it to do its master’s
bidding.

“
C’mon, Emma, we can do it
together.”

Emma’s face was turned toward the warm sun,
her form leaning against the steel railing of the Bay Bridge. A
warm, summery ocean breeze swept past her, making the curls of her
ponytail dance and tickling her neck and face.

She opened her eyes at the voice and
recognized Adam, his dark blond hair tousled by the same ocean
breeze sweeping over her. He gave her a familiar goofy grin. Her
emotions soared in excitement and confusion to see him again.

“
Do what together?” she asked.

“
You know,” he said with a wicked grin.
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and he kissed her
palm, the familiar action making her melt even when she tried hard
not to be affected by him.

“
No, I don’t,” she answered.
“What?”

“
Jump.”

“
Whatever, Adam,” she said. “Just tell me
why you wanted to meet me here.”

The dream flickered.
His back was to her
now, and the scene altered in a way that gave her more awareness of
her surroundings. A chilled fog tickled the back of her neck. Emma
turned to see the afternoon fog rolling in over the bay, heading
quickly toward the sun.

“
We’re about to be fogged, Adam,” she
said.

“
We still need to talk,” he
replied.

“
Fine. Let’s go get dinner at the
café.”

She started in the direction leading back to
the mainland, where she’d parked her car at the foot of the bridge.
They were the only ones on the bridge, car or human. Puzzled at the
lack of activity, she looked around. The Bay Bridge was well
traveled, especially on a weekend evening. The bridge ended a few
hundred feet away. Instead of land, there was nothing.

“
Adam?” she called. Fog blocked the sun
and moved to envelop the land at the other end of the bridge.
Within a blink, it swallowed everything. She reached out to grip
the railing to keep from wandering into the road. It was unusually
cold, and she drew back.

“
Emma?” Adam’s voice was close.

“
Adam, something strange is going on,” she
said and turned to face him. He leaned over the edge once more,
gazing downward. Emma joined him, touching the railing with her
fingers to test its coldness. It had grown cold enough to burn. She
leaned out cautiously to see what caught Adam’s attention. The bay
was gone, swallowed by the same fog at both ends of the
bridge.

“
Let’s go home, Adam,” she said, a chill
of fear sweeping through her.

“
C’mon, Emma,” he said dismissively and
placed one foot on the edge.

“
Adam, this isn’t funny,” she objected and
grabbed one arm. His arm burned her fingers, as cold as the
railing. Surprised, Emma drew back. Adam glanced down at her, his
brown eyes icy gray and empty. She stepped away before he reached
for her.

“
Will you leave me to die again?”

Coldness swept through her. She spun and
started away, seeing the darkness at the end of the bridge drawing
nearer.

“
Don’t abandon me again, Emma.”

She squeezed her eyes closed.

“Wake up, Emma.” The voice was familiar to
her even in her dream, and she thought of Tristan. “Release her,
shadow.”

* * *

She awoke groggily, aware of bad dreams. The
room was bright from opened blinds. She stretched, one hand landing
on the other side of the bed, where Tristan should have been.

He was gone. Emma’s gaze lingered before she
recalled his words about leaving for a day. She sighed, grateful
for a break from his intensity yet anxious about him being gone as
well. She simply would not leave the apartment.

Mama was up and cooking breakfast when she
left her room. The smell made bile rise to her throat. Surprised,
Emma paused, hand on her stomach.

“Hello, doodle!” Mama called.

“Mornin’, Mama,” Emma replied. “Where’s Amber
and baby?”

“Sissy’s getting a bath,” Mama replied.
“Tristan left an hour or so ago. He said to thank you for the soy
milk.”

Emma blushed, uncertain why it mattered that
he noticed. She sat on a stool at the breakfast counter.

“You should see his apartment, Mama,” she
said. “Exact opposite of mine.”

“Clean?”

“No, Mama,” Emma said. “I mean, his apartment
is sterile. Nothing out of place, nothing excessive, not even
pictures on the wall or color anywhere.”

“Amber, Sissy, and I like him, Emma.” Mama
turned to face her and folded her arms firmly. “A lot.”

“You don’t know him, Mama,” Emma mumbled.

“I know he’s taken time out of schedule to
stay here and help Sissy. He might be in dire financial straits if
he up and left his store. He’s sweet to all of us, and he’s strong
enough for your attitude.”

Emma rolled her eyes. She wasn’t taking
advantage of him! They had a deal, she reminded herself, a deal in
which he had named his price, though she’d never considered his
financial concerns. Tristan seemed too self-sufficient to need
anything and too much like her to ask for help if he did.

“He’s your dark angel,” Mama added and heaped
scrambled eggs onto a plate next to bacon.

“My what?”

“Your dark angel. You used to say one day, a
man with dark eyes and hair would come and sweep you off your feet.
You called him your dark angel.”

“Yes, but that was before …” …
I gave up
hope. Before Adam. Before I knew you never really know anyone and
can’t trust those you do.

The words died in her throat.

“Before what, doodle?”

“No ‘doodle,’ Mama,” Emma said with an
exasperated sigh. “I don’t know. Before Tristan, I guess.”

“He’s so reserved. He must have been a lonely
child. Is he an only child?”

“I hope to God there’s no one else like him,”
Emma said with feeling.

“You’re a snot this morning,
Emma-doodle.”

“I don’t know anything about his childhood,”
she admitted. “I feel like I don’t know anything about him.”

“Then you’re not paying attention. He’s a
gentleman, reserved and intense. I imagine if you ask, you’d
discover he doesn’t have many friends. I feel a bit sorry for
him.”

“You’d pity the devil if it came down to it,”
Emma joked.

“Of course, darling. The devil is forever cut
off from light and God. What’s not to pity?”

Forever cut off from light.
Was that
Tristan? She sensed the darkness within him, around him. What
would
baby Tristan have been like? How would he react when
even the adults shunned and rejected him? Was that why he lived
alone in the attic above the store?

If you can’t be accepted in the freak-fest
of Wooster, where can you be accepted?
she mused. She rubbed
her face and recalled her first conversation with Tristan. He was
the only one who tried to comfort her and the only who took her
seriously.

“Oh, Mama,” she murmured.

“Have some breakfast,” Mama said and placed a
plate before her. “You kids are young enough. You still have time
to figure things out. Amber and I are going somewhere this evening,
if that’s okay. Will you be okay with Sissy?”

“Of course.” She took a bite and froze,
queasiness washing over her. Mama gave her an odd look, but Emma
forced the food down. Isolde joined her. Emma patted her with one
hand and fed her bacon when Mama turned. She toyed with her food,
feeling nauseous, before eating another two bites and stopping.

A minute later, Emma hurried to the bathroom,
sick to her stomach.

* * *

Tristan reached his apartment around noon. He
never considered it bare or cramped. He never noticed anything
about it except that it served his needs, and he wanted for
nothing.

Walking through it, he felt the loneliness,
the emptiness. He went to his bedroom, almost relieved to see his
bed unmade from Emma’s stay. He picked up a pillow as he set down
his bag, smelling her scent before replacing the pillow. Everything
else was how he left it, perfectly aligned, arranged, and in its
place. Why did it bother him after so long of not noticing?

It would be a long night. Thirty years
sleeping alone, and one night without Emma seemed ... unusual. He
sat in the living room and pulled his laptop from the coffee table
to his thighs. His phone buzzed and hopped. He snagged it off the
adjacent cushion.

“Hello, Tristan!” Mama’s voice rang out.

“Hi, Mama,” he said with a smile. “How are
you?”

“We’re doing fine. Wanted to make sure you
made it okay.”

“Yes, I did, thanks.”

“Emma’s staying home with Sissy tonight.
Amber and I are going out for a little bit. Amber needs a breather,
I think.”

“A great idea,” he agreed. “How does Sissy
like Isolde?”

“Oh, she loves that dog! Isolde follows her
everywhere, I think mainly because Sissy drops as much food as she
eats.”

Tristan grinned, touched by Emma’s family.
“Feel free to call if you need anything.”

“We will. Thanks, Tristan!”

He hung up, warmed by the sound of the plump
woman’s voice. He flipped on his laptop and sat back, turning his
head toward the door.

“I suppose you forgot to call me,” his mother
said as she entered through the kitchen. “I left a message with
those snotty girls to call me when you got in.”

“Hello, Mother. I’ll be leaving again
tomorrow, Mama. You can always call my cell.”

“Mama?” she echoed. “That’s new, boy.”

Tristan studied his mother. She was small and
prim with a cool air compared to Mama’s. Tristan knew his mother to
be intelligent but oftentimes selfish, and he wondered for the
first time in a long while what she would be doing with a demon, if
that were truly what his father had been. He knew better than to
ask. She never responded, and she was the only person he had yet
come across who could keep him from rifling through her mind.

“Are you almost done with this consult?” his
mother asked. She sat, oblivious of his scrutiny.

“Soon. I’ve got another loose end to tie
up.”

“In Virginia or Maryland?”

“Does it matter?” he asked, again leery of
her casual tone.

“Maybe I missed you. You’ve never left your
attic since we got to Maryland.”

“You don’t miss me. You can find me anytime,
anywhere,” he countered. “You did See something, didn’t you?”

“Maybe I did, son.”

“So you’ll cheat at slot machines and cards
but not tell your own son what’s obviously bothering you?”

“I don’t alter the events around me, just
figure out when a machine is about to pop and happen to sit there,”
she snapped. “It’s … hard for me to see you grow and know that
growing will take some painful lessons.”

“What kind of painful lessons?”

“Lessons that will make you face the half of
you neither of us wants to admit exists.”

He shifted. “I won’t use the evil, Mother,”
he said, irritated. “I’ve always protected you, Emma, and everyone
around me from
me.
”

“Emma, is it?” She raised an eyebrow. “Will I
be officially meeting her soon?”

“If she wants.”

“So much for ignoble intentions, eh,
boy?”

“Gambled your savings away with the ladies
yet?” he asked instead.

“Not quite. I keep winning.”

“Mother.” It was his turn to raise an
eyebrow.

“It’s your inheritance, son,” she said. “They
make enough money off me.”

“I thought you were the last witch to use her
powers for evil.”