California Demon (34 page)

I cocked my head. “Exactly how much do you trust him?”

“Not that much,” he said, understanding my meaning. “So what happened with Creasley?”

I glanced over, but Allie and Cutter were still deep in conversation. “I didn’t go,” I said. I gave him the short version of Laura’s dilemma. “I needed to stay with her.”

“You stayed with Laura instead of nailing a demon?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice tight. “I just told you.” I tensed, ready to lash out if he said anything critical. I almost hoped he did. However unreasonable, I wanted a fight with this man, whoever he was.

He didn’t look critical, however. Instead, he looked amused, and his eyes were dancing as he jerked his head sideways, signaling for us to walk to the far side of the room.

I fell in step beside him, both grateful for the silence and strangely put off. It hung between us, as thick as fog, and I fought the urge to blabber on about the latest PTA drama, just to break the silence.

We stood looking out the window at the people going into and out of the 7-Eleven and the traffic along Rialto. After a few more minutes of silence, David broke it for me. “You have a good heart, Katie-kins.”

“What did you just call me?” I asked, my voice remarkably stable.

“I called you Kate. That’s your name, right?”

“No,” I said. “You called me Katie-kins.”

Eric used to call me that. I hated it, but he’d say it anyway, just to get a rise. It had started when we’d first met, me thirteen and him a year older. He told me later that it had been love at first sight for him, too, but I never really believed him. How could I when he’d spent so much of his time tormenting me?

David glanced up and to the left as if trying to remember. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Why?” I managed to force the question out even though my mouth and throat had gone completely dry.

“Why?” he repeated.

I wanted to confront him. To insist he tell me the truth. But maybe I didn’t really want to know, because “Eric used to call me that,” was the best I could manage.

“He did?” David said, his eyes strangely soft. “I don’t know, Kate,” he said. “It just sort of rolls off the tongue. Hell, maybe Eric told me he called you that. I just don’t remember.”

I blinked at him, then swallowed. “Right,” I said. “That makes sense.”

I clenched my fists, wondering what I’d expected. For him to reveal all? To say that, yes, he was Eric. That he was sorry for leaving me, that he was sorry for the secrets.

That he loved me.

And then . . .

I frowned, turning away from David as I studied the floor. And then what? Could the Eric I loved ever really come back to me? And even if he could, so what? Time changes everything. I had a new life now. A new family. Even if this man was Eric, did I really want to know?

I wasn’t sure, but at the same time, I
had
to know. I wasn’t sure if I was obsessing on the question because of hope or fear, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. I also couldn’t get it out of my mouth.

But while I might not be able to voice the question, there was one other way that I could be sure—a fight. And a real one this time, not the scrabbling to douse him with holy water we’d played at earlier.

I’d known Eric’s rhythms. Known his style, his pattern. I hadn’t been paying attention the first time I’d sparred with David. But I wouldn’t make that mistake this time. And if Eric was buried somewhere deep in David, I’d know.

What I’d do with the answer, though . . .

That, I wasn’t yet sure of.

“This IS SO cool. You guys are really going to fight?” Allie bounced in front of us, clearly thrilled at the prospect of seeing her mom and her teacher battle it out.

“Don’t you have homework?”

“Not much.”

“Allie, you should go home. You’re already in hot water for not telling me you were coming here today.” I shot a look at Cutter and put my hands on my hips for emphasis. “Considering how well you’re doing, I’m thinking that my little girl’s been keeping a few secrets about her practice schedule.”

“You’re the one who wanted me in shape!”

“And now I want you to go home.”

“You want me to walk?” She said the words with the same outraged inflection as if I’d told her to perform a belly dance.

“Yes,” I said. “I want you to—”

I cut myself off. Our house was about a mile away, and I really
didn’t
want her walking by herself. “Never mind,” I said. “I’ll drive you.” I shot a quick glance toward Cutter and David. “We’ll do this some other time.”

“Mom!” Allie howled, at the same time Cutter and David voiced equally powerful protests.

“It’s not like the kid hasn’t seen you fight, Kate,” Cutter said.

I wanted to put up more of a protest, but I knew I was beat. Besides, I figured too much protest would only raise Allie’s suspicions. She’d never seen her father fight; it wasn’t as if anything David did could possibly trigger a memory with her. It was my reactions I was worried about. But no matter what I learned here, I could keep my emotions and my expressions under control. After all, it wasn’t like I didn’t have practice.

“Fine,” I finally said with a toss of my hands. “You win.” I turned to David. “Looks like it’s you and me.”

This time, David sparred without the cane. We started out easy, just testing each other’s rhythms. A few jabs and parries as we scoped out reflexes and reactions, Cutter and Allie cheering us on from the sidelines.

He broke the pattern first, and we went at it with gusto until we were both out of breath, neither one at the advantage. He was good, and I had to admit we were pretty evenly matched.

He got the advantage first, catching me in the chest with a kick. I’d seen it coming at the last second, and I defended with a sidestep, then grabbed his leg and tried to knock him flat. He surprised me, though, nailing a damn tricky move by spinning around, and jerking his foot free. At the same time, his hands hit the mat, and he kicked back, catching me under the chin and knocking me down.

I sprang back up, my adrenaline now truly pumping. I’d seen that spin before, and not just in practices with Cutter. The move was difficult, and every fighter moves with certain nuances. And the man now circling me on the mat moved like my first husband.

My heart stuttered, and David picked up on my hesitation, moving in with a jab that I blocked automatically, then dropped and rolled to one side, wanting both distance and time to think. I was back on my feet before he could reach me, but in the split second I’d been down, I’d noticed the lights in the dojo. Never important before, they’d always blended into the background. Now, though . . .

Now the metal fixture fluorescent bars surrounded by the solid wire cage seemed to call to me. And as David rushed me, I did exactly the same, sprinting toward him, even while I blurted out the key words of “Hail Mary!”

He blinked, but stopped short, and I could swear I saw him nod. I kept on, expecting him to grab my waist and toss me into the air as Eric had so many times before.

It was our “Hail Mary” move, named after the football play, and something we’d concocted together. It only worked in certain fight situations, but we’d extricated ourselves from many a sticky situation by Eric tossing me up, giving me a new vantage point from above our foe.

This time, the move didn’t work nearly as well. Instead, reality smashed up against my expectations. And by “smash,” I mean literally.

I barreled straight into David, barely registering his startled expression as we tumbled to the ground. Allie and Cutter cried out and rushed toward us, and I lay there on the mat, staring up at the light fixture I’d been aiming for and wondering what had gone wrong.

Except I knew what had gone wrong: David wasn’t Eric, and some little part of me had known that all along. More, I’d been foolish to even let the thought enter my head. Eric would never have used black magic to slide his soul into another body, and I couldn’t quite believe that I’d let my imagination run off with Eddie’s wild theory.

As I lay there—Cutter, Allie, and David staring at me with baffled expressions—the reality of the situation flooded through me.
This man wasn’t Eric.

I closed my eyes and breathed deep, barely hearing Allie’s worried cries of “Mom? Mom!”

I shouldn’t be sad. I didn’t
want
to be sad. I was happily married. An undead husband would only wreak havoc on this life I’d put together and loved so much. So, no, I really, really, really didn’t want to be sad.

Didn’t matter, the tears threatened anyway. I managed to blink them back, but I could tell by the expressions on the faces around me, that I wasn’t doing a good job of hiding my emotion.

David knelt beside me. “Kate? Are you okay? What happened?”

“I . . . I misjudged a move. I was trying something new. It didn’t work.”

“No kidding,” Allie said. She was down beside me, too, now, her hand on my elbow. If she or the others thought my “Hail Mary” outburst was odd, no one mentioned it.

David studied me through narrowed eyes. “You don’t look that great. Do you feel okay?”

“I’m . . .” I shook my head. “You know what? I don’t. I’m feeling a little woozy.” Right then, I wanted nothing more than to escape. And I wasn’t above faking an illness to do it.

“Go home,” he said. “Besides, don’t you two have company tonight?”

“We do?”

“Troy, Mom!” Allie said. “Mr. Long’s right. I’ve gotta go get ready.” She stood up, tugging me along with her.

“Right,” I added, with a queasy smile to Cutter and David. “And I’ve got a dinner to make.”

l dropped Allie At home so that she could do the primping thing, then picked up Timmy at KidSpace. On the way home, I stopped in at Laura’s to beg help. I told myself that I didn’t want her at home by herself brooding about Paul, but the truth was I wanted her kitchen gadgets, her recipe books, and her kitchen equivalent of a green thumb.

She’s not a neat or organized cook, but the end result always came out edible. And so long as I trailed along after her cleaning up the mess and putting the broken pieces back together, I was pretty sure we’d come up with something worthy of Troy Myerson by the time he arrived at eight.

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” I asked her. We were in her kitchen, putting a variety of Pampered Chef products into a box. Each and every one, Laura assured me, absolutely essential to bringing off a fabulous meal.

“I promise,” Laura said. “In fact, I’m glad you asked. Otherwise I’d just be sitting around plotting ways to kill him.” She shot me a piercing look. “I mean, I already know where to hide the body, right? I’m halfway there.”

“We definitely need to get you in the kitchen,” I said. “In fact, maybe you and Mindy should come for dinner, too. How’s Mindy doing, by the way?” I asked gently.

“She doesn’t know,” Laura said. “Well, I think she suspects, but that’s not the same. We’re going to wait until January to tell her. I told Paul that I’d take him for every last cent if he spoiled Mindy’s Christmas.”

“Yeah?”

She smiled thinly. “Of course, I plan to take him for every last cent anyway. But he doesn’t know that.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed. Maybe you and Mindy should plan on spending a lot of quality holiday time over here.”

“Sounds good to me,” she said. “Even tonight, for that matter. But is that kosher? Another teenage girl at the table when the boy du jour is present?”

“I’m not sure, actually. I’ll have to check the manual.” I pulled a face. “Oh, wait. Teenagers don’t come with a manual. Someone really ought to do something about that.”

As Laura continued to pack enough cooking utensils to supply a five-star restaurant, I called the teenager in question, grateful to discover that in this particular case, etiquette gave a big thumbs-up to the presence of best friends.

I relayed the news to Laura, then peeked into the last box she’d packed. “We’re just feeding a high school boy, you know. He’s not the monarch of a small country.”

“Allie’s crushing on him,” Laura said. “You don’t want her blaming a crappy dinner if it all falls apart. Do you?”

Since she had a point, we loaded all the boxes (five!) then raided Laura’s refrigerator and freezer. Between the two of us, she assured me that we had enough for a decent meal. Considering the Odyssey was packed to the gills, I believed her.

Once we’d brought the supplies back to my house and she’d put me to work dicing onions, the conversation shifted around to demons. Some women discuss soap operas with their friends. Laura and I dish about the undead.

I checked to make sure Allie was out of earshot, then brought Laura up to speed, ending with the theory David and I had concocted that somehow this all had to do with the exhibition.

“And he’s a rogue hunter, huh?” She slammed the knife hard against the cutting board, neatly slicing a bell pepper in two. “I don’t seem to have any luck with the buttoned-up corporate types. Maybe I should see if your academic demon-hunting friend is looking for a date. Because apparently I’m in the market again.” Her voice had risen, along with the speed and fury of her knife blows.

I watched silently, waiting for her to calm down. When the pepper was nothing more than tiny bits of green goo, she looked up at me with a beatific smile. “Cooking’s very cathartic, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” I said. I cleared my throat. “Actually, there’s something about David I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh really?” Her perfectly arched brow quirked upward. “Is this the part where you tell your best friend to back off, because you’ve got your sights on the guy? Poor Stuart. His wife, thinking about another man.”

“Pretty much,” I said.

That got her attention and she stopped chopping mushrooms long enough to turn to me. “Kate, what are you talking about?”