Carpe Demon: Adventures of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom (31 page)

“Sure. His father said over and over again how Clark was going to inherit his entire fortune, and then he goes and leaves everything to the Church? That’s the stuff of soap operas.”

“True,” I said. I’d had a similar thought myself. “But he seems perfectly content now,” I added. After all, he was doing the political thing and seemed to be making a success of it.

“Hmmm.” Laura leaned back against the counter, and I went back to my kid’s bottom. The rest of the house was pretty quiet. Stuart was in his study, and Allie and Mindy were camped out at the kitchen table doing homework. My family wasn’t my worry, though. I had things to do tomorrow, and I couldn’t do them with an eighty-five-year-old shadow.

“Laura,” I began, a wheedling tone to my voice.

“Oh, boy,” she said. “Here it comes.”

“Remember how you’d agreed to watch Timmy for two days? And remember how I took him to KidSpace today, so you only had to watch him for one?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted one eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Well, I was wondering if I could call in that marker.”

“I’m guessing we’re not talking a two-year-old.”

“About forty times that,” I said.

“Eddie.”

“Eddie,” I confirmed, trying to coax Timmy’s kicking feet into a pair of pajama bottoms. “I can’t leave him alone here.”

Laura took pity on me and dangled a toy over Tim’s head. He quit kicking and grabbed for it. “So you want what?”

“You were going to spend tomorrow bouncing around on the Internet, right? Can you do that from here? Set up my laptop at the kitchen table?”

“I
could
do that here,” she said. “What exactly do I get out of the deal again?”

I ensnared Timmy in a Bob the Builder pajama top and got it pulled over his head before he had time to howl. “My love and admiration,” I said to Laura. “Plus a lifetime of free desserts.”

“Sold,” she said. “But if he sprays me with holy water, you’re going to hear about it.”

I lifted Timmy to the ground, then patted his rump. He headed for the living room and story time on the couch. Laura and I followed behind. “Poor guy, believing he had holy water, and all along the nurses were just giving him tap water.” Her brow furrowed. “Do you think the nurses were just appeasing an old man? Or do you think they’re demons, too?”

Her words hit me with the force of a slap, and I stifled an urge to thwap the heel of my hand against my forehead. I grabbed her arm and tugged her back toward Timmy’s room, all the while hollering down the stairs for Allie to entertain her brother until I got there.

In the room I pulled the door shut. I was almost bouncing with excitement, and I saw my own energy reflected in Laura’s face. “What?” she said. “What have you thought of?”

“The nurses aren’t demons,” I said. “They’re pets. Or some of them are.”

“Pets,” she repeated. “As in Fluffy and Fido?”

“Sort of,” I said. “But not really.”

“Kate. I’m going to grow old here. . . .”

“Right. Sorry.” I ran my hands through my hair and started pacing Timmy’s room. “I should have realized this before. We don’t just need to be looking for Goramesh’s mysterious thing. We need to look for whoever’s going to be trying to get it for him.”

Laura blinked, and I realized I was going way too fast for her.

“Okay,” I said, “here’s the deal. Demons use humans. They can inhabit us when we die or they can possess us when we live or they can even move in and share space with us while we’re alive.”

“Eww!”

“I know. Time-sharing with a demon. Very yuck.” I waved my hand, pushing all those little educational tidbits away. “That’s not the point. The point is that demons don’t always take over humans. Sometimes they’ll just recruit people to do their dirty work.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Lots of reasons. Maybe they want a relic from a church to use in some gross demonic ritual.”

“So they’ll send a human to steal it?”

“Exactly,” I said. “And I’m betting that the people at the nursing home—most of them, at least—are just human. Most probably don’t even know there’s anything weird going on. But the others—”

“Like Nurse Ratched.”

I nodded. “—the others are the demons’ minions.”

She looked positively grossed out. “Why?”

I shrugged. “Who knows? The lure of power? Immortality? Demons lie. The bait could be anything. The point is they do things for the demons. Things the demons can’t or won’t do.”

“But—” I saw it in her face the moment she made the connection. “Oh! So you’re saying Goramesh must have someone who’s going to schlep into the cathedral and get whatever this thing is that we’re looking for.”

“Exactly.”

“Any ideas?”

“Nope.” I frowned. “Well, not a legitimate one anyway.”

“I’ll settle for illegitimate,” she said.

At the moment, frankly, so would I. With nothing concrete to go on, though, conjecture seemed good enough. I hated to even voice the suspicion. I drew a breath. “I was just thinking about Clark. If he
really
was expecting to inherit everything, but his father gave everything to the Church instead . . .” I trailed off, certain Laura would get my drift.

She didn’t disappoint. “And you know what they say about politicians—they’d sell their soul for a vote.” As soon as the words passed her lips, she gasped, then squeezed her eyes shut, obviously mortified. “Oh, shit, Kate. I didn’t mean—”

I shook my head, holding up a hand to ward off her words. The make-it-all-better mom in me wanted to pat her on the shoulder and tell her it was okay. I didn’t, though. Instead, I just stood there, her comment about politicians setting my thoughts to humming.

Stuart.
The car accident he’d survived. His sudden and absolute certainty he’d win the election. And the mysterious trip to the cathedral archives.

I fought a shiver and closed my eyes. This couldn’t be happening. My husband couldn’t be in league with a demon.

Could he?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“It’s possible, Kate,”
Larson said. “I hate to say it, but it is very possible.”

I’d arrived at Larson’s office a few minutes before eight, wanting to catch him before he took the bench. I’d called and canceled with Cutter, telling him I’d see him this evening with the girls. Now, though, I was almost sorry I’d come. Although Larson was saying words I’d expected, they were still words I didn’t want to hear.

“But Stuart? He’s hardly even religious. He only goes to Mass when I prod him.”

“Is that supposed to be an argument
against
consorting with demons?” he asked. I frowned, but Larson continued. “You’re the one who pointed out his quick recovery from the car accident.”

“No. No way.” I shook my head so hard I almost wrenched my neck. “I was just tilting at windmills, wasn’t thinking clearly.” I rubbed my head, trying to ward off a massive migraine. “And besides, I saw him in the church
after
the accident. He didn’t die. He was barely even injured.”

“Perhaps the injury was minor, but the impact more than you realize. A man can change his thinking when faced with his own mortality.”

“A deal with the Devil?
Stuart?
I don’t think so.”

“Your husband is an ambitious man, Kate. If he thinks that Goramesh can help him . . .” He trailed off, leaving me to draw my own conclusions.

I didn’t like the conclusions that were slipping into my head despite all my efforts to keep them out.

“Watch him, Kate. But if the time comes, you must stop him. It’s imperative we discover what Goramesh is searching for, and that we get it safely to the Vatican. If Stuart were to get to it first—”

“You’re talking as if we’re sure he’s involved.” My heart seemed to tighten in my chest.

“Until we know for sure that he isn’t, we have to assume as much.”

The bailiff poked his head in then, checking to make sure Larson was ready to take the bench. He left to go work, and I left to . . . what? Sulk? Worry?

No, as much as I wanted to do all of that, I had those damn responsibilities.

I got in my car and headed for the cathedral.

My cell phone rang as I was parking the car, and when I checked the caller ID, I saw that the call was coming from my house. Had Allie missed her ride? Had Eddie come out of his funk? Had Stuart come home? Was he looking for me? Did he know I was on to him? For that matter, was there anything to be on to, or was I just being paranoid, and Larson along with me?

I waited another ring and then pushed the talk button. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.” Laura’s voice. (She would have been my next guess.)

“Do you have news?”

“You-know-who is driving me
nuts
,” she said, her voice just a hair above a whisper.

I cringed. “Sorry about that. What’s he doing?”

“Hovering,” she said. “He’s in watching television right now. He just keeps circling me and looking over my shoulder, and then he’ll mumble something about demons and go change the channel. It’s freaky, Kate.”

“Sorry,” I said again, uselessly. “Do you want me to come home?”

“No, no. I’ll be fine. Did you talk to him before you left this morning?”

“He was still asleep. How’s he look?”

“Better, actually. He’s driving me nuts, but he’s not spouting off as much. I can’t put my finger on it, but I think he’s clearer.”

“Good.” Better than good, actually. I needed Eddie not to be nuts. Especially if Larson’s (okay,
my
) suspicions about Stuart were true, I couldn’t afford to have Eddie revealing secrets. (That train of thought prompted another round of guilt. How could I think that about Stuart? My husband. Timmy’s father. The man I’d vowed to love, honor, and cherish. He wasn’t
that
ambitious. Was he?
Was he?
)

I drew in a breath and tried to get off that line of thinking. “Was that why you called? To report about Eddie?”

“Nope. Two things. Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

“Oh, please. The good news.”

“I found out that Brother Michael used to live at a monastery just outside of Mexico City. And guess what?”

“It’s the one that was recently ravaged by demons?” This was good news.

“Yup.” I could hear the excitement in her voice. “So that’s a connection, right?”

“It’s great,” I said. I kept my voice enthusiastic, but in reality, I wasn’t sure where to go from there. We already knew there was a connection. This confirmed it, but didn’t really add anything new. I wasn’t about to burst Laura’s bubble, though. “So what’s the bad news?”

“You’re hosting a playdate. Here. At three—”

“
Shit
.” I’d totally forgotten. I
always
check my calendar. Always, always,
always
. Except today.

Damn, what was I thinking? (Actually, I knew the answer to that one. I was thinking about demons, and the possibility that my husband, who I thought I knew so well, had hooked up with one. In the grand scheme of things, I suppose I had an excuse for forgetting a four-child playdate at which I was supposed to provide snacks, but that didn’t make me feel a whole lot better.)

“Did I screw up? Should I have canceled for you?”

“No, no. It’s my fault. I should have canceled days ago. I just forgot all about it.” I wondered vaguely what else I’d forgotten about, but decided it didn’t matter. Obviously, all my various obligations would eventually come and knock on my door.

We chatted a few more minutes, and I decided I’d hit the archives for a couple of hours, then the grocery store (cup-cakes, Teddy Grahams, fruit, and juice boxes). After that, I’d pick up Timmy and head home. Laura promised to hang around, just in case Eddie decided to slip back into demon paranoia and scare all the kids (or the parents) to death.

As soon as I hit the button to end the call, it rang again. I clicked back on, expecting Laura. “Did you forget something?”

“Nope,” Allie said. “This is so amazingly cool, Mom!”

I chuckled. When I’d given her the cell phone, I’d told her it was for emergencies only. But I should have known she couldn’t resist one or two calls.

“I’m glad you approve,” I said. “But what’s the emergency?”

“Huh?”

“Are you supposed to be using the phone without danger to life or limb?”

“Oops.”

I should have said something then, but I was too busy trying not to laugh.

“Well, I do sort of have an emergency.”

Considering the way my week was going, you’d think I would have tensed at that statement. But I knew my kid well. This emergency was no emergency. This emergency was an excuse to tread the wireless airwaves. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll bite. What’s the emergency?”

“Can me and Mindy go to the mall after school? Please, oh please, oh please?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, Mom.
Please?
”

“Alison Crowe, do you even remember our deal?”

(Long silence.)

“Allie . . .”

“Um, what deal is that?”

Would it not have been so painful, I would have beat my head against the steering wheel. “Our deal that self-defense class comes first, and anything else you may have planned gets bumped.”

“Oh.
That
deal.”

“Mmmm.”

“We could go after . . .” That in a small, tentative voice.

I felt myself caving and struggled to remain strong. “What’s so important at the mall tonight?”

(Another long silence. This time, I had a feeling I knew why. Boys.)

“Allie . . . ?”

“Stan’s gonna be working tonight. We just want to say hi. Maybe have a Coke during his break.”

“We?”

“Mindy and me.”