Demons are Forever: Confessions of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom (18 page)

He held up his second finger. “I was just getting to that.“ Another finger popped up. “And an extra phone line. Got a lady friend now. Can’t have folks picking up the extension and interrupting my conversations. A man needs his privacy.”

“You could get a cell phone,“ I pointed out, but he waved that off as one of “them damned techno gadgets.”

Considering Eddie was remarkably well-versed in current technology, I considered the demand more form than substance. Not that it mattered. I was willing to agree if that meant he’d stay.

“The furnishings,“ he said. “Gotta do something about the furniture. That dark stuff is butt ugly.”

I bit back a smile. “And I suppose the room needs a paint job, too?”

“It is a big dingy.”

The phone, cable, and paint I could agree to on my own. Furniture, however, got us into serious bucks. Which meant I needed Stuart’s agreement, too. I was pretty sure he’d say yes just to make me happy, but pretty sure wasn’t good enough. I needed the odds stacked in my favor, and I knew exactly how to do that.

I checked my watch, then did a fast mental adjustment of this month’s budget. What the hell. We’d eat a lot of hamburger this month, but it would be worth the sacrifice.

As Belinda handed him a pen, I snatched the lease form off the table. “He’ll fill it out at home,“ I said, “and give you a call.“ To Eddie, I said, “We need to get going. I have to run by the mall before we go get Allie.”

Because I needed to buy a new dress. Low-cut and sexy. The kind of dress that can entice a husband to agree with just about anything.

Since Eddie informed me
that he would rather “have his toenails ripped out by a pissed-off succubus than go to the mall,“ I dropped him back at the house and then enlisted Laura. Not that I couldn’t shop by myself, but I wanted her input on the dress issue. Plus, I wanted to know if she’d managed to scrape up any info on our new pal Andramelech.

“Any progress?”

“Maybe,“ she said, using her good arm to hold up a clingy bloodred number and a slinky purple cocktail dress.

“Which?“ I asked. “The dress or the demons?”

“Both, actually.“ She passed me the red one. “I don’t think purple is good for your complexion.”

Being somewhat fashion challenged, I had to take her word for that. So I took the dress and headed into the dressing room in which the salesgirl had hung the pile of dresses I’d already tagged for consideration.

“What about the other?“ I asked. “Do you mean that maybe you’ve found something else?”

“Hold on,“ she said, from the other side of the door. I already had my jeans off, but I opened the dressing room door just enough to see what she was holding up. I found her creeping slowly through the dressing room, peering under stalls for legs, which presumably, were attached to ears.

“No one here,“ she said, seeing me peeking out at her.

“I know,“ I said, amused. “I checked when we came in.”

She rolled her eyes. “Damn.”

I laughed. “But it’s good of you to double-check me. And you get brownie points for remembering in the first place.”

“I’d rather have the brownies.”

”That,“
I said, “you get if the information’s good enough.”

“Then I’m probably stuck on my diet. I learned a few things, but everything is so vague that I’m not sure how much use it’s going to be.”

“At this point, every little bit helps.“ I was out of my shirt now and shimmying into the dress. “Zip me?”

I pushed open the door, and as Laura zipped the dress, she told me what she’d learned. “First of all, can I just say that typing with a broken arm is tricky business?”

“Your dedication to your job is noted,“ I said. “Definitely deserving of brownies.”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear,“ she said with a laugh. ”Anyway, I think I’ve set myself up to get the creepiest spam on the planet. When you research demons on the internet, you come across some pretty disgusting websites.”

“Anything both relevant and disgusting?”

“Maybe.“ She stepped in front of me, looked me up and down, then gave a sad little shake of her head.

“Really? It’s so comfortable.”

She waved at the three-way mirror at the end of the dressing room. “See for yourself.”

I did, then immediately reached back to try and unzip the thing myself, disappointed to say the least. For months now, I’d been working out, burning calories at an exceptional pace and toning muscle like you wouldn’t believe. Twenty years ago, after one week of that kind of regimen, I would have dropped two sizes. Now, though, with forty creeping closer and closer, the effects weren’t quite so dramatic.

“I guess I’m not quite a size eight yet,“ I said, patting the area where the dress clung tenaciously to my thighs. Nicely toned thighs, I might add. But definitely still size ten.

“I’ll get you the next size up,“ Laura said.

I shook my head. “No way. I’ve got dresses in here with flouncier skirts. Lets see if one of those fits.”

She held up the red garment, which had just wreaked such havoc with my ego. “But this is darling,“ she said. “You’re going to pass on it just because you need something bigger than an eight?”

“Absolutely,“ I said. “And don’t look so indignant. You know damn well you’d do the same thing.”

She shrugged and tossed the dress over the door of a nearby dressing room. “Good point.”

“The Internet?“ I prodded, shutting the dressing room door in case someone decided to walk in and join our little party.

“Right. Well, I poked around and I found some guy’s blog. At least, I think it was a guy. Doesn’t matter. He’s going on and on about all these various demons and what they want and who worships them. Honestly, Kate, it gave me the creeps.”

“I can see why. So what did it say about Andramelech?”

“Well, I can’t tell how much of this has any real basis, you know? I mean, for all I know, everything on the site is fake. Fodder for a bunch of guys doing role-playing games or something.”

“You’re totally off the hook for any incorrect information,“ I said, opening the door and trying not to laugh. “I absolve you of all accountability. But what did you find out?”

She made a face, but I ignored it, hiding back in my dressing room instead and moving on to one of the flouncy dresses.

“According to this guy, about seven years ago, Andramelech spoke through some of his followers, and told them that he was building an army of Hell on earth.”

“Right,“ I said. “We got the army part.”

“Dammit,“ Laura said. “I’m always one step behind the Vatican.”

I laughed. “Trust me,“ I said. “Your efforts are totally appreciated. What else did you learn?”

“Well, the army thing was a biggie,“ she admitted.

“Don’t any of these demons start small? A whole army? Why not start with a small club?”

“Very funny,“ Laura said. “How’s the dress?”

“Flouncy,“ I said. “And very, very cleavage-y.“ At that moment, in fact, I had my hand down my bra, trying to shift myself around so that I’d end up with the illusion of even more cleavage. I can’t say my efforts were successful, but I figured a trip to Victoria’s Secret could help me out.

“Let me see,“ she demanded.

“Tell me what else you found.”

“What does it matter?
Forza
probably already knows it.”

“Laura ...”

“Right. Anyway, apparently Andre wanted some big-shot demon dude to be his generalissimo or something. He’d been trying for centuries to get this other demon on board, in fact. But the big-shot demon had been—how did they put it?—bound. And Andre never did manage to get the demon free.”

“This is good. And new. Did it say the name of the generalissimo demon?”

“No,“ she said, looking pleased, “and I looked for hours to try and find out. Nothing. It was almost as if the blogger was talking in code, you know? Wanting to talk about it, but fearing retribution if he accidentally clued anyone in to what Andramelech was doing.”

“Makes sense,“ I said. “Anything else?”

“One thing I thought might be helpful,“ she said. “Apparently to get to the bound demon, Andramelech would have to challenge the power of the archangel himself.”

”That’s
interesting,“ I said, as I stepped out of the dressing room and did a little twirl, the full skirt flaring in a way that made me feel absolutely sexy, even in my Keds. And, yes, my narcissism was fueled by the fact that this dress was an eight. “Did it say which archangel?”

“Nope,“ Laura said.

“I’ll tell Father Ben. Maybe this will lead somewhere.”

“Well, that will lead somewhere,“ Laura said, indicating my dress. “Any chance I can borrow it after you seduce your husband?”

“Oh, really?“ I asked, my voice rising with interest. “And why exactly do you need an ultra-sexy dress?”

“No reason,“ she said, but her smile told a different story. If she’d been a cat, there would have been tiny yellow feathers peeking out from between her lips.

I let out a low whistle. “What are you up to?”

“Just dinner,“ she said. “No big deal.”

“If it’s no big deal, then wear your black jeans and Coronado Beach tank top.”

“A little bit bigger deal than that,“ she said. “Okay, a lot bigger.”

I twirled my hand, urging her on.

“Dr. Meyer,“ she said. “From the ER, remember?”

“The cute one? The one who did your cast?”

“That’s him. He called this morning. Wanted to know if I wanted to have dinner with him tomorrow.”

“On a Wednesday, no less,“ I said. “That’s a good sign.”

“Do you think so?“ she said. “I wasn’t sure. Maybe that means I’m not good enough for a Friday or Saturday night.”

“Nonsense,“ I said. “It means that’s his first free evening, and you’re the one he wants to spend it with.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.“ I nodded to emphasize the point, and when I saw her smile, I was glad I did. Laura had been through her own hell recently. I was glad to know that maybe she was starting to come through it.

“What does Mindy think?”

“I haven’t told her,“ Laura admitted, after the briefest of hesitations. She lifted a hand to ward off my inevitable sarcastic remark. “Spare me,“ she said. “I’m going to tell her. I’m just going to do it after.”

I kept my lips pressed together, trying very hard not to laugh.

“Oh, shut up,“ she said, but her shoulders were shaking with laughter, too.

“Okay,“ I said, trying to catch my breath. “Okay, here’s the deal. If this dress does its job—if Stuart agrees to Eddie’s list of residential accoutrements—then I will personally deliver it to you tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, it’ll work,“ she said. “Believe me. If that dress doesn’t bend him to your will, your husband isn’t looking.”

By the time I
got to the high school, I was officially running late. I had to pick Allie up, get in an hour of training with her, retrieve Timmy from day care, shower, do my hair and makeup, and pour myself into my fabulous new dress. All before Stuart made it home. And it wouldn’t be the same if I was still dressing when he arrived. Trust me: The impact of a sexy dress is significantly lessened if your husband gets a look at the tummy-control panties you’re wearing underneath.

Fortunately, Allie was waiting on the campus, talking with a boy in the shade of a large oak tree. At least, I thought she was waiting. As I pulled closer, I saw that my daughter was agitated, her hands moving as she talked, a sure sign that she was upset.

I slammed on the brakes and shifted into park, leaving the Odyssey in the circular driveway, much to the consternation of the Toyota Sequoia that had pulled in behind me. I didn’t care. Whether it was mom-sense or Hunter instincts, something told me to get to my daughter—and if that meant blocking traffic, then so be it. I’d endure the other mom’s wrath at the next PTA meeting.

While the Sequoia honked, I jumped out of the van, then hurried toward the tree. Allie and the mystery boy were still talking, with Allie gesturing madly and the boy leaning in just a little too close for my Hunter—and mom—sensibilities.

I’d been on edge from the moment I got out of the car, but as I got closer, my sense of urgency increased, reaching the boiling point when they turned toward me. That’s when the boy reached into his pocket, pulled a stick of gum out of a bright red package, and popped it into his mouth. And if that weren’t bad enough, Allie’s right eye had a doozy of a shiner, which looked all the worse with the smear of mascara left in the wake of her tears.

Shit, shit, shit.

I picked up speed, trying to look both determined and nonchalant. Like a concerned mom, not a terrified Hunter. As I race-walked, though, I was plowing through my purse, and by the time I reached my daughter, my fingers had found the travel-size hair spray bottle no longer filled with medium-hold spray.

Instead, I’d filled this puppy with holy water.

I pulled it out, aimed it, and was just about to give the boy a solid squirt in the face when Allie slapped my arm down.

“Mom! Hey! Chill out, okay?“ She turned to the boy. ”My mom’s on a hydration kick. She’s always squirting me with Evian. It’s totally lame, but what can you do?”

I stood there dumbstruck as she took the spritzer out of my hand, then squirted herself in the face.

“It is refreshing, though,“ she said to him. “Want some?”

“Um, okay.“ He glanced sideways at me, then took a step in the opposite direction. Whether he thought I was a loon, or whether he anticipated the pain associated with holy water I didn’t know. But I readied myself to tackle him just the same.

Allie pushed the plunger and squirted him in the face. He blinked, then wiped the mist off his eyes and cheeks. He managed a forced smile. “Wow. Gee. Yeah. That’s, um, great.“ He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Well, I gotta go. See you in class tomorrow?”