My Demon (3 page)

“Thanks Mum. Sleep well.” Alex tried to peer over her mother. The handbag had been chucked on the bed, and most of the contents were strewn across the sheets.

“Schur. Schee you in the morning.” She turned a little too fast, and fell against the side of the wardrobe. Supported by the wood, Lily reached out and slammed the door shut.

“I told you. The drunk keeps a dildo in her handbag,” Clive said with a smirk.

“Why would anyone have a dildo in their bag?” Alex asked, and headed back downstairs. “And stop calling her a drunk.”

“I only speak the truth.”

“Liar.”

Clive shrugged and followed her down to the kitchen.

“And just how did you know, anyway?” Alex asked.

“I’m a demon. I know everything I need to know.” Clive pulled a chair out from the table and sat down as Alex cleaned the counters and washed the dishes.

“Well, aren’t you clear as crystal.”

The demon kept quiet as Alex straightened up. Finally, she grabbed the tea towel, drying her hands before locking the back door and heading upstairs once more.

“Do you mind vanishing off to wherever you went earlier? I’ve got to get up early for work, and I’m never going to sleep with you about.” She stopped by the bathroom. “And there’s no way you’re joining me in here.”

“Fine by me, babydoll.” Clive blew her a kiss, and took a step towards the wall.

“Careful!” Alex put a hand out to stop him. He paused to wink, and then stepped through.

T
he time on the alarm clicked to seven thirty-three. The radio came on with the newsreader halfway through a sentence.

 
“…some rain to the north, with brighter spells later in the day,” Alan said.

“It may be brighter spells for you, but we’ve had people running around here in a panic,” Terry Wogan said.

“Crisis over now?” Alan asked.

“Oh no, they’re like a bunch of headless chickens. We’re hoping they’ll have fixed the mic, and…”

Alex rolled over, letting Terry drone away. Only the laughter of his sidekicks pierced through the remains of a dream she was trying to remember. Large spiders, she thought. Walking on the duvet. Giant daddy longlegs had gathered, filling her room. All faced her, staring with their black beady eyes.

“Clive!” She sat up abruptly. Nothing seemed out of place as she looked around from her bed. Her desk was as always, the pens tidy in their pot, the Stephen King books arranged in order of size across the back. The poster of Robbie Williams stared down at her with his sleep-with-me eyes following her as she got up and opened the doors to her wardrobe. The clothes were as they should be, no one waiting to jump out at her. The storage boxes beneath her bed left little room for a stowaway, but she knelt anyway, and lifted the floral valance. A cat couldn’t squeeze in under there, she thought, and lowered the skirting back down.

No one was in the bedroom with her, but she shivered nonetheless. Last night had not been fun, Alex decided as she crossed the landing and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Freaky bloody demon… although one who was strangely sexy. Was she sexually repressed—or just weird fantasizing about a sexy demon? And what about the way he kept tweaking the tips of his horns? Becky said she was a prude. Alex wondered what she’d make of her horny demon. Bec always seemed to have some new tale of her sexual exploits. Connor must be worn out. And all this was his fault, Alex realized. Connor had found the marijuana in the woods. Maybe he’d picked the wrong stuff, and they’d smoked something poisonous. She’d have words later.

The action of scrubbing in the shampoo relaxed Alex a little. She tilted her head back under the shower, the suds catching in the gush of water. The temperature was a bit too hot, almost too much to bear. Clive was hot, not just because of the hint of muscled physique under the cat suit, but physically hot to the touch. And that trick of appearing out of nowhere … bloody powerful stuff that weed.

Like a flash her eyes opened wide. The cubicle was empty, just her and the tide of shampoo suds in the base of the shower. Alex rubbed the conditioner into the length of her hair, this time thinking of her mother. She would have to soak Lily’s hair later, maybe use olive oil or something to try and tease all the knots out. Alex poked her head around the side of the shower curtain.

Still alone.

“No more smoking,” Alex said out loud. She toweled off and stood by the mirror. Silver mist clouded her reflection, distorting the image so she looked like her mother did last night, hair wild, eyes distant. Alex reached out and wiped her palm across the surface. Time to be me again, she thought. She wrapped back up in her towel, and hurried from the bathroom. Too much contemplation makes a girl late, she decided.

Ten minutes later, dressed in the white shirt and black trousers required for work, Alex quickly brushed her hair into a ponytail. Time to go, she thought. She tiptoed past her mother’s room, glancing back to make sure she’d left the bathroom door open. Lily would need a clear route, no doubt, when she woke later. Alex rubbed at the frown lines between her eyes, and placed a foot onto the first step.

“Good morning, Alex. Don’t you look lovely on this fine autumn day?”

“Whaaaaat?” Alex jumped and span away from the voice. She teetered on the edge of the top tread, balancing with her toes, her arms cartwheeling as she tried to find her balance. Gravity had her, pulling her backwards and into the air. Clive stepped back, not reaching out, waiting as she grabbed helplessly at nothing. His smile grew as Alex gulped down a scream, and lunged at the banister. She catapulted around, and slammed into the wall with a thump.

“How the bloody hell are you back? I’m not stoned anymore!” Her breath came short and fast. “Jesus.”

“Not Jesus,” Clive said, and stepped past her and down the stairs.

“You’re supposed to be gone…” Alex opened and closed her mouth, lost for words. “But you’re not real, are you? It was the dope.”

Clive stopped halfway down. “Not real, honeybun?” He took a step. “Hmmm.”

“Why are you still here?” Her grip wouldn’t loosen on the banister. She let an adrenaline fuelled shiver pass through her and gave herself a moment to calm down. Slowly Alex extended her fingers one-by-one until she could follow the demon downstairs. She’d heard of people having flashbacks of their hallucinations but she’d never dreamt they could be this real.

“Hurry up, sugarplum. I haven’t got all day.” Clive disappeared into the living room. Alex wished he’d just plain vanish, and quickened her pace.

“Open the left hand drawer of the dresser.” Clive sat on the arm of the sofa, his costume tail pushed to the side. His biceps rippled under the tight red fabric of his cat suit. “Come on.”

Alex didn’t want to go into the room, but her legs moved seemingly of their own accord, her movements choppy. Rename me Compliant, she thought and stopped by the dresser. Now give me a treat, ‘cause I’ve been a good puppy. The giggle fell out before she could quiet it. She imagined herself on all fours; tongue out, eyes gazing lovingly up at Clive.

“What’s so funny?” Clive asked.

“Nothing. Sorry.” Alex clamped her mouth shut, and thought of rain. She hated rain.

“Babydoll. You’re not paying attention. Open the drawer.”

“I can’t do that,” Alex said. “That’s my Mum’s finance drawer. I’m not supposed to go in there.”

“And how long ago was that rule made?” Clive tapped his foot.

“Years ago,” Alex said. “I’m not much of a rule breaker, you know.”

“Okay. You’re nineteen and pay rent from your hard earned wages. The way I figure it, you have a right to have a rummage around the drawer. How’s your Mum’s job going?” He kept his gaze steady, eyes boring into her.

Alex opened her mouth, intending to respond with a biting remark. “Oh my God.” When had her mother last chatted about work? “She’s been bloody fired again, hasn’t she?”

“Correctomundo!” Clive clapped his hands energetically. “So that means
you’re
paying the bills. Open up the drawer.” Clive joined her at the dresser. An excited light played in his eyes. He grabbed his tail and ran his fingers up and down the length. “Open it.”

“You’re like a bloody kid at Christmas,” Alex muttered, and pulled the drawer out. She peered at the contents for a second, letting the haphazard pile of bills register. Suddenly she staggered a step backwards. “They’re all red!” she exclaimed. “How could she?” Alex picked up a bill for the gas, a bill for the electricity, a phone bill, and worst of all, shoved under all the others, a letter from the council explaining how they were going to be evicted if they didn’t pay the rent soon. “Oh shit.” Tears sprung unexpectedly in her eyes. “But I pay her rent every week.” She turned to Clive, and blinked to clear her vision. “Where did all my money go?”

Clive raised an imaginary bottle to his lips and made a loud glugging noise.

“What am I going to do?” Her voice came out in a high-pitched whine. Alex leafed through the red tinted papers.

“I have a solution for you, sweetness. But I’ll tell you about it when you’re at work.” Clive reached out and stroked the side of her face. “I’ll catch you later, okay?” He grinned at her. “No worries, honeybun. Not while Clive’s on the case.”

Suddenly, there was a muted boom. A flash of red smoke exploded around the demon. Alex coughed, and fanned at the vapors. Clive was gone.

“Thank God for that,” Alex said, but for a second, she stared at the spot Clive had vacated, a hand held up to the cheek he had touched. “Show-off.” Her eyes alighted on the VCR’s time display. “I am going to be
so
late for work.” She grabbed her bag, and ran from the house.

Alex rushed for the bus, jumping onto the Number 57 seconds before the doors whooshed shut.

“Behind the yellow line,” the driver droned. He glanced down at Alex’s travel card, threw the indicator on, and accelerated into the traffic.

Alex grabbed a pole as the bus lurched forward and searched for a place to squeeze into. What would she do if Clive appeared? She pushed in beside an obese woman who stank of petroleum jelly and a diminutive man with dark glasses. The less available space around her, she thought, the less space for a demon to materialize in. The fat woman’s trolley dug into the back of her leg the whole way up Oxford Road, and the short man bumped against her front each time the bus listed. She reckoned he was doing it on purpose, and crossed her arms to try and create a buffer. The bus shuddered to a stop next to the Broad Street Mall, and Alex joined the flow of departing passengers onto the pavement.

The Closet was on the ground floor of the Broad Street Mall, opposite Superdrug and next to a Chinese herbalist. Maybe she’d pay Shu-Li a visit during her lunch break and find out if they had a powder or tea to take away persistent hallucinations. Alex rubbed at her temples. She’d need to go to the pharmacist for some paracetamol, as well. Whether Clive was real or not didn’t change the state of her mother’s financial situation, and her head ached.

Just beyond the tills, a customer searched a rack of trousers. Next to her stood a mannequin with porcelain colored skin and long, straight black hair. As Alex slipped past the security barriers, the dummy sprang to life, and ducked behind a clothes rack. The customer gasped and dropped the clothes she was holding. The mannequin ignored the woman, and waved Alex over.

“You’re late!” Becky said. “Agnes stepped out for a minute, hurry up and put your bag away.”

“You’ve got to stop doing that,” Alex said.

“What?” Becky fluttered her eyelids, her face a caricature of innocence.

“Imitating the dummies. One day, someone is going to complain.”

Bec shrugged, and watched the woman she’d frightened leave The Closet. “So what? It’s fun and I’m bored. Go put your stuff away, then tell me off.” She shooed Alex to the back of the shop.

“Oh, and I need to have a word with you,” Alex said and jogged to the rear of the store and out to the staff room. She locked her bag and coat up, and rushed back. Agnes wandered in seconds later, a plastic-wrapped sandwich in her hands, a frown on her face. Shit, thought Alex. I’m done for. But Agnes didn’t stop, and disappeared through the door at the back—probably headed for her office.