My Demon (5 page)

 
“Why did you put me through that?” Alex whimpered. She pulled back her shirt and found an enormous purple-red mark developing on her shoulder. “Turn round,” she barked at the demon. Clive spun around obediently, and faced the door.

Her fingers trembled. Three times she attempted to unfasten her trousers. Alex took a deep breath to try and control her shaking hands, and finally undid the button. She slid the trousers down and examined her knees. Both hurt, and both glowed an angry red color, the skin puffing up as she watched. No mini-skirts for a while.

“You can look now.” She zipped back up, realizing her palms hurt. She must have broken part of the fall with her hands. But one of them hurt far more than the other. Then she remembered. Clive had burned her.

“Time for some info dumping, Clive. I need to go back out onto the shop floor, and I don’t want to look like an escapee from the local loony bin while I attempt to glean information from you.”

“Okay, okay. But first come here and hold out your hands.”

Alex hesitated for a second before closing the gap between them. The demon linked his warm fingers with hers. Initially the heat was superficial, soothing against the throbbing ache in her palms. Then the sensation changed, grew, shooting down her arms, and filling her body. Alive, Alex thought, and closed her eyes. Flames seemed to lick at the insides of her bones. A giggle escaped before she could swallow it back. Suddenly Clive released her. She held her hands out for a few more moments. Maybe he’d reach out and hold them again.

“Do you feel different?” the demon asked.

“I feel… I feel… My goodness, my knees!” Alex leaned over and rapped the kneecaps. “No pain. Did you heal me?” She peered under her shirt. Her eyes widened at the sight of her shoulder. The skin was pale and peachy once more, the angry red bruise gone. “Demons can heal? Aren’t miracles reserved for angels? Wow!”

“You, my little sugarplum, need to stay focused. Becky is going to get fired. She took £50 today, and her position
will
be terminated this afternoon. Since she’s already fingered for the blame, you have an opportunity to lift a few hundred pounds out of the till. Then you can pay some of the rent, and you won’t be in imminent danger of eviction.” Clive leaned against the door, his expression serious.

“But that’s stealing,” she said with a whisper. “I’ve never stolen anything. Not even a sweet from those open bins at Woolworths. Bec always teases me about that when we’re in there.” She paused as the demon nodded knowingly. “Becky lifting a couple of sweets is not the same thing, and what if Bec hasn’t pilfered from the till today? Aggie won’t fire her.”

Clive moved closer, over to the small vanity counter and crossed his arms, the muscles testing the strength of his cat suit. Did he lift weights on his time off? Did demons get time off? Alex suppressed a giggle. She might be taking advice from a figment of her imagination—but that figment was proving a lot more reliable than her sane mind.

“Stop grinning,” Clive said. “Becky has already stolen her funds for the day. Besides, you’re not stealing. You’re surviving.” He threw his hands in the air. “You know what? I’m sure you and the drunk will be fine living on the street. It’s all the same to me.”

“The street?” Alex whispered.

Clive took one of her hands and clasped it gently between his own. “I want to help you. I do. But you need to work with me.”

“But why do you want to help me? Out of all the people you could have chosen?” She gazed into his hypnotic eyes.

“Because I liked you the best.” Clive leaned down and kissed her forehead gently.

He was so convincing. Could he be real? A guardian demon sent to watch over her? Giggles threatened to erupt once more.

Alex left the bathroom, and quietly re-entered the store. She hung out at the back for a few minutes, hoping to mask the extraordinary amount of time she’d been locked in the loo. Bec was imitating a mannequin again. She’d pilfered from the accessory display, and adorned herself with hair bands and clips. Her eyes rotated around in Alex’s direction. Seconds later, she burst into life and came over.

“Where in hell have you been? Dear Lord, I was about to send a search party.” Becky pulled out a couple of clips. “And what was the deal with the punk? You were like a woman possessed.”

“Um, the girl stole something. I dragged her back. Nothing more.” Alex reached out and took a hair band off Bec. “Does she need some help?” Alex pointed at a lady near the front of the shop. “I should go and ask…”

Becky grabbed Alex’s arm. “Since when did you care about shop lifters? And where did you go? Did you sneak out the back for a smoke?” Becky sniffed the air.

“Say you had to clean up a messy period,” Clive said.

Alex’s eyes widened slightly at the suggestion. “Uh, I’m having a horrible period. A bit messy. You know what I mean?” Alex held a hand to her lower torso, and grimaced.

“Oh God, girl. Was that all? Do you need an aspirin? I keep a packet in my locker.” Becky took a step towards the staff door.

“No… No. I’m, ah, okay at the moment. I’ve got those strong pills the doc prescribed me at home. I’m, um, saving myself for them.” Alex gave a thin smile. “My tummy doesn’t hurt so much right now.”

“The woman over there,” Clive pointed across the room, “is about to head over to the tills. If you go now, you’ll have your chance.” Clive started tapping his foot.

From one deception to another, Alex thought. She glanced at her watch. Somehow it wasn’t even three o’clock. Seemed like she’d been here for days.

“Come on babydoll. You almost messed everything up earlier by hesitating. Go now.”

Alex shrugged her shoulders in defeat. He was a hard demon to refuse. Plus with the skin-tight red cat suit on that lovely shaped body … Alex shook lewd thoughts from her head and made her way over to the tills before the customer arrived.

Clive crept in behind Alex as she served the lady. The client had picked out a rather fetching outfit for a wedding reception, and was gabbing on about whether she’d chosen the right type of style.

“I think you’ll look lovely on the day,” Alex said, and held up a sparkly top.

“Like a tart more like,” Clive said. “She must be, what, at least forty, and she’s shopping in a teenagers’ clothing store. What do you really think…?”

Alex ignored the demon’s commentary. If she thought of him like a radio playing in the background, she could fade him out.

The customer held her visa out as Alex finished scanning the tags. She glanced at the name before sticking the card in the reader. Mrs. P. Peabody. Alex removed the security devices and folded the clothing, sliding everything into a large plastic bag while she decided the ‘P’ could stand for Penelope, but most likely she was called Penny for short.

“I think that top’s beautiful,” Alex said. “Especially matched with the skirt you chose.”

“Are you sure, dear?” Mrs. Peabody asked. “I know this shop is aimed at younger individuals, but I noticed them in the window as I walked by and couldn’t help myself.” She had a posh accent, but on the sweet side. Alex thought she was probably a lovely person. The type of lady who bends over backwards for her friends and has the innocence to not realize it. Funny how she supposed so much from a voice.

“Can you enter your pin please,” Alex asked her.

“Certainly dear,” the lady said, and juggled a copious handbag and two other shopping bags to free some fingers.

“Listen,” Clive said, and rested his hands on her shoulders. “When the till opens, Mrs. Peabody will drop something. A commotion near the shop will distract everyone else. Take the money then.”

The cash drawer clunked open with a bing. Mrs. Peabody dropped her handbag and purse. Coins flew in all directions, tinkling across the floor. An evangelical preacher appeared right outside the entrance with his amp and loudspeaker, as if from nowhere, and started shouting the blessings of the Lord into the shop.

“Now!” Clive ordered.

Alex swung into action, grabbing piles of twenties, tens and fives. She folded them carefully and stuffed them down the front of her trousers.

“No pockets,” she said when she caught Clive’s half-cocked smile of amusement. “Oh no.” Alex grabbed Clive. “What about the surveillance cameras? They’ll have taped me!” Despite whispering, Mrs. Peabody’s head popped up from behind the counter.

“Did you say something, dear?”

“No, no. Do you need some help?” Alex’s smile stretched wide. If Mrs. Peabody stared long enough, she’d know. She’d spot the bulge in Alex’s trousers, and shout,
Cooey. This girl stole an extraordinary amount of cash from the till. Will somebody please take her away?

Instead, Mrs. Peabody’s eyes fluttered to the floor. “Yes please. The insides of my handbag do seem to have gone far and wide.” She glanced behind her. “Whatever is the noise about?”

Alex turned to the front of the store. Agnes and Becky were trying to shift the religious zealot and stop his attempt to convert the shop and contents.

“And the Lord will bless you…”

“Wonderful. I’m happy for you. Now will you leave?” Aggie spoke in a barely repressed shout. Customers left the shop, squeezing awkwardly past Aggie, Becky and the preacher. “I’ll call the police!”

“Good. They need some teachings. Corrupt demon-led police!” preacher-man retorted.

“He has no idea,” Clive said with a smirk.

“Cameras?” Alex questioned cryptically, her eyes wide.

“What, dear?” Mrs. Peabody popped up again.

“Coming.” Alex dashed round to the other side of the counter and began gathering keys, receipts, and coins, along with a lock of hair. Alex eyed Clive quizzically.

Laughing at her strange expression, Clive finally said. “Don’t worry. This evening, your Amazonian boss will discover the central core of her recording device overheated. Today’s recordings will be non-existent. Shame.” He performed a curt bow. “You can thank me later.”

Alex put a hand to her tummy, tracing the edge of the wad of cash before pushing it a little further below her waistband. A vision came to her, notes tumbling out in front of everybody. Tens and twenties floating away in the breeze while Aggie jumped through the air. She’d hit her—full-force in the center of her chest, throw her down and pin her to the ground.

Mrs. Peabody stuffed a handkerchief into her handbag, and surveyed the floor. “I think that’s everything. Thank you ever so much for your help, dear.” She grabbed her shopping, and edged tentatively past preacher-man. The local bobby arrived as Mrs. Peabody disappeared around the corner. Everyone was shouting.

Alex straightened her clothes and checked her waistband again.

“Alex, stop fingering the money, someone will see.”

Alex put her hands by her sides, but they fidgeted with a mind of their own. She settled for clasping them in front of her, where she could keep an eye on them, and took a few steps towards the commotion.

“Aggie, is it okay if I leave? I feel awful. I think I’ve got a migraine coming on, or something.”

Aggie stopped to check her over. “You do look pale.”

Alex nodded. “I just didn’t know if you needed my help with the, um, situation.” She tilted her head at preacher-man, who was now directing his sermon into the precinct. The noise was still deafening, and no one dared make their way past him and into The Closet. Aggie and the policeman had been discussing the possible methods for exorcising the preacher as she’d walked up.

“That’s fine, Alex. Go home and lie down. When’s your next shift?” Aggie shouted above an exceptionally loud quoting of the testament.

“Thursday, I’m here on Thursday,” Alex said, edging away from her boss.

“Feel better, and see you in two days,” Aggie turned back to the policeman.

Alex wandered through the shop out the staff door and into the tearoom where the lockers were. As she reached for her waistband, Clive caught her wrist. “Not here. At home.”

“What if it all falls out halfway there?” Her vision changed. Now she was on the high street. Bills floated in the breeze, blowing everywhere. Crowds of people ran towards her, plucking money from the air.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be with you the whole way. I’ll make sure nothing bad happens.” He pressed his palms against her shoulders, his long fingers finding knots and kneading them out. Clive’s touch was soothing … therapeutic, like hot stones. Without warning, his hands left her back, and Alex almost toppled over.