Personal Demons (13 page)

But then my stomach lurches as the gravity of the game hits me. Gabriel and Frannie will be together tonight. Alone. I’m taking a huge gamble, betting that he doesn’t have enough to tag her yet. And the chip I’m betting with is my own survival.

Cassidy’s ginger almost chokes me as she drops her tray on the table and slides her chair close to mine. “Do you want to share my brownie, Luc?”

“No thanks,” I say, fighting to keep my panic in check. This
could be it. Everything is at stake. Because if Gabriel tags Frannie’s soul for Heaven, I’m screwed. Reversing a tag is nearly impossible.

This has to work.

I figured Mom and Dad would like Gabe—the showing up with flowers for Mom thing was a nice touch—but this is embarrassing. Course, after Luc, they would love anyone I brought home.

Mom took one look at Gabe and decided on eating in the dining room with the fancy plates. “Can I get you anything else, Gabe? More meatloaf, potatoes . . .” she preens.

“No, thank you, Mrs. Cavanaugh. Everything is delicious.”

“Well, thank you. We love to have Frannie’s friends over.”

Some of them, anyway.

I look at Kate and swear she’s having some kind of seizure. And if Maggie doesn’t drool down the front of her shirt, it’s gonna be a miracle. Mary, thankfully, is chatting with Gabe like
someone with more than one functioning brain cell. At least I have one normal sister. But Grace is the one that’s stressing me. She’s staring at Gabe in a very un-Grace-like way—completely awestruck. And instead of eating, I think she’s praying or something. I’d say she was lusting on him, but in some really scary, deranged, religious way.

I look at Dad, my eyes pleading for him to do something. He’s still in his shirt and tie. He believes dinner is a family event, like weddings and funerals, where everyone should be at their best. “Grace, honey. Are you going to eat?” he says, nudging her elbow.

She snaps out of her psycho trance. “Yes, Dad.” But she doesn’t eat. She just stares at Gabe some more.

How come I never realized my family is insane?

I’m mortified by the time we finish dinner. “Come on, Gabe. We’ve gotta finish that lab write-up.” I grab his arm and drag him out of the kitchen.

He smiles at Mom. “Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Cavanaugh. It was lovely.”

Lovely?
Who says lovely?

For the rest of the night, while Gabe and I study in my room, I hear Kate and Maggie shuffling back and forth past my door, giggling.

Ugh!

“One second,” I say to Gabe and slide out the door, closing it behind me.

“Surprised you have your clothes on,” Kate says. “Thought we heard the bed bouncing.” Maggie shoots her a lascivious
smile ’cause we all know the only one of us with a bouncing bed would be Kate. She and Chase have been sleeping together since their high school graduation last year.

“Guys, please. You’re making total fools out of yourselves. Stop.”

“Fine. We’ll listen from Maggie and Grace’s room,” Kate says and turns on her heel.

I stand there for a second, realizing it’s not just my emotions that went berserk when Luc and Gabe showed up. The whole universe is out of whack. Not only have all my sisters gone insane, but Kate
never
does what anyone asks her to.

I hesitate before pushing the door open, ’cause at the thought of Luc a desperate little knot forms in my stomach.

He’s out with Taylor. Right now. And, if I know Taylor—which I do—they’re not just talking.

You don’t want her.

I feel guilty for thinking it, and I’m not really sure where that thought came from, but as soon as it’s out there, I know it’s true. I don’t want him to want her.

Don’t kiss her. Please don’t kiss her.

I slip back through my door and press my iPod onto the speakers on my way back to Gabe. Kicking my shoes off, I spread out next to him on the floor and listen to The Fray’s “You Found Me” rip God a new one for not being there when everything was falling apart.

Gabe looks up from his book and, for the first time, I see a scowl darken his face. “This song sucks.”

I look him in the eye. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Why?”

“ ’Cause it asks some valid questions.”

“Such as?”

“Why God just sits around letting shit happen to good people.”

Gabe’s posture stiffens. “He’s doing a little more than just sitting around.”

“How would you know?”

“I just know. There are miracles every day.”

“Right. Heaven, God . . . it’s all a bunch of crap anyway. A bill of goods that organized religion made up to keep themselves in business.”

His scowl deepens, “You might be right about organized religion, but you’re wrong about God.”

“I thought you were smarter than that. You can’t possibly believe there’s a God. Not with all the really nasty stuff happening out there.”

He looks me hard in the eye. “There is a God, Frannie.”

“Who just comes along and snatches children from their families,” I spit without thinking.

He looks at me and I can’t hold his gaze. My eyes drop and watch his hand slide across the top of his physics book. Our fingers weave together. “People die. That’s just how it works.”

Glancing up at my brother’s picture on the dresser, I feel suddenly exhausted. Too tired to fight. A puff of air escapes my throat and a tear courses down my cheek. “You don’t think I know that?”

I want to scream. I want to push him away. But I don’t have the
energy to do anything except lean my forehead on his shoulder and close my eyes.

This is perfect. Taylor’s ginger is nearly choking me. I’d be hard-pressed to think of a single part of my body that she hasn’t touched or brushed against. Everything is going just how I intended.

She and Riley eat their pizza, and I fish for information. So far, I’ve learned Frannie dates around but doesn’t sleep around; that she drinks at parties but doesn’t smoke; that, despite the whole religion thing, her parents are pretty laid back; and that I’m not her type. This last according to Taylor.

Truthfully, I’m not being a very good listener because I’m a little preoccupied. Unless Gabriel made the same first impression on Frannie’s parents that I did—which is unlikely, slimy angel that he is—he’s in her room right now. And, even though the bigger threat is that he’ll tag her soul, all I can see is him doing to Frannie what I want to do to her. The irony is that if he did what I’m imagining and took her flesh, it would work to my advantage. Lust is lust, no matter who you’re lusting with.

But it would also kill me.

There are myriad emotions whirling through me, some I recognize and others I don’t. But the one that’s winning out, trumping all the others, is jealousy.

I force a smile. “How long have you all known each other?” I ask.

Taylor grins. “Frannie moved in down the street from me the summer before fourth grade. When she crashed her bike into my dad’s car, I knew from the word I heard come out of her mouth . . .” she traces the letters S-H-I-T in pizza grease on the faux marble tabletop, “. . . that she and I were gonna be best friends. Even though she went to Catholic school up till tenth grade, we’ve always hung out. Then Riley,” she kicks Riley under the table, “moved in during junior high.”

“Yeah. And I had real friends before who didn’t get me in trouble all the time,” Riley sneers.

Taylor cracks a smile. “Hey, no one’s ever twisted your arm. You’re responsible for your own actions.”

“Yeah, right.” She looks at me. “Why is it just occurring to me now that I need better friends?”

I shrug. “I’d say you could hang out with me, but I can’t guarantee any less trouble.”

Taylor looks at me and then glowers at Riley. “Choices, Ry. We all have choices,” she says, clearly warning her friend off.

I slide my foot over and press the side of it into Taylor’s. “Yes, we do,” I say, my words full of innuendo.

A lascivious smile barely curls the corner of her lips, and I’m overwhelmed by her ginger.

Riley glares at Taylor. “So we should all probably be heading home soon . . .” Riley has vehemently defended Frannie all night, dragging her into the conversation frequently as if to remind me of
my
choices. I know
exactly
what my choices are, and right now my choice is to use Taylor to drive Frannie over the edge. But first I have to lose the chaperone.

“No problem. I’ll drop you guys back home.” But as I say it, I press my foot harder into Taylor’s.

She gets my message and plays along. Standing, she slings her purse over her shoulder and feigns a yawn. “Let’s go. I’m beat.” But that lascivious smile never leaves her lips.

After I drop Riley off, Taylor eases her hand off the armrest between us and onto my thigh, then pulls back abruptly. “Whoa! I knew you were hot, but Jesus!” she says, and I wonder why she thinks
He
has anything to do with it. She leans back onto the armrest. “So there’s a place up near this old quarry . . . it’s pretty quiet. We could go up there if you want.” She eases her hand back onto my leg.

I unwrap a hand from the steering wheel and lay my arm across the back of her seat. This is what I want—need, really. The surest way I can think of to send Frannie into a rage would be to mess around with Taylor. I lean toward her, feeding off her ginger—letting it take control of me. She shifts in her seat, settling into my side, and I pull her to me. She turns her face into my neck and I feel her hot breath as she nips at my earlobe. Her hand explores my chest and starts to move lower.

I suddenly feel sick.

I can’t make myself do it. My brimstone heart feels like it weighs a ton in my chest, dragging me down.
What a sorry excuse for a demon I am.
Taylor’s serving herself up on a silver platter, and I can’t follow through.

I can’t have Taylor as an enemy, though, so I shift away, putting
my hand back on the steering wheel, and purr with the smallest power push, “As appealing as that sounds, I have some things I need to handle tonight.” Like a cocky angel moving in on my territory. “Maybe some other time?”

Her eyes cloud over a little. “Okay, yeah . . . sure.”

We pass Frannie’s on the way to Taylor’s house, and that bastard’s shiny white Dodge Charger is still in her driveway. I look at the clock. Eleven. How long could a physics lab write-up possibly take?

I pull into Taylor’s driveway. “Thanks, Taylor. This was fun.”

She’s recovered, though she still seems a little shaky. “It could have been much
more
fun. You don’t know what you’re missing,” she says, a suggestive pout on her red lips.

“Hmm . . . see you tomorrow.” I lean back against my door, out of temptation’s reach, and smile as she opens the door and steps out.

I watch her go into the house then drive up the street to Frannie’s, where I pull over.

As bad of an idea as I know it is, I can’t help myself. I slide out of the car and phase into the oak tree next to the driveway, just outside her window. I don’t make a sound as I perch on a branch near the house and listen. It’s quiet in her room except for music. This is bad.

The urge to phase in there—just pop into her room and interrupt whatever’s going on—is overwhelming. And after what feels like a small eternity I can’t stand it anymore. I close my eyes and focus. Gabriel will know I’m there, but, if I’m careful, Frannie won’t.

Then I do it. I phase into her room.

But as I’m shifting through planes, I feel like the wind is knocked out of me, like a bird smashing into a window, and suddenly I’m back on the tree limb. A little stunned, I try again. Same thing.

What the Hell?

I remember Frannie’s father—how he was immune to my magic. It appears that Mr. Cavanaugh is better connected upstairs than the pope. I can visit the papal palace whenever I like, no problem. Frannie’s house, on the other hand, is apparently off-limits.

Gabe is so close. He smells like snow and summer and it tickles my nose. His touch on my hand is cool and soft. It’s how I imagine a cloud would feel. I close my eyes as he leans closer and nestles his face into my neck. His cool breath in my ear makes me shudder as he says, “Everything happens for a reason.”