Personal Demons (33 page)

I hear Mom shuffle out of the room chattering about chicken soup. But Gabe’s still here—I can feel him.

“What do you want?” I mumble into the sheets.

“The same thing I’ve always wanted. I want to tag your soul. You need to forgive yourself.”

“No.”

“Why? Why do you need to hold on to this?”

I’m not going to let myself cry. “Because.” I breathe against the tears. “I need to.”

“Need to what?”

He’s making my head throb. “Can we do this some other time?”

“Let’s do it now. What did you mean, ‘I need to’?”

I groan as a sharp pain shoots through my brain. I pull the sheets off my head for some air. “I can’t do this. You know everything I’m thinking anyway. Can’t you just pick what you’re looking for out of my head and leave me alone?”

“If you were thinking it, I could. That’s where I’m trying to get you—to where you know why you can’t let it go.”

“Because I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Oh, God! Just go away.”

The bed creaks as he slides closer and I feel his cool breath in my ear. “I’m not going anywhere, Frannie. I’ll always be here for you—no matter what.” His lips slide over my cheek and my headache’s suddenly gone, replaced with a deep ache somewhere else. Somewhere I definitely shouldn’t be aching. I roll and twist my hand into his hair. His lips brush mine—just as
Mom pops back into the room with two steaming mugs in her hands.

“Oh! Oh dear . . .” she says.

Gabe’s eyes smile into mine for a second longer before he shifts off the bed and stands. “I’ve really got to get going.”

“Oh, don’t go,” Mom says with an awkward smile, holding out a mug. “Have some soup.”

He smiles at her. “Thank you, Mrs. Cavanaugh, but Frannie’s in good hands.” He turns back to me. “I’ll check on you later,” he says, backing toward the door.

“ ’Kay.” It’s all I can manage.

He leaves and I roll on my side toward the wall, ignoring Mom and her soup and trying to figure out what just happened. And I think about Luc. He’s supposed to come over tonight, and I’m gonna try out this Sway thing with my parents, if I can figure out what it is—maybe change their minds about him.

But maybe my mind needs some work first.

I think of his Shelby parked across the street right now and feel my heart pound. I love him. I know that now. So why the hell do I still want to kiss Gabe?

I follow Gabriel and Frannie back to her house and sit out front most of the day. I watch her window, wondering what to say to impress her parents, or at least convince them I’m not the devil incarnate anymore. But as I sit here, staring at her window,
I feel a sharp pain in my gut, and there are noises coming from down there. As time passes, the pain gets sharper and the noises get louder until it’s impossible to ignore.

Unholy Hell, is that my stomach? Am I hungry? As I lift my arm to rub my stomach, I catch a whiff of myself and groan. Brimstone’s got nothing on the way I smell right now. That’s some serious stink. Not likely to impress Frannie’s parents. Being human is turning out to be extremely inconvenient—and a little gross.

Before dusk, once I’ve confirmed that Gabriel is here, I take off and swing by the McDonald’s drive-thru on my way back to my apartment for a shower. Turns out Big Macs aren’t all that bad. Who knew?

It also turns out that there are more downsides to being human than I’d hoped. The list of stuff I’m going to need, just in the personal hygiene department, is staggering. I’m thinking about everything I need to take care of before my magic’s completely gone—lots of big bank accounts and investments, lots of alternative identities for both Frannie and me in case we need to run, maybe an academic scholarship to UCLA—when I step through the door to my apartment and the pungent smell of brimstone hits me like a baseball bat to the face. I feel my face involuntarily pinch against the stench. So, okay, maybe I really don’t smell that bad after all. How did I ever think the smell of brimstone was pleasant?

I look up through watering eyes at Beherit—my boss. Even though I can’t sense the presence of demon or deity anymore, I should have expected this. He’s here in all his Hellish glory: steaming, leathery, black-flecked crimson skin; short, twisted
black horns that nearly scrape the ceiling; and his tail wrapped around his pelted satyr’s waist. Though he’ll never admit which sin he’s born of, the fact that he’s always draped in a short red robe and wearing his golden crown makes it obvious. He belongs to pride. His back is to me, admiring the Doré print near the kitchen. I think about backing out and closing the door—I was never here—but a twitch of his pointed ear lets me know it’s too late for that.

I step through the door and close it behind me. “Is this a social call, Beherit, or is there something you need?”

He turns slowly, his hoof scraping across the linoleum, leaving a smoldering black gash through the daises there. There’s no humor in his flaming red eyes, and his fangs flash as a grimace contorts his flat, pinched face.

His voice is a low raspish hiss as he says, “What I needed was for you to do your job, Lucifer. Do it without stabbing me in the back. Did you really think you were worthy of my position? Well, now we all know better, don’t we? You’ve demonstrated your ineptitude quite spectacularly, especially to King Lucifer.”

The smell of dog breath and rotting meat permeates the brimstone. I smell it before I hear the snarls. Hellhounds. Perfect.

“This apartment complex doesn’t allow pets, Beherit. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to take your pooch . . .” I look toward the bathroom door as three immense black dogs, one with three heads and all with the glowing red eyes that demark all infernal creatures, come slinking out, “oh . . . excuse me, pooches, and leave.”

“A shame. I thought you’d enjoy the company. You’ve been here for so long I figured you may be feeling a bit homesick.”

“No. I’m really doing just fine, thanks.”

In a smoking red flash he’s across the room, and I’m choking as his burning fist clamps around my throat, nearly lifting me off the ground. And for the first time, I realize I truly am human, because my lungs are screaming for air as he holds me here, suspended and oxygen deprived.

“You’re doing far from fine!” he rages and throws me across the room. I thud hard into the wall, face-first, and drop to the floor at the paws of the hounds, struggling to catch my breath. Turning human is really working to my disadvantage at the moment, and the blood trickling down my forehead and into my eye is definitely not going to help with the hound situation.

I sit up, brushing the back of my arm casually across my forehead, ignoring the throb in my head and the growl of the hounds. “Was that really necessary?”

Beherit’s red eyes flare, and his face stretches into a heinous grin. “Blood? Oh, this is getting better by the minute,” he says, stepping over and drawing a talon quickly across my chest, slicing through my T-shirt and the flesh under it like warm butter. As more blood seeps from the wound on my chest, he raises his head, sniffs the air, and scrunches his face. “I knew you didn’t smell right. Thought I might be coming down with a cold.” His bloody eyes shoot to the hounds. “This will save me having to drag you back to the Fiery Pit. So much easier than Belias and Avaira.” He shakes his head slowly, a forlorn frown on his leathery lips. “Three of my best—what a waste . . .” Then his eyes flash. “Though, that’s what happens to traitors. King Lucifer will see the error in his judgment when it’s
me
who tags the child’s soul. You and Belias were never worthy.”

Belias and Avaira, thrown into the Fiery Pit. I should be ecstatic, but instead my stomach turns. No second chances in the Underworld.

He sighs and his frown pulls into a grin. “They say if you want a job done right you have to do it yourself. But I don’t understand, Lucifer. This should have been an easy one. She’s such a tiny, helpless thing.”

Frannie’s face, so kissable, floats in front of my eyes. Tiny, yes—but far from helpless.

He looks to the hounds. “Cerberus, Barghest, Gwyllgi, I’ll leave you to your job. I have mine,” his eyes shift to me, “or, more accurately,
yours
, to do.” And then he transforms into
my
human form.

No!

I swallow back my fear with the lump in my throat. “Really, I don’t think we’re going to be able to pull off the twins thing, Beherit. After all, we’re trying to be inconspicuous. Twins draw too much attention,” I say, pulling myself off the floor.

I watch as my face snarls back at me. “No worries. There won’t be two of us for long,” he says, and my face grins at me. He snaps his fingers, and the hounds are on me as he walks out the door.

What I wouldn’t give for a box of Milk-Bones right now.

When the lightning hits my brain, it shocks me awake. I roll to the side and dry heave into the trash can next to my bed as the
image of Luc, laying in a heap on the floor and covered in blood, floats behind my eyelids.

“
NO!
”

The next thing I know, my mom is at the side of the bed, panicked. “Frannie, are you sick? What’s wrong?”

Through my stupor, “No . . .” is all I can say . . . over and over. It’s like every brain cell has short-circuited. I can’t function—or think.

She starts to lift me to sitting. “Come on, honey. We’re going to the doctor.”

I find my voice. “No! I need Luc.” My heart is beating impossibly fast, and I’m inching toward hyperventilation as stars dance in front of my eyes. “I need to find him.”

And just then, there’s a honk from the driveway. I spring from the bed and fly to the window. Luc is parked there in the Shelby. He smiles up at me and sticks his arm out the window, waving me down.

“Oh God!” I feel my blood start to flow again. He’s not dead. “I have to go, Mom,” I say, tugging my jeans on under my baggy T-shirt and running for the door on shaky legs.

“Frannie! What’s this about?” she says as she chases me down the stairs.

“Nothing. Just give me a minute.” I step through the door and slam it behind me. I run to his car and jump in, throwing myself around him.

“I’m happy to see you too,” he says, a wicked gleam in his eye.

I pull back and look at him. He’s alive—for now. “Something’s going to happen. I saw you . . .”

“What, Frannie? What did you see?” He doesn’t look frightened or concerned. If he looks anything, it would be eager—hungry.

“There was blood . . . you were . . .”

“Dead?” he finishes for me with a grin.

I just nod.

“Do I look dead, Frannie?”

“Not now. But it’s going to happen.”

“What? What’s going to happen?”

“I don’t know . . . maybe Belias . . .”

He interrupts me, shaking his head. “I’ve taken care of Belias. No need to worry about him anymore.”

“What do you mean? Is he gone?”

“Very.”

“So, something else, then . . . I know you’re in danger.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

But I am worrying. He reaches for me, and, as he pulls me into a kiss, I begin to calm down. My breathing slows and my heart ticks back down to a nearly normal pace.

I look up at him. “It was really creepy, Luc. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I was born careful. Nothing’s going to happen.”

I wish I could believe him. I look up, and my mom is staring out the front window at us. I’m sure she thinks I’ve lost it, which isn’t going to help our cause at all. Especially after the Gabe thing earlier. I sigh. “So . . . you ready?”

“For what?”

“You know. The whole impressing the parents thing?”

“Oh. Yeah. About that . . .”

“Come on, Luc. I thought you were good with this. I really want you to be able to hang here this summer.” More so now. I want him close.

“I’m really not up for it right now. I’d rather be alone with you,” he says, and his eyes are on fire, making me tingle all over.

“What are you thinking about?”

“All the really outrageous things I could do to you—how I could make you feel if you’d let me.”

I swallow thickly and take a deep breath as he pulls me to him. “Where’s this coming from all of a sudden? You’re the one who said we couldn’t . . . you know.” But the thing is, I’m starting to think about some of those “outrageous things” too.

“I’ve changed my mind. I want you,” he says, his lips hot on my neck.

I tip my head back, giving him easier access. “So the whole lust thing is . . . what? No big deal now?”

“Nope. No big deal,” he repeats as he reaches under my shirt. “We could just slide into the backseat . . .”

“Jesus, Luc! My mother’s looking out the window at us right now,” I say, pushing him away and tugging at my shirt. “Why are you acting so weird?”

He smiles wickedly. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Fine, then let’s go to your apartment.”

“It’s sort of a mess right now. Someone let some dogs in and they got into the trash. Tore it to shreds.”

“What? Who would do that?”

“Just an old friend. Nothing to worry about,” he says with a wildly wicked grin, and, just for a second, I’m sure I smell rotten eggs. “Let’s go somewhere else. I want you where I can
make you crazy.” He kisses me, hard and deep, then slides over in the seat and starts the ignition. He lays his hand on my thigh as he pulls out of my driveway.

We pull over on the corner of First and Amistad, near the park at the edge of my neighborhood. Almost before the car has stopped, he’s all over me again. I look around and see the park is nearly empty. The play structure is abandoned, and the last of the moms is just pushing her stroller across the street in the pink dusk.

I lean into Luc’s burning kiss as his touch, hot on my skin, raises goose bumps all over. After a long, deep kiss, I pull back gasping for air, my heart hammering, and hear his honey sweet whisper in my ear, “I want you so bad.” I shudder as he eases his hands under my shirt and unhooks the clasp of my bra. My hand skims across his chest and under his T-shirt. “You won’t ever forget this. I promise,” he says, and I feel his fingertips burn a track across my belly toward the button of my jeans.