A Christmas Demon for Clara

by Chloe Alice Balkin

  "Stay away from her sisters!"

  "I can't if I'm going to help her!" His whole body itched to draw a door and get his ass back home. There was a sullen female there waiting for him, and the fact that he couldn't do anything about this angel issue was slowly killing him. He felt completely useless.

  "I'm having issues with the angels," Boss admitted. "They say she's trapping ghosts."

  "She's not! Except the ones in the dolls.” He should have kept that to himself, but he sucked at holding back when he was in any sort of panic. "I don't know that they're even trapped. She says they like to live there."

  "That's a major problem. She needs to release them. Is it just dolls? You could bring them to her here, and she can exorcise them."

  Locke stared at the ugly monster in front of him. Boss was even worse naked than he was with the gross rags he usually wore. At least with the rags, Locke didn't have to look at the ridiculous log the beast sported between his legs. Seriously, Locke had no idea how he even penetrated females with that thing. It was grotesque.

  And made him stupid, obviously. Exorcism wasn't an option here. Locke was careful choosing his words, preferring to get eviscerated for anything over telling Boss he was wrong. It was a matter of pride. "I'll suggest it to her, but I worry that if I try to transport the dolls to Hell, the spirits might accidentally pop out and end up in Styx. Heaven wouldn't be happy at all with that.

  "Damn," Boss muttered. "They'll shit kittens if that happens. I'll see if I can get a truce in exchange for the release of the spirits. You'll escort her back to Earth so she can cleanse the dolls."

  Locke doubted she even had that ability, but he nodded. This was something he and Clara could talk about, at least. If the truce was agreed upon, as well as the terms of releasing the spirits in exchange for her life, that would be the immediate problem solved. She had other problems, though. "I wonder if it would be worthwhile to inquire about removing her abilities," Locke said as casually as he could, as though it was a passing thought that had only just popped into his mind and he didn't fully support.

  "You would strip her of her gift?"

  Okay, that was a weird response. It sounded like Boss actually wanted her to continue with her ghost sight, but that had no benefit for him. In fact, it was weird the demon was helping at all with this. This was a strange favor that Boss had embarked on for Locke.

  "It was only a suggestion. As long as the cherubim stop attacking Clara, there's no notable benefit to this ability, right?"

  "But it's a gift. Humans shouldn't have their gifts taken from them."

  "Um, okay?" Locke shrugged. "I need to get back to her."

  "Druxel says she's unhappy."

  "She's a prisoner. Humans don't like being prisoners."

  "Druxel says you're the source of her unhappiness."

  A punch in the gut—metaphorically speaking. Knowing that not only did Druxel spill everything to Boss, but that he must have twisted the facts to make it seem like Locke was to blame, was a crime worthy of dismemberment.

  Locke had his hand in his pocket, reaching for his chalk.

  "Don't you start," Boss warned him. "If you retaliate against Druxel, you will find yourself right back on that pike, and you can kiss your other horn goodbye. Druxel was irritatingly loyal to you, but it was plain in his words that you're the reason Clara's unhappy."

  Locke glowered at him. "Clara does not mesh well with my household, but I've given her everything she wants."

  Boss paced back and forth for some minutes before slamming Locke into the wall one last time. "If you force yourself on her, your dick will never grow back after I'm through with you. Got it?"

  Locke doored himself into his own pantry, sitting there for a long time while he listened to Clara and Ramellen laughing in the kitchen. He ate an entire box of fudge rounds, but they didn't even taste good anymore. If he was going to stand in a coat closet binge eating, he wanted it to be Clara's snacks.

  He was failing. Locke didn't consider himself a quitter by any means, but everything he did made the situation worse. Now his binge reflex wasn't even working right. Instead of getting energized and feeling ready to destroy his enemies and pleasure the ladies, he just felt worse.

  It felt like tendrils of Killian's effluvium were reaching to him through the door.

  He groaned. This part of demon life was the worst.

  "That's so cool!" Ramellen cooed as Clara strung royal icing garland along the eaves. "Is it hard to do? What happens when it breaks? Locke, did you see this craziness that Clara's…?" Her voice fell off on a flat tone when she looked up at Locke. "Will you excuse us?" she said more quietly to Clara.

  Clara nodded. She was enjoying her evening with Ramellen far more than she'd figured she would, and Ramellen had proved to be talented in the decorating department, but draping the royal icing took a delicate hand and a table that wasn't shaking, and it definitely didn't need Ramellen's rapid-fire questions.

  She did keep an ear tuned to the hushed tones coming from the dining room, not because she liked eavesdropping but because that was part of life with Eloise and Hazel. Breaking their fights up efficiently meant cluing in to those fights when they were still in the casual disagreement phase. She couldn't hear much from the pair of demons, though, except that Ramellen was urging Locke to admit something that he wouldn't, and she was urging him to tell Clara something, which he also wouldn't.

  She heard the word aionia, that demon word for spouse that had been bantered about so much the night before, and that got Locke angry.

  Did Locke have an aionia? The repulsion Druxel had shown over the thought of taking another bed partner seemed convincing enough, but that could have been unique to Druxel and Ramellen. And Locke had the ability to draw those portals. If he wanted to hide an affair, it would be as easy as drawing a door.

  Clara wasn't going to sleep with Locke. She wasn't going to allow herself to fall for him again. This was none of her business.

  She hummed a Christmas carol to herself to drown out the conversation. As the last strand of royal icing connected to the first, she heard the front door open and Locke and Ramellen walk outside.

  No big deal, except she didn't have anything to do while the icing was setting and the meringue decorations cooled in the oven, so she figured she'd make dinner. She needed to know if Ramellen was staying.

  She peeked her head outside, figuring Locke wouldn't yell at her when he was there anyway, except he wasn't. She scanned the long front porch with its swing and patio dining set and saw nothing. She closed the door behind her and looked out at the yard.

  Such as it was. It was dead except for some wicked looking moss and rocky, shattered in places by valleys that might have been sinkholes. On one side of the house was the vegetation she'd found for the ill-fated wreath. Even that first day she'd thought it was hideous, but anything could be made pretty if one tried hard enough.

  She walked away from that, not wanting to give Locke a reason to strip her down for the shower again, this time heading toward the stream that ran along the other side. "Locke? Ramellen? Do you guys want dinner?"

  "Clara," a voice called to her from the river.

  "Locke? Why can't I see you?"

  "We're down here. Help us."

  Clara's heart skipped a beat at the thought that he and Ramellen had somehow fallen in the river. She might be able to pull Ramellen out, but there was no way she could get Locke out. Still, she rushed to the bank to see if she could help or if she needed to get Ratmouth.

  A hand reached out of the water, but it didn't look like Locke's or Ramellen's. It looked like the skin had melted off of it, leaving only sinew and bone.

  The water was acid. She'd lose a hand helping them.

  She ripped her robe off, wrapped it around her hand, and dug her feet into the soft riverbank as she reached out.

  A great force slammed into her side, knocking her down so hard her wind was knocked out of her. S
he tried to scream for help, but the sound she made was a weak, desperate choke. Her chest did make a terrible sound as her lungs attempted to expand again. She coughed, but the weight still on her was keeping her from getting enough air in her body for anything more.

  "How goddamn stupid are you going to get before I can't save you anymore?"

  She blinked, and the great weight on top of her focused into Locke. "I was just trying to save you," she whimpered.

  "Save me from what? Looking at your face every goddamn day because you'll be another fucking wraith in the river? Or are you trying to stay with me forever? Because once you go in that river, you'll circle my house for all of eternity, and you can bet your sweet ass I'm not pulling you out."

  She pushed at him, fighting to get free, but he wasn't letting her go. "Are you serious? Why am I even here if you'd just let me drown in the river? I can go home and die in peace in my own home at the hand of some crazed angel."

  Locke spluttered on his answer, his cheeks going an ugly mottled red, his eyes flaring in shades of vibrant magenta, his chest heaving against hers.

  The next second she was suffocating in his arms as he squeezed her so tightly, she thought this might be the way she died, after all. "I'd never let you drown!"

  "Then why'd you say that?" she mumbled, unable to do better, smashed against him as she was.

  "If you had touched that thing in the river, he would have pulled you in, and your body would have been separated from your soul. It would have eaten your body, too, if you'd fallen in, so I wouldn't even be able to fish you out of the river to put you back in. Bleeding snapdragons, Clara, you just almost died!"

  "I-I thought it was you. I was trying to find you, and he called back to me, and I thought it was you, and you were drowning. You and Ramellen. I just wanted to know if I could cook dinner tonight. And if Ramellen was going to stay for dinner. Where'd she go?"

  "Yo!" Ramellen called from the porch. "Just figured I'd give you guys some privacy. Is it cool if I invite Druxel? I've been trying to get him out of the house a little more. He just wants to bang all the time. That's great and all, but I think we need a bit of a break to warm things up again. He pounded me so hard last night I swear I saw some damn cherubim floating above me."

  Chapter 16

  "How's Clara?" Hazel asked as she took the first run of donuts from Locke. There weren't any donuts with crazy toppings, no sprinkles or candy bars or other gimmicky flavors, but there was a strawberry shortcake caterpillar that Locke could have died for, a chocolate-chocolate-chocolate bit of devilish divinity, and even a set with thinly sliced poached pears resting in a pool of Bavarian custard.

  Locke had only eaten one of each, just to get a sample. The less he ate, the less Clara had to make to keep the shop stocked and the sooner she'd be able to make the lemon bars.

  It sounded like a good plan, so he wouldn't admit to the injury Clara's request for lemons did to his heart. It was ridiculous, anyway. There were a million things she could be doing with that lemon.

  "She misses you," Locke sighed. Just one of her varied grievances.

  Hazel opened her mouth to reply, but then she scowled as she scanned the trays. "What's wrong with these?"

  "What? Nothing, they're amazing. They smell amazing," he corrected when he realized how close he came to admitting what he always did in the storeroom. "They smell as good as the last donuts."

  "You only ate three."

  Locke blinked at her.

  "Normally you eat at least a dozen. And the macarons? Clara's been making double."

  Another blink, this one of confusion until it clicked what Hazel was getting at. "She's been making extra for me?"

  "Obviously she has. She's not an idiot, you know. She never seems all that bright because she puts herself out there so much, and you think, 'no smart person can be this wholesome and innocent and willing to be walked all over,' but that's really just how she is. Kind of a math genius, too, but she only uses that to run the register when she's bored and looking for a challenge."

  Locke's lips split into a big grin. A math genius! He did feel terrible about the times he'd insulted her intelligence. Maybe remembering this would help prevent that. He'd never thought she was dumb, but it was all heat-of-the-moment when she put herself in danger. Like mistaking him for a river wraith. Big mistake.

  A chill ran up his spine even now. And she'd been sullen all night, cuing awkward dinner round two with Druxel and Ramellen, but at least she was alive.

  "Hey, what's up with you sisters' skills?" he asked, the words just popping out of his mouth.

  Hazel rolled some seriously weary eyes. "Clara's great at baking and Eloise is a whiz at flowers."

  "You know I don't mean that. Clara says she doesn't know where they came from."

  "Then why are you asking me? I can't even do anything." The way she said that made a crackle go up Locke's spine, but there was no point calling her on her lie.

  "You're more observant than Clara," Locke pointed out as he swiped another poached pear donut off the tray and broke it in half to share it with Hazel. "And it bothers you that they have them."

  "They're going to get Clara killed. And Eloise? One day she's going to zap the wrong demon and I'll lose her, too. It didn't come from either of our parents, we don't have any history of it in either of our families as far as we know, and my mom swore she never went to, like, a witch or a demon or anything for this."

  "Your dad? He could have seen someone. Your mom wouldn't have to be there. He could have slipped something into her drink or not involved her at all. There are a hundred ways to do this if you're not so worried about safety."

  "He would never have done this."

  "Triplets are scary," Locke said as he sucked Bavarian cream off his fangs. "I could see a worried dad selling out to someone to make sure his kids come out okay, even if they don't necessarily come out okay, if you catch my drift."

  Hazel glared at him as she chewed her donut. "I guess we'll never know, will we? Mom denied it to her grave, blamed herself but only in the 'oh God, how did this happen, I must have done something wrong' sort of way. Dad died before we even knew to say something about Clara's ghosts. Eloise didn't know she could do anything until years later."

  "How'd your dad die?"

  Hazel slammed a tray into the sink. She and Clara acted like they had nothing in common, but those little things were just the same. Clara loved to slam things in the sink and pretend she'd just dropped them. "You're like a dog with a boner."

  Locke sputtered slightly on that. "A what?"

  "You heard me. Dad died in a car accident. Open casket, buried three hours later. He's dead, he never did anything weird to us, he was a good man. He loved us, we loved him, we still grieve for him and mom. If you're asking Clara shit like this, no wonder she's pissed at you. Those ghosts? The ones that are gonna get her killed? They kept all three of us from falling apart after mom died."

  Locke took up some serious pacing. His human form lacked a tail to tap on the ground in cadence with his thoughts, and this was precisely the moment for a cadence. "I'm just trying to get everything worked out here. I'm doing my best, but the demon I gotta go through is a dickhead with a weird yen for Clara, so I'm—"

  "Weirder than yours?"

  "Weirder than yours?" he clucked right back. "I want your sister's lemon bars, and I want to have sex with her. There it is, all out on the table. Nothing is weird about any of that."

  Hazel shrugged. "I mean, you've got another three months for lemon bars and another never for getting in her pants, but fair. What's your contact doing that's so weird?"

  "Looking out for her safety."

  Hazel stared him dead in the eye.

  "That's it. He's a demon, Hazel, that's not normal."

  "You're a demon."

  "I'm in love with her!" he bellowed and immediately recoiled at the words that had come out of his own mouth. "Gross, no, I said that wrong. I want
her badly, and I'm a glut demon. When I don't get what I want, shit goes south quick. So yeah, I want her safe because if she dies, I'll never get my fulfillment."

  "You're never going to get it anyway."

  Locke's eyes rolled back into his skull, a cool trick some demons had for when they needed to shut sight off entirely or just wanted to be a whole extra level of dramatic. "I don't know why I talk to any of you. I could just ignore her ridiculous issues, jam my hand in her panties, and have her panting my name in twenty seconds, begging me to screw her proper-like in another thirty."

  "You wouldn't dare."

  "Why wouldn’t I? Once I get her in my bed, she's never going to want out again. Humans are so much easier to pleasure than demons. But she's still pissed with me, and that's not how I do things."

  Hazel glared at him for another ten seconds before she sighed and gave in ever so slightly. "When you decorated the tree, that didn't cheer her up at all?"

  "She didn't do it. I got it all set up for her to decorate, and she never touched it."

  Hazel gave him a good long stare down, and the intensity of her eyes confirmed for Locke what he already knew: Hazel could do something, and that something was way worse than Eloise's little mind melt. "What do you mean, she never touched it? What were you doing?"

  Locke shrugged, but even the lift in his shoulders sent an uncomfortable ripple through him. "I've been busy. I set the tree all up for her, though."

  "Fucking idiot. You have to do it with her. She doesn't like the tree because it's pretty, she likes the tree because it's a group activity, something you do with people you care about. It's a happy event. This shit is all about making happy memories for her, nitwit."

  Clara had asked him several time to help her with her decorating, but he'd assumed it was out of manners. It had never occurred to him that she wanted his help.

  He could never have Clara. She wanted to make memories, and as much as Locke could recall some truly epic nights he'd shared with females, that wasn't the sort of memory Clara would ever want. He'd thought to awaken her and let her free into the world, aware and ready to find a mate for herself now that she knew what pleasure she could get in a mate, but that was all wrong. Clara didn't need to be awakened, she needed to be loved. She needed someone who didn't mind that it would be a long time, maybe never, before she was ready to be with that person intimately.