Demon Aura

by Lisa Deerwood

  Hineker signed off on the paperwork and took the keys for the SUV from the car rental agent. He opened the door of the Range Rover and Julian slid into the backseat.

  “How long is the drive?” he asked.

  “About an hour,” Hineker replied from the driver’s seat.

  Julian nodded and settled himself into the luxurious leather seat and fingered the photograph inside the pocket of his suit jacket. A wave of guilt washed over him as he stared at the unfamiliar landscape that passed by.

  The last time Julian visited Tennessee was six years ago for his great Uncle Frank’s funeral. It was also the last time he’d seen his great aunt, Rosemary Mercurio, in person. Julian’s great aunt was his grandfather’s only sister, and Julian’s last living relative. Born and raised in New Jersey, she’d met Uncle Frank while attending Princeton University. She’d followed him when he found a job in Nashville, Tennessee, after graduation, and eventually they’d gotten married. After the death of her husband, Aunt Rosemary lived alone in her home until recently, when her failing health forced her to relocate to Chestnut Creek Nursing Home in Raspville, a small town a half-hour east of Nashville.

  Julian called the nursing home every week to talk with his great aunt, but he’d never stopped by to visit her in person. The thick feeling of guilt felt like lead had settled in his stomach.

  Years ago, after his mother had passed away, Julian’s great aunt had come to New Jersey and stayed with him for a while, helping him to settle his parents’ estate. He had been a young adult back then, barely past drinking age and clueless on how to handle anything. He could still remember spending Saturday mornings enjoying a cup of freshly squeezed orange juice, French toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon, while Aunt Rosemary distracted his grieving heart with stories from her youth.

  Julian’s work with Hineker rarely allowed him time off to visit family. He closed his eyes as the terrible feeling of regret passed over him. The feeling was useless, the past remains in the past. He could do nothing about it now except learn to accept the fact that Aunt Rosemary was dead. Now he was all alone. The sole descendent of the Rickelson line.

  ◆◆◆

  Bakowski Funeral Home was a red brick building surrounded by an assortment of potted plants artfully arranged around ornamental trees and shrubs. At the front entrance four white columns supported a roof that stretched across the driveway, offering protection and shade from the weather.

  Exiting the SUV, Julian looked up at the southern sky and admired the setting sun as it bathed the landscape in soothing shades of yellow and orange.

  “When you’re ready, the car will be waiting for you at the rear exit Master Julian.”

  “Thank you, Hineker.”

  Upon entering the front door of the funeral home, an exotic floral scent tickled Julian’s nose. The foyer was large and branched out into four different directions, two near the front entrance, and two at the back. Two walls helped to divide up the space. Filling the wall to the left sat a pair of ornate chairs on either side of a marble side table, with a classic vintage baroque design mirror mounted above. The combination of the overhead lighting and the ivory candles in the wall-mounted candelabras above the chairs gave the space a soothing glow. A fabric-covered bench sat directly across from the table, pressed up against the right wall with a large landscape painting displayed above.

  A middle-aged woman in a black suit walked into the space, her heels striking against the tile floor.

  “Mr. Rickelson?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Colleen Bakowski, the funeral director.” She held out her hand in greeting. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” Julian said, shaking the woman’s hand.

  “I’ve spoken with your assistant and everything has already been taken care of. The viewing tonight is scheduled for one hour. Tomorrow you’ll have another hour before the priest arrives for the funeral service,” Colleen said. “We will conclude with the interment at St. Mary’s cemetery. The death certificate, including copies, will be ready for you in a few days.”

  Julian nodded.

  “If you’ll follow me, please.” Colleen turned and led him towards the back wall, taking the hallway on the left.

  Julian rubbed his itchy nose and tried to blink away the burning in his eyes as he followed. He guessed that the hallway to the right also led to a viewing room, and the source of his allergic reaction.

  Lilies. It had to be lilies, the one flower that he was allergic to. It wouldn’t be long before his eyes watered, his nose ran, and he started sneezing.

  “Looks like you’re busy,” Julian commented, hoping to distract himself from his building allergy symptoms.

  “Yes. We had another family earlier this evening.” Colleen stepped back to let Julian enter the viewing room first.

  The room was decorated in the same tasteful elements as the foyer and hallways. Directly in front sat his great aunt’s coffin, with a floral spray covering the lower half. Matching floral arrangements stood on wire stands on either side of the deceased. Thankfully none of the flowers in this room were lilies.

  Julian grabbed a tissue from the open box on the center table.

  “If there is anything that you need, do not hesitate to let me know,” Colleen said.

  Julian muttered a thank you as he wiped his runny nose.

  Damn lilies.

  Mistaking the allergy symptoms for those of sadness, Colleen gave him a sympathetic smile and quietly left the room.

  ◆◆◆

  Julian looked down at the face of his great aunt. She was dressed in her favorite color, pink, and laid within a silver casket lined with cream silk.

  The last time Julian had called the nursing home, the staff had informed him that Aunt Rosemary was suffering from loneliness and depression. Apparently this was a common occurrence among elderly adults, especially for those who had lost their spouse. He’d promised himself that he’d fly down for a visit, but his departure had been delayed by a hunt with Hineker.

  Now it was too late.

  Julian absently fingered the smooth silk lining. Lying inside the casket, finally able to be at peace, his great aunt looked like an angel.

  “I wish I had the right words to let you know that I care,” Julian said. He pulled the photograph out from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

  The picture was taken on Aunt Rosemary and Uncle Frank’s fiftieth wedding anniversary. The happy couple gazed upon each other with a look of deep love. It was the kind of look that can only exist after a lifetime of wonderful years together.

  As the youngest member of the Rickelson family, Julian was often prodded by his great aunt to find a nice, sweet girl to spend his life with. Have a couple of children. Continue the Rickelson line. Carry on the family traditions.

  Julian shook his head at the thought.

  Men of the Rickelson family were not destined to live a normal life, to try and do so only led to sadness and heartache. It was something that Julian had experienced firsthand with his own parents. His father had tried to be that guy. The guy who fell in love, got married, and had a family. Julian’s life had always been a privileged one. He spent his youth never wanting for anything, except his parents’ attention. But moments spent together as a family were rare. Julian’s father was often busy working with Hineker, which caused Julian’s mother to spend her days distracted, worried and nervous for the safety of her husband and child. Then her worst fears came to life and James Rickelson was gone. His life cut short by a disaster that Hineker refused to talk about, even to this very day.

  The death of her husband left Julian’s mother broken and defeated. It also transferred the family curse to her beloved son. Unable to cope any longer, his mother died shortly after her husband, leaving Julian alone to face his destiny.

  Aunt Rosemary had known all of this, yet she would often insist that Julian try to find someone to spend his life with, no matter how difficult it would be.

 
“Don’t shut yourself out from the world Julian,” his great aunt would say. “It’s better to live a short life filled with love and happiness, then a long life with only loneliness and heartache.”

  Julian scowled. He could never make his aunt understand that he’d seen what the curse had done to his parents and to himself. He promised himself that he wasn’t going to make the same mistake. It was safer for everyone if he didn’t get involved with anyone and instead focused on his duties as Hineker’s demon master.

  He stared at the happy couple in the photograph. The Rickelson family curse didn’t apply to the women. When Julian’s great-grandfather died, the curse was passed on to his son, Julian’s grandfather, Harold Rickelson.

  The transfer process of a demon’s mark was an agonizing time for the bearer. It’s burned the flesh similar to a branding iron. Unlike a true brand, where the design was applied near the surface of the skin all at once, leading to pain that was intense, but short lasting, the transfer of the mark to a demon master went down past the layers of skin, tissue, and muscle, and onto the bones itself. The process occurred one painful stroke at a time, with no interruptions, until the demon’s seal was complete.

  Hineker’s demon mark was placed on a person’s back, burned into the skeleton, the symbols dark enough to be seen on the bones of the spine and ribs with an x-ray. When finished, the mark on the skin looked like a black tattoo. The transfer of Hineker’s sigil was a torturous process for the demon master, taking a full twenty-four hour period.

  When it had been Harold’s turn, Julian’s Aunt Rosemary had remained by her brother’s side, offering words of comfort and cold, wet rags, to help ease the pain during Hineker’s transfer. She did the same for Julian.

  Julian reached over his right shoulder, touching his back. He’d always be extremely grateful that his great aunt had been visiting at the time of his father’s death, and had tried to help him manage the pain when it had been his turn.

  He looked at the photograph in his hands one last time, committing the image to memory.

  “Aunt Rosemary, your suffering is over now. I’m sure Uncle Frank is waiting for you at the gates of the afterlife.” Julian placed the photograph inside the casket. “I wish you both peace and happiness for all of eternity.” He wiped at his irritated eyes. “Tell mom and dad that I miss them.”

  ◆◆◆

  Finished with his great aunt’s viewing for the evening, Julian walked at a brisk pace through the hallways of the funeral home. It was just his luck that the rear exit was located near the other viewing room.

  The closer he got to the rear door, the worse he felt. Julian imagined that the other viewing room was filled top to bottom with lilies. He pulled a tissue out of his pocket as he hurried to the exit. His nose was running like a faucet and his eyes were burning and itching.

  Julian rubbed his eyes, then patted away the tears with a tissue.

  Rushing past the other viewing room, Julian stumbled, the sudden wave of dark energy catching him completely off guard.

  “Dammit,” he muttered. He knew this feeling, and he also knew exactly what he’d find when he looked at the dead body inside the room.

  Unlike jobs in the business world, Julian’s work didn’t follow a nine to five schedule. The demon master never knew when or where he’d receive the next assignment. Julian changed direction and entered the unoccupied room.

  This viewing room was much larger than the one he was in earlier. Chairs were lined up in neat rows, one after the other, filling most of the space. Along the left side stood easels holding photographs and collages of the deceased. The walls displayed landscape paintings, the scenes similar in design to those found throughout the rest of the building. The space surrounding the casket looked like a floral shop had exploded. The flower of choice, lilies, of course.

  Day lilies. White lilies. Calla lilies. Orange lilies. Peace lilies. Everywhere Julian looked, he saw lilies. Every time he drew a breath, he smelled lilies.

  He knew he really shouldn’t be surprised by this discovery. Lilies were a simple flower used to symbolize that the soul has returned to a state of innocence, making them the go-to funeral flower.

  Except for Julian, the only thing lilies symbolized were allergy symptoms.

  “Achoo!”

  He wiped his nose again.

  Damn lilies.

  He’d have to ask Hineker to pick up some allergy medicine before they returned tomorrow.

  Julian pinched his nose, attempting to hold off a sneeze that threatened to escape. As he approached the casket, the black tattoo on his back flared to life. The glowing red mark picked up the faint traces of a soul that had been eaten by a demon.

  Ignoring the burning sensation of his demon mark, he studied the corpse inside the coffin. It was a man who appeared to be a few years older than Julian, positioned with his hands folded neatly across his chest, resting peacefully.

  Oftentimes a corpse looks rather lifeless, despite all the make-up used for the viewing. This guy looked like he was still alive and merely sleeping inside the coffin. With shiny hair and glowing skin, the only indication that the man was even dead was the apparent lack of breath.

  Julian nodded, impressed with the embalmer’s skills. It can’t be easy to make a corpse look alive.

  Turning away from the deceased, Julian’s eyes scanned the room. Near the door he found an opened guest book and a stack of funeral prayer cards sitting on a tall desk. Grabbing a card, he wiped his watery eyes as he exited the room, and immediately collided with something soft.

  “Oof!”

  Julian shifted his weight as he blinked away his blurry vision, his hands reaching out to steady the unfortunate person he’d just run into. His hands wrapped around the arms of a woman. With her body pressed up against his, the top of her head rose only around Julian’s chest, forcing her to look up at him.

  “I’m so sorry,” Julian apologized, his eyes scanning over her body. She was dressed in a simple knit top, jeans, and the ugliest shoes he’d ever seen. Meeting her gaze, he drew in a breath. She had amazingly beautiful eyes. A strikingly pure and almost luminous color of China blue that seemed to peer into his very soul.

  ◆◆◆

  The sight of the man in front of her caused Raelyn’s brain to short circuit. He was tall, probably six feet, and wore a black suit and tie and shiny black shoes. Working in the funeral home, it was an outfit Raelyn had seen on men hundreds of times. But somehow on him it just looked better. The black fabric hugged his broad shoulders and tall form as if it had been custom made to fit him. He looked like he was born to wear a suit and tie.

  She looked up at his face and her heart skipped a beat. He had the kind of good looks that could melt a woman’s insides. His skin was fair and his face was covered by a well-groomed, stubble beard that gave him a neat and polished look. His wavy, dark brown hair was parted off to the side, highlighting thick, straight eyebrows, and a strong jaw that she wanted to reach out and trace with her fingertips. From the close proximity she detected the subtle fragrance of wood and spice, reminding her of a forest in the sunshine. Raelyn bit her lip, hoping she wouldn’t start drooling all over the floor.

  How was it possible for someone to be this attractive?

  Yet it wasn’t only the sight of the gorgeous man that had Raelyn’s brain going on the fritz. It was also the absence of his aura, which was simply impossible.

  For as long as Raelyn could remember, all living people radiated an aura, an energy field that she could see as clear as the nose on their faces. Red, orange, yellow, green, every time she looked at someone, she saw the personal energy that conveyed the person’s emotional state.

  Except right now, she saw and felt nothing.

  No gray aura of grief. No blue shades of sadness. No brown rings of mourning. She felt no emotion of any kind.

  Raelyn blinked, uncertain what was going on with her senses.

  The facts were standing right in front of her. The handsome stranger walked
out of the viewing room of the recently deceased. He held a bunch of tissues in his right hand, and his gray eyes were rimmed with red. A lone tear escaped out of the corner of his left eye.

  She guessed that he was grieving over his loss. Yet his aura was completely absent.

  For the first time in her life, Raelyn gazed upon someone without any insight into their emotional state.

  No swirling colors. No warring emotions. Nothingness.

  His body was surrounded by empty air, and nothing else.

  She’d wished all her life for this moment, to stand near someone and be free from any outside influences. For the first time ever, the only emotions that Raelyn felt were all her own.

  What was her first ever uninfluenced thought?

  Wow, he’s hot.

  Not the sweaty, he’s been working out kind of hot. Nope, it was more akin to the hot man of her fantasies.

  His smooth lips would brush up against hers tentatively at first. She’d tilt her head, allowing easier access to her neck, prompting him to caress her skin with a featherlight kiss—

  A concerned voice shattered Raelyn’s daydream.

  “Are you alright?” Hot fantasy man asked.

  Raelyn shook her head. Her first aura-free moment and her mind had gone directly into the gutter. She didn’t need a mirror to know that her face was flushed, and she thanked the powers that be that he could not read her thoughts.

  “Y-Yeah,” she stammered. “I’m f-fine.”

  “Okay,“ he said, unconvinced. “If you’re sure.”

  Raelyn nodded, unwilling to trust her voice. She needed to get away from him so she could figure out what was going on here.

  “Excuse me, but I’ve got to go.”

  Raelyn scampered away as quickly as a frightened bunny.

  Chapter 3 - Raelyn

  “He didn’t have an aura,” Raelyn said, slipping out of her shoes. “How is that possible? Everybody has an aura.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t see an aura?” Trinity asked, gliding closer to her friend.