A Good Demon Is Hard to Find

by Kate Moseman

  Erin felt her shoulders come down from where she had been unconsciously holding them up. His touch really was quite fantastic, and the added heat of his hands melted the tightness away. She pushed away the strangeness of receiving a shoulder massage from a demon, and leaned back into his touch.

  “See? I’m helping you already. A little TLC, and you’ll be right as rain and fighting fit, ready to give your ex-husband the humiliation he deserves.”

  Erin bit her lip to stop a deep sigh from escaping. Slowly, she relaxed until her head tilted sideways onto the driver’s seat headrest. Her eyes drifted closed.

  Andy continued massaging her shoulders thoroughly with exquisitely intuitive hands.

  A knock at the window startled Erin so badly she jumped and banged her knee against the steering wheel.

  A uniformed police officer stood next to the car, peering into the window at Erin and making a sign to roll down the window.

  In a flash, Erin realized what she must have looked like: sick, drunk, or despondent, lolling sideways against the seat of the car with no one else in sight, considering the demon’s currently awkward state of invisibility. She rolled down the window.

  “You all right, miss?” asked the officer. He leaned down and looked around the inside of the car, probably in hopes of spotting drug paraphernalia or an open container of alcohol.

  “Oh, yes, officer. I was on my way home and I felt a little tired, so I stopped to rest for a minute. I’m fine. Really.” Erin opened her eyes wide and hoped that she looked alert, sober, and nonthreatening. She didn’t dare look behind her to see what Andy was up to.

  Probably making bunny ears behind her head.

  “You sure you don’t need a doctor or something?” The police officer looked genuinely concerned.

  “Oh, no. Really. I’m fine.” She was repeating herself out of sheer nervousness.

  “Okay, then. Take care, now. You have a good day.”

  “You too, officer. Thank you.” She rolled up the window and faced forward.

  Andy snickered.

  “Shut up, demon,” Erin said as she turned the key in the ignition.

  He patted her shoulder. “We’re getting into trouble already. Can’t you see? This is going to be great!”

  Erin’s cheeks flamed as she turned back onto the main road.

  “I am sorry I didn’t get to finish, though,” added Andy in a more thoughtful tone. “How about when we get home?”

  “When ‘we’ get home? Who said you were staying at my house?”

  “I won’t be a bother,” said the demon.

  Erin gripped the steering wheel even tighter.

  Andy relented. “I’m only teasing. I’ll stay out of your way. I’ll make the coffee. I’ll even do the washing up. Whatever you like. All the shoulder massages you can possibly handle. And we’ll make the best revenge plan ever, I promise.”

  At the stoplight before her neighborhood, Erin turned to look at Andy.

  He looked back at her with undisguised mischief in his eyes.

  She returned her gaze to the red stoplight.

  When the light turned green, she drove her demon the rest of the way home.

  5

  Erin turned off the car and reached for her purse in the back seat. “How will you get out of the car without opening the door? Won’t the neighbors notice the door opening by itself?”

  Andy tugged at the wrinkles that had developed in his suit jacket. “What kind of demon would I be if I couldn’t indulge in a little sleight of hand?”

  When Erin turned around, Andy was standing in front of the car with his arms folded and a smug expression on his face.

  The car door on the passenger side had never opened.

  She got out of the car and tried not to look at him as she walked past him and up to the front door.

  Once inside, she put down her purse and let Nancy Drew out into the backyard.

  Andy stuck his head in the fridge. “Shall I rustle up something for lunch?”

  Before Erin could answer, there was a knock at the door.

  Andy straightened up and whispered, “Who in the Nine Hells knocks in the pattern of the ‘Ride of the Valkyries’?”

  “My mother!” whispered Erin. “Make yourself scarce!”

  Andy closed the refrigerator door and retreated to a corner of the kitchen, where he leaned against the wall with the look of someone who expects to be thoroughly entertained.

  “Mom,” said Erin as she opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

  “That’s a nice way to greet your mother,” said Joyce as she crossed the threshold. “You took off like a bat out of hell. Of course I would come check on you after that!”

  Andy snorted, inaudible to Joyce but perfectly noticeable by Erin.

  Joyce dropped her oversized, blindingly colored cloth purse on the table and went to the refrigerator. She gazed into the interior as if it were the opening of Tut’s tomb. “What is this? Some kind of science experiment?” She pulled out wilting lettuce, half-empty Tupperware, dried-up take-out, and expired milk and put it on the counter next to the fridge.

  Erin rolled her eyes behind her mother’s back. “Yes, Mom, that’s exactly what it is.”

  “Don’t sass me,” said Joyce, without even turning around. “I can hear your eyes roll all the way over here.” She closed the refrigerator door. “Keep this up, and the next thing you know, you’ll be eating Nancy’s dog biscuits.”

  Erin pressed her lips together. How did her mother know these things?

  Nancy Drew doddered into the kitchen from the backyard. She raised her nose in the air and sniffed, then walked daintily over to the demon hidden in the corner and looked up expectantly.

  Andy frantically shooed her away, to no avail.

  To all appearances, the dog appeared to be staring raptly into a corner.

  “Even your dog is acting weird,” said Joyce.

  Erin lunged for the dog treats. “Here, girl.”

  Nancy looked from Erin to Andy and back again, then turned and trotted dutifully over to Erin’s general vicinity.

  Erin gave her the treat and suppressed a sigh of relief.

  “You feed that dog but you’re not feeding yourself. When was the last time you went grocery shopping?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Andy looked back and forth between mother and daughter like a cat at a tennis match.

  “When was the last time you went out with your friends?”

  “I don’t have any anymore.”

  “Don’t say that,” said Joyce. “Just because Genevieve—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” said Erin in a warning tone.

  “You can’t just—”

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it!”

  Joyce subsided into silence and bent down to stroke Nancy’s silky head.

  “I know you mean well, Mom. But I feel like I’ve been broken into a million pieces. I’m still trying to pick them all up.”

  Erin’s mother straightened. “Can I bring you some food? A casserole?”

  “It’s a divorce, not a funeral. No need for covered dishes. I’ll be fine. I’ll go shopping, I promise.”

  Joyce hoisted her purse from the table onto her shoulder. She reached around Erin’s shoulders and embraced her with one arm. “You’ll be okay, pumpkin.”

  Erin didn’t say anything. She didn’t trust her voice not to wobble, so she nodded and walked her mother to the door instead, then watched her bustle down the driveway.

  “I’ll call you!” said Joyce as she stood next to the open door of her car.

  Erin waved, then shut and locked the front door.

  Andy leaned against the kitchen counter. “Your mom is”—he gestured vaguely as if gathering the words in mid-air—“really something.
”

  “Tell me about it,” said Erin.

  “She’s not entirely wrong, though.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re on her side,” said Erin. She sat down at the kitchen table.

  “No, no,” Andy said. He came around behind her and picked up the shoulder massage where he had left off.

  “Because I can’t tolerate that,” said Erin, closing her eyes.

  “Of course not,” he said, unfurling the new knots in her shoulders.

  “Mmm,” said Erin, half mollified and half suspicious.

  “Although you really should eat better.”

  Erin sat bolt upright. “I knew it. You’re on her side.”

  “No! I just think you deserve good food, that’s all.” He bore down more firmly and she relaxed again.

  “I like food,” she murmured absently.

  “Why don’t we go grocery shopping?”

  “I don’t like grocery shopping. It’s tedious.” Even to herself she sounded petulant. She tried for practicality. “And expensive. On my salary, at least.”

  “Well, I have a little rainy day money saved up. It’s the least I can do if I’m taking up space.” He rubbed her temples in circles. “Come on, live a little. Don’t let Mark and Genevieve have all the fun.”

  “That’s a low blow,” said Erin.

  “I’m a demon; it’s what I do.” He pressed softly into the joint between her cheekbone and her ear.

  “Ah,” said Erin, tipping her head back slightly.

  “Was that a yes?”

  She opened her eyes, looked at his face, and knew that he knew—he’d already won the argument.

  6

  Andy insisted on driving halfway across town to the fancy grocery store instead of going to the perfectly good discount warehouse store around the corner.

  “I fail to see how organic strawberries fit into the whole revenge thing,” Erin said quietly as she piloted the cart through the produce section. She had agreed to add the items he pointed out, while he remained invisible to the other shoppers.

  “Living well is the best revenge,” said Andy as he pointed to a particularly juicy cluster of seedless red grapes.

  She picked it up and placed it in the cart.

  They reached the seafood counter. Gleaming cases packed with clear ice stretched in both directions. Inside, piles of shrimp, crab, and mussels glistened. At the far end of the counter, live lobsters with rubber bands around their claws floated in a special tank.

  “Lobster,” he mused. “Lots of lobster.” Andy leaned down and peered into the tank. “He’s a lively one,” he said, indicating a large lobster currently waving its claws in a particularly vigorous manner. He looked to Erin for approval.

  Erin felt a little sick.

  Andy peered at her. “Does this bother you? The live lobster thing?”

  “It’s fine,” she said, barely moving her lips.

  He stepped uncomfortably close, so close she could see the tiny garnet-colored flecks in his brown eyes, and looked into her eyes. “No, it isn’t. How long has this bothered you?”

  She shrugged and looked away.

  “A while, then. While you were married to Mark?”

  Erin nodded.

  “You didn’t like eating meat, but you kept eating it? Why?” He tapped his bearded chin. “You kept eating it because Mark did. Because you didn’t want something else to come between you.”

  “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “Like Hell it does. Come on.” He strode through the produce department before blazing a trail through the rest of the store, pointing out fresh collard greens, grass-fed butter, black-eyed peas, vegetable broth, new crop long-grain rice, aged cheddar, and hard apple cider, along with a handful of pantry staples.

  She pushed the cart in his wake, a little self-conscious but full of curiosity, loading each item into the cart.

  “All vegetarian, all delicious,” he said. “I’m beginning to dislike this ‘Mark’ character. In fact, I’m beginning to think he got off easy this morning.” A faraway look came into his eyes.

  If getting your trousers removed in church was getting off easy, what would be the alternative?

  Erin shuddered with a mixture of fear and secret glee.

  When they arrived home, he allowed her to carry in the groceries out of necessity, but after that, he sent her off straight away, insisting that he didn’t need help in the kitchen and suggesting that she take a nice, long bubble bath.

  Who was she to argue with a Great Earl of Hell?

  Erin sank a little deeper into the bubble bath and listened to the cheery sound of pots and pans rattling in the kitchen.

  Come to think of it, she’d had far more to argue about with Mark—even before the affair—than with a demon.

  That didn’t say much for her marriage.

  Then again, perhaps that wasn’t fair to Mark.

  Perhaps—and this was a new and surprising thought—she didn’t care. Erin turned this thought over in her mind as she idly scooped up handfuls of bubbles.

  Andromalius. It had a nice ring to it. She silently formed the word with her lips, drawing out each syllable. Did he have a last name?

  Would he like one?

  She reached for a cup and sluiced water through her hair.

  Maybe revenge could take a little longer, after all. Surely there wasn’t any rush.

  “Erin?” called Andy. “Dinner will be ready in twenty.”

  “Okay,” she called through the bathroom door.

  Erin pressed the lever to drain the tub, then stood up and reached for a large bath towel. She wrapped herself securely and opened the door into the master bedroom. The door from the master bedroom into the kitchen and dining area stood ajar.

  “Ah, the water sprite emerges!” Andy, who had apparently borrowed one of her aprons, quickly wiped his hands and approached the bedroom. He had removed his red jacket and rolled up his crisp shirtsleeves. “Take your time,” he said, keeping his gaze averted as he pulled the door closed for her.

  She turned the lock out of habit and let the towel fall to the floor. She picked up a long-neglected bottle of moisturizing oil and held it in her hands for a long moment before twisting the cap free. She spread the oil over her body, working it into her elbows, knees, and feet, then reached for a small bottle of perfume. A few dabs on her wrists, behind her ears, and on the backs of her knees sent the fresh scent winging through the room.

  She put on the little black dress she’d rejected that morning.

  Her hair, wet but no longer dripping, responded favorably to a wide-toothed comb, leaving it damp but shining and sleek.

  Erin considered the makeup arrayed on her vanity table. Her hand skipped from one lipstick tube to another, flipping them upside-down to read the tiny labels until she found the one marked “Temptation” and swiped it on her lips with a steady hand.

  It was exactly the shade of Andy’s red suit.

  She padded barefoot across the carpet, unlocked the door, and emerged into the dining room.

  Andy carefully laid the last of the feast on the dining room table. “Madam, may I present: seasoned apple cider collard greens and black-eyed peas over rice, accompanied by herbed cheddar biscuits and butter, paired with a crisp apple cider.”

  Erin took in the sight of the beautifully laid table, complete with lit candles, and wondered how long it had been since she felt truly cared for.

  He pulled out a chair for her.

  She lowered herself into it. “Thank you,” she said, unable to muster the composure to add anything more elaborate.

  Andy beamed. “My pleasure. Let’s eat!” He seated himself across from her and filled her plate from the serving dishes. “Good nutrition, that’s what you need.”

  Erin smiled. “Where did you learn to cook?”


  “Oh, you know. Around.”

  “You’re too modest.”

  “It’s my great failing as a demon. I should be far more boastful.” He shook his head ruefully.

  They ate the vegetarian feast in silence for a few minutes.

  “So, I was thinking about the whole revenge thing,” said Erin.

  Andy laid down his fork and gave her his full attention.

  “I was thinking,” Erin continued, “that if we really thought things out, we could come up with something special. Artistic, even.”

  Andy’s eyes shone in the candlelight. “Great minds think alike. Today’s activities could be just an”—he paused to search for the right word—“amuse-bouche, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yes,” said Erin, nodding solemnly and trying to look like she understood the French-sounding phrase he had just uttered. “That.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” said Andy, helping himself to another biscuit.

  She watched him take a hearty bite. “But I do have to go in to work tomorrow.”

  He swallowed. “And I don’t even know what you do for a living! Tell me all about it while I refill your glass.” He retrieved the cider and topped up both glasses.

  “I’m a teacher,” she said.

  “Oh, wow. Of small children? Miniature mortals?”

  “Yes, the miniature ones. School’s not actually in session right now, but I got moved to a different grade level, so I was going to go in and get some of my stuff moved to my new classroom.”

  “You want a hand?” He sipped from his glass.

  “I’m … not sure I could explain you. And if my boxes started carrying themselves through the school, well—it might attract attention.”

  “True, true.”

  “And you could use the time to think up lots and lots of ideas for revenge on Mark. You know, make a long list. Really long.”

  “There’s the wickedness I was looking for. I can see it now. And I like it,” he said, looking her up and down with approval.

  Her stomach did a little flip. She might be out of her depth, but she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to enjoy the swim.

  7

  Erin drove to school feeling as if something heavy had been lifted off her shoulders that she’d been carrying for a long time without ever noticing the weight—until it was gone.