A Demon in Waiting (Crimson Romance)

by Trent, Holley

  “Agatha!” And Ariel felt herself start to fade, right as a dark-haired man of slightly less-than-average height, wearing hipster glasses, and donning a pair of headphones around his neck pounded down the hall.

  “Let her go!” he yelled, reaching a hand into his sweatshirt pocket and extracting the handle of some sort of knife. He didn’t get it out in time.

  It was too late.

  Chapter Seventeen

  John was lacing up his boots when he heard the screaming — high-pitched and keening like some wounded animal begging to be put out of its misery.

  He bounded to the screen door and yanked it open when he saw his father — angrier than he’d ever seen him, pulsating with a violent red aura — in the front yard with an arm wrapped around Ariel’s neck.

  She didn’t look hurt, but her face was contorted in pain and she drooped boneless in his arms.

  “Clarissa!” he called. “My father has Ariel. He’s here.”

  She must have understood the urgency in his voice and that this wasn’t just one of Gulielmus’s usual social calls, because when she ran out of her room, she was wearing real shoes and not slippers.

  “Just stay back. Let me try to reason with him. There’s no reason for him to bother her.”

  “John, son, demons aren’t reasonable. That’s why you’ll never be one.”

  If he hadn’t have been so damned terrified, he would have grinned. He really did love that old lady. It was too bad he’d probably never see her again.

  He pushed open the screen door and stepped onto the porch.”

  “Hello, son.” Gulielmus didn’t move. He held Ariel about twenty feet away. His arms were so loose around her neck and waist, she could have easily slipped free. Suddenly, John understood that his father probably didn’t have to get physical to restrain someone.

  “Gulielmus.” He decided not to make any sudden moves. Ariel wasn’t even looking at him. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be mumbling something to herself. Praying, maybe?

  Open your eyes, sweetpea. Look at me.

  And she heard him. Or, at least seemed to. But when she opened her eyes, there was no relief there. She seemed just as scared of seeing John there as she was at being in Gulielmus’s grasp.

  He’d never felt such terror. He hadn’t even been so scared that time in the desert when he heard a rattle and a hiss behind him. Not even after that snake had bit him and he knew for sure he was going to die.

  Now he understood why he didn’t perish out there. It’d taken so long to receive the anti-venom, and by then he should have been dead three times over. He lived, because he was cut from the same cloth as that snake. A serpent, even if he didn’t know it at the time.

  He’d been prepared to just walk away — to leave Ariel be if meant she’d be safe and her soul free to do with as she pleased — but seeing her like this, afraid of him and angry, that made him change his mind.

  She was angry because she’d cared.

  One thing at a time.

  “Just let go of her. She didn’t ask for any of this. That one soul isn’t going to make you any difference.”

  “Next you’re going to try to convince me that she’s nothing, right? Isn’t that how it always goes in the movies? The hero pretends he doesn’t want the damsel in distress anyway and butters up the villain only to do bait-and-switch? Not gonna work on me, John. And, please, whatever it is you’re carrying on your person that’s preventing me from coming close, please discard it. Shouting like this is hardly civilized.”

  John cut his gaze to Clarissa behind him, and she nodded.

  “I’ve got your back. Don’t worry about Ariel. Do what you’ve got to do.”

  He nodded and slipped his hand into his back pocket, wrapping his fingers around the bible’s spine. He pulled it out and bent, slowly, and set it on the porch.

  “Very good.” Gulielmus drug Ariel ten feet closer and stopped again. His lips peeled back as he hissed. “Why don’t you meet me the rest of the way. The house is warded. It’s a ploy that reeks of that other pain-in-the-ass son of mine. I really hope he isn’t involved this time.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” John jumped from the porch and strode to the pair, holding his hands up palms-out, hoping the gesture would calm them both. Ariel still looked angry. Anger he could deal with. Anger was far better than apathy.

  “You’re lying, but I don’t care. Let’s go. Obviously you need re-training.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until you let go of Ariel.”

  “What is it with you and names? Who cares what you call one bag of bones versus another. They’re insignificant. No better than dogs.”

  “That’s funny coming from you. You’ve been using them as breeding stock all these years.”

  “They’re not my first choice.”

  “Ah.” John scoffed. Of course there would be other things. That’s why people like Claude existed. He wondered what the source of Charles’s personal power was, but only briefly. “Well, obviously you know some of these meat sacks are a little more special than others or you wouldn’t have marked me this way.” He held his left palm out a bit more so the fading symbol was more prominent to his father’s eyes. Where it has previously glowed blue, now it had changed to a sickly-looking red as if he’d been branded for real with fire and iron.

  As Claude had said, “You gotta let the bad out.” And it’d felt just like metal being pressed into his skin again and again while his brother had started the regimen.

  “What did you fucking do?” Gulielmus spat, and in his surprise, released Ariel. She flopped to the ground, and John reached for her, but Gulielmus made it first — squatting and covering her body with his massive arms.

  John took a step back to give his father some space. It was like negotiating with a lion or some other wild beast that cared more about territory and scraps of meat than the big picture.

  “All I did,” he said, voice calm, and eyes locked on his father’s, “was reversed what you started. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life corrupting people. Sounded fun a couple of weeks ago, but I guess that was my misery talking. Well, I figured out I don’t have to be miserable. And if that means I’m cutting my life significantly shorter than the typical cambion’s, then so be it. I don’t want to serve you or your liege.”

  “Claude,” Gulielmus hissed through clenched teeth. He’d grown so angry again, he’d forgotten about Ariel. He’d stood and stepped over her in a long stride that put him nose-to-nose with his son.

  John didn’t respond. A flash burst behind his father and a man with a blinding white aura wrapped arms around Ariel and picked her up.

  “Mark?” Ariel croaked.

  “Yeah, it’s okay. Sorry it took me so long to hone in on ya.” He pointed a knife with a glowing blue blade toward Gulielmus as he backed Ariel toward the porch. “Gulielmus, the truce still stands. Don’t be the spark that changes that.”

  “Hey, why don’t you mind your fucking business, feather-brains? This is personal. Family business. But you wouldn’t know anything about that. You’re essentially a eunuch, right? Too scared to be a full-time superstar like me.”

  Mark kept his mouth shut.

  Ariel’s expression went from anger to abject confusion.

  John couldn’t blame her. He felt like he’d missed an entire unit of history himself. Angels? Demons? Witches? Other non-specified supernatural beings? What else didn’t he know?

  When Ariel was safe in Clarissa’s arms with Mark standing in front of them, John turned back to his father. He was going to poke the lion in his cage and see what happened. What was the worst he could do? Kill him?

  Well, if he did, he was reasonably sure where his soul would end up, and it wouldn’t involve fluffy bunnies or ennui. But even heaven seemed bland compared t
o a short lifetime with Ariel.

  “Do you still want me, Gulielmus?” He pushed back the sunglasses he’d been wearing so his father could see his eyes. His pupils and irises had all but vanished, although Claude had asked around and reassured him they’d come back eventually, just like the pink of his skin had.

  He wanted his father to see how far gone he was. How nothing he could do would make it better. He’d never be able to affect him again, because once the demon was gone — the taint cleansed — it could never find a new inlet in him. Claude had made sure of that. His body had sealed itself from the inside out.

  Anger flashed on Gulielmus’s face. His eyes darkened. His teeth bared. His aura went even redder.

  John now understood why all those ancient people had depicted devils with horns and tails — scary things that didn’t exist in nature. It was because their human brains couldn’t make sense of what they were seeing. It was all the mortal sins all rolled up and combined in a human shape. Sometimes beautiful, but when unfettered, utterly frightening to the extent the mind couldn’t process it.

  “So what now, Dad?”

  “I should kill you where you stand for defying me.”

  “Go ahead. I know you’ll never leave Ariel alone, and I don’t want her being harmed on my conscience for the rest of my life, however long it is. Go ahead and do what you’ve got to do.”

  Gulielmus narrowed his eyes. “Or how about I let you live and torch the place with them in it?”

  He snapped his fingers and a ring of fire spiraled around the house, creating an impassible barrier for the humans within it. Ariel’s worst nightmare. Or it had been up until that moment, probably. She was probably having her life flash before her eyes every thirty seconds or so.

  “John!” she called out from the porch.

  “Don’t worry about us,” Mark said. “I won’t let it get close.”

  Gulielmus snorted. “Goody two-shoes. Always hated you. Now I have a reason.”

  “So, what’s it going to be?” John could feel the fire burning hot behind him, and no matter what Mark had said, he knew it was the real deal and capable of untold destruction. Everything that little family had was in that house, and even if they got out of it, chances were good they’d be on the run for the rest of their lives just like Ariel’s parents and sister.

  That had been their punishment for threatening the peace between the sides. Good and evil. By killing a demon, they’d upset the balance.

  “Your choice, sonny boy. If I can’t have you, give me the girl or the old lady. My boss would be pleased to have either.”

  “Momma, what’s he talking about?”

  Clarissa didn’t answer.

  “Fine.” John shrugged. He turned around and stared through the licking flames at Clarissa. She blinked her eyes thrice rapidly. John looked at Ariel, still confused, but now tortured. She was probably wondering, “How could he even choose? How dare he?”

  But this was always in the cards. Clarissa knew it. Planned for it.

  He turned back to his father. “Take the old lady. Since Ariel has an angel here, you’re not going to get close to her anyway. Who knows how long that guy has been tailing her?”

  “Longer than you know,” Mark said. “But not just me.”

  Gulielmus’s jaw ground left to right. He sighed, and the flames in front of them abated. “Bring her through, Mark.”

  They watched Mark give Ariel a warning look as he laced his fingers around one of her arms.

  “I thought you were supposed to be one of the good guys,” Ariel said. “Where are the good guys? It’s like you all have this incredible power and all you do is stand back and let things happen or you’re complicit in the evil. Is that all this world is? Everything flows toward the bad?”

  Mark didn’t answer. He put his head down and guided a wobbling Clarissa down the brick steps. Her ankles were so swollen, John couldn’t differentiate them from her calves. She had to be in great pain.

  Mark and Clarissa passed through the flame perimeter unscathed and Gulielmus grabbed her as if he thought Mark — an angel — would renege.

  Mark returned to the porch, wrapped his arms around Ariel, and they disappeared with her screaming, “Momma!”

  And John’s heart broke. It was really too much for a woman like her to bear. She was too good, and awful shit kept happening to her.

  Fix this for her.

  He hands balled into fists at his sides as the flames behind him vanished. Who needed Hell when his father could make everywhere he went Hell?

  And suddenly he understood what Gulielmus meant about Hell, because he’d just figured out what his own personal one would be. Hell was when someone or something took away the things that mattered and left you with nothing — not even the will to start over.

  Gulielmus had pressed his hands against Clarissa’s cheeks, staring down at her face as if he were studying his fish dinner for bones.

  Clarissa stared back, unfazed. The only thing that scared Clarissa would be Ariel getting hurt. She didn’t care about herself. With one grandchild being lost to her, she’d readily sacrifice herself for the safety of the other.

  They stared so long, and John watched them so long, he didn’t notice the subtle changes taking place to Clarissa. But after one long blink to wet his dry eyes, he saw that the fine lines of her face had filled. Her cheeks had plumped. The skin of her neck had tightened. Her hair darkened. The spots on the hands that pushed at his chest faded. Her shoulders straightened. Those inches she said she’d lost over the past years lengthened her spine. Her ankles slimmed. And John realized what was happening. An incubus could not only take away, but could also give back.

  Clarissa’s eyes narrowed and the young woman smacked Gulielmus hard across the face.

  “I won’t be your whore. I know it’s on your mind. You don’t even have to say it.”

  He grabbed her wrist. “Do that again, and you won’t be fit to be anyone’s whore. Let’s go. I’ve got someone for you to meet.”

  “Great. While we’re making introductions … ” With her free hand, she pulled Mark’s blue-bladed knife from her housedress’s pocket and made a quick carving on Gulielmus’s chest.

  He drew back, baring his teeth and hissing, but froze. He couldn’t move.

  “I know the rest of that.” Clarissa tossed the knife up and caught it handily by the handle. “You know I know it. Now, I’ve got you stunned here and I can finish you off just like we did to that animal that ruined my sister. But, I won’t. Know why?”

  All Gulielmus could do was flash his red aura a little darker.

  “I’ll tell you why, pretty boy. By the way, my name is Clarissa. Learn my name. Memorize it. I know you’re bad at that, but you’re gonna wanna remember mine. I don’t know if demons have nightmares, but I’m gonna be yours if you go anywhere near my grandbaby again.”

  She circled around the incapacitated demon, eyeing him as if he were a museum sculpture. “Mark said a lot of what goes on in your world is political. That’s fine. I understand politics real good, and that’s why I don’t engage in them. Lot of quid pro quo going on. Well, let me tell you this.” She paused in front of him, propping her fists on her now-narrow hips.

  John suddenly had a good idea of where Ariel had gotten her spunk from. She must have been the spitting image of her mother.

  “Here’s how our quid pro quo is gonna work. You’re going to go the fuck away and there’s not going to be any killing here today. No one’s getting kidnapped. No one’s having their soul darkened. And you’re gonna leave this boy alone. You may have made him in your own image in a lot of ways, but he’s too damned good. Y’all don’t like good so much, right?”

  That red flash again.

  “Very nice. Thanks for visiting. By the way, if you try this shit again, I won’t be so
nice. All I need is one more little tweak of this … ” She tickled his chest with the knife point and he got redder, hotter. “And you’re smote. Okay? I’ll just keep it there to make it easier. Sorry about your shirt. Looks expensive. And thanks for my new youthful reflexes. I suspect they’ll come in handy.” She curtsied and lowered her head. “Now, please go to Hell. Wherever that is.”

  She did some little tweak of the battered mess on his chest and he was animate again, snarling at John.

  “You’re a fucking awful son.”

  He shrugged. “If it’s any consolation, Ariel probably won’t want me.”

  “It does console me.” Gulielmus vanished.

  John sighed.

  Clarissa wrapped an arm around his back and guided him toward the porch. “Let’s get some coffee brewing, huh? You’re going to have to go out and get some grass seed and fix that mess your daddy left.”

  “Yeah, I guess it might as well be me.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mark set Ariel down once again on Momma’s front porch and whistled low at the charred grass. “Yikes. I guess it could be worse. It’s not salted, so at least the grass’ll come back.”

  Ariel just stared at him.

  “This is weird, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Yeah. Well … ” He pushed his glasses up his nose — he probably didn’t even need them — and held out a hand. “Uh, Mark DeAngelo. Angel at your service.”

  Ariel shook it and felt utterly ridiculous. Lied to. Bamboozled. Everyone was a fraud, it seemed, except her. Or maybe she was a fraud, too, and she was in some weird, vivid dream that was the opposite of reality.

  She pinched herself. Nope. That hurt like a bitch.

  “So, see you at work tomorrow?”

  “Are you kidding me? Tell me you’re frickin’ kidding me.”

  Mark cringed. “No. Guy’s gotta earn a living, and I really am a copywriter most of the time. Following you around isn’t exactly profitable.”

  “Apparently being me isn’t particularly profitable, either.”