The lack of venom didn’t fool him for a second, however. Jerry had watched enough of the Discovery Channel while on demon downtime to know real predators bided their time before ripping into the hapless antelope.
He maneuvered the car out of the parking lot and on to the road. “Happy to be getting out for the day, Molly? Excited to see Riona’s new house?”
“New house?” The tone suggested both surprise and dismissiveness. “Shacking up with some new guy, is she?”
He was wise enough to remain still and hope the spider’s eyes didn’t see him.
“My daughter sent you?” she asked when Jerry let her opportunity pass.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You sleeping with her?”
“Not anymore.”
“You used to,” Molly concluded. “Of course, Riona’s always been loose. Lost her innocence with some hockey player when she was seventeen, you know. I walked in on them in her room, just as his puck was passing into her net.”
Not only was Jerry unsure of what he should say, he also knew the truth. In fact, Riona had lost her ‘innocence,’ as Molly so delicately put it, when she was sixteen to a cheerleader named Tiffany Roo. Of course, Riona didn’t know he was privileged to that information either, and it was exactly the type of thing you’d expect an old wretched battle ax like Molly Dade to bring up as you passed her rolls over dinner.
“You love my daughter, Marc?”
The name stung, but when she’d called him that after he’d shown up, he didn’t have the heart to correct her. Of course, the memory charm he’d worked at their last meeting meant she didn’t recall him introducing himself. He didn’t know where the Marc association came from, however. As far as Jerry knew, Molly Dade had never met Marc Angeletti. So, he’d play the part of the priest with Molly, though the act felt forced. He didn’t mind fooling the rest of the world, but no matter how much of a raving banshee she was, you shouldn’t lie to the mother of the woman you were hoping to marry someday.
He coughed and shifted in his seat. “Um, yeah. Yes, I do.”
Molly leaned in a little, angling her body over the gear shift. “But she don’t love you back.”
“No, ma’am. I don’t think she does.”
“Of course, she doesn’t.” The old woman sparked as she laughed and hit Jerry on the leg with surprising strength. “Know how I know? She’s got the hots for some guy named Jerry. Completely gaga over him from the looks of it.”
Ice and fire competed for control in Jerry’s squishy interior. True, facts in Molly’s brain might not be linear, but they didn’t come from nowhere. Back when they’d been “dating” the first time, Riona must have said something. But love? Even if she’d told Molly as much back then, she’d never given him the privilege of hearing those three little words.
But at the moment, he was playing at being Marc, and Marc had to answer her now.
“What a lucky guy,” Jerry breathed out, noting to himself how choked up his voice came across. “I hope he knows how lucky he is.”
“Well, if there was one thing Riona’s never had problems with, it’s making men feel ‘lucky,’ if you know what I mean.” She let out a cackle that Shakespeare’s witches would have pissed themselves to pull off. “Don’t know where I went wrong with that girl that she turned out that way.”
Jerry couldn’t exactly defend Riona, at least not from Molly’s perspective. His research on the younger Dade’s physical history was encyclopedic in its thoroughness, leading up to his assignment to corrupt her. Riona had indeed gone through a bumpy time in her late teen and college years. Since, no one would award her any prizes for chastity, but she only ever pursued the physical within the confines of the emotional. And even at the worst of times, she’d never been the hooking-up-with-a-different-guy-every-night type o’ girl. Every other month, maybe.
Luckily, embracing psychobabble gave him an option. “Probably nothing you did, Molly. Girls who grow up without a father often turn out that way, trying to find someone to fill that void.” His tongue held back the capper, literally.
“Without a father, yes. Her father, of course….”
Jerry glanced from the corner of his eye as best he could and caught Molly’s confused, distant expression. He wasn’t sure if her sudden lack of clarity was because of her erased memory, or her Alzheimer’s butting into their conversation. In any case, the silence that filled the car brought him to one, undeniable conclusion.
Molly Dade would be canonized after her death, for she had just performed a miracle. She made him feel sympathy … for her.
The mortal fallacy, oh he’d forgotten it. And now he was due to experience it all over again, wasn’t he? While he was lucky to get a body that was relatively well taken care of and on the sunny side of the age spectrum, he, too, would end up like Molly someday. Old, confused, alone, unwanted, decrepit. Most of those things didn’t bother him so much. If he pulled off this second chance at living, a shot at Heaven might still be in his cards. But alone … Humans didn’t get many years, but they were blessed with a perspective that told them their years passed slowly. Jerry didn’t want to pass through this mortal life again and end up alone. He wanted it to be complete.
Damn him, but he wanted Riona.
“Don’t worry, Molly. I have a feeling Riona and Jerry are going to end up okay.”
Molly’s eyes became saucers at the sight of Dee’s hulking frame filling the doorway. She had to stand still and lean back slightly to take a proper survey of the demigod.
“Please tell me you’re not the one my daughter’s schlepping.”
Dee gave a spot on impersonation of a candied apple as he helped Molly cross into the house and began to guide her toward the living room. “Um, no. We’re just friends.”
A grin plastered over her face. “Good, I still got a shot then.”
“Jer?” Dee’s low voice gave him a shiver.
“Yeah, chief?”
Molly shuffled toward the sofa as Dee leaned in closely. “You’re needed in the kitchen. But be careful. She’s likely to blow again.”
“Why, what happened?”
“Not what she’d hoped. That’s the problem.”
At first, Jerry thought the kitchen was empty. It wasn’t until a steady knock, knock, knock from the other side of the island drew his attention that he knew otherwise.
Riona, bum down to the linoleum, rocked herself in allegro time. Both her hands grasped at the side of her head, her bloodshot eyes and a quivering lips suggested trouble.
“What’s up?”
She jolted and turned a momentary mask of shock toward Jerry before her features melted back in to woe. She dismissively motioned in the direction of the sink.
“I was supposed to defrost it.”
“The sink?”
“Not the sink, the turkey!” she shrieked. “I put it in the fridge. I thought it would thaw out overnight, but it didn’t. Just the skin did. The rest of it is still a popsicle. And I burned the pumpkin pie. And I didn’t know I had to get extra chicken stock to make the stuffing. And apparently there’s a difference between yams and sweet potatoes. How was I supposed to know they’re different things? I fucked up everything. And you know my mom won’t let this go if she’s here. She’ll be all, ‘see, Riona, one more thing you suck at,’ or ‘who did you think you were, Betty Crocker?’.”
Her lips stilled the moment his fingers pressed against them.
“Slow down, sunshine, or I’m going to have to ask to see your Kenyan birth certificate. Can the ‘Oh, Ricky!’ routine. Next you’ll be crying about going to the club and playing the bongos.” He pulled back his hand and surveyed the countertops as best he could from his crouched down place next to her. “Where’s the bird now?”
“In the sink. I looked it up on the Internet and it said that’s the quickest way to defrost it. But it will still be another 2-3 hours before it’s ready to go in the oven.” She paused, then looked up perplexed. “Did you get my mom?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn it, no hope of salvation then. How is she today?”
“Well, just suffice to say that I didn’t wrap Dee’s car around a telephone pole, but I was tempted.” His voice softened as he continued, “She thinks my name is Marc. I hope her calling me that isn’t going to tick you off. I thought it best to keep up appearances.”
“No. I mean, yeah. I understand.” Her hands filed back her auburn locks. “Oh God, what am I going to do about dinner?”
“That’s easy.” Reaching out, he took Riona’s hand and brought her to her feet. “You’re going to do exactly what I say, and don’t panic. Luckily for you, I’ve picked up some excellent cooking lessons over the years.”
For once in her blessed life, Riona Dade did not argue. She did not bitch. She did not retort. When he said boil water, it boiled. When Jerry told her to add milk, lactation deployment ensued. Before long, they’d become a team, working the burners and basting a bird that may have defrosted just a bit faster than humanly possible.
Neither one of them remembered who suggested cracking open the first bottle of wine. They downed their second glass and were contemplating a third when Dee came in to check on them. He retreated with a glass of his own, plus one for his sister who had just arrived.
“You know the saying ‘my goose is cooked’?” Riona asked as she poured out a third cup for she and Jerry. “I’ve never actually seen cooked goose. Don’t you think they should say ‘my turkey is cooked’? I mean, everyone’s seen a cooked turkey.”
Jerry laughed. “Goose isn’t as common as it used to be, but believe me, it had its time and place. Most people didn’t know what a turkey was and how delicious they could be until America was discovered. And then once Big Macs hit …” He winked.
Riona tilted her head and stared at him in awe. “Wow.”
“What?”
“It’s just, back when we were … you know, together, I didn’t know what you were. I couldn’t realize how long you’ve been around. But it’s been a really, really long time, hasn’t it?”
“I guess.” He tapped his palette with his tongue as he savored the tannins. “Older than certain parts of the Bible, and all that.”
“All the things you must have seen.”
Jerry shrugged. “Not as much as you’d think. Yeah, I always knew what was going on in general up top, but unless I was on a mission, I wasn’t too involved. Being eternal by becoming a demon isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he added sarcastically.
“And what was that like?” Jerry’s blank stare forced her to clarify. “Becoming a demon.”
“It was …” His eyes turned up to the ceiling, as though a selection of words he might use were written on it. “… awesome.”
“Jerry!” She made a half-sincere attempt to admonish him, grabbing a potholder and hurling it at his head.
“What? You asked.” He caught the red-and-gold monstrosity out of the air and threw it back at her. He didn’t miss the threat of a smile on her face. “You remember your awakening, right?”
Riona’s blush was all the answer he needed. Even with his sexual prowess built up over centuries of practice and bolstered by a superhuman endowment, he knew anything he’d done to her between the sheets couldn’t compare to that rush.
Big Boss would always hold the title for handing out the biggest thrill.
“Well, think about that, but instead of fueled by light, it’s fueled by sin. One of the reasons humans fall for sin so easily is because in the moment, it feels so fucking good. You wake up after Lucifer’s repurposed your soul feeling like you could do anything, be anything, go anywhere. The rush of a demon awakening makes the Pure Soul experience look like foreplay. Really bad foreplay. With someone who is partially paralyzed. And wearing oven mitts.”
“You make it sound like something to look forward to.”
He caught her eyes just in time to see her lips pull tight. She flashed away her gaze and took a hastened sip of her wine.
“Is this curiosity or research?”
She retorted with an exaggerated laugh. “I’m … just ... You know, because Marc …”
“Right, because of Marc.”
Turning, Jerry placed his flute on the counter. He squared his gaze and his shoulders. Riona gasped when she found herself caged, Jerry’s arms anchored against the countertop and his body leaning against her.
“Then you should know the whole story.” His lips spoke so close to hers, he could feel Riona quiver beneath him. “It’s all downhill from there. Lucifer makes a demon body feel every physical pleasure the mortal world has to offer, and a few more that only dark magic can give. But your soul is severed from the light. You go numb to it, and grow to loathe it. It’s a rare demon that’s able to feel anything again: joy, love, benevolence, hope. Yeah, especially hope. Lucifer controls you, makes you addicted to the rush, all the while letting your soul stew in guilt, greed, lust, and horror. You want to die, but he keeps blinding you. You keep doing his will so he’ll keep numbing the darkness with passion, then he releases you on the world to bring mortal men down with the demon.”
“But not Marc. He’ll be able to …”
Riona tried to push Jerry away, but he clasped her wrist and pulled them behind her back, pushing her body hard against his.
“Marc will be just like I used to be. He’ll be evil, just like I was. He’ll seduce you, just like I did. And when he discovers a sin that will give you a ticket to Hell, he’ll punch it, just like I did. He’ll mask your corruption in a haze of physical pleasure—”
Riona stilled as Jerry’s mouth skated downward, his lips moving over the flesh of her neck. Her chin lifted, allowing him access. “—just like I would, if I were in his position.”
“You were in his position,” Riona chocked out. “You were redeemed.”
He backed his head and looked longingly at her lips. “You really think Big Boss is going to make that happen twice? Besides, I’m going to end up right back in Hell for the things I want to do to you right now. But if you really want to think about it in a way that tells you of why it’s really a bad idea, consider how demon Marc will feel when theoretical demon Riona is sent out on Satan’s behalf to screw more people than Enron.”
“Let me go!” Squirming did no good. He only used it to maneuver himself closer.
“No, I’m not holding back anymore. I love you. And maybe you don’t love me yet, but I know you used to. And, by God, Riona, you’re going to again.”
As Riona’s eyes narrowed, Jerry knew he’d have to put up posters to recover his lost scruples. He was on the edge of kissing her despite lips pulled tight enough he could have billed her dental insurance for the exam, when the kitchen timer began to beep. Divine signs came in many forms: lightning, floods, rainbows, Nikki Minaj’s rise to fame … This time it came in the form of a wide-eyed chicken whose body had been sectioned off into a sixty-minute scale.
“Turkey’s done,” Riona grumbled as she tried to tug herself out of his embrace. “And so are we.”
“Like Hell, we are!”
Jerry hooked his arms around her back, holding her right wrist with his left hand and using the form to push the upper half of Riona’s body against him. His mouth worked against hers and his tongue begged entrance. That damn chicken timer was screaming its head off, but the only noise he cared about was the traitorous moan rumbling through Riona, giving away her true emotions.
“Do you have any idea how much I want you?” He turned his attention to her neck as she tilted her head back and laced her fingers through his hair, drawing him in. “I’ve dreamed of having you in every way possible since the moment I woke up in your apartment.”
“Jerry, I …” He felt her throat bob as she swallowed hard. He could feel the shadow of her reticence cloud her thinking. “I shouldn’t ...”
“No!” He created just enough space between them to flash his eyes at her. “Fuck shouldn’t, Riona. Embrace can. Embrace will. Embrace now. Embrace me.”<
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A single second they stilled, and then Riona threw her arms around him. Her lips … Goddess in glory, her lips. So soft, but firm, and hungrily demanding his attention. Jerry folded her into his embrace as she worked her lips over his. He felt like she was trying to crawl inside him, desperate in her clutching. Jerry’s hands sank to her hips as he gripped her, a moment later lifting her body and depositing her on the counter, using his hips to step into her and part her legs.
He had her hard and writhing already. As his hands let go of her middle and circled around her, Jerry cupped her cheeks as he pushed the hardening proof of his hunger against her. All the time, their tongues tangoed. When he drew back, it was only because he was afraid he’d kill her if he didn’t let her breathe. For his own part, he thought it a good way to die.
Gasping, she suddenly looked confused. “I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s just because I’m drunk. I know it.”
“Riona, stop. Stop thinking desire is evil. I know evil, and that ain’t evil.” He pecked again at her lips. “But I also know wicked, and the things I’m planning on doing to you? Yeah, wicked.”
“But dinner …” She searched his eyes for guidance.
“Screw dinner,” Jerry hissed as he angled his mouth back to hers. “I want to devour you.”
“Well, that’s great, but it would leave the rest of us really hungry.”
They both went rigid at the sound of Dee’s voice. There he stood in the entry of the kitchen; half-amused, half-disgusted. And if mixed numbers weren’t forbidden, half-perplexed.
“Looks like you’ve already had her tongue for an appetizer, and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be willing to share.”
“Dee!”
The demigod rolled his eyes. “You do realize your mother’s been sitting out there for two hours, asking about you. I’m having problems convincing her you’re actually in the kitchen cooking, and I’m starting to feel a little creepy the way she keeps undressing me with her eyes. So if that damned egg timer of yours doesn’t mean dinner’s ready, I need to know, because I’m pretty sure I’ll have to set the house on fire as an excuse to leave.”
Once You Go Demon (Pure Souls) Page 15
