Once You Go Demon (Pure Souls)

by Killian McRae

  She’d invited Ditter over for dinner one night, and since she and Jerry were pretty serious, invited Jerry as well. Somehow during their conversation, the fact that Jerry spent most of his nights at Riona’s apartment crept into the conversation, met with Ditter’s disapproving glare. Jerry had saved her ass by announcing their impending nuptials. “A year from now, on Christmas Eve,” he had said, adding, “I always wanted a Christmas bride. And I hope you’ll be there, Mr. Schmitz. I know it would mean a lot to Riona and I.”

  She tried to stop the recollections before she recalled the tenderness of the conversation between them later that night, when she’d joked about how ridiculous the idea of them being married was. “It’s not ridiculous at all,” Jerry had declared with undeniable sincerity as he ran a thumb over her bottom lip. “Don’t panic, I’m not proposing. But who’s to say? A year from now, you might make me a very lucky man.”

  She’d forgotten in the intervening time to tell Ditter the fake wedding was off. Why hadn’t she told him over the phone now? Well, for starters, because she didn’t want to waste any more time delaying that already-late report, but more because she was afraid Ditter might question her morality knowing she’d been semi-shacking up with a guy she later dumped.

  Riona ran her fingers through her hair before shooting to her feet and throwing herself out her door, down to flights of stairs, and to the door she’d had unceremoniously slammed in her face the night before.

  Riona’s frantic, harried state spiked his pulse in to high gear.

  Jerry backed away and let her into his room. “Egads, Riona, what’s happened?”

  Her hands clenched, released, clenched, and released in time with the throbbing of a vein on her neck. “Jerry, we have to get married.”

  She could have said, “Jerry, I’ve just had my liver eaten by a raccoon while Richard Simmons slapped me with a herring,” and he’d have been less shocked.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Married,” she repeated. “Soon. Like, in a few days.”

  Okay, was she high, under a spell, or had Dee paid her a hundred dollars to pull his leg?

  “Riona, about last night … I didn’t refuse to sleep with you because of some old fashioned notion about ringing the finger before you finger the ring.”

  Closing her eyes, he could almost hear her teeth gnash. “Last night was a mistake. A near mistake. I got carried away, but this isn’t about that. This is about my job, about Ditter Schmitz.”

  “Um, okay, I’ll bite. How’s an old Puritan-in-a-wool-sweater leading you to want to make an honest man out of me?”

  “Do you remember what you told him we were going to be doing this Christmas Eve?”

  Could he? Jerry had retained most of his memories as he shifted from incarnation to incarnation, but as a demon he had also passed out lies like he was the Sierra Club at a strip mall. Yes, he did remember Ditter of course; it took seeing such a specimen to believe that so much pretention could be stuffed into one human body. But he was Riona’s biggest client, stuck-up traditionalist that he was, and since Jerry at the time was hell-bent on doing anything he could to keep her happy, and since Ditter had given him the stink eye when he mentioned that he and Riona stayed in most nights instead of going out—wink, wink, nudge, nudge—he had had to make good with the guy by …

  “Holy shit!” Jerry slapped a hand over his mouth to hold back his cursing. “I told him we were getting married. I even freaking invited him to the wedding, didn’t I? Fuck, Riona, I didn’t honestly think anything would come of that. Look, if you have to tell him I was a creep, that I cheated on you, that you caught me stealing money from orphans or something, I’d get it.”

  Riona shook her head madly. “No, Ditter thinks people choose their friends the way they see themselves. If he knows I was engaged to a womanizer or a thief, he’ll suspect secretly that’s what I am.”

  He cocked his head at her. “So … what exactly are you suggesting? You want to actually get married?”

  “Hell no!” The retort was as loud as it was definite. “I’m suggesting we pretend to get married. I’d tell him we just ran off an eloped, but I’m afraid he’ll be slighted since I just reconfirmed on the phone that he’s planning to attend. Damn it, Jerry. I’m so sorry. How could I have known a year ago that you and I wouldn’t be … Whatever it is we were.”

  In love, he wanted to say. Only, for his part, that was still true.

  He swept his hand down in front of him, motioning at his torso. “I don’t exactly bear much resemblance to the man he met before. Marc and I aren’t doppelgangers, you know.”

  She bit her lip for a moment before her eyes brightened. “A glamour?”

  A glamour. Yes, that could do it. It was demon magic, of course, but then again, he came fully equipped with that, didn’t he?

  “Okay. But what about a location?”

  “We could have a small ceremony here at the house!” she suggested. Her face fell. “Only our magic doesn’t work inside the house, so your glamour wouldn’t exactly do the trick. Oh, maybe Steph would let us use the Grotto?”

  “Married in a nightclub?” Jerry tried not to sound too much like an ass. It was, of course, unnatural for him. “How romantic.”

  “Hey, it’s the best I can come up with with seventy-two hours’ notice! Given that it’ll be Christmas Eve, I don’t think we’re likely to find a church that isn’t already being used and city hall will be closed. Oh, please, Jerry. Say you’re willing to do this with me? I can’t lose Ditter’s business. He’s the only client I have left.”

  “Wait, what?”

  As though realizing she’d given away too much, Riona smashed her palm to her forehead and huffed. “Okay, fine. The truth? In those few weeks after Marc died, I had made up my mind that when he came back as a demon, if he showed any indication that he still loved me, I was going to give up my life and go to Hell with him. Then you told me what it would be like if I was a demon, how much it would torture him when Lucifer used me for his ploys, and I’ve been realizing how short sighted that was. I loved Marc. I love Marc. But you were right last night: I have to stop focusing on something I’ve already lost. He’s gone. Whatever there is left of him, I can’t be selfish enough to torture for all of time by being one of the Underworld’s jezebels. If I truly want to respect my memory of Marc and the love we could never share, I have to keep myself this side of damnation. I have to remain a Pure Soul.”

  He wanted to take her into his arms and spin her in circles. He wanted to kiss her dizzy and congratulate her on finally removing her head from her ass. He wanted to thank her for making all his fuck ups in the past mean something by being a lesson to her. But most of all, he wanted her to connect the dots.

  “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

  “I … gave up my other clients right after Marc died. I … I thought I wouldn’t need them, since I was going to be dead. But Ditter’s always been good to me, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to keep working for him right until the end. And now that there’s not going to be an end, at least anytime soon, I really, really need his contracts. Jerry …”

  It took him a moment to figure out what in the hell she was doing as she sunk to one knee and took his fingers between her hands.

  “Gaius Gallicus, will you fake marry me?”

  He twiddled his fingers. “Where’s my ring?”

  “Jerry!”

  “Okay, okay! No ring.” Jerry turned over his hands and grasped her, pulling Riona to her feet. “I will fake marry you, but I want something in return.”

  Her eyes rolled. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

  “Yet, you mean.” His grin actually coaxed a complimenting smile out of her. “No, not that. Don’t think I haven’t been watching the calendar just as closely as you have. We both know what Friday is.”

  “Christmas, Jerry. Anyone who’s come within thirty feet of a shopping center since Thanksgiving knows that.”

  “Don’t m
ock me, I’m serious. Christmas is the first day that Marc’s window opens to come back to Earth. You know he’s going to be on a mission to find you. I know that eventually, he will. But you’re not ready to face him. I don’t care what you say, you’re still going to be too tempted by his memory. It’s only been two months.”

  She withdrew her hands and anchored one on her hip. “Did you not listen to my whole little ‘I want to live’ spiel?”

  “I did, and I believe that. I also believe that it might not be as easy as you think.”

  She stared at him confusedly. “What exactly is it you want, Jer?”

  “An escape. Just you and me. Let’s get away for a while until you’re in a better position to take him down.”

  “But what about Dee? He’s my pillar. If we’re separated for too long, it will hurt us both.”

  Jerry tried to not look like a know-it-all. Extremely difficult, as he actually did believe he knew it all. “There’s spells to help with that. What, you think I dragged my pillars all around the ancient world with me when I was hunting down all I could find out about demons? C’mon, they would’ve cramped my style. They were both old hags, anyways. Didn’t like to travel.”

  She seemed unwilling to yield. “Where would we go? You know how hard it’s going to be to get flights on Christmas Eve? Magic is useless against the airline’s blackout periods.”

  “Let me take care of that,” Jerry assured her, pulling her face to his lips for a quick peck on the cheek which, to his delight, she didn’t try to stop. “But right now, there’s a fake wedding to plan. Just one other thing? Can we agree to no tongue when the minister tells us we can kiss? I think it’s crass in public.”

  “Like you wouldn’t have me naked and writhing on the altar if you thought you could get away with it.”

  True, but he still wouldn’t kiss her with tongue. Not in front of a man of any particular god. Even a bastard like him had limits.

  Chapter 29

  “I don’t type, file, fax, take dictation, or deal with members of the public. I can’t start before 9 A.M., and I’d prefer to leave no later than 4 PM on Thursday and Fridays. Oh, and I don’t do weekends.”

  Dee tore his eyes away from the equally impressive resume of Miss Tiffany Delange and looked over the edge of the paper. Both the type before him and the type of girl in front of him led him to believe the only thing she was qualified for was to pose for Webster’s as an example of “bimbo.” Maybe cross-referenced with “trust fund baby.”

  Still, she had showed up for the interview, so he felt he owed her some small degree of respect. He set the resume aside and folded his hands on the desk. “Miss Delange, the posting listed the working hours for this position as 6 A.M. through 3 P.M., Monday thru Friday. There’s no weekends, but why would you apply for a position requiring hours you’re unwilling to work?”

  Tiffany grinned and leaned in over the desk, her conspiratorial voice barely more than a whisper. “I know what the position really entails. I thought you might be a little more flexible with the schedule, if the applicant was a little more flexible, you know,” she winked, “in other areas.”

  Clearing his throat, Dee slapped down the animal part of his brain shouting out, “She’s hired!” Instead, he took back up the piece of paper and held it up like an omen that would shoo her away. Luckily, even more effective for clearing the air and giving him a chance to clear her out of his office, was the knock and the set of earthen eyes that peeked through the doorway.

  Dee leapt to his feet and circled around his desk, holding out a hand. “Thanks for your time, Miss Delange. I’ll be in touch soon. If you wouldn’t mind emailing me a list of your references as soon as possible …”

  “Wait, do you mean references for the customer service thing or the servicing customers thing?” she asked between smacks of gum.

  Persephone made way when Dee opened the door to push the applicant out. “Whichever would give you the better recommendation,” he said.

  The last thing he saw of Tiffany was the side of her overly-made up face as she turned the corner, saying, “Right. The serving customers thing.”

  He met Persephone’s curious eyes with a look of his own that begged her not to ask. Like that would stop his sister.

  “Suzette’s last day is tomorrow,” he said as he closed his door behind them and took his seat again.

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot. Tough break. She was good. She’s been with you for, what, three years?”

  “Four.” His red pen etched out a no on Tiffany’s resume that could likely be seen from space. “I don’t like the term, with me. She was my employee.”

  “Under you then?” Persephone labored to suppress a chuckle. She’d walked in to them almost going at it on his desk a few weeks ago.

  “She was a fine woman, and a fine employee, and she left with a glowing recommendation from me, so can it.”

  Persephone held up her hands in surrender. “My bad. So, you wanted to see me?” He nodded. “About?”

  “Yeah, we’ll get to that. I was going to ask you this yesterday, but the Riona-Ramiel-Michael show sort of distracted me. What the hell was that at dinner? Why the jim dandy fuck were you scared shitless by that knife?”

  She examined her fingernails. “It’s complicated.”

  “It’s amazing how many times when people say that, what they really mean is fuck you and mind your own fucking business.” Dee chewed his words like leather. “Why is it everyone else seems to know, but jolly old Dionysius isn’t game? I got anything to be afraid of?”

  “Not unless you piss off Riona.” Crossing her legs, Persephone eased back into her chair. “Look, it has some power, but it’s not really meant for demigods, so chill. You are in no further harm than you were before your Keystone turned into a turkey-hacking Rambo. Though I’m not sure that’s saying much. Now, is that all you called me down here for, because I have something I need to talk to you about as well.”

  “No, there is one other thing.” Now they switched rolls, Dee feeling like he was the one being associated with something secretive and not meant to see the light of day. “I have an upcoming event, sort of a last minute type of thing, and I want to know if I can host it at the Grotto.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Good-bye party for Suzette?”

  “No, a wedding.” Dee swallowed. “For Riona and Jerry.”

  “No, really?” Persephone deadpanned. But when Dee held is tongue, she coughed out, “Get the fuck out. Well, I guess Hell has finally frozen over, ey?”

  “It’s not a real wedding,” Dee clarified. “It’s too stupid to explain, but if they don’t do it, Riona’s going to lose face with what turns out is her only remaining client. We just need a place the day after tomorrow for a few hours. I didn’t think you’d be open on Christmas Eve, but maybe I’m wrong. Listen, if it’s too much to ask, it’s cool. I could always decorate the yoga studio.”

  “No, no problem. Um, yeah, the club is closed for the next few days while it transitions to new management, so …”

  “Wait, new management?” Dee threw his pen down on his desk and sat back. “You sold it?”

  “Are you kidding? I make enough off the sale of hard alcohol in a month to underwrite the Boston city budget. I’m retaining ownership, I will just be out of town for a while. All the staff are staying on, all the contracts for suppliers are still in place. I just need someone to sign off on the checks and be a point of contact for the next six months until I get back.”

  “Six months? Where are you going for six …” The words died on his tongue as the pieces fell into place. Two days from now was Christmas Eve, but today was the Winter Solstice. The old pagan holiday didn’t amount to a hill of beans in most of the world anymore, but wiccans still held it in high regard. Solstice was also a date on which many older societies pegged the start and end of contracts and treaties. “You’re going back to him, aren’t you? You’re going to the mountain.”

  She didn’t even bother to deny it. “I�
�m obligated. You know the drill: six months to him, six months of my own. Been doing it for thousands of years, Dee. It’s really no big thing.”

  “Oh, yeah. No big thing to watch my sister head back to Zeus’s palace where her husband will intermittently rape her and humiliate her while the rest of the family pretends like they’re temporarily blind, deaf, and dumb.” His fist pounded the desk. “Well, dumb isn’t so much pretend.”

  “It’s not rape, Dee. I am his wife. He has the right given to him by the ancient laws to take of me what he wishes.”

  Dee’s eyes bulged. “Do you have the right to refuse him?”

  “No.”

  His head bobbed. “Then it’s rape. Y’all can go fuck your old law for all I care. Most of mankind left behind this kind of chauvinist, sexist thinking before the invention of the restraining order. You’re better than that, Steph. You’re better than him. Stand up for yourself, for once. Stand up for yourself …” A jagged breath broke his outburst in two. “Stand up for yourself, the way you used to stand up for my mother.”

  “Dee, that’s different. She was different. It was unfair of them to subject your mother to that kind of existence. I would have fought to the death to free her, if someone else hadn’t beaten me to the sacrifice.” Uncrossing her legs, Persephone reached into her pocket and pulled out a set of keys. They landed with a clatter on the corner of his desk. “I’ll be fine. There’s nothing Hades can do to me that he hasn’t already done. And I’ll be back in the spring. Until then, can you handle the Grotto for me? Don’t worry, Chipper is staying behind. He’ll handle most of the day-to-day affairs. You’ll just need to stop in once or twice a week to sign off on some papers.”