He stroked my hair until I quieted down. And when I finally pulled away from him, I saw that, just like the day before, his demon’s glamour had slipped, letting me see the real, human, William. The one I liked better.
“Look at this,” he said. He pointed to a 1970’s era picture in which he and Carrie were posed with their arms around one another’s waists. William’s hair had been slicked back, and he wore tight pants, and a sequined shirt with a low V neck that reached to his navel, exposing his chest. Carrie had a wide headband that squashed down her wild hair, and a heavily sequined dress with a flared skirt so tiny it barely covered her lady parts. Both of them wore clunky roller skates. It looked like they’d just stepped off the set of Xanadu.
Once I started laughing, I couldn’t stop. I flopped backwards on the couch and clutched my stomach, helpless with mirth. Then, when I regained control of myself, all it took was another look at William to begin laughing all over again.
“We were the height of fashion,” he said, looking embarrassed. But in a moment, he, too, was laughing. “It was your mother’s idea to enter the skating competition. She loved to roller skate.”
“Were you two any good?”
He dug deeper into the box and withdrew a small trophy topped with a pair of golden roller skates. “We came in third!”
“Roller skating.” I still couldn’t believe it. “Next to bowling, it’s the tackiest pastime there is.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it.” He stood up and held out his hand. “What do you say?”
I glanced at the clock. I still had hours before the girls came home. “Sure. Why not?”
Keeping my hand firmly in his, William led me from my living room and into a hallway that suddenly opened up behind us. The corridor reminded me very much of the one outside the strange prison cell I’d found myself in after the accident.
“Where are we?”
“A passage in the otherworld,” he said. “They’re all over the place. Our demons can find them for us.”
Before I could make him explain, we were standing at the rental counter inside a roller skating rink. After getting our skates and putting them on, he led me out onto the floor which was crowded with elementary-aged students on a field trip.
I hadn’t skated since junior high, and I flailed my arms to keep balance. “Oh, this is a blast,” I muttered.
William slipped his arm around my waist, steadying me. “Relax and trust your demon,” he said. “She’ll keep you upright.”
My demon helped, but so did William’s firm grip. And as we completed our first round, I fell into rhythm beside him, our feet moving in perfect synchronicity so that we swayed in time to the music. After the second circuit, I started to enjoy myself. Being in a man’s arms, especially one as alluring as William’s, was wonderful. And as we made more progressions around the rink, I gained confidence and began to feel elegant. Almost weightless.
After a skating a few circuits, William escorted me to the side of the rink and told me he’d be back in a minute. When he returned, the DJ who had been playing song after song of teen bop, put on something that I couldn’t resist: Dancing Queen. Without a word, William whisked me onto the floor as the lights dimmed and the disco ball lowered.
There’s a reason why I was so disdainful of roller skating. It went back to seventh grade, and the fact that I couldn’t skate at all. While I floundered around the floor, clutching madly at the wall to keep from landing on my ass, my classmates had whizzed past, making faces at me and yelling rude comments. I’d been an ugly duck that year: heavy, acne-faced, my mouth distended with braces. All I could do was watch with soul-sickened jealousy as my classmates glided by.
But now I was a disco princess. As Abba sung, William didn’t only skate with me, he danced, twirling me around the floor. Skaters moved off to the side to give us room and watch.
William picked up the pace, skating at a dizzying speed, but I had no problem keeping up. My demon seemed to know what she was doing, for she followed William’s lead. When we glided apart for a moment, I mirrored his moves, spinning on one leg while keeping my torso and other leg parallel to the ground.
William caught me around the waist and whisked me off my feet, twirling me around and around, just inches from the floor. And then we were off again, skating hand-in-hand across the floor. For our finale, he put his hands on my waist and lifted me into the air above his head as our audience responded with applause and whistles.
At the very end of the song, when we’d stopped moving, he pulled me so close that I could feel his heart beating. My mom was right about one thing: skating really was wonderful.
When the lights went back up, William bought me French fries and a Coke at the snack counter and we sat in the very back booth like a couple of teenagers on a date.
“You’re glowing,” he said.
I probably was, but I was too embarrassed to admit it. Instead, I ate a fry.
“You’re so different from Carrie. Much more beautiful for one thing.” He studied me so intently that I had to look away. “Dangerously beautiful.”
I could listen to that kind of talk all day. “Anything else?”
He considered. “Less confident. More mature. Not as much fun. Your mother knew how to be everyone’s friend.” He smiled. “She was always the life of the party.”
I frowned. “So everyone at her funeral told me.” I hadn’t meant to spoil things by being bitter, but I couldn’t help it. I was tired of other people having all of these memories about Carrie when I’d hardly known her at all. I was mourning her, yes. But even so, I couldn’t get past the fact that she’d dumped me on Simon’s doorstep when I was three and had hardly given me the time of day since.
“Don’t be too hard on her,” William said. “She was an amazing person. And so are you.” He reached across the table and took my hand, sending an electric current down my spine. “You will be a wonderful succubus too, Lilith. There won’t be a man in this world or the other one who will be able to resist you.” His soulful eyes bored a hole straight into my heart. “Even I’m going to have to be careful.”
So he liked me after all! Now, I knew that I was glowing.
William leaned across the table, and I did as well, eager for our first kiss. But then he stopped. “Don’t look now, but we’re being followed.”
I turned and saw Mr. Clerk sitting a few booths away. He was crouched behind a newspaper and doing his best to look as if he fit in. But the white blazer and sweater vest were dead giveaways that he wasn’t here to chaperon a fifth-grade field trip.
“Is he stalking me,” I asked.
“Miss Spry always keeps a close eye on the new recruits,” William said. “But this time, I think it’s me they’re worried about.”
Seeing that we’d spotted him, Mr. Clerk came over to our table. “I believe it’s time we had a word with Miss Spry.”
“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” William said.
“I disagree,” Mr. Clerk said. He arched his eyebrow when he saw our interlaced fingers, and I detected a note of jealousy mixed in with his disapproval.
Miss Spry wore a dove-gray pantsuit, and her hair was wrapped up in a silky, pink turban, something that seemed a little overly dramatic, even for her. She sat behind her desk on top of which lay an enormous, leather-bound book. She steepled her fingers and looked at William and me as if we were misbehaving children. A smug Mr. Clerk stood behind her.
“Now, Lilith,” Miss Spry said, “I know that you are new and don’t understand the rules yet, but William, you should know better. No fraternizing between the incubuses and succubae.”
William lounged in his chair with his hands laced behind his head. “You never complained about it when Carrie was alive.”
“Carrie was a different kind of woman,” Miss Spry said. “And you two had a different kind of relationship. What I’m seeing now between you and Lilith – ” she paused to give me a direct look “ – is taking a direction I don’t
approve of.”
“It’s inappropriate,” Mr. Clerk interposed. He stared daggers at me as if this was all my fault. “They were holding hands, and William was looking at her like…well, like he had some fondness for her.”
I smiled, once again feeling that warm glow. William liked me. He really liked me! But Miss Spry wasn’t happy about it at all. She pressed her lips tightly together, and her eyes glowed a bit, as if they might go hot at any minute. “Is this true, William?”
William shrugged. “Yes, we were together, and yes, I was holding her hand. But there was no affection. I was simply bored with my toys and wanted something new to play with. Lilith was near at hand. That’s all.”
I gaped at him. No affection? Was he kidding? We’d spent the better part of an hour reminiscing about my mother. I’d cried on his shoulder and was pretty sure I’d heard him sniff a few times as well. But from his look of cool arrogance, I realized that I’d been played.
“I am not your toy,” I said.
“Not yet,” he said, “but you will be. It’s only a matter of time.” The tragic man with the mournful eyes who’d sat across from me at the roller rink had completely disappeared. William was a hundred percent demon now.
“You are a beast,” I said. “A callous, cruel, heartless beast.” I sputtered a few more things, too outraged to form coherent sentences, but no one cared.
William closed his eyes and yawned. “Am I free to leave?”
Miss Spry smiled at him like he was her favorite pet. “Of course.”
He disappeared without so much as a glance in my direction.
I sat on my chair, silently fuming. I was very near to crying, but didn’t want to give either Miss Spry or Mr. Clerk the satisfaction of seeing me do it. So I rolled my eyes upward, hoping the tears would stay put.
Mr. Clerk clucked his tongue. “Never trust an incubus.”
“Don’t worry about this incident, Lilith,” Miss Spry said. “No harm was done. But I want you to be more careful in the future.”
My vision was still blurry from the tears, so I couldn’t read her expression. “More careful of what?”
“Of breaking your contract, of course.” She tapped the top of the enormous book on her desk.
“What is that,” I asked.
“Your contract,” Mr. Clerk told me.
There must have been six-thousand pages in that thing. If every one of those pages contained a just single rule, I’d still be sure to break one without knowing it. I felt a surge of panic. “I never signed that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Miss Spry looked smug. “Sarah Goodswain did, and that’s all that matters.”
If I ever met my great-great-great-great-great grandmother, I’d probably drown her as a witch myself. What had she been thinking to make such a deal? I stared at the book with a mixture of fear and dread.
“So what part did I almost break?”
Miss Spry flipped through it. When she found what she was looking for, she took a magnifying glass from her desk drawer and, with its help, examined the page. “It’s right here. You are not to love.”
I gaped at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean exactly that. No loving. It’s against the rules.” She closed the book. “This is a standard clause with all of our contracts.” Mr. Clerk nodded in agreement. “Demons,” Miss Spry continued, “cannot love. We’re superior to humans in that way. You, however, will always struggle with that since you are now both human and demon.”
She looked amused, and I hated her for it. It seemed to be as William said. Miss Spry loved watching me stumble over my conscience and was finding my soul’s corruption very entertaining indeed.
“You see,” she continued, “love is a particularly nasty weapon that our enemy has devised to thwart us. He knows that love makes humans vulnerable. He’s clever, our advisory. Clever, cruel, and very, very difficult to get rid of.”
Strangely, that was similar to what the minister had told me at Carrie’s funeral. Only, he’d said it to try and comfort me. The thing was, I tended to agree with Miss Spry about God’s cruelty. After all, if He really was such a great guy, why wasn’t He here right now, bailing me out when I needed Him?
Miss Spry was waiting for my reply, but I refused to give the answer she wanted. “Forget it.” I stood up and planted my hands on her desk. “I’m through being a succubus. I never agreed to sign your damn contract.” She was still smiling, so I added, “And if you don’t like it, then I’ll go work for the other side.”
Mr. Clerk drew in a sharp breath, and Miss Spry’s eyes glowed hot once more. “Don’t even joke about such a thing.”
I hadn’t meant it seriously. It had just slipped out. But now, seeing her venomous look, I knew I was onto something and held my ground. I was tired of caving in and had the feeling that if I didn’t stick up for myself now, she’d keep demanding more and more. It was time to push back. “I’m not joking.”
Neither was she, as it turned out.
The moment the words were out of my mouth, Miss Spry began to grow. Within moments, she was too large to fit behind the desk. A second more, she’d reached the limits of the room. Her back touched the ceiling, and her enormous head thrust towards me. I backed away as far as I could, shielding my eyes with my arm so I wouldn’t have to look at her dreadful eyes and the cavernous mouth that I was sure would swallow me whole.
“I want to make one thing absolutely clear.” Her thunderous voice made the floor shake. “You do what I tell you. Always.”
I slumped to the floor and curled up in a fetal position. “Yes, ma’am.” My voice quavered. I’ll say anything, I thought. Anything you want. Only, please, go away.
“You are mine, Lilith Straight. Mine to do with whatever I please.” Her hand, so cold it nearly burned, wrapped around my wrist. “You are my slave. My will is your will.”
“Okay, I understand. Just please don’t hurt me,” I begged. “Please.”
“She’s gone.”
I peeked through slitted eyes and saw Mr. Clerk straightening his sweater. He, too, looked pale. I would have thought he’d be happy to see me get into trouble, but he didn’t. He held out his hand and helped me to my feet, and then got me into a chair.
“She’s terrible when she’s really angry,” he said. He poured me a glass of water from the carafe on her desk. “Demons have very bad tempers. It isn’t wise to cross them.”
I used both hands to pick up the glass, but even so, I trembled hard enough to slop water over the sides. “I can’t live this way for the rest of my life. It’s too awful.”
“Now, don’t get too upset. It isn’t so bad, really.”
“How can you say that!”
He looked surprised. “It’s easy. I simply do what she tells me to.”
When I’d finally gotten myself together, Mr. Clerk escorted me out of Miss Spry’s office, leading me from one empty hallway to another until, at last, we reached my kitchen. “Don’t look so discouraged,” he told me. “You’re better off without William, believe me. He’ll tell you anything you want to hear, use you, and cut you loose without a second thought. It’s what he does.”
“Are you speaking from experience,” I asked, wondering if Mr. Clerk was like me: only half demon and still able to love.
“Of course not,” he said. But he refused to meet my eyes. “Besides, even if William was genuinely interested in you, there’s one thing you should always remember about Hell, Lilith.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll never get what you want. Miss Spry will see to it personally.” And from the pain in his expression, it was clear that he knew exactly what he was talking about.
That night, as I tucked Grace into bed, she wrapped her arms around my neck. “I love you,” she told me.
I squeezed her back. “I love you, too, Honey.” I didn’t care if love did make me weak and vulnerable, or even if it was a terrible weapon invented by a sadistic god. I needed it. “No matter what, I’ll always
love you.”
My demon rumbled uneasily within me, but I ignored it. Miss Spry could go to hell if she thought I would ever change on this issue.
Chapter Eight
The next morning, I’d started another load of laundry when the phone rang. It was Alan Matthais, the principal at Grace and Ariel’s school. The sound of his voice made me cringe because I knew this call had to be about Ariel.
“What is it this time,” I asked. “Did she make another teacher cry? Or try to flush her papier-mâché project down the toilet again?”
“She’s not in trouble,” Alan said. “But we’re worried about her. Can you come in for a consult with the social worker?”
Of course I could. Within fifteen minutes, I walked into the principal’s office. Sitting there was Ari’s fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Wallace, a gray-haired tank of a woman who’d fought enough class room battles to make her a five-star general at the school, and Alan, who was a balding, jolly, Santa-Claus of a man who had the patience of a saint when it came to kids like Ari. Miss Calloway, the social worker, was a thin, young woman with a shiny new engagement ring on her finger. She sat on the edge of her chair, frowning over Ariel’s file. When I took a seat next to her, she glared at me. I disliked her immediately.
Everyone looked at Alan to begin the meeting, but it was Mrs. Wallace who started. “Ariel’s been trying to get the other students to beat her up.”
I immediately leapt into contrition mode. “I’m so sorry! I never encourage violence at home, and I hope she didn’t hurt anyone…” I was halfway through my apology before Mrs. Wallace’s message finally clicked. Ari wasn’t hitting anyone. She was asking other kids to hit her. This was a whole new level of crazy, even for Ariel.
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