The Hidden Demon

by Monica La Porta

  She took a folding chair from the corner where a stack was covered with a transparent plastic tarp, dragged it toward Peter, and opened it, dusting it off with her hand. “What kind of things?”

  He tilted his head to his shoulder and closed his eyes. “Lust.”

  Ophelia leaned forward. “Lust doesn’t sound bad.”

  He grimaced. “You’d do anything I asked to feel me inside of you.”

  Ophelia couldn’t help but snort. “Really?”

  Peter opened his eyes and they were on the greener side. “Really.”

  She felt a shiver running through her spine and hugged herself tight, goose bumps covering her arms.

  He slowly moved away from the wall, removed the leather jacket he wore, and pushed it toward her.

  She accepted it with a whispered thanks, and noticed how he retracted his hand when she reached for it even while he wore his gloves. “But you did touch me.” She donned his jacket and felt cocooned in his warmth. Peter’s scent meshed with the leather and, through her sensitive nose, reached deep inside of her and made her think of what he had just said.

  He raised one hand before his face and splayed his fingers. “They are rarely naked.” With a loud sigh, he sat back against the wall, his black, V-neck shirt tightly hugging his chest, and the muscles on his forearms shown to their best advantage as he flexed his arms by pushing his hands to the floor.

  Ophelia searched his eyes, but he was looking down. “Still. You touched me.”

  “I don’t know why I did it.” As swiftly as he had lowered himself, he stood again. “I need fresh air.” He was at the door in three long strides.

  “Let’s get out of here.” She closed the lapels of his jacket and followed him.

  Outside on the ground level, Peter headed toward the overpass, then down the stairs. He only paused when he reached the riverbank. On this stretch of the Tiber, there weren’t barges anchored to the piers, but the cobblestone trail bordering the waters was illuminated by wrought iron lampposts. Peter strolled back and forth, furiously pacing for a few minutes, and Ophelia watched him from the side, giving him a moment to get his bearings back.

  She noticed shadows moving between the columns supporting the overpass, but vampires were known to stop by this part of town for the occasional hooker-snack. The Immortal Council had decided to turn a blind eye as long as the snack was fast and the human was paid for the service and left unharmed. Male hookers were the specialty of the Tiberina Island’s bridge. As they had been descending the stairs, Peter had received his share of catcalls from the mostly naked young men parading their wares, but when Ophelia entered their sight, the cheers had morphed into disappointed hisses.

  She sat on one of the benches facing the river. The lulling sound of the water sloshing against the rock wall relaxed her senses. Since the morning, she had been assaulted by more emotions than she could bear in a month. The discovery of the couple’s remains had touched her in a way she couldn’t understand. Every time she studied a victim’s bones to determine cause of death, she felt she was helping the deceased’s loved ones find peace. But not this time. Maybe it was Peter’s presence. The guy was intense.

  As if called by her thoughts, he ambled toward her, hovered before the bench for a spell, then plopped down beside her, keeping a hair’s breadth distance between her naked legs and his jean-clad ones.

  She bent her legs to the side and angled her body toward him, respecting his no-touching policy. “Why do you read the dead?”

  His eyes staring into the black waters, he shrugged. “Because I can.”

  “Nobody will ever thank you for it.”

  “Because I’m a demon.”

  She nodded.

  His mouth curved in a small smile. “If I don’t, who else is going to speak for them?”

  “But it takes such a toll on you and you already work as the renegade controller—”

  “I owe the dead the courtesy of listening to them so they can be free from the pain and the sorrow of living.” He turned to face her, his eyes big and black, reflecting the waters. “I’m the only one who can.”

  Since he had told her she couldn’t touch him, Ophelia could only think of reaching for his forearm and feeling its strength. “It’s a shitty ability to have.” She flattened her hands under her legs. His jacket caressed her bare skin and made her tremble.

  “I am a demon.” His voice had hardened.

  She angled away from him to give him a better look. “What do you want me to tell you? That you deserve a shitty life because you fell from grace?”

  He inched closer to her. “Do you ever wonder what a demon has done to become one?”

  She closed the gap and stared into his eyes, her mouth almost touching his. “Do you ever wonder how many people I’ve killed?”

  His eyes widened, and for a moment, he stood frozen. Then he moved away from her and started laughing. “You are something.”

  “And you are something too, demon. What about a coffee after we take care of those two idiots skulking around?” She pointed her chin over her right shoulder, where two vampires lay in hiding.

  Without looking behind, he nodded and stretched his long, muscular legs, then flexed his hands. “Yeah, I’d hoped they would leave us alone, but it doesn’t seem to be the case.”

  Ophelia saw how drained he was from the bruised shadows under his eyes. “Relax. I can deal with them. I’ll be back in a sec. Think of the bar you want to take me to.” She blew him a kiss, stood tall, and strode toward the bridge to meet the vampires before they reached the bench. The undead were both shorter than her and she stopped just before them, taking great satisfaction seeing the two cowering under her stare. “Do you really want to do this?” She expanded her chest, shook her mane, and growled.

  Her friend Alexander had once told her she resembled more a lioness than the wolf she transformed into once a month. She had liked the idea so much she had stopped straightening her hair and had fully embraced her African heritage.

  The vampires looked at each other, then one attacked Ophelia while the other made a run toward Peter. Ophelia struck her opponent with a punch to his jaw and checked out of the corner of her eye to see how Peter was faring. Not that a demon that strong needed her help, but she couldn’t help but look, and saw he had pinned his opponent under his knee.

  Satisfied things were under control, she grabbed her vampire by the collar of his white shirt and gave it a good tug. “What did you think to accomplish? Attacking your betters in plain sight? Do you have a death wish?”

  The vampire smirked at her. “I don’t, but maybe you do…” He then dropped low and freed himself from her hold.

  Ophelia didn’t have time to utter her comeback. A posse of vampires, that at first sight looked to be probably more than twenty, came out of from the shadows of the bridge and rapidly swarmed her and Peter.

  ****

  Peter saw Ophelia disappear under the black flock of undead, but several vampires surrounded him, leaving him no other choice but to take care of them first. Through the darkness the vampires had created with their presence, he blindly kicked and punched all around him. He made contact several times with bones and soft flesh and heard them shriek and curse, but there were too many to be defeated in close combat. Only his demon strength kept him upright against that multitude, and even his strength wouldn’t have been enough had the vampires decided to harm him. They were playing with him, roughing him up.

  He locked eyes with one of them and held him at arm’s length. “What do you want?”

  “My master sends a warning.” The vampire’s eyes rolled to white and his mouth opened.

  A voice different from the one that had just spoken said, “Leave the dead to rest in peace.” A moment later, he shook his head and his eyes and his voice were back to normal.

  “You heard Claudius.” He looked over his shoulders to where his companions were hiding Ophelia from sight. “Next time, we won’t be so kind to you or your friends.” He w
histled and the rest of the vampires moved away.

  The ones attacking Ophelia moved at the same time, and Peter, having to decide between pursuing them or checking on Ophelia, decided for the latter and ran to her side.

  “Are you okay?” they both asked when he reached her.

  “I’m fine.” Again, they both simultaneously dismissed the other, then erupted in a laugh.

  He examined her as she did the same to him. “Just a cut on your lower lip and a few bruises on your forehead and cheeks.” In yet another out-of-character display, he made to touch her to clean the droplet of blood falling from her mouth, then retreated his hand, and pointed at the spots instead. “There.”

  She circled the air with her index finger encompassing his whole figure. “You look like shit.”

  He couldn’t help but snort. “Why, thank you.”

  She shrugged and lowered her skirt that had reached new altitudes over her thighs. “In your defense, you looked like shit before the skirmish started.”

  “That makes it so much nicer to hear.” He fought the urge to steady her hands with his, fascinated by the expanse of skin she had shown, so close to becoming indecent, yet still saving her modesty. He had seen more naked women than he could remember, but those few centimeters of fabric sliding down her legs made his heart throb with longing.

  “Eyes up here so we can talk.” She tapped her right heel on the cobblestones.

  “As you wish.” He slowly traveled back to her face, taking his time to study her.

  A raised eyebrow met his gaze when he reached her eyes. “Are you done?”

  “Not quite.” He smiled and she smiled back to him. “Do you still want that coffee?”

  “You bet.”

  He made a sign for her to follow him and took her to the closest bar on the opposite side of the riverbank. They took seats outside at one of the tables facing the medieval fort hosting the paranormal hospital on the Tiberina Island. Temperatures had become colder. She was still wearing his jacket but he ran hot anyway. Plus, if it were in his power to decide, he would have chosen the outdoors in any given situation. The espressos and croissants they had ordered arrived soon after.

  Ophelia moaned when she took a good chunk out of her pastry. She then licked the flaky speck on her lips, and sipped her coffee. “So, what was all that about?”

  “Claudius sends his regards.” Peter moved on his chair, trying to find the optimal stance, but the small furniture was meant for an average Italian, and he hit his knees under the table. He saw her opening her mouth as if to say something, but she shook her head slightly and gave him a small smile, so not the Ophelia he had been dealing with since morning. “And he asked me to leave the dead be.”

  “Which of the dead is he referring to?” She licked the last of the crumbles from her lower lip, then finished her coffee, and asked the passing waiter for a glass of sparkling water.

  “That’s a good question.” He ate his croissant. “I’ve already had three readings this week.” He took the small espresso cup by the handle, careful not to spill any on the table. He was used to wearing gloves and his dexterity wasn’t compromised by the leather, but he lived in a world not fit for him. His hand dwarfed the white porcelain cup.

  Ophelia pointed a finger at him. “It looks like you’re handling a toy set.”

  “Do you want to play house with me?” He raised his eyes to look at her and saw the bruises on her face had already become darker and her right cheek was swelling.

  She shook her head and smiled. “No, you didn’t want to play with me this morning.” She thanked the waiter for the glass he had just brought her, and waved her hand at Peter. “Besides, we work together.” She drank her water, then dabbed her mouth with the white linen resting on the tray where her empty plate and espresso cup lay. “I don’t mix pleasure and duty.” Her eyes went to the waiter, who was now hovering around for no good reason. She lowered the napkin to the tray and in doing so moved the saucer, and smiled. “But I feel quite restless tonight, and Barnes and the vampires kind of ruined my plans.”

  Peter saw the piece of paper that had been tucked under the porcelain plate. A flicker of feeling coiled around his stomach, and it wasn’t pleasant. “Telephone number?”

  She nodded. “The boy’s not only easy on the eye, but he’s also courageous. He could be tonight’s date. I like them with character.” Angling her body on her chair, she united her legs sideways, her chin resting over her hands. “What do you look for in your playmates?” Her eyes went to his in that direct way of hers that so intrigued him.

  He reclined back and rocked his chair on its back legs. “They must be willing.”

  “With your looks, you could be picky.”

  The waiter came back, but Ophelia didn’t look at him.

  Peter let the chair fall to the floor with a thud that made the waiter jump. “I’m easily pleased.”

  “Are you?” She tilted her head this way and that, then she moistened her lips with the last drop of water remained in her glass. “No, I don’t think so.”

  A moment later, the waiter was back with another glass of water for Ophelia. She automatically thanked him, but didn’t remove her eyes from Peter.

  He thought he saw something in them that echoed that longing for intimacy he always carried around. “And again, I don’t ask much in a partner.”

  Ophelia’s cell phone rang, and she blinked twice before lowering her right hand inside the small purse dangling from her shoulder. “I apologize, but I must take this.”

  ****

  She answered Malina’s call as he nodded and started playing with the espresso cup and the saucer before him.

  “Hey, girlfriend. What are you up to?” Malina’s voice was muffled by loud music.

  “Just chilling.” Ophelia noticed how Peter was drawing circles on the table’s surface with his finger.

  “There’s this party and I need a wingman.” Malina was now shouting to be heard above the noise.

  Ophelia covered her phone with her hand and looked at Peter. “Would you like to go to a party with me?”

  He seemed surprised by her question, but soon shook his head. “Thank you, but I’d prefer to go home.”

  His voice was gentle and he almost whispered the words, but to Ophelia’s ears, it sounded like he was shouting. She hid her disappointment by showing her tongue to him. “Your loss.”

  “I know.”

  She thought she heard those words, but he was still, his eyes trained on hers, and his lips remained set in a straight line. She took her cell back to her ear. “You need to pick me up.”

  “Sure, where are you?”

  Ophelia gave Malina her whereabouts, then hung up.

  “I could’ve given you a ride.” Peter hadn’t blinked once. His eyes were a murky shade of green.

  She felt like he was undressing her, which, given how little was left to remove from her ensemble, was quite the feat. Shivers ran up and down her spine and she reached for his jacket that she had draped over the back of her chair.

  He stood with an elegance of movement people that big rarely had, and removed the jacket from the chair for her and lowered it on her shoulders. “You can keep it.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Then you’ll give it back to me next time we meet.” He was back at his chair, legs crossed at the ankles, hands over the table.

  “Okay.” She liked the idea of seeing him again.

  When Malina arrived, it was too soon, although more than half an hour had passed since the phone call. Peter waited for Ophelia to enter her friend’s car, formally introduced himself to Malina, and waved when they left. Ophelia couldn’t help but look at the rearview mirror for a glimpse of him, and found he was still looking at her.

  “What are you doing with the Controller?” Malina gave Ophelia a puzzled look as she entered the Lungotevere Road.

  “He’s a nice guy.” At Malina’s question, Ophelia had felt a strange irritation building inside of her. The emotio
n was both protective and territorial. Neither were in her usual array of feelings. Maybe she should have looked into that. “What’s up with the lunar phases this month? My wolf’s bitchy lately.” Malina, a were-panther, would have known for sure.

  “Don’t try to change subject. Nothing’s wrong with the moon.” Malina let out a loud snort as she shook her head. “Nice is not a word fit to describe that demon. Womanizer. That’s the one you want.”

  “He refused me this morning.”

  Malina remained silent for a moment, and Ophelia nodded. “True story.”

  “He did what?”

  “I practically jumped him, and he said ‘No thank you, ma’am.’”

  Malina stopped at the light and made a big deal of looking at Ophelia, both eyebrows raised. “The Controller. The demon whose reputation equals, if not surpasses, Alexander’s said no to you?”

  Ophelia pointed at her chest, her finger moving up and down. “Yes, he said no to all of this.”

  “Your confidence must be shattered.” The light changed to green, and Malina focused back on the road, her lips turned up in a smirk.

  Ophelia threw her hand over her face. “I’m devastated.”

  “I don’t swing that way, but I could hit on you if that would make you feel better.” Malina took advantage of the free road to face Ophelia again and wink at her. “You’re looking mighty good tonight, baby.”

  Ophelia rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “You aren’t even trying. How would that make me feel better?”

  Malina leaned toward her and lowered her voice to a husky whisper. “Care to take a look at my antiques collection, princess?”

  Ophelia shook her head and laughed. “It’s good you don’t swing that way because you would never hook up with a girl with lines like that.”

  “For you, I can try harder.” Malina’s hands left the steering wheel for a moment, she brought them to her heart and made huge puppy eyes at Ophelia.

  Ophelia patted her friend’s leg and dramatically sighed. “Thanks, but I don’t need charity. I think I’ll survive.”

  “There will be plenty of shifters at the party I’m taking you to anyway. You’ll have your share of men panting after you the moment we arrive. Don’t worry.” Malina let a few seconds pass before she asked, “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but how are you?”