Personal Demons

by Lisa Desrochers

  Even in the bit of moonlight filtering through the trees, I can tell her blush is flaming. And I recognize the look in her eye, ’cause I’ve been seeing it in the mirror recently. “He’s unbelievable, Fee. The stuff he does with his—”

  I hold up my hand. “Too much information, Ry.” But then I can’t stop the grin from spreading across my face. It’s great to see her so happy. “When you guys gonna tell Taylor?”

  “Trevor’s going to talk to her tomorrow—I think. He said that yesterday too, though … and last week.”

  I crack up. “She’s gonna beat the shit out of him, and he knows it. I think you’re gonna have to do it.”

  She groans as Taylor blasts into us, screaming, nearly knocking me to the ground. Taylor wobbles nearly to the point of falling, and Riley catches her and steadies her on her feet. “Come party with me, losers.” Taylor giggles and loops an arm around each of our shoulders.

  “Hey Trev!” I yell. “C’mere!”

  He looks over warily, then slowly, and with much trepidation, starts making his way down the stairs. When he finally reaches us, I loop my free hand over his shoulder.

  “So, Tay, Riley and Trevor have something they’re dying to share with you,” I say, slipping out from under Taylor’s and Trevor’s arms and linking them together.

  If Taylor didn’t need the support, she would have pushed her brother’s arm off, but instead she leans on him. “What?”

  I watch as Riley and Trevor share a glance then link their free arms around each other, closing the circle.

  I turn my back on the happy little circle and look around again.

  Roadkill is set up behind the house, and Delanie is blasting out a perfect Paramore. It’s pretty amazing how much better they sound with someone who can actually sing. Reefer looks up at me and smiles. I wave and smile back. I laugh when I think about what Taylor called him: a geek of the Guitar Hero variety. He is, and it’s cool.

  And suddenly I feel all emotional. It must be the beer, ’cause my eyes well up when I realize how much I’m gonna miss all this. But I hope I’m not gonna miss Luc. I’ve been afraid to ask what’s gonna happen after graduation.

  I stumble toward him and stop to look back at my friends when I hear Taylor screech, “You stupid shit!” She shoves Riley, but only succeeds in knocking herself on her butt in the mud.

  I turn back, smiling, and make my way to Luc. When I get to him, I hook my hands over his shoulders and lean in to steady myself. I rest my head on his chest, and he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close.

  “Hey,” I say into his shirt.

  “You having fun?”

  “Yeah, but you’re not.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Dunno. You’re just standing here.”

  “Enjoying the view,” he says squeezing me a little tighter.

  “Fee! You suck!” Taylor shouts at me.

  In answer, I push back from Luc and flip her the bird. Then I reach up and twist my hand in his hair, pulling his face to mine. He grins and lets me, and when he kisses me I seriously want to climb right into him.

  “C’mere,” I whisper in his ear, sliding my hand under his T-shirt and running my finger along the skin at his waistband. I want him alone—now.

  “Where are we going?” I feel his body stiffen as I hook my fingers around the button of his jeans.

  “Just for a little stroll.” I turn and start to tug him by the waist of his pants toward his car.

  He smiles. “What about your friends? This may be your last bash with them.”

  “To hell with my friends.”

  I tow him past a line of cars on the side of the road to the Shelby parked near the woods. When we get to it, I push him into the side and lean in, pressing myself into him. Roadkill must be on a break, ’cause I can hear Led Zeppelin wailing from the boom box about a stairway to Heaven, but all I care about is Luc.

  “What did you have in mind?” he asks, searching my face as if looking for something he lost.

  “Finding our own stairway to Heaven. Your backseat looks comfortable. I haven’t had a chance to check it out yet,” I slur, pushing away from him to open the door.

  So, I’m feeling pretty dizzy, but the potent smell of rotten eggs cuts through my drunken haze instantly. I start to turn, but a pair of hot arms grab me from behind. Reflexively, I drop into a crouch and grab one of the arms from my waist. I lose my balance as I flip the person it’s attached to over my shoulder onto the ground in front of me. I see his face just before I fall backward into the mud.

  Belias’s one good eye stares red death at me. His other is covered with a black eye patch.

  The next second, I’m being scooped off the ground and thrown into Luc’s car.

  LUC

  I scoop Frannie off the ground and throw her in the car as Belias picks himself up and dives at us. I summon what’s left of my power and hit him in the chest with a blast so pathetic it would have embarrassed me a few weeks ago. Now, I’m pretty proud of it. It knocks him back to the ground, slowing him down enough that we’re in the car before he picks himself back up. Remembering last time, I throw up a field around the car—probably not enough to keep him out, but it’s all I’ve got—and gun the engine.

  But when I look in the rearview mirror, there’s a bright flash of white light and someone is standing over Belias. Gabriel? It has to be. But he looks different—smaller, somehow.

  I breathe deep to slow my pounding heart. “Are you okay, Frannie?”

  “Yup,” she says, and when I glance at her, she doesn’t even look scared.

  “You’re sure?”

  She actually smiles. “Yup.” Then her head lolls back on the seat and she closes her eyes.

  “Frannie?” I nudge her.

  Nothing.

  “Oh, for the sin of Satan,” I mumble to myself.

  Now what? I can’t take her home like this—drunk and covered in mud. There’s my apartment … but it’s not safe. I need backup. So there’s really only one option. Hopefully he’ll beat us home.

  When Gabriel opens his door and looks at Frannie, wrapped in a blanket in my arms, his eyes widen and his mouth drops open. “She’s not …”

  “She’s fine, don’t freak. She just doesn’t hold her beer very well.”

  “I think you’re way past having to get her drunk.”

  “Out of the way, smart-ass,” I push past him into the family room.

  “Watch the white … everything,” he says. “What did she do, mud wrestle?”

  I lay her on the couch. “Close. Can’t you just throw some holy water on her and clean her up?”

  He smirks at me. “Some things do require a miracle. This, however, only requires Tide with bleach. Take off her clothes, and I’ll throw them in the machine.”

  “I’m thinking the miracle is the better option. I’m finding these teenage hormones a force to be reckoned with.” I look at Frannie and shake my head. “Truth is, they’re kicking my ass.”

  His mouth curves into a smile far from angelic and his brows shoot up. “I’ll do it.” He bends over her and pulls off her muddy sneakers. I shove him out of the way. “Wait in the kitchen.”

  He shrugs and saunters off in that direction, wicked smile still in place. When he’s gone, I tug her shirt over her head and groan.

  Damn! I was right—black lace. What a waste.

  Once her jeans are off, I tuck the blanket around her and toss her clothes at Gabe. I drop into the chair next to the couch and close my eyes, letting my head loll back. When he comes back, he sits in the chair across from me.

  “Thanks for the help,” I say looking at Frannie. “I couldn’t take her home like this. Her parents already know I’m the devil, and, now that I’m not anymore, I’m hoping to prove them wrong.” I wave in her direction. “This won’t help my cause.”

  “Is she supposed to go home tonight?” he asks.

  “No. She’s supposed to stay at Taylor’s.”

  �
��We can let her sleep it off here, then.”

  I swallow my pride. “Also … thanks for the help at the party tonight. I’m not the demon I used to be. There’s not much left in the old spark plugs.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know, Belias … at the party.”

  “Wasn’t me, dude.”

  “Whatever you say. But thanks.”

  He shakes his head and smiles.

  I gaze at Frannie’s sleeping form, so petite, on the couch. “Gabriel?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Her soul is still clean, isn’t it? I haven’t … you know … tainted her or anything? I can’t tell for sure anymore.”

  Concern passes briefly over his features before it clears and he answers, “They have no claim to her, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’m not sure how long that will last if she keeps hanging with you. You’re a bad influence.”

  “I’m sure I am. So, should I expect to be smote anytime soon? You know, the wrath of God and all that?”

  A smile plays at his lips. “Unfortunately, no, but it’d help if you backed off.”

  I know he’s right. I’ve always known it, but … “I don’t seem to have any choice in the matter anymore. I can’t stay away from her.”

  He smirks. “Yeah. I got that when you let me burn you alive with holy water.”

  “Does this mean the Shield didn’t work on me?”

  “Hard to say. If Belias and Avaira have been hanging around for a few weeks, like you say, I’m sure they’re following you.”

  I look back at Frannie, asleep on the couch. There has to be some way I can protect her.

  “So maybe if we just disappeared—went somewhere else—she’d be safe?”

  “Maybe. We won’t know unless you try. But you know as well as I do the real solution.”

  “Tagging her soul for Heaven,” I say, resigned. “Why is it so important that she forgives herself?”

  His face suddenly goes all angelic. “Forgiveness is the key to everything, Lucifer.”

  “You celestials make everything so hard.” I shift in my chair, sitting upright. “What would happen if Belias just … killed her?” I feel something black and heavy tighten around my heart thinking about how close he’s already come.

  “She’d go to Limbo with all the other untagged souls, and you know Michael would fast-track her to Heaven. Frannie’s essence—her soul—is the key. As far as we’re concerned, she’s no less valuable in Heaven as on Earth.”

  “That’s pretty much what I figured.” I’ve seen that essence, and I know he’s right. Dancing with it, blending it in mine … it was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

  “I know. That’s what I’m counting on.” The threat is clear in his voice.

  I look at her, asleep on the couch. “I won’t let them have her,” I say, knowing them is me. But just for now, I slide onto the couch and lie next to her, wrapping my arms around her and holding on as if my life depends on it—because I’m pretty sure it does.

  21

  Fire and Brimstone

  FRANNIE

  “You know I was just yanking Lucifer’s chain about that whole virgin birth thing, right?”

  I pull my head off the car door and look up at Gabe through the haze of my hangover. “What?”

  “You know … that night you came over. After he told you about … what he is …”

  “Oh, yeah. So, I’m not Mary?”

  “No.”

  “Thank God. I’d make a shitty mother,” I say, rubbing my forehead. “Plus, I’m hoping not to be a virgin too much longer.” I drop my forehead back onto the car window with a thump that sends a shock wave through my head, turning my brains to tapioca. “Awww …” I groan.

  Gabe laughs. “Serves you right.”

  “Shut up.”

  We pull up to my house, and Mom comes out onto the porch. Gabe opens my door and props me on my feet. I try to keep my legs under me as we move up the walk, but Gabe has to mostly drag me along. When we get to the stairs, he gives up and scoops me into his arms.

  “Did you kids have a nice time?” Mom chirps.

  What I want to know is, how many seventeen-year-old girls could show up hungover at nine o’clock in the morning draped in some guy’s arms (even if that guy is a real honest-to-God angel, which my parents couldn’t possibly know) and get a “did you have a nice time?” It’s disgusting. Course, if I were lying here in Luc’s arms, things would be different.

  “Did we, Frannie?” Gabe is trying not to laugh and, if I had the strength, I’d punch him in the face.

  But instead, I mumble, “Shut up,” into his shoulder.

  Mom follows us as he carries me up the stairs, and they tuck me into bed. I can hear sisters giggling, but I don’t open my eyes to see which ones.

  Gabe sits on the edge of my bed. He runs a finger along the line of my jaw and even though I feel like death, I shudder. “You gonna be okay?”

  “I will if you shoot me,” I beg.

  He leans down and his lips glide across my cheek to my ear, where he whispers, “No can do.” He chuckles and I’m wondering if I can shoot him.

  “Then get the hell out,” I say, rolling on my side and pulling the covers over my head.

  I hear Mom shuffle out of the room chattering about chicken soup. But Gabe’s still here—I can feel him.

  “What do you want?” I mumble into the sheets.

  “The same thing I’ve always wanted. I want to tag your soul. You need to forgive yourself.”

  “No.”

  “Why? Why do you need to hold on to this?”

  I’m not going to let myself cry. “Because.” I breathe against the tears. “I need to.”

  “Need to what?”

  He’s making my head throb. “Can we do this some other time?”

  “Let’s do it now. What did you mean, ‘I need to’?”

  I groan as a sharp pain shoots through my brain. I pull the sheets off my head for some air. “I can’t do this. You know everything I’m thinking anyway. Can’t you just pick what you’re looking for out of my head and leave me alone?”

  “If you were thinking it, I could. That’s where I’m trying to get you—to where you know why you can’t let it go.”

  “Because I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, God! Just go away.”

  The bed creaks as he slides closer and I feel his cool breath in my ear. “I’m not going anywhere, Frannie. I’ll always be here for you—no matter what.” His lips slide over my cheek and my headache’s suddenly gone, replaced with a deep ache somewhere else. Somewhere I definitely shouldn’t be aching. I roll and twist my hand into his hair. His lips brush mine—just as Mom pops back into the room with two steaming mugs in her hands.

  “Oh! Oh dear …” she says.

  Gabe’s eyes smile into mine for a second longer before he shifts off the bed and stands. “I’ve really got to get going.”

  “Oh, don’t go,” Mom says with an awkward smile, holding out a mug. “Have some soup.”

  He smiles at her. “Thank you, Mrs. Cavanaugh, but Frannie’s in good hands.” He turns back to me. “I’ll check on you later,” he says, backing toward the door.

  “ ’Kay.” It’s all I can manage.

  He leaves and I roll on my side toward the wall, ignoring Mom and her soup and trying to figure out what just happened. And I think about Luc. He’s supposed to come over tonight, and I’m gonna try out this Sway thing with my parents, if I can figure out what it is—maybe change their minds about him.

  But maybe my mind needs some work first.

  I think of his Shelby parked across the street right now and feel my heart pound. I love him. I know that now. So why the hell do I still want to kiss Gabe?

  LUC

  I follow Gabriel and Frannie back to her house and sit out front most of the day. I watch her window, wondering what to say to impress her parents, or
at least convince them I’m not the devil incarnate anymore. But as I sit here, staring at her window, I feel a sharp pain in my gut, and there are noises coming from down there. As time passes, the pain gets sharper and the noises get louder until it’s impossible to ignore.

  Unholy Hell, is that my stomach? Am I hungry? As I lift my arm to rub my stomach, I catch a whiff of myself and groan. Brimstone’s got nothing on the way I smell right now. That’s some serious stink. Not likely to impress Frannie’s parents. Being human is turning out to be extremely inconvenient—and a little gross.

  Before dusk, once I’ve confirmed that Gabriel is here, I take off and swing by the McDonald’s drive-thru on my way back to my apartment for a shower. Turns out Big Macs aren’t all that bad. Who knew?

  It also turns out that there are more downsides to being human than I’d hoped. The list of stuff I’m going to need, just in the personal hygiene department, is staggering. I’m thinking about everything I need to take care of before my magic’s completely gone—lots of big bank accounts and investments, lots of alternative identities for both Frannie and me in case we need to run, maybe an academic scholarship to UCLA—when I step through the door to my apartment and the pungent smell of brimstone hits me like a baseball bat to the face. I feel my face involuntarily pinch against the stench. So, okay, maybe I really don’t smell that bad after all. How did I ever think the smell of brimstone was pleasant?

  I look up through watering eyes at Beherit—my boss. Even though I can’t sense the presence of demon or deity anymore, I should have expected this. He’s here in all his Hellish glory: steaming, leathery, black-flecked crimson skin; short, twisted black horns that nearly scrape the ceiling; and his tail wrapped around his pelted satyr’s waist. Though he’ll never admit which sin he’s born of, the fact that he’s always draped in a short red robe and wearing his golden crown makes it obvious. He belongs to pride. His back is to me, admiring the Doré print near the kitchen. I think about backing out and closing the door—I was never here—but a twitch of his pointed ear lets me know it’s too late for that.

  I step through the door and close it behind me. “Is this a social call, Beherit, or is there something you need?”