Demon 04 - Deja Demon

by Julie Kenner

  Fortunately, I managed to avoid all that, and the valet trotted off with our keys and ticket at the same time Stuart stepped outside to join me. He eyed me quizzically, and though my instinct was to say, “What?” I kept my mouth shut. At the moment, probably best not to hear exactly what he had in mind.

  Turned out, though, that Stuart didn’t need my opening to get the conversation going. “You’re a good woman, Kate,” he said.

  “I . . . thank you,” I said, surprised.

  “Is the girl better?”

  I thought of the dead demon and the dismembered zombie, both of whom were hopefully being dealt with by my new best friend. “Yeah. I think she’s going to be just fine.”

  “I’m glad,” he said. “But Kate? You don’t have to save the world.”

  “I don’t?” I asked, wishing desperately that he were right.

  “Sometimes it’s okay to back off,” he said, as I moved closer to my husband, now looking at me with soft, generous eyes. “You do too much. The house. The kids. Committees. PTA. And I bet you do stuff I don’t even know about.”

  Wasn’t that the truth?

  He was looking pointedly at me, as if he expected me to fill in the blanks with everything else I had on my plate. I didn’t. Instead, I managed a weak, noncommittal smile.

  After a second he sighed. “The point is, taking up lay counseling in restaurant bathrooms is probably too big a commitment.”

  “I know. Truly. And I’m so sorry. I messed up our whole evening, and I know dinner would have been fabulous.”

  There was an uncomfortable beat during which I was afraid he’d suggest we return to the restaurant and wait for the movie to come out on DVD. Then it passed, and all he said was, “A dinner of popcorn and hot dogs will be fabulous, too, as long as I’ve got you next to me.”

  “Always,” I said, as love and guilt and a dozen other confused emotions jostled for position inside me.

  “And I hope this isn’t a movie you care too much about,” he added with fire in his eyes.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, as our car turned into the circular driveway.

  He smiled enigmatically, then pulled me close and planted a long, sensual, knee-numbing kiss on me, right there for all the world to see. A kiss so hard and deep that I didn’t need to ask the question again, because I knew exactly what he meant. If I wanted to actually watch the movie, I’d have to wait for the DVD. Tonight was all about my husband, a dark theater, and the very back row.

  Eleven

  "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.” Beside me, Timmy bounced on the kneeler, making the pew in front of us shake and probably annoying the people sitting there who were—thankfully— either too polite or too reverent to turn around and glare.

  “Timmy, hush.” I closed my eyes and counted to ten. I’d had a rather late—and enjoyable—night, then lounged comfortably in bed until I’d realized that it wasn’t Saturday but Sunday. That realization had been like a dose of cold water on my slightly hungover, sleep-deprived head, and I’d managed to stir up even more of a headache rushing around getting everyone ready for church. Now my poor abused cerebrum felt near to exploding, and my son’s chatter wasn’t helping.

  “Mommy, look. Look what I make!” He shoved a palm frond into my face and, since I had no choice, I looked. “Very nice. Now shhhh!”

  Sunday mass is usually a more relaxing event, because St. Mary’s is one of a few Catholic churches that actually has a nursery for the little ones. During Holy Week, however, the nursery is closed. This makes absolutely no sense to me since the little buggers are used to being coddled, played with, and sung to for an hour each Sunday. They’re not used to sitting still and listening quietly to the readings, the homily, and the rest of the service.

  Today, though, he was seated between me and Allie. He’d done remarkably well, but that was in large part due to the fact that I came to mass armed with a tote bag filled with surprises. Silly Putty, crayons, a coloring book, a picture book about mass, and the significantly less pious picture books of Blue’s Clues and Dora the Explorer. I also brought two bags of Goldfish crackers.

  Considering we still had about ten minutes of mass to go, I clearly hadn’t stocked up enough.

  A quick tug at my skirt. “Can we go? Please, Mommy? Wanna go now.”

  Frankly, at the moment, so did I.

  Stuart leaned forward and told him to be quiet, as if I hadn’t already tried the direct approach forty-seven times already. I refrained from giving him a dirty look. This was church, after all.

  Instead, I rummaged in my purse until I found my compact mirror. “Soon,” I said, shoving it into his hands. “In the meantime, here.” If I was lucky, by the time he bored of the mirror, it would be time for communion and he’d be entertained by walking down the aisle with his arms crossed for the blessing.

  As it turned out, I was dead on the money, the mirror losing its fascination factor right when it was our turn to head to the communion rail. The novelty of our walk, however, didn’t last, and Timmy spent the bishop’s final prayer sitting on the kneeler and pretending to read the hymnal, flipping so noisily through the pages I feared for rips, and Allie’s high-pitched whispers of “Timmy! Stop it already,” really not helping.

  As for me, I decided to let it slide. A ripped hymnal I could replace. At least he wasn’t whining.

  As soon as the service was over, I gave him a little shove and he happily followed at Stuart’s heels. “Great service, Father,” Stuart said, shaking the bishop’s hand at the door before moving down the sidewalk to mingle and schmooze. With the primary barreling down on him, mingling and schmoozing was becoming an almost daily activity.

  “Kate,” the bishop said, turning to me. “So good to see you. And you, too,” he added, ruffling Timmy’s hair.

  “I wanna go to the park,” Timmy announced, pointing due east past the parking lot. There was nothing to see from the cathedral parking lot, but if you knew what you were doing, you could walk down the hill, follow a few winding trails to a clearing, and find a little brook with a broken-down playscape. Not church property, but somehow, all of the kids knew it was there, even the little ones.

  The bishop laughed. “That’s between you and your mom, kiddo.”

  “Is it open again?” We didn’t go often, but on occasion we’d bypass the cathedral swingset and trek down there after mass. For the last few months, though, the area had been roped off with the type of orange net used to surround construction sites. I wasn’t about to schlep all the way down there only to find out the area was still closed off.

  “I’ve been told that the playscape is back in business as of last week,” the Bishop said. “I’m not sure of the ETA for the rest of the area.”

  “Repairs?”

  “An archaeological dig, actually. After the last heavy rains, some of the creek bed eroded away and revealed some remains. ”

  “Human?”

  The bishop shook his head. “Animal. Though there were artifacts as well. Tribal rituals, we assume from centuries past. The museum took over the site and is cataloging everything. I expect we’ll be able to view the finds in a year or so.”

  “Cool,” Allie said.

  “Mommy,” Timmy howled, not interested in archaeology at all. “I. Want. Playground!”

  “Carnival, kiddo. Today’s the carnival. But maybe next time.”

  “I enjoyed the homily, Father,” Allie said, stepping up to fill the conversational gap.

  “Thank you, Alison,” the Bishop said.

  “I didn’t see Father Ben,” Allie said. “Is he here?”

  Lately, Allie had been meeting with Father Ben every Sunday, returning books she borrowed and taking new ones the padre had already reviewed and I’d approved. The kid was way more interested in the more bookish aspects of demon hunting than I’d ever been. Clearly she took after her father.

  “I’m afraid he had to go out to the desert. Father Caleb at Holy Trinity became ill, and Father Ben is celebrating the mass with t
he parish today. Perhaps I can help you?” the bishop added. “Or Delores?”

  Allie shook her head. “No thanks. I was just wondering.”

  She stepped toward me, and the bishop turned to greet the family behind us. “Bummer,” she said.

  “I’ve got plenty for you to read. And I’m pretty sure you have a history paper due after the break. Maybe you should work on that instead of memorizing demon facts.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Mother. I can do both, you know.”

  “I know you can,” I said. “I’m just not sure you will.” Across the parking lot, I saw David looking at us from beside his car. I hadn’t seen him at mass, but considering the crowd on Palm Sunday, that was hardly surprising.

  As I tilted my head in acknowledgment, Allie noticed and looked from him to me. “Can I ride with David to the carnival? ” she asked.

  “No,” I said, as Stuart walked up to us. “Because you’re not going. Remember?”

  “But—Oh. Right.”

  “Heading home?” Stuart asked, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

  “That’s the plan.” Which, technically, was true, as there was no way I was heading to the carnival without changing clothes and feeding Timmy. Practically, though, I wanted to get to the carnival as quickly as possible, because I was hoping to find Dukkar, my zombie-hacking, demon-hiding buddy from the restaurant. I figured the odds were good, considering he’d handed me a carnival flyer during our first meeting. True, he could have been carrying it as a prop, but I couldn’t help but recall the intensity in his eyes when he’d insisted I visit the carnival.

  So visit I would, and now I was excited about it for reasons other than the cotton candy.

  “Have a good day,” Stuart said, leaning in to give me a kiss that was a bit more passionate than the circumstances or the surroundings would suggest. I didn’t usually swoon on the sidewalk in front of the cathedral, but with kisses like that, I might be starting. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “I hope that’s a promise,” I countered.

  “Definitely.”

  “Can we go?” Allie said, though whether she was exasperated by the public displays of affection between Stuart and me or frustrated by the fact that I wasn’t with her father, I couldn’t tell. And, honestly, right then I didn’t want to know.

  “Yes,” I said. “Absolutely.” We’d come in two cars, and as Stuart headed toward the Infiniti, I ushered Allie and Timmy toward the Odyssey.

  “Kate! Kate!” I’d stepped from the sidewalk to the parking lot, and now I turned to find Delores Sykes, the cathedral’s volunteer coordinator, hurrying toward me.

  “Hi, Delores.”

  “So good to see you,” she said. “And look at you!” she added, grabbing Allie around the shoulders and hugging tight. “You’ve grown a foot in the last two weeks, I just know you have.”

  Allie managed a weak smile, then grabbed Timmy’s hand. “I’ll go strap him in his car seat,” she said in her most helpful voice, and I jealously watched her go.

  “I know I haven’t been in to work on the archives in a while,” I began. “But—”

  “Oh, no, no,” she said. “Don’t worry about that. I know you have your hands full with a teenager and a little one.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. Usually Delores was hitting me up to spend more time in the cathedral archives, reviewing the boxes and boxes of materials that were left to the Church, organizing donation lists, and forwarding anything that looked to be of genuine historic interest on to the professional archivists. It was a project I’d been roped into months ago, and though I couldn’t complain too loudly—the things I’d learned down in the basement archives had actually helped me save the world—it still wasn’t a job I relished. The room was musty and dim, and the boxes tended to be filled with bugs.

  Gross and tedious. Not a stellar combination.

  “I was actually hoping to see if you could squeeze out one or two hours to help organize a special luncheon next month in honor of Saint Maedhog.”

  “Who?”

  “Saint Maedhog, dear,” she repeated, as if that would suddenly make him spring to mind. “His feast day is in early April.”

  “Oh.” I frowned, confused. “I . . . has the cathedral always done Feast Day luncheons?” This was a new animal to me. And considering every day was the feast day for some saint, I feared I was about to land deep in a never-ending pool of volunteer work.

  “Oh, no, dear. This is going to be a special fund-raiser for the restoration fund.” The cathedral had been in renovations for what seemed like eternity, with most services being held in the bishop’s hall. Easter week was an exception, and it had been nice to be back in the beautiful sanctuary. If Delores’s volunteer project would get us back in there permanently that much sooner, I was all for it. More, I was feeling the tug of hypocrisy if I refused to help.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “Nothing terribly complicated. Invitations, refreshments. Things like that. We’ll work it out at the first committee meeting. Okay?”

  “Sure,” I said, conjuring a smile. “Sounds great.”

  “I knew I could count on you, Kate,” she said.

  “So why this saint?” I asked before she could hurry away. “Did someone simply want to do an April function?”

  “Oh, no, dear. It’s because of Father Ben, of course. He’s going to be our luncheon speaker.”

  I swiped my hand over my head. Her words were going past me without making any sort of connection at all.

  “Oh, goodness. You and he have become such good friends I just assumed you knew. Saint Maedhog is one of Father Ben’s ancestors.”

  “Wow,” I said. “I had no idea. It’s like a brush with fame.”

  “I suppose it is,” Delores said, leaning in closer. “But between you and me, I met Sean Connery once. He’s no saint, but honey, that’s my idea of a brush with fame.”

  I grinned. I understood completely.

  Aw it was, it took us only forty minutes to make it home, change, and get back to the beach. It took another twenty minutes after that to find a parking space, inconveniently located five blocks away in the center of the Old Town shopping district.

  Since I figured Timmy’s little legs wouldn’t last that long, I hauled the umbrella stroller out from behind the Rubbermaid container of zombie parts, parked the kid in it, and the five of us started walking. Well, the four females did, anyway. My little man sat comfortably in his stroller and immediately fell asleep, clearly worn out by working so hard to behave in church. I pushed slowly, both because I didn’t want to wake him and because I wanted Laura and myself to follow about a block behind Allie and Mindy.

  “You’re digging yourself in deeper and deeper,” she said, nodding toward Allie.

  “I know, I know. But I really couldn’t leave her at home. She’s dying to spend some time with her father, and it’s hard to comply with a grounding for an offense she didn’t commit in the first place.”

  “Then you should have—”

  “Told Stuart. Yes, I know.”

  “Or at least told him that you were lifting the punishment for the afternoon so that you could enjoy the carnival with your kid.”

  “You’re really impossible when you’re right. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Of course.” We walked in silence for a few moments. “Speaking of being right,” she finally said. “What are you doing about the bigger picture?”

  “As in, have I revealed all to Stuart? Believe it or not, I almost did last night. But we got a little sidetracked.”

  “The demon and the zombie,” she said, because, of course, I’d already told her the whole story. “And you think they’re trying to kill you so that you won’t have the chance to use this sword thing?”

  “That’s my best guess.”

  “See, I’m thinking that would have been a really nice segue into telling Stuart.”

  “Yes, but then I would have missed out on making o
ut like a teenager in the back of a movie theater.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Okay, so I hadn’t told her the whole story.

  She cleared her throat.

  I looked at her sideways. “What?”

  She twirled her hand, urging me to talk. “Come on, Kate. You can’t drop a bomb like a movie make-out session and then not follow through. I don’t have the rule book with me, but I’m certain that violates at least ten different regulations regarding the handling of gossip within a friendship.”

  I laughed. “Okay, fair enough. Let’s just say that Stuart was more attentive last night than he has been in quite a while. At the restaurant, at the movie, and after we got home.”

  “How nice for you,” she said, her eyebrows rising as her mouth twitched with the makings of a smile.

  “Very,” I agreed.

  “Really?” she asked, quirking a brow. “Even if all this attention is because he’s picking up on your vibe?”

  “I have a vibe?”

  “Your dead ex-husband has come back to life. You’re sneaking around behind your current husband’s back to see your ex. We’ve talked about this, Kate. Yeah. You have a vibe. Stuart’s probably completely freaking out about the state of your marriage. Tell the man the truth.”

  She was right, of course. Fancy dinners, sweet words, and movie make-out sessions weren’t par for our usual course. Adding a little spark to a marriage was one thing. But in this case, I saw the motive behind setting the fire.

  “It is Eric we’re talking about,” Laura said gently. “Does Stuart have reason to be worried?”

  “No!” I said, the answer coming before I could fully think about it. “I mean, of course not. Stuart’s my husband. I love him.”

  I would never do anything with David, but that didn’t change how I felt. David was Eric. And I loved Eric. And the fact that I was married to another man couldn’t ever change that.

  “You love David, too,” she said, pretty much reading my mind. “And he’s your husband as well. Or, sort of, anyway.”