A Demon Made Me Do It (11 page)

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Authors: Penelope King

Tags: #urban fantasy, #love, #suspense, #poetry, #paranormal romance, #fantasy, #magic, #teens, #witches, #dark, #demons, #new, #series, #edgy, #young adult fiction, #modern fantasy, #good evil, #fantasy adventure demons warlords magic parallel worlds mystical creatures

BOOK: A Demon Made Me Do It
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Huh?”


Are you still willing to
help me with my assignments?”

I blink and will my mouth to work.
“Uh, yeah, sure. I just assumed since you weren’t here all
day…”

He laughs, and all I can think of is
how I could listen to this sound for the rest of my life. “Yes,
didn’t quite make it in today.” He pauses and glances behind him.
“Something came up. If you’ve already made other plans I
understand—”


No,” I say quickly. “I was
hoping to be with you today…” Oh
no
, that didn’t sound desperate
at
all
.

He grins again and hitches his
backpack over his shoulder. “Great.”

I glance around and motion to the
octagonal building behind me. “You wanna go to the library? There
are study rooms in there.” I look back at him and catch a faint
grimace on his face. “Or we can go somewhere else,” I
add.

He smiles, and I decide it must have
been just my imagination. “No, the library is fine. After you,
m’lady.”

******

 

With an exasperated sigh, I
close my book and glare at the group of girls watching us. This is
getting
completely
out of hand. What in the
world
is going on with these insane females? Kieron and
I hadn’t been in the library for five minutes before they started
gathering nearby, craning their necks to see what we were
doing.

I lean my head toward him. “Why is
everyone staring so much?” I whisper. “Don’t you think it’s a
little strange? It’s not like you have two heads or
something—”

Kieron glances up, seemingly oblivious
to his growing fan club until now. He gives his admirers a quick
smile before turning to me. “They’re staring at me because I placed
a spell on them.”

I choke on some of the diet
orange soda I’m sipping. The burning tickle travels up my nose, and
I cover my face with my hand so as not to cough all over his face.

What
?” I
gasp.

He stares at me, his eyes wide and
gently pats me on my back. I clear my throat several times and try
not to die of embarrassment. “Are you okay?” he asks. I nod,
humiliated, and give my runny nose a stealthy wipe.


Of course, I’m only
joking,” he says, studying me. “The reason they’re staring is
because I am extraordinarily good-looking.”

Having only just recovered from my
original coughing fit, his deadpan response sends me into another
one. “And also very humble,” I manage to spit out between laughs
and coughs.

He shrugs and rubs my back again, much
like a mother pats her newborn after a feeding. “Humility has
nothing to do with it. I’m not ashamed to be exceptionally
handsome, just as you shouldn’t feel bad for being unusually
beautiful. There’s nothing wrong with it. In fact, it’s hundreds of
thousands of years of biological evolution at its
finest.”

I’ve stopped coughing and
laughing. “
What?


Females are hardwired to
propagate with the best and strongest mate available, to ensure
survival of their species. Even before we knew about genes and DNA,
nature gave indicators to let the opposite sex know what mate is
best, physically speaking. Now, as they say, looks aren’t
everything. And they’re right. But from a strictly sexual
standpoint, for reproductive purposes only, you
can
judge a book by its cover. Most
of the time.” He tosses me a sexy grin and glances briefly over to
the gawking girls.

“…
People think it’s
shallow to care about looks when choosing a partner, but in fact
the opposite is true. We’re operating from one of the oldest and
most enduring instincts known to man. The urge to find the
strongest, sturdiest match is deeply encoded within each and every
one of us. Biologically and anthropologically speaking, this is
about the age females are preparing for reproduction.
Instinctually, they’re looking for the best mates. I am tall,
athletic, and have masculine, proportional features, indicating I
have good genes. They want what I have. What I represent. You can’t
fight hundreds of thousands of years of human nature,
darlin’.”

He stops, looks at me, and laughs.
“Sorry, I kind of went off there, didn’t I? It’s just, well, I’m
kinda fascinated by human biology and anthropology—how it causes
people to interact with each other. Where’d I lose you? Your eyes
have totally glazed over.”

It takes me a long moment
to answer him. “Right after the part where you said I was
beautiful,” I finally whisper. No one,
no
one
, has ever told me I was beautiful
before. Not even in a phony way, and certainly not in the sincere
way Kieron just did. I’m stunned by the effect these words have on
me, and how desperately I need to hear them again.

His eyes settle on my face.
Comfortably. Easily. “You are, you know—Beautiful.” His voice is
lower now, but I hear him clearly. The whole world seems muted
except for him.


Thanks.”

He cracks a cocky grin. “Don’t thank
me, thank your genetic heritage. I’m merely observing the simple
and complex principles that contributed to designing—”


Oh, stop it.” Laughing, I
playfully tap him with a book.


Okay, okay.” He holds up
his hands in mock surrender. More people are watching us now, and I
notice the stern-faced librarian making a beeline for our
table.

Kieron sees her too. “Wanna get out of
here?”


Yes.”

Once we get to the parking lot, Kieron
suggests we take his truck—he knows a place we can go. Somewhere we
won’t be bothered. I readily agree, feeling a flurry of nerves as
he holds the door open for me.


Where are we going?” I ask
as he starts the engine. The truck’s hard and glossy black shell
belies its soft, cozy interior. It suits Kieron
perfectly.


You’ll see.” He smiles at
me with the corner of his mouth and my heart races again. Other
than the first time we met, there have always been other people
around. Now it’s just us.

The easy banter we shared in the
library gives way to an awkward silence. I glance at him as he
stares at the bumpy road ahead, taking us away from school and far
from town. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs beneath his
cowl-neck sweater.


What kind of music do you
like?” he asks and starts flipping through the iPod connected to
the dash.


Almost everything,
depending on my mood,” I answer truthfully. “Whatever is
fine.”

He clicks through his selection while
keeping a careful eye on the road ahead. Soon, a beautifully
haunting tune fills the air. It is ethereal, sad, and uplifting—all
at once. I sit back and let the enchanting melody wash over me like
golden rain. I feel my tension release, and notice Kieron’s hands
aren’t clasping the steering wheel as tightly as they were
before.

I gaze out the window as if I’m seeing
the scenery for the first time. I’ve lived here my whole life, but
now it seems newer somehow. I see remarkable splendor in the
ordinary…dying trees holding the promise of re-birth; the swirling
dance of the clouds as they hold the sun captive, only releasing
little glints here and there when they feel like it; the perfect
chaotic swarm of birds flying overhead, each in its own little
world until the exact second they all fall into line. Even the old
woman in overalls with thinning hair and no teeth who waves to us
as we pass by looks beautiful. She has endured a long, hard life
and still has a smile on her face.

I’m unfamiliar with this path Kieron’s
taking. When the road becomes rough and we start bouncing around in
the cab, he slows down…then stops.


Here we are.” A line of
trees blocks my vision ahead. Behind us are just open fields,
shanty houses, and dirt roads.


But there’s nothing here,”
I say.


It’s over there. You’ll
see.” He reaches behind me and grabs his backpack and a blanket. My
pulse quickens again. What on earth do we need a blanket for? And
why does he just happen to have one in the back of his
truck?


Follow me. You’ll be safe,
I promise,” he says, sensing my hesitation. I fumble around for my
book bag and quickly check my cell phone reception, just in case.
But if I really did need to call someone, who would I call? What
would I say?
Some hot guy has me out in
the middle of the woods. Please send help immediately?

My only option is to trust Kieron. He
holds out his hand and I take it.

 

Together we walk down a narrow dirt
path toward a dense overgrowth of twigs and vines.


This isn’t the usual
entrance…it’s kind of a short cut.”

Kieron does his best to
block my face from the over-hanging branches. There’s a faint
walking path where others have come before, and for some reason
this makes me feel a little better. I’m trying to stay collected,
but something about this place feels…
off.
I can’t quite put my finger on
it…almost like it’s too quiet…the air too still.

We finally break through the last line
of shrubs, and I see a massive field of yellowed grass and broken
stone. I gasp, take a step back, and trip over a tree root. Kieron
grabs my hand to steady me and I look at him…bewildered.

Why has he brought me here?

I’d thought maybe we were going to a
little park or a spot down by the river. Perhaps even his house.
But we are in none of those safe, logical, ordinary
places.

Kieron has brought me to a
cemetery.

 

 

Chapter 6.
Lucky

The thing people don’t
understand about demons is that we’re not
all
the horrible,
evil-for-the-sake-of-being-evil, rotten, eternally-damning monsters
everyone makes us out to be.

Okay, I admit,
some
are pretty terrible,
but who amongst us can throw stones? It’s almost comical, though,
the way most Sapies are taught to fear, even hate us, and how they
think our ruling Prince, Lucifer, is the worst and scariest thing
ever created. I suppose partially they’re right, but that’s like
blaming the ocean for being wet, or an eagle for flying, or a baby
for crying. He’s just playing his role in the grand scheme of
things.

Of course, most people like
our Light counterparts just fine, not caring or understanding that
we’re
all
the
direct descendants of the
Angelius
Domini
—the original gods who ruled over the
universe and its infinite domains. We’re all just different slices
of the same, great, cosmic pie. My ancestors ruled the earth,
heavens, and netherworlds
long
before humans were even a sparkle of a possibility
in The Creators’ eyes. But then Man pops onto the scene and acts
like he owns the joint?

After all, it was
us

The Dark and Light-angels
alike
—who saved Man’s weak ass time
and time again. Left to their own devices, humans couldn’t even get
it together long enough to prevent themselves from going extinct,
not once, not twice, but twelve
times.
That’s right.
Twelve
.

When Creators provided the
necessary reinforcements by integrating Dark and Light-angels with
a select group of humans, this gave them not only the
support
they needed to
sustain life, but the means to make that life worth
living
.

Humans couldn’t exist
without us. They wouldn’t
want
to exist without us, for there cannot be light
without darkness, pleasure without pain, joy without sorrow, and
love without hate. It simply
cannot
happen. The balance of celestial energy is
essential for
any
existence to survive and flourish. Without it, the universe
dies.

I, for one, take this responsibility
seriously.

The woman screams through her sobs,
retreating to the corner of her darkened bedroom. She’s trying to
get away, but there’s no escaping me. Covering her face with her
hands, she tries in vain to block out the horrifying images of her
worst nightmares. But there’s no stopping these scenes of eternal
torment I’m inflicting upon her.

I swish back and forth on a cherry
rocking chair, watching her squirm and moan. Her pain gives me
pleasure, for it tells me I’m doing my job effectively. It was
clever of me to suggest she put this chair in here; it’s so much
nicer when I have a comfortable place to enjoy the show.


Stop, stop it…you’re not
real. You’re not real…” the woman gasps. Rocking back and forth, I
twirl a lock of hair around my finger and hit her with another
vision. It’s Tatiana’s duty to find me humans who have violated
Natural Law. Then, it’s up to me to deliver a suitable punishment.
Lately, I’ve been favoring psychic torture over the physical; it
just seems to be much more effective. It’s amazing how dark the
human mind can be, so I let them choose their own punishment by
living out their own worst nightmares. It’s poetic, really. And
amusing to see what they subconsciously pick.

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