A Demon's Desire (5 page)

“I do! Where’d Emma find you?”

“Maryland coast.” He braced himself for the
typical rejection he faced when dealing with normal people.

“I think it’s a good thing,” she said.

Her attention turned to the contents of his
bag, and he realized he’d passed whatever test protective mothers
gave the men dating their daughters. It was a first for him. He
watched her explore the herbs and salves in the pouches with the
curiosity of a child. Most who met him either ran or tried to kill
him, believing him to be a vampire, and yet Emma’s family had
accepted him. For the first time in his life, he thought someone
other than himself was weird.

“I was about to start my trade. Would you
like to join me?” he asked.

Mama nodded. Tristan secured a small bag
resting on the adjacent stool, took his cookies, and went to
Sissy’s room. Shadows welcomed him and gathered once more. He
missed a step, still uncertain about his own ability to control the
shadows, but forced himself to Sissy’s side. The middle-aged woman
followed and pulled up a chair next to Sissy.

Tristan set to work. He placed candles and
incense oils around the room, smeared soothing balm on the little
girl’s chest, and sent Mama to the kitchen to prepare a special
tea. His actions were mainly for show. What he did to cure Sissy
had nothing to do with anything Mama and the girls understood, but
seeing physical signs of his trade might comfort them.

When she left, Tristan touched Sissy’s
forehead again and closed his eyes. Her mind was dark and quiet, as
if blanketed by night, and he probed to get a sense of the black
magic that held her. It was potent, he realized as he stirred it
like a gust of wind stirred clouds.

Tristan forced it to answer to him,
manipulating it, moving it, gathering it, like he did the shadows
within him when they became too restless. He drew away when Mama
returned. Sissy’s breathing was deeper, less strained, the
breathing of one in deep slumber and not battling illness.

“What kind of tea is it?” Mama asked.

“Healing tea,” he answered. “It soothes and
cleanses the body.”

“There’s ginger, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He took it and tested its heat,
found it to be lukewarm, and shifted forward to lift Sissy’s head
and chest from the bed. Her body was warm but not fevered. Tristan
placed the cup to her lips and softly whispered commands for her
body to take it and the shadows not to interfere. Both responded,
and he tilted the cup until its contents were drained.

“You must be a magician of some sort,” Mama
said quietly. Tristan said nothing and lowered the girl back to the
bed. “It’s devil’s work, isn’t it?”

“I don’t believe in the devil,” he
replied.

“Evil, then. I imagine you’re not um,
Catholic,” she said. “But you believe in evil and good, I’m
sure.”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s evil.”

“Yeah, it is,” he said, wondering if she’d
ask about him next.

“And you are a dark angel.”

He looked up with a surprised chuckle. “I’ve
been called many things, Mama, but never an angel,” he
admitted.

“If you can help our Sissy …” Mama’s green
eyes fell to her grandchild, and her smile faded. “Thank you for
coming, Tristan.”

Tristan pulled out one of the cookies.

“Are you hungry?” She roused herself from her
sorrow.

“Maybe a little,” he said, sensing her
restlessness.

“Do you eat home cookin’?”

“I’ll eat anything.”

“Good. I’ve got a casserole to make!” Mama
said and left. Tristan placed a hand on the girl’s arm,
communicating with the shadows. Emma was probably pissed he’d left
her there, but he’d long ago found it easier to assess a situation
involving the occult without the charged, negative energy of his
client interfering. She didn’t seem to be the kind who liked
surprises overly much, though she didn’t seem to mind leaving him
in the dark about whatever evil it was that invaded Sissy’s room
and body.

* * *

“I found her.”

Hunched over the ancient spell book for the
past few hours, Olivia grimaced as she straightened. She’d spent
another long day in Jeffrey’s extensive library, where he’d
collected and translated books older than she could guess on
mythology, occult, and witchcraft. His library was the reason she
sought him out; he was known throughout the occult world for his
seemingly deep pockets he used to build an occult library the size
of an apartment. She’d hoped to find the spells she needed to bring
back Adam and destroy the woman who took him from her. After two
years in the musty library, she’d almost found the last
incantation.

“Found who, Jeffrey?” she asked, irritated at
being disturbed to hear about his latest witchy floozy.

“Emma.”

She whipped around, her mouth dropping open
in silent words. Jeffrey flung himself onto the couch across from
the table at which she sat.

“I thought you were just interested in
bringing back Adam,” he said. “You should’ve told me about her. I
know quite a bit about revenge.”

“How did you find out about Emma?” she
managed at last, her face warm with anger.

“I heard,” he said vaguely. “One of your
shadow demons tried to pull one of its friends from Hell into the
basement. We had a little talk before I sent both of them back.”
The shadows in the room lazily drifted toward him, drawn by the
same darkness she saw in his eyes. Lately, she’d felt more and more
uneasy around him.

“It’s none of your business,” she said.

“So you’re not interested in knowing where
she is?”

“Of course I am.” Olivia wanted so much to
turn around and ignore him. The raw meat he dangled in front of her
was too much of a temptation, but oh, how she hated his smugness!
“I don’t need you, Jeffrey. My shadow messengers will tell me.”

“How’s that working for you after two years?
You grow uglier and weaker by the day, Olivia. You don’t have
another two years.”

“You son of-- ”

“Just saying. I know you’ve read enough of my
library to know you can use her blood to bring Adam back. He had no
family; she was the only thing on this earth he loved.”

“He loved
me
!” she retorted, anger
rising. “And yes, I know that!”

“Look, I’ll make this easy for you. You’re a
member of my little family here. I’ll help you bring her in and
bring him back. I’ll even do it for-- ”

“Get out!” she shouted. “I don’t want your
help, Jeffrey! I want you to leave me the hell alone!”

Fire flashed in Jeffrey’s eyes, and he rose,
crossing to the table. He planted his hands on the table and leaned
close to her.

“It’s too late, Olivia. You cracked the gates
to Hell. Only I can keep Hell from taking you.”

She started to argue. He grabbed her around
the neck with one hand and hauled her to a mirror, ignoring her
kicks and punches. Thrusting her in front of it, he squeezed her
neck until she stilled for fear he’d snap it.

“What do you see, Olivia?”

She was beautiful, dazzling, with sleek,
long, blue-black hair, large blue eyes, flawless porcelain skin,
and full red lips. Surprised, she saw herself, and her own beauty
took her breath away.

“Me,” she whispered, touching her face in
awe.

The mirror changed suddenly, reflecting a
haggard woman whose blue eyes were faded beyond their twenty-one
years. Her skin was grayish and splotchy, her hair a mix of black
and yellow, her eyes baggy.

“Look at what you’ve become,” Jeffrey
whispered. “Even a dead man would want nothing to do with you.” He
released her and stepped back.

She remained in place, stunned once more.
She’d avoided mirrors for about a year, not wanting to see the
impact black magic had on her. Even last year, she’d looked nothing
like the worn woman in the mirror.

“Adam would love me anyway,” she said, trying
hard to ignore the whisper of doubt in her mind.

“Not if he had to choose between you and
Emma. She’s beautiful and you’re …” He drifted off, letting the
mirror complete his thought. “Even at your best, Adam chose her. I
can make you better, more beautiful, invincible.”

Her heart ached at his words. Adam had chosen
another woman over her, even when she was at her most beautiful.
She’d kill Emma, but what if he did it again? Emma had been one of
half a dozen women she’d punished for trying to take Adam from her.
If she were able to keep him from straying in the first place, she
would never have to deal with them again.

“How?” she asked.

“I have the incantation you’re looking for,
and I have the power to give you what you want.” At his words, the
image in the mirror turned again to the beautiful woman. “Just say
yes.”

He moved forward again, his warm body at her
back. He touched her shoulders and then let his hands roam
downwards, over her arms, to her waist. She gazed longingly at the
beautiful woman in the mirror and watched as he kissed her neck. A
woman as beautiful as the one peering back at her could have
anything-- and anyone-- she wanted. Adam would never leave her.

The thought of a night with her lover made
her heart leap and her body grow weak. She closed her eyes as one
of Jeffrey’s hands traveled across her belly. He pulled her against
him hard, and she felt the length of his erection against her
backside. His other hand slid into her jeans. Strange fire flowed
from his hands into her.

“You’ll give me Adam and help me destroy
Emma?” she whispered, beyond aroused.

“I will. He’ll be yours forever.”

“Yes, Jeffrey.”

“Come to bed with me. When you awaken, you
will be beautiful again.”

She turned and kissed him with passion she’d
only shared with Adam. He groaned in pleasure and pushed her onto
the table. Unable to control the unnatural heat building in her
blood, she pulled him on top of her.

“Now, Jeffrey!” she ordered hoarsely.

* * *

Emma stared at the apartment building with a
sense of foreboding. The fall sun hovered low on the horizon,
casting long shadows around her. She would rather sleep in the
breezeway than step foot in the apartment. Guiltily, she touched
Isolde’s head.

“C’mon, angel,” she murmured.

The dog followed. Emma climbed three flights
of steps, guiding the animal with touches, and paused outside the
door to Amber’s large, bright apartment. Her house keys were on the
lost keychain. Doom and fear made her shudder. She mentally
pictured herself stuffing each negative emotion into a bottle and
then corking it.

Face the devil unafraid, Emma,
she
ordered herself.
Of course, this devil could read minds.

“Dammit,” she muttered and beat on the door.
Mama answered.

“Hello, Emma-doodle!” Mama called.

“Mama, don’t call me that,” she sighed. “I’m
not five.”

Mama smiled brightly and hugged her. Emma
hugged her back, relaxing in the safety of her arms. She pulled
away.

“You brought a friend.” Mama looked down to
Isolde. “Hello there!”

Isolde thumped her tail and sniffed, taking a
hesitant step forward to find the source of Mama’s voice. The
apartment was already too dark for Emma’s comfort, with the shadowy
doorway to Sissy’s room darker than the rest. She eyed the lamps
above the entertainment center.

“Her name’s Isolde,” Emma said. “She’s
Tristan’s.”

“Did she fit in the car?” Mama asked. “I’ve
never seen a dog that big!”

“Yes, Mama,” she murmured. “I smell
dinner.”

“My weekly experimental casserole.”

Emma groaned and entered, closing the door
behind her. She turned on the nearest light and set her bag down by
the door before removing her shoes. Isolde started forward,
following the sounds of Mama’s retreat and the scent of food.

“Where’s Amber?” she asked, glancing
around.

“Tristan gave her some relaxation tea, and
she went to sleep.”

“I forgot about his drugged tea! But at least
she’s getting some sleep,” Emma said darkly. Mama looked at her
curiously from the kitchen.

Emma turned on two more lamps and glanced
apprehensively at Sissy’s door. He was there, with the rest of the
darkness. Emma started toward the half-closed door, paused, and
turned on another lamp. She pushed the door open, not certain what
to expect but awaiting a scene from
Poltergeist
.

Sissy slept deeply, her room much more
organized than Emma had ever seen it. Tristan sat in the rocking
chair beside her, dressed in a light blue polo shirt, unbuttoned to
reveal curls of dark chest hair, and stonewashed khaki pants that
clung to his lean form.

In the darkness of his shop, she hadn’t
noticed his body. He was lean with wide shoulders and chest and
thick thighs. How had she not noticed his looks? He was beautiful
in a wild, animal-like way with the sense of deceptively relaxed
dark power.

His piercing eyes pinned her in place. Emma
stood in the doorway, arrested once more by eyes darker than night.
They glinted with something too raw to be natural. It thrilled her
as well as unnerved her. Her body responded to the sight of him,
grew warmer and aware. He seemed unable or unwilling to look away
from her, and Emma was more than aware of the way the shadows of
the room all pointed and angled toward him, as if stretching to
reach him where he sat.

I brought the devil into my sister’s
home.

One eyebrow twitched. A look of amusement
crossed his face. She’d almost convinced herself to disregard the
strangeness of their first meeting, that she’d been too tired to
understand much of anything.

“You look rested.”

Likewise, she had forgotten the softness of
his dark voice, how it traveled like a dark caress on a fall
breeze, grazed her, made her shiver.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied with effort. “I
see …”
…you’ve met Sissy
. A sense of guilt washed over her,
and she stepped back, struggling to keep her emotions bottled. What
was she doing?