Bloodstone (11 page)

Sure enough, Brandon lay on the bed without a shirt as he held Alexis’s waist steady while she straddled him with a wicked grin and undid her velvet blouse.  “Admit it,” she said. “Being in Alexis’s house…when no one’s here? It turns you on.”

“Yes. Totally. Completely.”

“And you think
she’s
hot, don’t you?”

Brandon winced and turned his head to the side as though the question had pulled him out of the moment. “Huh?”

“Alexis. She gets you going, doesn’t she? It’s okay. I’m not jealous. Just be honest with me.”

“Well…yeah. She might be a…”

“What?” Alexis asked. “What is she?”

“She’s kind of a sociopath.”

A storm of rage crossed her face. She clamped her teeth together as though trying to contain her rage as a hideous expression contorted her face. “What?”

“Yeah, she’s kind of nuts.”

Alexis hopped off him and her feet landed on the carpet. “What?”

“Well, don’t freak out. I thought you hated her.”

Alexis pointed toward the door. “Get out, you asshole. Get the fuck out!”

Brandon rolled off the bed with a concerned expression. “What’s eating you? Is this what it’s going to be like? We make out and then you turn into an ice queen, which by the way reminds me of Alexis.”

Alexis extended a hand toward him as though prepared to turn him into an icicle, but her expression revealed fury, uncertainty, and self-loathing.

“You like it feisty, huh?” he asked, grasping her wrist and pulling her into his arms. “I should’ve known.” He pressed his lips against her throat and a slight moan issued from him. “I love the way you taste. It’s like caramel and blueberries.”

His words slackened the hesitance in her posture. She shrugged as though shockingly dismissing her concerns. “Yeah? Tell me more.”

“And you’ve got the most righteous body.”

She chuckled in a deep, husky manner. “Oh yeah?”

“Uh, huh.” He knelt down, lowered his face to her breasts, and placed one finger over her right nipple, and while still leaving her bra intact, he dipped his lips against her cleavage.

My sister clenched her eyes tight and let out an audible sigh. “Yes.”

He unbuttoned her jeans and slipped them down her ankles, letting his hands slide town her thighs. “I’ve dreamed of this.”

“Yeah?” she asked.

I couldn’t tolerate the thought of Brandon having sex with Alexis when he thought she was really Kendall. It would tarnish our relationship, not only because I knew the truth, but because…how could I keep something like that from Kendall? Anger broiled my insides. How had I allowed my sexual inexperience to allow me to look on in anticipation? What kind of friend does that? It was disgusting, grotesque. I felt wretched for letting Kendall down by not doing…something!

I grabbed the doorknob and the door creaked as I swung it toward the doorway, but…hold on a second. How could I move the door? In spirit form, I had no mass, but like a ghost, my soul was composed of energy. Many who believed in ghosts suspected they could move objects with enough concentration or anger. It seemed that I’d tapped into something heretofore unimaginable. I now stared at the door I’d moved, finding it inconceivable that I’d have enough spiritual mojo to accomplish the feat.

“Did you hear something?” Brandon asked, lifting his head from the pillow and looking toward the doorway.

“No,” Alexis responded. “It was your imagination.” She reached behind her back and undid the clasps on her bra, freeing her breasts.

I caught sight of them before I’d managed to look away. How could my identical twin, an alcoholic who rarely ate, have such beautiful…I shook the vision from my head. Still somehow clenching the doorknob, I slammed it shut, making it impossible to see what happened in Alexis’s room.

“What the hell!” shouted Brandon. Bed springs popped once more. A couple seconds later, the door whipped open, and he stood less than one foot from me. He glanced left and right with a querulous expression. Seeing no one, he shook his head, puzzled. “Are there ghosts here?”

“Ghosts?” Alexis asked in a confused tone. A moment later, however, understanding lined her face. “Not unless Serena decided to visit.”

“Serena?” he asked with a grimace. “Huh?” The hazy facial cast that had appeared on his face over the last five minutes disappeared, replaced by full recognition of his surroundings. He jolted upright. “What the hell! What am I doing here?” He set his gaze on my sister. “Alexis?” His gaze fell upon her bare breasts, and his mouth dropped open as his eyebrows darted upwards.

“No,” she said, moving toward him with slinky moves that could only be acquired from spending countless hours on stage at a strip club. “It’s me. Kendall.”

Brandon breathed heavy and continued ogling her breasts. He bit down on his lower lip, finding it impossible to look away. “You’re not Kendall. She doesn’t look like—”

“Sure, it is.” Alexis jumped into his embrace.

He looked into her eyes. “Kendall?” Within moments, he rushed toward Alexis, and his uncertainty drifted away. He threw his arms around her back as she drew her legs around his waist. He hoisted her up, rushed to the bed, and collapsed onto it while still holding her. With frantic urgency, he removed his pants, and soon enough he stripped her panties off.

I fumbled for the door, completely disinterested in following the proceedings as my hand hit open air before finally grasping onto the doorknob. I whipped it shut, hoping the creaking bed coils would stop, but if anything, the participants increased the pace with which they moved, as though blocking out all nearby sounds in favor of taking part in the desire consuming them.

“Yes!” Alexis screamed, almost out of breath. “Faster. Oh God. Harder! Fuckin’ ram me. Oh, goddammit, yes!”

Nothing I could do would prevent Brandon from making a huge mistake, so I turned away from the room and headed for the door.

A couple seconds later, Alexis let out a piercing cry of pleasure.

Just before I planned to exit the house, the doorknob twisted. The door opened.

I sped away from that spot. A fraction of a second later, I appeared in the kitchen with my knees on the floor, peering around a corner, giving me the opportunity to see who entered the house without giving that person the chance to notice me.

Zephora stepped into the house, carrying a Kohl’s bag in either hand. The ancient one’s eyes narrowed with hatred as she looked in my direction.

I envisioned myself at the other end of the kitchen in case Zephora hurried over to the area I’d inhabited a moment ago. Now, I looked out from behind a different wall and saw Celestina staring directly at me with confusion lining her brow. How could she see me now, but have no clue I’d astral projected earlier? I racked my brain, but an answer didn’t come to mind. Did she only notice me when anxiety had nibbled at my bones?

Zephora, carrying a Kohl’s bag in either hand, stood where I’d knelt and looked around the kitchen.

Before her gaze landed on me, I hurried into the hall in time to set my eyes on Celestina.

“I sense you, Serena,” Zephora said, her shoes tapping along the hardwood floor. “Where are you?”

I sped into the living room and put a finger to my lips, so Celestina wouldn’t reveal my presence, and thankfully, she didn’t mutter a word. Meanwhile, I heard Zephora following the path I’d just taken, intent on locating me.

Behind me, in Alexis’s room, I heard hushed voices but couldn’t comprehend what she and Brandon said.

“Do you sense her?” asked Zephora in a panicked voice. “Tell me you sense her.”

“What are you talking about?” Celestina asked. “You’re probably still zoned out on drugs!” She dismissed Zephora with a wave of the hand and headed toward me, without acknowledging my form.

Before she could walk through me, I imagined myself in her room, and found myself there a few seconds before Celestina joined me. When she shut the door and faced me, I said, “Please tell me you can see me?”

“Well, duh!” she whispered in frustration. “I saw you the last time you astral projected, too.”

“But you didn’t even—”

“I didn’t let on, so Zephora wouldn’t know that I saw you. Come on, Aunt Serena, get real!”

“You don’t look upset that I attacked your mother.”

“I am upset.” She stood tall and determined for a long beat, meeting my eyes with a heady gaze. With a huff to break our glaring stalemate, she went over to her nightstand and withdrew a handful of Skittles from the container before turning back to me. “But you deserved it. I told you not to hurt Mom, and you did. Why do you—”

“Because,” I said, unable to keep frustration from hitting my tone, “you think your mother is Clair Huxtable.”

“Who?” she asked, confused. “Is that a new kind of demon? A Hux table?”

I ignored her question. “Your mother may love you, but I don’t want you to follow her example.” If my physical form had stood before her, I would have broken out in tears. “Do you hear me? She makes too many mistakes. She’s not fit to be—” I barely held my tongue before following through with words that might haunt me for the rest of my life…if I’d uttered them.

“How could you say that? Don’t you know—”

I found myself not caring what Celestina might say or how she might feel. I needed to tell her the truth. After all, isn’t that what good role models did? “Listen to me!” I shouted so loud that her windows rattled. It startled both of us. When she redirected her attention on me, I said, “Your mom is following Zephora, not because she thinks its Delphine, but because she knows its Zephora. She doesn’t care. She wants power. That’s all that matters to her.”

Celestina issued a sullen expression.

There was a knock on the door.

We both swung our attention in that direction.

“Celestina?” asked Zephora in a stern manner.

Realizing that my niece interpreted my remark to mean that her mother didn’t consider her important, I prepared to lower my voice. “She may love you, but she’s not in her right mind. She’s—”

“Insane?” she whispered back to me. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“You deserve so much better than—”

“What’s the matter with you?”

“I don’t care how much you love her,” I said. “You’ve got to know that—”

A knock on the door interrupted me.

Celestina and I looked at the door and waited a moment before locking our gazes on each other. I glanced back at the door.

“She heard you,” Celestina said. “You’ve got to go.”

“No.” I raced over to the door, but just before I put my back against it, I remembered that if I did so, I’d fall through it. Rather than allow that to happen, I marched up to my niece. “I’m only here right now because…I need…” I didn’t want to tell her just yet how I felt, so I said, “I’m at a place called the Home Bar. It’s in Arlington Heights. About an hour ago, your mother…” I didn’t want to give her the bad news, fearing that she wouldn’t believe me.

“Celestina!” Zephora said. She banged a fist on the door. “Answer me.”

“What happened?” asked my niece.

“Zephora asked your mother to send four werewolves after me.”

Celestina looked appalled. “Mom wouldn’t do that.”

“Believe me,” I said, pushing as much certainty into my demeanor as possible. “Your mother set four werewolves after me. I’m only here right now because one of them bit me. Right now, my body is unconscious at the back of a supply room. My band is supposed to start playing in less than two hours.”

“It bit you? So…you’ll turn into a werewolf?”

I hadn’t considered that, but the idea made my mind spin. Thankfully, I managed to keep my thoughts straight. “I need your help.”

I heard the doorknob turn, and rather than allow Zephora to detect my presence, I imagined myself back at the Home Bar. Within moments, I stood before my fallen form. Just as I’d suspected, no one had noticed my unconscious, bloody body.

How long could my body lay unconscious before suffering the adverse effects of the damage it had incurred? What would it feel like if I went into a coma? I had no answers to these questions, and it looked like I wouldn’t get an answer anytime soon. My face had begun to turn blue, and I had a difficult time believing that anyone would find my body before I died.

CHAPTER TEN

“My, my,” said a smooth masculine voice beside my spiritual form. “That does
not
look good!”

I glanced to my right to find a man wearing khakis, a polo shirt with the top button undone, and white sneakers. His brown hairline was receding and a scar was slashed across his left cheek. The scar gave away his identity: Mephisto. He’d most likely chosen this conservative appearance to come off as easy-going and approachable.

He analyzed my physical body’s lacerated shoulder. “A werewolf bite.” He sucked in his breath as though in pain. “Ouch!”

Now that I knew his identity, I couldn’t relax my clinched shoulders. Nevertheless, an important question presented itself. If Mephisto were Lucifer’s most trusted ally, why would he waste his time on me? I couldn’t be that important – not compared to my family members, all of whom had more power than I’d ever have. What use could I be to him?

Still, I had plenty of time to chat, since my corporeal form didn’t appear ready to awaken any time soon. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I’m just being neighborly.” He clucked his tongue. “But to visit without dessert? Poor form! Please accept my apologies.” He snapped his fingers. A second later, an apple pie appeared in his palm and he grinned. “That’s more like it.” He shrugged in a disarming manner as though seeking validation for being so considerate.

“What do you want?” I repeated, doing my best to look unaffected by his presence. Had the demon Kendall fed from earlier exaggerated Mephisto’s importance in Lucifer’s army? How couldn’t she have? In every incarnation, Mephisto hadn’t threatened me or even laid a hand on me.

“How inconsiderate,” he said.” I come bearing dessert, and you disregard my good intentions?”

“You’re a demon. You don’t have good intentions.”

He tossed the pie at my body.

I lurched toward my physical form, but the pie swept right through my chest and vanished behind the wall.

“An illusion,” I said, breathing heavy.

“Just as illusory as the air you
think
you’re breathing. Your confusion is warranted, but I can’t feel sorry for you, because let’s be honest, you’ve had this coming.”

“Oh, really? And why is that?”

“You’re a witch, for one. That attracts creatures of all sorts. They’re drawn to the power that made them, even if you weren’t the one responsible for their creation. Toss in your penchant for killing your family members and…” Rather than conclude his sentence, his eyes grew bright, obviously sparked by an intriguing thought. “Hmm. You’re rather committed to offing those you’re supposed to love. And that goes one step beyond a prerequisite for my line of work – the murdering for sport angle.” He narrowed his eyes, uncertain if he should follow through with whatever crossed his mind. “We tend to be somewhat solitary and distant. Not by choice, mind you, but by the nature of our business.”

“In the extermination business?” I sensed that I wouldn’t get any answers from Mephisto by asking him directly, so I intended to play along in hopes that he might let something slip. Besides, it’s not like I had anything else to do while my body slowly expired.

“Or eradication. Termination. Extinction.” A gentle smile played along his lips. “Just as long as when you’re working, there isn’t any deliberation, consideration, or hesitation. But you definitely need concentration.” He grinned. “Don’t want to be hasty and make a mistake. This one time, a colleague of mine – he was new on the job – loved finding new ways to fulfill his duties, so he decided to duct tape dynamite to a human head in hopes of seeing…” He flinched as though envisioning the results. “There was some major cleanup involved that took longer than expected, and let’s just say, we do our job best without attracting unwanted attention.”

I had no problem exaggerating and stalling in hopes that Celestina told Brandon where to find my unconscious body. Given that scenario, I hoped he’d contact Kendall or Nolan and tell them to call the paramedics. Then again, no one would be able to prevent me from turning into a werewolf…unless Celestina repaired my injury.

A hesitant smile formed on his lips. “There’s an untenable amount of tension between us.” He considered me with a fair amount of introspection. “I hope I’m not being too forward, but…would you like a job?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got a nutjob for a sister. She’d be a better fit. If you’d like, I could put in a word.” Although I knew it was a ploy to appeal to my kinder instincts, I couldn’t overlook that I no longer felt anxious around him.

Ignoring my suggestion, he said, “You get free reign with murder and mayhem. No restrictions.”

“Sorry.” His disarming demeanor put me completely at ease. “I’m gonna pass.”

“Playing hardball, huh?” He gave me a respectful nod. “That shows true commitment to your nature. How about this? Since I consider you a top prospect, I’ll toss in…possession. You can wear any human like a suit. Sound good?”

“It’s a tempting offer, but morals? Kind of a bitch.”

“Ah,” he said, raising a finger as a slow smile crept across his face. “But here’s where it gets interesting. I could eliminate those for you.” He pulled close as though confiding in a friend and spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “And did I mention our benefits package? Competitive doesn’t do it justice.”

“You’re one helluva salesman, but contrary to your opinion, I’d rather skip the violence.”

“You’re right,” he acknowledged with a nod. “It tends to get a little monotonous. Don’t get me wrong, being a demon is…” He rolled his eyes like a twelve-year-old girl. “…so much work. The relentless drive to succeed and fulfill your potential every day…without a vacation on the horizon?
Definitely
a lot of long hours at the office! And the stress?” He rocked on his heels as though a slight gust of wind almost knocked him over. “Don’t get me started!” He shrugged with an aw-shucks manner. “What can I say? I’m an overachiever, so I guess I asked for all this. You can respect that, right?”

I stared at him, shocked.

“What?” He slid a couple fingers across his lips. “Do I have ketchup on my lips?” He held out a hand as though I’d accused him of cannibalism. “Remember, I’m a demon. I’ve got no interest in sucking blood from humans.” He took in a breath as a repulsive look came over him. “So…barbaric! But Paul McCartney was right: Live and Let Die.”

Mention of Rock ’n’ Roll removed some of my astonishment. “The expression is ‘live and let live.’”

“True, but given my profession, I really can’t condone acceptance on such a grand scale. It goes against my nature.”

“You keep referring to being a demon as a job. It makes me think Lucifer has henchmen as professors with course titles like, ‘Accounting for Demons’ or ‘Leadership Practices and Principles in Demonology.’”

He smiled as though appreciative that someone had noticed all the effort it took to be a demon.

“I guess you’re here hoping to make a deal, right?” I asked. “You revive me, cure my werewolf bite, and I give you the sword?”

“You drive a hard bargain,” he said, sighing as though their negotiations had left him exhausted. “But I accept your offer.”

“Wait, wait, wait. That wasn’t an offer. It was a question.”

“Are you sure? It sounded an awful lot like a proposal.”

“Why?” I asked, trying to act nonchalant since I didn’t trust Mephisto. “Because my life hangs in the balance?”

“That isn’t an incentive?”

“No. Why should it be? I’ve been dead before. Not that I recommend it or anything.”

“So the possibility of dying doesn’t frighten you?”

Rather than admit the truth, I said, “You’re a demon. Why haven’t you tried to kill me when I was corporeal?”

“Would it make you feel better if I did?”

Far from uncovering any relevant information, I suspected Mephisto knew that I played along in hopes of obtaining new insight into his intentions, so I decided to be more direct. “The sword. That’s why you’re here. It’s why you visited my house the other day. Interrupted me when I was sleeping?” Seeing the glimmer of a smile, I couldn’t sever the indignation rising inside me. “How dare you! You weren’t invited!”

“You’re right,” he said as an apologetic frown split his lips. “I should I have called ahead and made a reservation.”

“An invitation, not a reservation. My home is not a hotel!” I stared at his perplexed expression for a long moment…until I noticed a playful smile appear on his mug. No matter how naïve or oblivious he might act, Mephisto knew a lot more than he let on. Irritation ignited inside me. “I don’t care if you’re a demon, you still need an invitation.”

“But if I could just appear—”

“No,” I shouted. “No invitation, no entry. Got it?”

“You seem a tad upset.”

“You scared my dog, you asshole!”

Mephisto lowered his lashes, feigning hurt pride. “One day, I hope we can get past this travesty.”

“Besides, I couldn’t give you the sword if I was asleep. Why didn’t you just steal it?”

“I’m not a thief,” he said and winced as though he found the idea offensive. “I have scruples.” He shrugged as a tortured expression took hold of him. “It’s one of my flaws.”

“But killing people isn’t?”

“Of course not. I enjoy my job. You know how it is. You’re good at it. You must derive some pleasure from—”

“No!” I shouted. “I don’t like killing anything. Not even bugs. I sidestep them on the street.”

“Not even spiders?” He shivered with revulsion. “They’re such hideous creatures.”

“If they’re in the house, I scoop them into a cup and let them outside.”

Mephisto set an index finger against his temple, lost in concentration. “But you don’t hesitate to kill witches and vampires. Who’s next on your hit list? Werewolves? Shifters?”

Once again, he tried sidetracking me to take control of the conversation. Rather than lash out at him in anger, which would have come naturally for me, I attempted to return to the topic at hand. “Watching over me while I slept? It’s pretty damn creepy, don’t you think?”

“I’ve got to keep tabs on my subjects.”

“You’re a demon, not God!”

Mephisto chuckled, but seeing how I glared at him, he broke out laughing. “You are
so
clueless.”

It finally seemed like I’d hit upon something of value. However, if I inquired about his statement, he would surely re-direct the conversation. “You’re an omniscient demon, is that it? Puh-leeeze! Lucifer’s right-hand man?” I chuckled. “Probably only when he gets a hard-on.”

Any trace of easygoing personality disappeared, replaced by a bland expression. In fact, the only hint that suggested I’d annoyed him emanated from his eyes. They grew larger, more intense, even tempestuous.

“You doubt his magnificence, his grandeur, his—”

“Is he secretly the great and powerful Oz?”

Far from looking like the neighbor next door, his unsettling glare cut through my carefree manner and could have frightened the mythical hounds of hell, although given my experience over the last few days, I no longer regarded their existence as hypothetical but near certain. More than that, however, the red balls of fire blazing in his eyes made my insides clench.

I’d finally managed to unsettle him, but I sensed that I needed to take it further. If he planned to hurt my physical body, he could have already done so, although it didn’t mean he wouldn’t do just that at some point in the future, maybe even soon. Nevertheless, if I stopped insulting him, he would assume that I had backed down, and I needed to keep him off-balance in order to get some answers.

“Face it,” I said, “Satan’s a flunkee. He got tossed out of Heaven. If he was God’s equal, he wouldn’t have been serving the Lord in the first place. And if he was so tough, he wouldn’t have allowed God to kick him around.”

Mephisto breathed so heavily and scowled with such vehemence that it looked like he would soon erupt with anger.

“You look constipated,” I said. “Ever try a high fiber cereal? I hear they pack a serious punch.”

Mephisto gritted his teeth. His jaw tightened as he trembled with tension.

“I respect your loyalty, but dedicating your life to Lucifer? Pretty misguided, don’t you think? I know what you need. A therapist! You can talk things through, get things off your chest. You’ll find that he probably wants my sword because he’s got performance issues. You know, the phallic symbol and all. Either that or he hasn’t come out of the closet, which I’m guessing you know about, since you’re his right-hand man.”

Mephisto, shaking with rage, reached out with his right hand, grasped my throat, and hoisted me two feet in the air.

Although his anger made me quake in place, I was thrilled that I’d peeled back his unflappable nature.  

His body twisted and morphed in a pool of ooze, his flesh turning dark gray, his hair growing long and coiled like Medusa, minus the snakes, although it looked teased as though he’d used a full canister of hair spray to keep it standing on end. Undulating ripples appeared across his forehead as his eyebrows arched like sharp daggers above a sneer with pointy teeth jutting as he hissed. All the while, those flaming eyeballs glared bright.