Demonized (7 page)

Oh man.
The thought of the demon getting off on this killed any lust I might have felt. I gave up the tough-but-fair approach and just went for tough. “We’re going home,” I muttered, grabbing Anna in an arm lock and frog-marching her to her car. She giggled and writhed against me as we walked. Her butt ground against my crotch. I gritted my teeth and recited nursery rhymes in my head to keep the Voice quiet, as well as distract myself.

When we reached Anna’s car, I fished her keys from her pocket. She ground her hips against me again as I did, and it was hard to breathe properly while I shoved her in the back seat. “You’re going to be so fucking embarrassed in the morning,” I told her, climbing into the driver’s seat.

She draped herself over the seat, running her hands through my hair. “Come on, Ethan,” she purred. “I know you want me. I’ve seen you check me out.”

“If I crash the car and we die, I’m going to spend my afterlife sexually harassing you,” I told her, elbowing her off me. “Sit down, for fuck’s sake.”

She laughed, falling back in her seat. The laugh sounded sultry and sordid, the kind of laugh that promised filthy, nasty sex, and the Voice loved it. “You’re missing out, Ethan.”

I bit my lip until it bled and started the car, trying hard to ignore the little moans and sighs coming from the back seat. I didn’t even look in the rear view mirror.
See, I’m not all bad
.

Clearly from the noises, Anna was being very bad. I could hear denim rustling as she wriggled around, a sound I could only describe as suggestive. She breathed like a phone stalker, and the Voice begged me to take a quick peek.

“
She’ll be devastated when the incubus’s power wears off. Imagine how humiliated she’ll be. It’s beautiful.”

I turned the car radio on as loud as it would go and gripped the steering wheel hard enough to hurt my fingers. I wasn’t going to look. Really, I wasn’t. I’d probably regret it later, but right now I just concentrated so hard on the road ahead that I thought my eyeballs might bleed.

I heard the distinctive sound of a zipper being pulled as I turned off the main street and headed for Anna’s place.
Good God, talk about the things sent to test us
.

“Ethan,” Anna sing-songed from the back seat. “Stop the car and come play with me.”

“
Do it.”

“
Fuck you,” I said aloud, to Anna and the Voice. “Fuck you both.” I sped up a little. The sooner I could dump Anna in a tub of cold water, the better. The car felt like a furnace, and I was sticky with sweat, desperate for a nice, cold beer, and a nice, cold shower.

The radio drowned out Anna’s breathy signs and giggled come-ons, and listening to some shitty boy band sing about their ex-girlfriend’s Chihuahua or whatever was a pretty-good mood killer. By the time we reached Anna’s apartment block ten minutes later, I could quite happily have killed her. She sprawled across the back seat, jeans around her ankles, hair a tangle around her pale face. She knotted one hand in her hair and the other crept down inside her panties. She looked deathly pale, but her eyes were bright, and she still pouted a little too knowingly. She cocked her finger at me. “Come and play, Ethan.”

“Anna, you’re an officer of the law,” I told her, dragging her out of the car and pulling her jeans back up around her hips, trying hard not to touch her butt as I did. “Comport yourself with some class, okay?”

She leaned into me, pressing her breasts against me, and whispered in my ear, “I have handcuffs.”

My control wavered.

I closed my eyes, counted to ten, and pictured the daddy-daughter-horse porn. It helped. “Okay, bath time.” I picked Anna up and slung her over my shoulder, fireman-style, and carried her up the stairs to her apartment.

Anna lived in the nice part of town, unsurprisingly, and the rent on these apartments would have kept Mutt in squeaky lamb chops for the rest of his doggy life. Everything was clean, all the lights worked, and the neighbors stayed indoors when they heard me clumping up the stairs with Anna hanging over my shoulder and giggling like a school girl about to be spanked. I appreciated that in a neighbor.

I’d only been here once before. Because it was Anna’s, the details were burned into my brain. She lived in apartment 154, thankfully only one flight of stairs up from the polished, pale gold lobby. Her door key hung on the same ring as her car key, and I had to dump her unceremoniously on the sandy hall carpet, while I unlocked the door. She lay at my feet, rolling around like a cat on catnip.

“I’m so hot. I’m so hot,” she moaned, grabbing at my jeans.

I hauled her upright. “We’ll soon fix that, kitty.” I marched her in and went straight through the tastefully bland living room to the bathroom. The tiles on the walls had dolphins and starfish on them, and I saw a pink bra draped over the radiator. I picked Anna up and sat her down in the pale blue tub.

“Water sports, Ethan?” she asked coquettishly, pressing her fingers to her lips.

“Lady, you just blew any chance of ever sleeping with me,” I told her, reaching for the showerhead. I turned the faucet on, turned the water to ball-shriveling-cold and let her have it.

Anna shrieked as the water hit her and her hands flew up to protect her face. An icy stream bounced off her onto me, sluicing some of the sweat away, and I sighed in relief.

“Ethan, you bastard! What the hell!” Anna stared at me through the rush of water, eyes wide and furious. Her hair plastered against her face, which had some color back in it now. I couldn’t help smiling.

“You okay in there, Detective Radcliffe?” I asked, turning the faucet off. “A little more calm and collected?”

“What the fuck is this, Banning?” She sat up, gripping the tub for support and peering around, blinking. “How did we get back here?”

I perched on the toilet seat, giving her some space in case she decided to hit me. “You don’t remember?”

“I don’t remember anything after leaving Hush,” she said, climbing out of the tub and grabbing a towel. “What happened?”

She sounded calmer, like herself again. My shoulders slumped. The Voice sighed with a little disappointment that no humiliating crazy monkey sex would happen, but I was massively relieved. Anna would never have forgiven herself or me. “You got sick. Overheated, I guess,” I told her. “You passed out, so I drove you home and figured a quick shower would help.”

She frowned at me. “Well at least you didn’t take my clothes off,” she muttered, toweling off her hair. “Thanks,” she added.

“Don’t mention it.” I stood. “I’ll get out of your hair. Long day tomorrow.” Exorcism was probably best dealt with after a good night’s sleep–or as good as I could get, anyway.

As I passed her to leave the bathroom, she grabbed my arm. “You still didn’t tell me about Tamsin Searle. She’s the owner of the apartment we found Rhian in–do you think she’s involved with Rhian’s death?”

I shrugged. “Baxter’s going to get her number for me. She’s caught up in this somewhere. I just haven’t figured out how yet.”

“Well, call me once you’ve got her details,” she said, releasing me. “Good night.”

Dismissed. I tipped her a salute and left her to scrub herself dry, wondering if she really didn’t remember anything, or was just covering for herself. It wasn’t until I was outside in the humid night that I realized I had no way of getting home except walking.

“Fucking hell.” I kicked the wall of the building, ignoring the Voice as it laughed gleefully at me. I really couldn’t think of anything I wanted less right now than to walk the good hour’s walk from here to my house. I rooted through my pockets and came up with enough money for a bus. If buses ran at this time of night, which knowing my luck they wouldn’t.

I should have just fucked Anna when she offered. At least then I’d have a bed for the night.

* * * *

Mutt greeted me like I’d been gone for years. I knelt down in the hall to return the affection, letting him wash my face with doggy kisses. “It’s been a weird night,” I told him. “Girl trouble, you know?”

We settled down on the sofa and I automatically began flicking through the shopping channels, trying to numb my brain with infomercials. My protein shakes and coleslaw maker had yet to arrive, which I figured meant I hadn’t technically paid for them yet, so I bought myself a steam cleaner that a Stepford Wife-type presenter promised would revolutionize the way I cleaned my carpets.

“So if you do crap on the carpets, it won’t matter,” I told Mutt. “Don’t say I never give you anything.”

It was after eleven pm, and I felt bone-tired. I thought about dragging my ass up to bed, but rejected the idea with a shudder, remembering last night’s dreams. No, I wasn’t ready for bed yet.

I rolled a cigarette and ran through the night’s events, trying to create some kind of order from them. Mostly my mind kept coming back to Anna soaking wet in the bathtub, but I pushed that image aside for later. Walker Moss was an issue too, but again I figured he could wait. It wasn’t my business, after all. None of the girls at Hush suffered as far as I saw.
Maybe not everybody was prone to obsession after sex with an incubus? Maybe Rhian, already unhappy and vulnerable, was the exception, not the rule
.

Either way, as creepy and wrong as Moss’s set up was, it wasn’t relevant to me right now. Basically, the only thing I’d really learned tonight was that I wanted to speak to Tamsin Searle, and that Anna looked good in a wet blouse.

I checked my phone in case Baxter had called, but there was nothing. I smoked a couple more cigarettes, drank a couple of extra-strong coffees and watched a terrible made-for-TV movie about a sexy young couple who traveled to France and got caught up in some sexy adventures with a sexy farmhand. Or something, I don’t know. I just didn’t want to go to sleep. The Voice was waiting.

Mutt fell asleep with his head in my lap. His paws twitched as he chased dream-rabbits. I stroked his wiry fur and stared out the window, watching the occasional car roll quietly past in a blur of headlights. I was so tired. My head pounded and my eyes ached, but I felt too scared to close them. My dreams weren’t going to be as fun as Mutt’s. The Voice promised me that.

“
You think it’s been bad before? I’m going to take you to hell.”

I rubbed my eyes and wondered if a shot of whiskey would help. Probably not, but I had one anyway. Then another for good luck. By now, it was well past midnight, the sky outside turned slate-gray with misty yellow streaks, and I wanted to pass out more than anything in the world. So I had another whiskey.

After the third shot, I couldn’t stay sitting down anymore. My legs twitched and itched, and I paced the living room, rubbing my burning eyes and muttering to myself to block out the Voice’s whisperings.

“
Lie down. Close your eyes. Sleep. Dream. Scream.”

“
No,” I grated. I could make it for a few more hours. I was due back at the Overture Church early this afternoon.
After that–if Crane comes through for me–I might be free of the Voice. Then I can sleep all I want, but now, no, no way
. I could make it through the night and make it through the morning. I didn’t need a nap or a snooze or a doze or anything. I would stay awake if it took all the whiskey I had.

* * * *

It took a whole bottle of whiskey, and more cigarettes than I could count, not to mention some genuinely horrible movies, but I stayed awake. All the time I fought off the Voice and exhaustion and watched the sun rise on another humid day as sticky heat poured over the streets. Once the sun rose, the Voice backed down a little. I lurched upstairs to the bathroom and considered my reflection blearily in the mirror.

I looked very drunk, which made sense ‘cause I was. My dark blonde hair was lank and mussed from me running my fingers through it and my eyes were bloodshot and shadowed. I really needed to shave. I was pretty sure I stank too, but I couldn’t tell over the smell of cigarette smoke and whiskey clinging to my nostrils.

I wished again I’d slept with Anna when I had the chance. No way would she throw herself at me like that again. I looked like a hobo fallen on hard times.

I thought briefly about showering and shaving, but was too drunk to be sure I wouldn’t cut my throat or slip on the soap or something. So I just changed clothes and treated myself to plenty of deodorant.

Then I wasn’t sure what to do.

Mutt sat at the bottom of the stairs, whining hopefully, and I figured he was right. If I stayed in the house, eventually I’d fall asleep. “Wanna go walk?” I slurred at Mutt, who got the gist of it and began barking excitedly. “Kay. Daddy needs more tobacco anyway.”

I shoved my wallet into my jeans pocket and put Mutt’s leash on. It was too early for anybody to be around except birds and joggers.

Yeah, I got a couple of odd looks from the joggers.
Well, fuck ‘em.
Walking in a straight line is hard enough without those judgmental bastards staring down their noses at me.

My head was killing me. I couldn’t decide if the alcohol or the lack of sleep caused it. Probably both. Probably more the alcohol, though. The Voice advised me to take a nap in the middle of the road, but Mutt wouldn’t have let me even if I’d tried. He dragged me along the pavement, stopping to sniff every piece of stuck gum or discarded candy wrapper he found with manic excitement. He made me feel even more exhausted.

“Daddy needs a break,” I told him when we reached a bench on the street corner, under a shady elm tree. I sat down, knees like water, and rested my head in my hands. “I’m gonna die on my feet, Mutt.”

Mutt licked my face helpfully. I scratched his ears and closed my eyes, just for a second, just to ease the burning, not to sleep, not to nap or doze, just to block out the sun for a second, just a second…

Chapter Seven

I jerked awake when something cold and hard hit my forehead. Opening my eyes, I saw a couple of laughing kids disappear around the corner as Mutt barked frantically at them. The empty soda can they’d thrown at me dropped into my lap. I scowled at their backs, wishing I had something to throw back at them, like a brick. I rubbed away a sticky smear of soda from my forehead, trying to ignore the Voice laughing uproariously inside my head.