Demon at My Door

by Michelle A. Valentine

  “We got bigger issues to worry about other than the mystery of who owns your soul,” Rick growls.

  I raise my eyebrows. “We do?”

  Rick nods and leans toward me, close enough that his cinnamon scented breath wafts around my face. “I found your first assignment.”

  I blink slowly, and my stomach twists into a humongous knot because of the way he enunciated the last word of his sentence. “You did?”

  He stares into my eyes. “You sure you’re ready for this? We could always transition you, and then you could take your time learning how to collect a soul while getting to know me. Once I clear your soul, then it’s back up for grabs to anyone who wants to take it if you make another deal.”

  My voice has a hint of panic in it. “I’ll never make another deal.”

  “Wait,” Stew interrupts and holds his hands out in a stop motion. “Are you saying there’s a way to get my soul back?”

  “Not yours,” Rick sneers. “You’re already a demon. Natalie has an opportunity to get hers back. A marked soul can renegotiate the terms of their soul’s contract with the demon that marked them.”

  Stew narrows his eyes when he faces Rick. “I’ve told you already. I didn’t make any kind of deal for my soul.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t believe you, Stew. I’ve seen Rick collect more souls than I can count. Meeting a demon”—I look at Rick—“isn’t something you forget. Ever.”

  Rick rubs his face. “If you truly don’t know how you got this way, it makes you even more dangerous than I thought. Until we figure out exactly what’s going on with you, I’d rather keep an eye on you myself.”

  “What do you mean?” Stew asks.

  “I’m saying you need to go home and pack your bags. I need you to stay close.”

  “Stay with you? Hell no,” Stew says.

  “It’s either that, or I kill you.” Rick shrugs. “I have to make sure Natalie stays safe.”

  “Stop it. Both of you,” I say. “I trust him, Rick. If he was going to hurt me he would’ve done it already.”

  Rick leans in and eyes Stew. “All the same. I’d feel better if I knew where he was at all times.”

  “Fine,” Stew says. “To prove to you I’d never hurt her, I’ll stay with you until you clear her soul. Then will you tell me how to make this go away?”

  “Deal.” Rick extends his hand to Stew.

  The second Stew and Rick’s hands meet my bones shake inside my skin. I close my eyes as the incessant vibration rattles my brain around in my skull. My palm burns like fire, and I try to breathe deep through my nose. The air feels so thick and it’s hard to suck it down into my lungs.

  The sheer power these two demons exude in a mere handshake makes me lightheaded and nauseous. My head drops as I will them to stop, because I can’t collect enough strength to voice how much pain I’m in.

  “Oh my God.” The rattle stops, and I open my eyes and look upon Stew’s face. His brows nit together as he reaches his hand toward my face. “You’re bleeding, Nat.”

  Before Stew’s fingers reach my face, Rick slaps them away. “Don’t touch her.”

  Stew’s eyes narrow as he looks at Rick and then drops his hand into his lap. “I wasn’t going to hurt her.”

  “All the same, I’d rather you not touch her. It’s not worth the risk,” Rick says as he hands me a tissue. “Our bargain overwhelmed her. We have a physical effect on marked souls. We need to be careful when the two of us are together. No more deals around her. Sorry about that, Natalie.”

  Scarlet stains the tissue as I wipe my nose. “I’m fine. Seriously. Can we please just get back on track for this soul collection? I’m already freaked out enough without adding the possibility that the combination of the two of you simply shaking hands can kill me.”

  “You’re right,” Rick agrees. “We all need to meet at my car at the end of the day so we can get started.”

  I swallow hard. I can’t believe I agreed to this.

  “You want me to come along?” Stew asks and seems surprised. “You just said it’s too dangerous for us to be around Nat at the same time.”

  “No.” Rick shakes his head. “I’ll be able to keep you in check. I’m older and stronger than you. That much I can tell about you, so for your sake, don’t try anything.”

  Stew squeezes his lips into a tight line, and it looks like it’s taking everything he has not too smart off to Rick.

  We all sit awkwardly in silence for a couple seconds. I’m still not sure if I can trust Rick and I wonder if Stew is really that dangerous.

  I study Stew’s profile. He still looks exactly the same to me. The same gray eyes and smooth, tanned skin still compliment his haphazardly styled brown hair and dimples. He doesn’t look like a killer.

  Then I look at Rick. I take in his chiseled cheekbones and soft, shoulder-length brown hair. He doesn’t look so scary either. They both look like ordinary guys. No hint of evil at all.

  My heart does a double thump in my chest with the thought of my attraction to both of them.

  I’m in so much trouble.

  Chapter Twenty

  Rick leans against his car as I approach him. His arms are causally folded across his torso and jet-black sunglasses cover his eyes as he stares off in the distance. I follow his gaze and spot the Capital’s football team practicing on the field. My eyes instantly search for Stew’s number—40—in the mass of purple and white jerseys.

  Tucking my black hair back for a better look, I distinguish Stew from the rest. He’s throwing passes to the guys as they run one by one to make the catch. Sunlight bounces off his helmet, and even from a distance, I feel the power he exudes on the field.

  With sunglasses on, Rick’s eyes are unreadable. “You ready?”

  I swallow hard. “Ready? I thought Stew was coming with us.”

  “I don’t think having Stew around is the best idea. After what I saw with Trevor the other day, I don’t think he can keep his power in check. The combination of my power and his may kill you, Nat. And I can’t have that. I told him what he needed to hear today just to appease him.”

  My insides churn. Even though Stew is a demon, I still feel a lot safer with him with me instead of being alone with Rick.

  The thought of riding in this car alone with Rick makes my pulse race, but I want to be free. Plus, I have a canister of salt in my bag. If he tries anything funny, I won’t hesitate to use it.

  “Let’s just get this over with,” I say, walking toward the passenger side.

  Rick dashes around me and grips the door handle before I get the chance. “Do you want to eat first or anything?” he asks as he opens the door.

  Sliding in the car, I answer, “I think I’d prefer to send people to hell on an empty stomach if you don’t mind.”

  He shrugs. “Suit yourself, but eating helps.”

  “Helps what?” I ask, completely clueless as to what he’s talking about.

  “Making deals takes a lot of you. It drains practically all of your energy and eating helps balance that out a little.”

  I shake my head. “I already feel sick to my stomach. Eating now will just make me puke.”

  Rick shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

  After he’s seated in the car, he rips through the parking lot, flinging gravel everywhere. Once on the main road, he glances over at me and smiles. Ugh. I roll my eyes. Dream on asshole. He has about as much chance of me liking him now as he did when he was in his little sadistic five-year-old form.

  When he turns into Dublin Methodist Hospital, my eyebrows shoot up. “Um, why are we here?”

  Steering his car into a visitor’s parking space, he answers, “The soul is here.”

  Chewing my bottom lip, I clench my bag tight against my chest. Rick gets out of the car and shuts the door behind him. When he comes around to the passenger side and opens the door, my pulse speeds. I can’t move. My feet are stuck against the floorboard of his car. I can’t do this. I can’t possibly kill someone. I though
t I could, but now I don’t think so.

  “Ready?” Rick asks.

  “No,” I whisper.

  “Have you changed your mind?”

  “No, but I don’t think I can go through with this.” Tears fill my eyes. “I can’t be a killer.”

  Rick squats beside me and rubs my arm. I should pull away, but his touch seems caring and that comforts me a bit. “Don’t think of it as being a killer. Once you get in there, your soul will take over since it’s marked. I haven’t collected a soul near you since I started your lifeline countdown for a reason. You’ll feel the evil in these souls now and be able to see what I see when I look at them. It’s not pretty most of the time. Some of the crimes these people commit can sicken you to the very core. A revenge feeling will take you over and push you to do things that right now you believe are unthinkable. It will get easier. I promise.” He stands and then holds out his hand. “Trust me.”

  Not even realizing I’ve been holding my breath until now, I blow it out through pursed lips. This sounds like it’s about to be the roughest soul collection I’ve ever seen.

  I put my hand in his. “Okay.”

  Rick leads me through the automatic doors of the hospital entrance. I let go of his hand once we are inside and shove mine deep into my pockets while the mixture of rubbing alcohol and sickness floods my nose. Like most people, I hate hospitals, so I stay close to Rick as he stops at the elevator.

  When we reach the fourth floor—The Oncology Ward—the hustle and bustle of the nurses and assisting staff is like a whirlwind, as we walk down the hall. My bones shake under my skin. We’re close now. That familiar vibration I always get around the damned zings through me, and I’m not afraid. I welcome it. This time the hum brings me closer to my freedom.

  I’m relieved we aren’t in the Cardiology Wing. I’d hate to have to explain to my father why I am here. I never visit him at work, so this would totally look suspicious.

  The staff must not notice us because no one stops us as we walk past the patient rooms. They have no clue we are here to murder one of their patients.

  Rick leads me down the long corridor containing the patient rooms and finally stops at 214.

  He turns to me, and says, “Just follow my lead, do exactly what I tell you, and this will go very smooth. You’ve seen enough of these to know how this works, right?”

  I nod stiffly while my heart thumps hard against my ribs. Just because I’ve seen a ton of soul collections doesn’t mean that I’m ready to actually participate in one.

  Rick gives his hands one solitary clap.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a nurse frozen in mid step as she pushes her big green medicine cart. Turning my head to get a full view of the hallway, I see all the people on this floor appear to be standing statues, stuck in the moment Rick clapped his hands. Time’s frozen. Just like when my mom was dying. Just like the first time I met Rick and all the other times he’s collected a soul near me. A ragged breath fills my lungs and I freeze, too. Not because of Rick, but because I can’t will my body forward.

  “Come on.” Rick takes my hand and opens the door. “This will be over before you know it.”

  The evening sun shines through the large double pained window and illuminates room 214. The strong stench of urine fills the room and I pinch my nose shut and breathe through my mouth.

  I gaze upon a sleeping old man in the hospital bed before me. His silver hair is thinning on the top and only a few strands still remain, covering his scalp. Age spots cover his forearms and hands. The long plastic hoses hooked to the opening in his neck fog up with each rhythmic breath the ventilator pumps into his lungs. The multitude of tubes attached to his right arm flow with an array of clear liquids.

  “Who is he?” I ask, never taking my eyes off the man we are here to kill.

  “His name is Floyd Jackson,” Rick answers.

  The name doesn’t ring a bell, but that doesn’t make this any easier. My eyes search around for a chart or something. “How do you know that?”

  Rick looks at me. “Part of the job perks. It’s like developing a sixth sense. We can tell a lot about a dying human just by being close to them.”

  I watch the man’s chest rise and fall. “You mean, you can tell who people are just by looking at them?”

  He nods. “Along with what sins they’ve committed.”

  Running my fingers through my hair, I stare at the old man I’ve been sent here to condemn. I knew this would be hard, but looking at him now, in the flesh, I’m not sure I can go through with it.

  What if this man has a wife, and kids, or could be the grandpa of someone I know?

  My arms snake in front of me, creating a cross like barrier. “I don’t know about this, Rick. It feels wrong. I can’t just kill him.”

  “The first one is always the hardest. Besides, this is an easy one. This man has murdered eleven children and doesn’t feel a drop of remorse for his actions. The world will be a better place once he’s taken out of circulation. He won’t be able to be reborn and commit more heinous acts against innocent kids ever again.”

  I gnaw on my chapped lips hard and soon taste a slight hint of metallic.

  “Kids?” I whisper.

  Rick nods and holds out his hand. “Let me show you.”

  My arms stays crossed in front of me. “Show me? I don’t want to see him kill people,” I say.

  “You have to know what he’s done so you can make the deal with him. You have to learn his weakness to get him to agree.”

  Tears well-up in my eyes. How could this feeble man kill so many kids? He doesn’t look like a killer or a pedophile. He reminds me of the rich old guys that hang around the country club. My whole body trembles, and I feel the sudden urge to bolt from the room. Run away and never look back.

  Rick pulls my hand down and threads his warm fingers through mine. “It’s going to be alright. Trust me.” He gives my hand a little squeeze. “Close your eyes.”

  Reluctantly, I shut my eyelids. My palm starts to burn as my bones begin to hum. Electricity passes from Rick’s skin into mine. My insides quiver as an image of a little girl flash in my brain. She’s wearing a pink sundress with matching shoes and her hair in two perfect brown pigtails. Her jump rope swings in perfect time while she sings. The girl can’t be older than seven. My breath catches as I see a man I recognize as a younger version of the old man from the hospital stalking the child. Panic fills me as I watch him creep up behind her.

  The jump rope smacks the sidewalk once more before he grabs her from behind. His massive hand covers her face and muffles her screams. Her green eyes are wide and terrified.

  The homicidal maniac drags the little kicking body into his white van that’s parked along the street corner. He jumps inside the van with the girl in his arms and then slams the door shut. Inside, the windows are covered over with cardboard boxes and the tools he uses to help him with this crime are strung around the floor.

  The girl bites his hand, and the man grunts in pain.

  “You little bitch,” he says before he punches her in the face.

  Her body goes limp, and he lays her on the van’s floor. He grabs the roll of duct tape and rips off several strips. His large hand smacks one piece over the girl’s tiny mouth and then bounds her arms together. He reaches under her sundress, and my stomach lurches.

  “No more!” I shout. “I can’t watch this.”

  Rick grips my shoulder and the vision morphs into a series of flashing pictures. I see the faces of several different little girls. They are all screaming and crying.

  My nerves scramble under my skin.

  Rick’s right. If anybody deserves a lifetime of hellish punishment, it’d be this guy. This man, Floyd Jackson, has never been caught. The girls’ faces sting my vision and I think about all of the innocent lives he’s taken. All of the families he’s ruined and my blood runs cold.

  Hate courses through my veins. No longer do I feel any remorse for taking this man’s life. I
want to hurt him—punish him. I want him to feel scared and weak, just like he made those kids feel.

  My fists ball at my sides. I can do this and I will.

  "What do I have to do?” I whisper as I open my eyes and glare at my victim.

  Rick nods--his eyes hard. I can tell he feels like I do, that this dirty old man deserves to go to hell. “This one’s easy. He’s in a coma, but he’ll be able to hear and respond. The dying can always communicate with us when we’ve come to make the deal.” He extends his hand, like an open invitation to move close. “All you have to do is whisper in his ear. Tell him what he needs to hear if you must. We are not above lying to get what we want. Convince him what he’s done deserves punishment. Make him say yes, so we can make him pay.”

  A chill runs down my spine. I focus on his large hand. The same hand I saw cover that little girl’s mouth, and I begin to tremble.

  “It’s okay. I’ll walk you through it,” Rick coaches while he stands right behind me. I feel his hand on my shoulder, and I nod.

  Kneeling beside the old man’s bed, I grasp the bedrails for support as my frame wobbles. I strain my neck and look at Rick for direction. He smiles and stoops down beside me.

  I frown. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Lie to him. Tell him that you know about the kids, and you’re here to make all the pain go away—to help him. The secret is too big to handle alone and all he has to do is give you his soul, and it will all go away.”

  Make this sicko’s pain go away? What about the pain he’s caused all the kids and their families? No. He needs to feel pain. He needs to suffer for what he did.

  Crouching there in silence, I debate on what to do. I can’t let him get away with murdering the innocent—I just can’t.

  Anger flows through ever cell in my body. Leaning in close to the old man’s hair covered ear, I whisper, “Floyd Jackson, I know about the children, you sadistic fuck. I can help you with your secret. Just promise to give me your soul, and I will make it all go away. You won’t have to carry the pain alone anymore. But first, you need to pay for what you’ve done. Don’t you agree?”