Demon at My Door

by Michelle A. Valentine

  He frowns. “You really should eat. Before and after. It helps with the…” Stealthily, his eyes dart around. “Muscle aches. After. You know.”

  Most eavesdropping people would assume he’s talking about sex, not killing two big time sinners, and then stealing their souls.

  I avoid the topic and continue to rub my stinging neck.

  He readjusts his backpack and sets his charcoal gray eyes on me. “I can rub it for you, if you want?”

  His hands stretch toward me, but I steer away. “No thanks. I think I got it under control.”

  “Come on, Nat. Let me help you. Please.”

  I groan, thinking of how nice some kneading on my aching muscles might feel. And maybe if Rick rubs it a little, I can get through the day.

  Quickly, I glance around. The coast is clear. I nod and then toss my bag on the floor. I pull my hair back and expose my neck to him.

  Rick lets out a little gasp, but quickly starts rubbing.

  I throw a protective hand on my skin, knocking his fingers away. “Is there something on my neck?”

  “No.” His voice wavers a touch.

  My eyes narrow. “You’re lying.”

  I crouch down and dig in my bag until I find my compact. Standing slowly, I search out the view of my neck in the mirror.

  My eyes bulge and I gasp. “What the…” I inch mirror closer for a better look at the faint black lines squiggled on my skin. “What the hell is that?”

  My fingers scratch at my skin in a desperate attempt to erase the lines.

  “Do you remember the tattoo on my chest?” My hand stills and I stare into Rick’s face, looking for answers. My brain pulls up the image of a shirtless Rick the night I nearly had sex with him.

  I’d like to forget that scary-ass, demonic tattoo—slithering snakes that formed a perfect circle and came to life—along with everything else. I learned about him that night. “Yeah?”

  His lips draw into a tight line. “Well, you’re kind of—”

  My breath catches. “What? Getting one?”

  He nods, his stormy eyes sad.

  I shake my head. “No. No, no. No! Why? I’ve still got one day.”

  “Which is why you only have the outline. It’ll fill in as time gets closer.”

  I stare at the lines in the mirror. “But if I succeed, it’ll go away right?”

  He grazes his bottom lip with his teeth. “It should.”

  “Should?” I growl and shove him away from me.

  His brow crunches over his eyes. “I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve done this before. I only know what happens to a person changing into a demon. I’ve never actually helped a person back out of a deal. People usually die after I meet them, remember?”

  My hair slides through my fingers and makes a black curtain over my neck, before squaring my shoulders.

  Great. One more way Rick’s completely ruined my life.

  I turn away and leave him standing there alone. My eyes burn, but I refuse to let my emotions take over right now. I need to be strong. All I have to do is help Rick collect one more soul and this nightmare will be over. I can do this.

  I head toward my next class.

  “Wait up.” Rick calls. I don’t stop, but he still refuses to go away. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a dick,” he apologizes as his arm rubs against me. When I don’t respond, he sighs. “Natalie, please. Will you just talk to me?”

  I roll my eyes. “What do you want me to say, Rick? That it’s okay about the hideous thing on my neck, and it’s totally not your fault?”

  He touches my arm. “It is my fault. I get that. I’m trying to make things right between us. I need you to see that.”

  I shake my head. Now is not the time to piss him off. It’s hard to be nice when all I feel is anger toward him, but I have to play nice until I get my soul back. I stop walking and show him a faint smile. “I know you’re trying. I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m sure it’ll go away, right. What does it mean anyway?”

  He smiles, but his eyes are still sad. “It’s the devil’s brand.”

  I bite the inside of my jaw. “Brand? As in what farmers do to cows?”

  He nods.

  “That’s sick.”

  “It is.” He shrugs and runs his hand through his hair. “But what can you do?”

  We walk to my classroom door. “Nothing, I guess.”

  He turns to leave, but stops like he forgot something. “Natalie, meet me in the parking lot after you’re done with classes today. We have work to do.”

  “You mean…” My eyes dart from side to side to see whose listening. “We can get the last one tonight?”

  His eyes crinkle as he smiles at me. “So I’ll take that as you’ll be there?”

  My whole body tingles with excitement and I fight the sudden urge to cartwheel down the hallway. “Hell yes.”

  His throaty laugh echoes down the hall as he takes a step back. The light from the fluorescent bulbs catch his eyes and makes them sparkle. “Then I’ll see you later.”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  I rush into Art class and Mrs. Wood’s narrows her eyes. She hasn’t exactly been my biggest fan lately. You’d think she’d be over the whole paintbrush throwing thing by now.

  A faint smile flirts across my lips as I take in our table. Stew’s been a busy boy. He already has all of our supplies laid out, and he’s working on his individual canvas. I’m actually surprised to see him considering Rick told him to stay away from me.

  “Hey,” I greet him casually, while my chair screeches across the floor.

  He doesn’t respond, really, just a quick nod, and back to business.

  “Can you pass me the black?” Stew asks.

  I locate the color he asked for. The black tube falls into his hand.

  “Thanks.” He says but doesn’t look at me.

  I watch him work for a few seconds, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. “Are you alright?”

  Stew shrugs. “Let’s not talk about it.”

  I scratch my head, unable to concentrate on my art. “Are you mad at me?”

  He blows a rush of air through his nostrils and scowls at his artwork. “I said I don’t want to talk about it. For once in your life can you just let something drop?”

  His words practically smack me in the face and I flinch. “What the hell is your problem, Stew?”

  He shakes his head as his eyes search the ceiling. He’s doing everything in his power not to look at me. “You didn’t wait for me, yesterday. I’m starting to think you like keeping me in the dark. I nearly killed Trevor yesterday because of all this. Killed him, Nat. And you can’t even wait for me like you promised to help me understand all of it. What if I killed someone else on accident while you were off alone with Rick?”

  He looks me in the eye. Is he jealous? My teeth graze my bottom lip. Stew doesn’t need to know that Rick thinks we have some sort of history together. I need them to work together, not fight. We have to fix not only myself but Stew as well.

  When I don’t answer right away, Stew mumbles, “I should’ve listened to Dad and stayed away from you.”

  My eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means”—Stew gathers up his things from the table—“I want you to stay away from me. Dad told me you’re the reason this is happening to me. He says you’re pure evil. I didn’t want to believe him, but maybe he’s right. Maybe you’re causing this to happen to me.”

  A tear slips down my cheek. “Fine.” I scoop my bag from the floor and throw it over my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll probably be dead soon anyhow. Problem solved.”

  I head into the hallway. Dr. Woods looks up from her desk, but doesn’t bother stopping me.

  I duck into the ladies restroom, needing some space. My arms help me turn and pivot up on the ledge we collectively call The Smoker’s Nook then sit down. The smell of stale cigarettes lingers around me. The rhythmic drip, drip, drip, coming from the faucet keeps me company.


  I lean against the cold, green block wall and goose pimples cover my arms. I shiver. I don’t remember it ever being so cold in here.

  The temperature suddenly feels colder, and my breath puffs out like white fog. With wide eyes I look around. Nothing’s in here. It’s just me and my Frosty the Snow Man breath.

  I tighten my black sweater around me. The faucet stops dripping and it catches my attention. I whip my head to stare at the sink and panic shoots through me because the water is still steadily dripping. There’s no sound. Only silence.

  The lump I clear in my throat doesn’t make an audible sound, either.

  My eyelids are open so wide that I feel like they might fold back into my skull. I frantically search the tiny room for danger. My breath comes out in ragged spurts, but I can’t hear a thing.

  The deafness I fear is confirmed when I jump off the ledge and no sound comes from my shoes hitting the floor. Hard. Shoving my index fingers in each ear canal and wiggling them, isn’t helping.

  What the hell?

  Slowly, I pull my fingers out of my ears and they pop like breaking the seal on a suction cup, but it’s still silent.

  There’s a sticky, stringy substance on my fingertips. I grimace and then wrinkle my nose as walk to the facet and stretch my hands toward the knob. They shake as I stare wide-eyed at what’s covering my fingers—nasty-yellow fluid oozing from the still bodies of a little brown roach.

  Quickly, I spin the knob and thrust my hands under the cascading water. The bug swirls down the drain as I scrub my fingers. Water still drips from my hands as I turn my head slightly to the side. I push my hair away from my ear.

  A silent scream erupts from my throat as I frantically bat at the constant stream of roaches crawling out of my ear and start covering the side of my face.

  I ram my head under the water and try to flush the bugs out. I squeeze my eyes shut as the water practically drowns me. Water blasts up my nostrils causing me to go into a coughing fit as I shift positions and start on the other ear.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Taylor Gee barks.

  Startled, I snap my head up.

  I can actually hear her.

  I thrust my body toward the mirror and stare in shock at my completely normal looking ears. Frantically I turn my head from side to side inspecting each ear thoroughly.

  No bugs?

  A sigh escapes my lips as I close my eyes in relief.

  I reach for a paper towel and risk a glance at Taylor. She’s staring at me with her arms crossed, like I’m a total crazy person.

  This time, she has every right to look at me this way. What sane person sticks their head in the sink at school?

  I try to cover myself with a fake little laugh. “Haven’t you ever had such a bad hair day, you want to wash it and start all over?”

  “You’re such a freak.” Her stance relaxes a little as she drops her arms. She walks to the paper towel dispenser, and then hands me one. “Of course, I’ve had days like that. But I’d never put my head in there.” She gestures toward the white sink bowl. “I mean, you don’t even have shampoo, do you?”

  I shake my head. Cold water drips from my hair onto my shoulders, making me shiver.

  She sighs as she runs her fingers through her hair, and stares at herself in the mirror. “God knows, I have lots of days I’d like to do over.”

  My hands stop blotting my hair, and I stare at her. “Your life is perfect.”

  She bites her bottom lip while she still gazes at herself. “Forget it. You’re right. What room do I have to complain?”

  She spins around and strides toward the door, and suddenly I feel like an ass. Maybe she has her own demons to contend with—not the literal ones like me of course—and I shouldn’t be so judgmental. She’s been trying to help me.

  "Taylor, wait.” She pauses with her back still toward me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay,” she snaps. “It’s fine,” she says before she turns to face me. “I just came to let you know that I think I found the answer to your demon problem.”

  Hope fills my chest. “You did?”

  She nods. “In the book Grandma gave me, it says you have to sacrifice the demon who owns it.”

  Great. That’s pretty much impossible. I’ve tried countless times to kill Rick without success. “Does it say how to do it?”

  Taylor pulls a piece of folded notebook paper from her back pocket. “I wrote it down for you because I really didn’t understand it. Hopefully, this helps you.”

  I take the note from her. “Taylor…” I open the note. “Thank you.”

  She smiles. “Good luck.”

  Once I’m alone, I carefully unfold the note.

  To obtain a soul from a demon. The owner of the soul must sacrifice the demon that marked the soul. Meer mortal tools will not work on demonic souls. The sword of Michael the Archangel is the only weapon known to mankind that is fully capable of killing a demon. The exact whereabouts of the sword is unknown. Legend says the sword fell from Michael’s hand during the war in haven and landed somewhere on earth.

  Sorry, Natalie. This was all I could find.

  Taylor

  My heart sinks. Looks like there’s only one option since finding some lost, angelic sword doesn’t even sound remotely possible.

  I sigh and rub my face. Guess I might as well face the facts. There’s no way out of this deal other than getting one more soul to take my place.

  ****

  Rick’s sitting at his usual table located in the back of the library, with his nose stuffed in a book—one he finds comical about demon’s no doubt—when I walk in. With light footed-steps, I march over to him and slide into the seat next to him.

  He raises his eyebrows. “Well this is a surprise.”

  “Yeah. This can’t wait,” I say while his eyes flick to my wet hair.

  “What happened?”

  I debate on telling him about the whole bathroom scene, but decide against it. No way do I need him to know that Taylor and I have been plotting to kill him. “Don’t ask.”

  He laughs. “Well, I hope you didn’t run into anymore levitating guys who freak you out.”

  I roll my eyes. “This isn’t a joke, Rick.”

  His smile leaves his face. “I didn’t plan on telling you that way, you know. It’s just that, I was really into what we were doing, and I let my powers get out of check.”

  My face heats, and for the first time in a long time, tingles fill my stomach. Thinking about Rick that night, the way I was ready to give into him, floods my mind. “It would’ve been nice for you to tell me, instead of freaking me out with it.”

  The corners of his mouth turn upward, in a half smile. “Like you would’ve believed I was your demon.”

  This time I smile, because I know he’s right. “I would’ve probably just accused Stew of telling you about it or something.”

  He runs his hand through his hair and pushes it away from his face. “Stew pisses me off. Why would you even like an asshole like that? I would kill to be with you.”

  I recall the story he told me in his car the other day. “You kind of did, didn’t you?”

  He chuckles and shrugs. “You’re right. I guess that’s how we’re in this mess to begin with, huh?”

  “So, you really did kill people? I mean, when you were human.”

  “Yeah, I can’t say that was my best moment, but when I got to your family’s farm and found you dead, I kind of went berserk.”

  “I really wish you’d stop saying ‘you’. It creeps me out.”

  “But it was you.”

  I shake my head. “No, Rick. It wasn’t.”

  We sit in silence as he picks at the corner of his book, and my curiosity stirs about the girl he killed for to become what he is.

  “So how’d your girlfriend die? She was murdered, right? And then you went after the men who did it and killed them.”

  He nods and his charcoal eyes appear full of sadness.
“Yes. It wasn’t my finest hour. I shot them both in the back, and in those days you had to give the man a fighting chance, not shoot him like a coward. The Sherriff saw the whole thing go down. The town’s folk strung up a noose, demanding justice. But before they had the chance to hang me, Lilim came and made a deal.”

  “Why did you take the deal?” I whisper.

  He pulls his lips in tight causing his jaw muscle to flex. “To see you again. Lilim told me if I take the deal, there was a possibility I might find you again someday.”

  “What’s the deal between you a Dr. Fletcher?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I chew the inside of my jaw. “Well, I know why you want me to become a demon. What I don’t get is why Lilim wanted to transition you into one? She wasn’t some old girlfriend too, was she?”

  Rick shakes his head. “No Lilim’s interest in me was purely…physical.”

  My head pushes back. “Ew.” Flashes of Dr. Lilim Fletcher and Rick tangled up in a kiss causes my stomach to lurch.

  He laughs. “It never got that far. Trust me. You’re the only woman for me. Lilim can’t hold a candle next to you.”

  A lump builds in my throat, and I swallow it down. “Rick…I’m not--”

  Rick cuts me off. “I know you don’t believe me now, but it’s true. You’re just the same. It’s you. I knew it when I laid eyes on you sixteen years ago.”

  A warm tear glides down my cheek as I think about how much he’s been through just to try and find his true love again. True love like that only exists in movies and fairy tales. I can’t imagine loving someone so much you’d be willing to do Satan’s work, but I see the love in his eyes. Love he thinks belongs to me.

  Rick rubs his eyes. “Look at me getting all mushy on you. New topic. One that doesn’t bring tears to that pretty face of yours.”

  I dry my face with the sleeve of my sweater and clear my throat. “Oh yeah. I almost forgot what I came in here for.”

  He leans into me, and puts his elbow on the table while he waits on me to spill it.

  "Do you mind ditching your classes, because I want to get this deal done as soon as we can?”

  He leans back in his seat and folds his arms. “How soon do you want to leave?”