I Married a Demon

by Beverly Rae

  “What the hell is Blake doing on this side of town?”

  “I don’t know, darlin’. Would you like me to access the computer system at the main office and see what I can come up with?”

  “No, don’t.” I didn’t want anyone else to know I’d seen Blake coming out of a pawn shop. “Nobody in this area can afford his services and I doubt he’s hocking his wedding ring already.” I tried to add a chuckle to my joke, but the sound fell flat. “Why would an investment analyst visit a pawn shop?”

  Partner beeped, then highlighted the positive aspect of the situation. “At least he didn’t see you. How would you explain why you, a real estate agent, visited a pawn shop, especially after you lied and told him you had a meeting at the office this morning? I guess you could always say you were selling your ring. Ha-ha.”

  I nearly dropped Partner in surprise. “How’d you know I lied to Blake?” I glared at the glowing Happy Face on the screen.

  “Oh, sugar, the Society knows everything about you. You know how it is.” Playing the song “La Bamba”, Partner changed colors several times in an obvious, gadgety way to lighten the mood.

  I cringed to think what else the Society might know. Like why I had a set of fur-lined handcuffs hidden in my underwear drawer. The idea of MacNamara knowing about my sex life was not a pleasant thought. But now was not the time to worry about a possible exposé of my personal life. “Be careful, Partner. No one wants their secrets exposed.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.” Partner shut off the kaleidoscope of colors and resumed his cowboy image. “Speaking of work, darlin’, your other boss left several rather angry messages. I knew, however, you didn’t want me to interrupt you while you were busy doing real work. Would you like to hear them?”

  I groaned and knew I’d have to make an appearance at Swindle Real Estate. At least then I wouldn’t have actually lied to Blake about going to the office. “No, thanks. I can imagine what he said. But how did he get your number?”

  Partner responded with blinking lights which I assumed meant he was preparing his answer. Deciding not to sweat the small stuff, I cut him off. “Never mind. I’m not sure I want to know. Come on, Partner, I need to make a pit stop and get my weekly lecture on how I’m not performing up to Swindle agent expectations.”

  Taking the long route to Swindle Realty gave me time to consider other possibilities for locating the missing television and the Bracelet. With the introduction of the World Wide Web and online retailers such as eBay, fencing a valuable piece of jewelry to a pawn shop wasn’t the only avenue a thief had to dispose of a hot item.

  “Question, Partner.”

  “What ’cha need, darlin’?” Country music filtered out of the device’s speakers.

  Oh, man, talk about staying in character. This thing went all out in portraying his role. “Did the television work?”

  “Work? Actually, no, I don’t think it did. The rooms weren’t functional. They only needed to appear as though they were.” A very old song started, reminding me of the old westerns my dad used to watch.

  “In all likelihood, the thieves, once they figured out the TV didn’t work, probably dumped it. The question is…did they find the Bracelet before getting rid of the set?”

  “Is this your way of telling me we’re going dump hunting?”

  I gagged at the idea of traipsing through a landfill, digging through spoiled food, rat droppings and worse, to look for a television set. “Not a chance. I can get some regular uniformed cops to check the dumps. Besides, I have a nagging hunch the crooks found the Bracelet and sold it.”

  “Then it’s back to the pawn shops after you check in and get yelled at? I don’t know why you put up with the jerk.”

  I pulled into a parking spot outside Swindle Realty and cut the engine. “Ain’t that the truth.” Sure, it was only a cover job, but couldn’t I find a less demanding one? Blake had said he’d set me up in my own business. Of course, I didn’t actually want to sell real estate, so I had no intention of taking him up on his generous offer. Besides, a job as an agent, with the flexible hours and time out of the office, made a good cover for a Protector. The perks of the position, however, would be lost if I was my own boss. With my own company, I’d have to produce and make money. Yet I’d bet Blake wouldn’t have a problem with my quitting until I found something I liked better. I gave the fantasy of telling Herbert Swindle to shove the job up his ass a little play time in my mind’s eye. Letting out a half-sigh, half-groan, I scooted out of my car.

  “Partner, be quiet while we’re inside. Understood?”

  An angry-sounding whir answered me.

  I ignored the mechanical protests. Searching through the big window in front of the building, I spotted my best friend and confidant, Myra Shuster, in her seat at the receptionist’s desk. Myra waved at me, instantly brightening the prospect of my work day. Myra was the only non-Protector who knew of my alternate identity. I knew without a doubt I could trust her with my secret and my life.

  Funny thing, I still hadn’t told Blake about my real work and I wasn’t sure why. Sure, I’d known Myra for years and Blake for less than a month, but he was my husband. Didn’t he have a right to know? Yet something inside me wouldn’t let me tell him. I frowned at the thought. Obviously, I was the one with the problem. Striding toward the front door, I resolved for the hundredth time since marrying Blake to tell him the truth─then quickly realized I wouldn’t. Was I simply listening to my gut? Or was I afraid of what he might say? Would any man want his wife living a dangerous life? Deciding I had enough on my plate, I shelved the Blake-problem away for later and shoved through the door.

  Hiding behind the partitions dividing agents’ cubicles, I quickly right-angled my way toward my own little cubby-hole and hoped I’d managed to stay out of sight. The murmur of agents talking with prospective clients in semi-private cubbyholes or on the other end of a phone washed over me. As a less-than-mediocre agent, I didn’t rate one of the offices lining the sides of the building, but I was okay with my spot since my cubicle was a long way away from the den of the self-proclaimed lion, Herbert Swindle.

  “Jennifer Randall!”

  Apparently not far enough away. I scrunched my eyes together, held my breath, and braced for whatever might happen next. My boss’s whiney voice slammed me to a stop as effectively as if a three-ton rhinoceros had roared to life, blocking my path to my sanctuary. For about two seconds, I tried to pretend I didn’t hear him, but the fantasy didn’t last long.

  “Jennifer Randall! In my office. Now!”

  Myra, the sweetest person in the world, came up behind me. “He’s loaded for bear.” She took my briefcase, which was feather light since I had no clients at the moment and, therefore, no paperwork, and replaced it with my favorite cup steaming with coffee. “Take a sip before you go in. He took a look at the Board this morning.”

  The Board. God, how I hate the Board. Away from client eyes, a large dry-erase board hung front and center on the largest wall in the agents’ breakroom. Every agent noted their clients’ names, the sales prices and the closing dates on this board. Every agent, that is, except me. When you haven’t had a client in weeks, you can’t put anything on the Board. And Herbert hated it when an agent’s name wasn’t on the Board with at least one pending sale and many more listings.

  “You know you don’t have to bring me coffee, Myra. You’re the receptionist, not anyone’s gopher.” I blew on the steam rising from my Buffy the Vampire Slayer mug and sent her an appreciative smile. “But I’m glad you do.”

  Myra’s dark eyes twinkled and she tossed her head, making her mousy brown hair bounce. Her generous bosom peeked out from her skin-tight blouse and her skirt hugged her womanly hips. She rolled her eyes at me and pretended we didn’t have this same conversation almost every day. “You know I only fetch brew for my BFF and, of course, the boss.” She glanced in his direction and back to me. “One of these days I’m gonna stop playing doting secretary for the Herb and tell him to u
se his coffee for his next colonoscopy.”

  Herbert H.—yes, the second H also stood for Herbert—glowered at me from the door of his office. He fisted his hands on the hips of his frail body and narrowed his eyes at me. Did he really think the stance would give him an air of intimidation? It didn’t, but we all let him think it did.

  Myra yanked the bottom of her pink shirt down over the roll of her stomach, creating a clackety-clack sound from the chunky jewelry she loved. “Better go and get it over with. Try not to vanquish him like one of those demons you hunt—unless you call me first and let me watch.”

  I shushed her and checked the agents sitting closest to us to see if they’d overheard. “Watch it, Myra. You know you shouldn’t say anything about you know what.”

  “Sorry.” Sensing I needed it, she placed her hand on my shoulder and gave me a little push toward Herbert. “Good luck.”

  Herbert saw me heading his way, retreated into his office and closed the blinds. All eyes, as well as a few sympathetic looks, turned my way. Everyone knew what the closed blinds meant. Those closed blinds shouted, “Hey, everyone! Get off the phone. Jennifer’s about to get her weekly ass-chewing.”

  You’d think I’d have gotten used to the lecture by now. And, I guess, part of me had. Yet another part of me couldn’t get over the fact of someone, especially Herbert Swindle, speaking to me as though I was a poor relative he had to keep on the payroll. I was no poor relative to anyone, much less to Herbert Swindle. Nonetheless, I took a big breath and stepped into his office. “Did you want to see me, Herbert?”

  His beady eyes zeroed in on me, registering the use of his first name instead of the more respectful “Mr. Swindle” he told everyone to call him. “Close the door, Jennifer.”

  I followed his direction and pivoted to smile at him. I had to smile so I wouldn’t lose control and clobber him. “Sure thing. How are you today? Everything going well at home? The little missus happy and healthy?”

  I hated calling Mildred Swindle the “little missus”, but I knew Herbert liked the phrase. Supposedly, he thought of it as a term of endearment. Bleck!

  “Never mind my personal life. What do you think you’re doing? Or should I say not doing?” He lowered his scrawny butt onto the huge leather chair and leaned his elbows on the enormous desk in front of him.

  My gaze traveled to the framed picture on the wall behind him. Two mini-spotlights focused on the shrine-like photo of Herbert standing next to the Donald, shaking his hand and grinning at the world. I tried not to, but I couldn’t help but compare his comb-over to Donald Trump’s hairstyle. Would I soon be hearing those same fateful words “you’re fired” from Herbert’s mouth?

  “You haven’t had a listing on the Board for weeks. Have you decided not to pursue a career in real estate?”

  Oh, how I wished! But I couldn’t let him know I didn’t care a lick about real estate. How could selling a house to an aging businessman and his young trophy wife compare to saving the world from bloodsucking, soul-taking predators? “I’m sorry, Mr. Swindle.” He loved it when anyone played the deference card and addressed him by his last name. As if I actually respected him! I often wondered how such a big ego could fit in such a wimpy body. “I guess it’s taking me awhile to get back in the groove. You know how it is.” Not.

  “If I’d known you’d go into such a major slump, I would’ve thought twice about letting you take the time off.”

  I clenched my hands together and silently repeated my mantra. I don’t kill mortals. I don’t kill mortals. I don’t kill mortals. Yet even then my brain chanted back, “Just this one time. Just this one time.” He droned on and on, but at least the convo in my head kept me from hearing his words.

  “However, I am a kind and fair leader.”

  The clue for me to pay attention jolted me out of my head and into the lecture. Whenever he started referring to himself as a “kind and fair leader”, I knew the speech was almost over. He raised his eyebrows as if waiting for a response.

  “Oh, uh, yes. Yes, you are.”

  One eyebrow lowered while the other one arched higher.

  I knew he wanted me to say the words. “I mean, yes, you are a kind and fair leader.” My mouth tasted as if I’d taken a bite of dog poop. I had to resort to my Protector training not to hurl on top of his desk. How I wanted to make him pay for my humiliation. Surely unleashing one young demon on him wouldn’t cause too much damage, would it?

  “Good.” The stern employer morphed into a benevolent one, albeit an insincere one. “I’m sorry to have to speak harshly to you, Jennifer, but this is a business I’m running.”

  I nodded and turned to the door, but he wasn’t ready for me to escape.

  “Jennifer?”

  I closed my eyes for a moment before facing him again. Shit, this couldn’t be good. “Yes?”

  “I’ve scheduled an open house for tomorrow. The details are on your desk.”

  When I opened my mouth to object, he beat me to the punch. “No, no, no need to thank me. As the owner of the agency, I feel it’s my responsibility to help my agents whenever I can. This will give you a listing on the Board.”

  I clamped my mouth shut knowing I couldn’t reject his offer. “I appreciate it, boss.” I shot him a thumb’s up and spun around for the door. Trust me. No one could have gotten out of the office faster than I did.

  ***

  “Damn, how I hate that place. Three hours sitting in a cubicle at Swindle Realty is pure torture. Herb wouldn’t let me out of his sight until the clock struck six o’clock exactly.”

  “I understand old Herb put a bee up your butt, but it’s no reason to get us both splattered on the pavement.” Partner sounded a series of beeps as if sending out a warning signal. “Slow down, darlin’.”

  “How about calling me Jenn. I’m starting to feel like I’m trapped in a Clint Eastwood movie.” I risked a quick glimpse at the device on the passenger seat even though I was surrounded by harried rush-hour drivers willing to risk an accident to get home five minutes early.

  “Sure, Jenn. No pro-blame-o.”

  Within minutes, I’d pulled off the highway and navigated the neighborhood streets leading me home. The closer I got to home, however, the more I wondered─aloud, of course─about the message Blake had left on my office phone. “Blake has a surprise waiting for me at home. I can’t imagine what it could be.” I checked the screen. “Do you know?”

  “Sorry, not a clue. Don’t newlyweds give presents to each other during the first few months of marriage?” Partner’s cowboy image twirled a lasso over his head. “Like a new dress or a pretty calf?”

  Calf? Why would anyone want a cow in the city? “I guess so.” I frowned. “Then again, how would I know? I’ve never been married before.”

  “I reckon you’ll find out soon enough.”

  I whipped my Jag into the driveway, punched the garage door opener and pulled into my side of the garage. “Yes, I reckon I will.” Hopping out of the car, I waited for the reaction I knew would follow.

  “Hey! What about me?” A few clicks and beeps demonstrated his irritation.

  “You’re staying in the car. I don’t want you talking out of turn. How would I explain a country-talkin’, interactive phone to Blake?” Tossing my purse over my shoulder, I wiggled my fingers in a quick goodbye and started toward the garage entrance to the house.

  “What if I’m afraid of the dark?”

  Figures I’d get a neurotic machine as a partner. “Then you’ve got a long night ahead of you. Unless you’d rather I shut you down?”

  An angry buzzing sound left no doubt how Partner felt about my question. “Never mind. I’ll sleep in the car.”

  “Good thinking.”

  I passed through the laundry room and into the kitchen. “Blake? I’m home.” When I didn’t find him in the dining nook, I dropped my purse on the table and kept going. If he’d followed his normal routine, I’d find him in his office. I hurried in that direction but, hearing voices,
I slowed my pace. I couldn’t make out the words, but the tones were clear. I inched my way closer to the living room. Although I paused just outside the doorway, fully intending to snoop, guilt got my feet moving again.

  “Jenn.” Blake stood by the fireplace in the spacious yet cozy room, next to a man who bore an uncanny resemblance to my sexy husband.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” The stranger and I stared at each other, sizing one another up. I waited for an introduction until, finally, I had to force one. “I didn’t realize you had company. Are you a business associate of Blake’s?” I stuck out my hand for the handsome man to take and moved toward him, hand still extended.

  “Honey, this is my brother, Michael.”

  What Is This? A Soap Opera?

  I’m not sure which one dropped first, my hand or my jaw, but it was a close race. His brother? Until now, Blake hadn’t mentioned any relatives, much less a heartthrob of a brother. Who next? A long-lost alcoholic mother and a slutty twin sister?

  “Honey, are you okay?” Blake left his brother standing by the fireplace and moved to my side. His touch on my elbow brought me out of my shock.

  “Um, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m a little surprised is all.” Oh, yeah, I was surprised. Surprised as in knocked off my feet. I’ve seen headless mummies, decomposing demons, gutted ghouls and other horrendous things in my career, but an unknown brother showing up out of nowhere beat them hands down. “Your brother. Who knew?” Really. Who knew? Not me!

  Michael widened a familiar-looking grin and nodded. “I’m guessing Blake didn’t mention me much.”

  Try not at all. “Nope. Not much.”

  His gray eyes sparkled with mirth, reminding me of Blake’s. His dark hair, worn shorter than Blake’s, had the same slight cowlick over the right side of his forehead. No one could mistake them for anything except brothers. Why I hadn’t grasped the resemblance faster was beyond me.