by Terri Garey
I handed him a paper towel. “We should call your dad,” I said, hoping the worst was over.
“No.” Josh shook his head. “I’ll just go.”
I stood, ready to look for my car keys. “Okay. I’ll take you home.”
“I’m not going home.”
“What do you mean, you’re not going home? You have to go home.”
“No, I don’t.”
I began to understand how quickly a stubborn teenager could try your patience.
“Your dad must be worried sick.”
“He’s not my dad.” That stony look I’d seen in the police station was back on his face. “And I hope he is worried sick.”
I found myself frowning. “Shame on you,” I scolded, sounding for all the world like my own mom would’ve if she’d been there. “He loved your mother, too, you know, and he probably has plenty of his own guilt to deal with. Give the man a break.”
Josh shrugged, choosing to look away and play it cool again.
“What about your mom?”
I wasn’t above playing dirty to get him in the car and out of my house.
“Her service is today, at four o’clock at St. Patrick the Divine. Are you going to miss your mom’s funeral just because you’re mad at your stepfather?”
His face, already pale, went white. For a second, I thought he was going to be sick.
“Will you go with me?” he whispered, catching me off guard for the second time that day.
I sighed, giving him a look. Doomed, I was doomed. “Only if you shower first. Shampoo and towels are in the bathroom down the hall, second door on the right.”
So much for a quiet afternoon on the couch.
He swallowed, trying to regain his cool. “You won’t call my dad while I’m in there?”
I noticed his slip, and wanted to smile, but didn’t. “No, I won’t call your dad.”
CHAPTER 18
St. Patrick the Divine was a huge, vaulted cathedral on the outskirts of Atlanta’s midtown district. I’d never been inside, but I knew where it was. It was an institution, and if you were unfortunate enough to need a funeral, this was a pretty impressive place to have it.
Angie Rayburn must have been loved, because a steady stream of people were going inside.
I’d loaned Josh a plain black T-shirt—I had plenty of those—and the tuxedo jacket Evan had left in the hall closet last New Year’s Eve. It was a little big on him, but nobody would notice, and he looked far better in it than whatever suit his dad might’ve picked out, I’m sure. His jeans were his own, and none too clean, but they’d have to do. At least his carefully sleeked black hair was clean. He was still pale, but I liked to believe that he looked stronger than he’d been when he’d first shown up on my doorstep.
He looked older, too. With his hair slicked back and his face clean, I could see the young man emerging from the bones of his face.
I hoped, despite what Selene said, that he’d be a good man.
In fitting with the occasion, I was also wearing black, from my velvet jacket to my suede scrunchy boots, with a flowy black gypsy skirt and a long sweater. Beneath the skirt I wore a pair of warm, black tights. It made me feel better to know that if I needed to, at any time during the service, I could strip off the skirt and run like hell without exposing my assets.
Nervously getting out of the car near the cathedral, I looked around for Selene, wondering if she was going to show up and interfere, or if, having delivered her warning, she’d leave me to my fate.
I’d made up my mind, you see; I really had no choice. I had to do the right thing by Josh. I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, abandon a scared kid on the day of his mom’s funeral.
Thoughts and worries over Joe kept intruding, though. Now, more than ever, I was sure that I loved him, despite an occasional twinge of weakness over someone else. I was only human, after all, which was a big part of the problem. As soon as the funeral was over, I was going to do my very best to find Joe and talk to him. I’d tell him the truth about everything, I’d make him listen, no secrets, no interruptions, no fighting.
And if we were meant to be, he’d hear me, and we’d get past this.
If he didn’t, then we weren’t meant to be.
But I didn’t have any more time to think about it just then, because we’d arrived at Angie Rayburn’s funeral, the cathedral steps looming ahead.
Josh’s dad was standing in front of the open doors of the church, looking worried and sad and stretched to the breaking point. I saw his face in the instant he saw Josh, and knew the relief and caring there was genuine. He obviously loved his stepson, despite their differences.
“Josh.” He left off shaking someone’s hand to rush toward us, but we were still coming up the steps, and a woman in a large hat cut him off.
Beside me, Josh stiffened. “Be nice,” I hissed. “He needs you.”
The sidelong look I got for that statement was surprising—it seemed a bizarre concept to the boy. “No, he doesn’t,” he muttered.
“Yes, he does,” I whispered. “You’re still a family, even without your mom.”
“Josh.” David reached us, hand outstretched, but stopped short of actually touching his son. “Where have you been?” His glaze flicked to me, confusion clear. “I’ve been worried sick.”
“He showed up on my doorstep earlier today, Mr. Rayburn,” I said quietly, not wanting any of Angie’s mourners to overhear. “He’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
Liar, I called myself, quaking inside. The more I helped this kid, the worse Selene was going to make it for me, but what else could I do?
“Call me David,” he said to me, not taking his eyes from Josh. “Have you eaten? You look thin…are you all right?”
Giving reluctant nods to both of those questions, Josh offered a grudging “I’m fine. I’m sorry. Let’s just get through this, okay?”
David’s eyes filled with moisture, which he blinked back. He reached out and took Josh by the shoulder, firmly now, like a man. “We have to stick together,” he said softly, looking deep into his stepson’s eyes. “It’s what Mom would’ve wanted.”
Throat suddenly tight, I looked away and let them have their moment, hoping it would be enough to start the process of rebuilding some bridges.
“Joshua—oh, Josh, sweetheart, are you all right?” A woman rushed up, taking Josh by the shoulders, worry written all over her perfectly perfect face.
Of course. I struggled not to faint.
“I’m fine, Selene,” Josh said. “Don’t make a fuss.”
“Don’t make a fuss?” Selene exclaimed, drawing Josh into a hug that made it clear she knew him quite well. “Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick.”
I couldn’t miss her use of the word “we.” Spots appeared before my eyes, but I closed them briefly, warding off weakness.
David spoke up. “He’s fine, Selene, the boy is fine.”
“And who is this?” Selene turned an arched eyebrow in my direction, acting as if we’d never met before.
Josh said nothing. A quick glance revealed him scowling down at the ground, Selene’s perfectly manicured hand still on his shoulder.
“This is the nice lady who helped Josh,” David said, a bit awkwardly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name.”
“Nicki,” I murmured, still reeling.
“Nicki, this is—was—a friend of Angie’s, Selene Mathews.”
With friends like you, who needs enemies? I couldn’t help but wonder if Angie’s depression had begun before or after she’d met Selene. Either way, the cruelty involved made me sick.
She wore a black suit that hugged her curves in all the right places, yet still managed to be sedate. Her dark hair was pulled in a ponytail, low on her neck, and the only color on her was her lips, a muted shade of red.
I found her respect for the dead truly touching.
Not.
An older man came up to David and touched his arm, murmuring something in his ear.
“It’s time,” David said, taking a deep breath. He looked at Josh, who’d gone very quiet. “Thank you for bringing Josh home,” he said to me. “I can’t tell you how worried I was.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, “but I think you should tell him. He needs to hear it.”
Josh shot me an uncertain look, but I laid it on the line, despite Selene being right there, listening to every word I said. “Your dad loves you,” I said, “whether you think so or not. Your mom wouldn’t want you to blame anyone for her death—let the anger go, Josh.”
David swallowed and nodded, sliding an arm around Josh’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he said again, and turned his son toward the church.
“Thanks for everything,” Josh said to me, over his dad’s shoulder. His eyes met mine, apprehensive but bright, and I knew I’d done the right thing. I gave him a nod and watched as, together, he and his dad went toward the cathedral doors.
Selene lingered, Josh and David still in earshot. “Coming in, Miss Styx?”
“You go on ahead,” I said. “I’ll find my own way.”
And I would, too.
She gave me a “suit yourself” shrug and victorious little smirk. “You’ll find it alone,” she whispered, in a voice that sounded like the slither of a snake in the garden, “because Joe now belongs to me.” And then she walked away, letting herself be swallowed up by the group of people heading into the church.
I stood there until I was the only one left outside. And then I turned, looking toward my car, parked in the church’s lot. Sure enough, there was the telltale blond head; a man, leaning against my fender. He saw me looking and smiled, for all the world as if I’d been expecting him.
In a way he was right, because I wasn’t surprised.
He’d never finished his story, after all.
“What the hell is going on?” I marched right up to Sammy and demanded answers, tired of playing games. “What does Selene want with the Rayburns? Why is she in my face every freakin’ time I turn around?”
He watched me come, leaning against my car with his hands in his pockets of his coat, à la James Dean, if James Dean were the Devil. Unruffled by my approach, he waited a moment before answering.
“Love the jacket, but that baggy skirt and sweater hardly go with the sexy sprite look. You’re hiding your best assets.”
“Thanks for the fashion advice,” I replied, refusing to be sidetracked, “but nobody asked you. What is Selene doing here? Why is Josh so important to her?”
I didn’t want to think about what she’d said about Joe. I couldn’t think about what she’d said about Joe…
Sammy sighed, shaking his head as he eyed my long skirt with regret. “My guess is that the boy is not the least bit important to her—she just wants you to think he is.”
My brain seemed stuck. “What? Why?”
“Think, my darling.”
“Don’t call me darling,” I snapped.
“Selene could corrupt anyone she wanted,” he said patiently. “Boy, man, anything male on two legs would find it impossible to resist her.” His warning carried a personal note. “She’s a creature of great power who routinely bends men to her will, and she knows what she’s doing. The real question is, why would she want this particular boy?”
“She told me she was going to make him into the next Columbine kid or something—”
“Oooh,” Sammy interrupted, “nice touch.”
I gave him a glare for his insensitivity.
“Maybe she wants the boy, or maybe she just wants to torment you further while she dallies with your boyfriend. Your precious doctor has cheated our side out of a few souls himself, you know. It gives her pleasure to use ‘good’ to accomplish ’evil.’”
My blood ran cold at that one.
“Misdirection, misinformation, smoke and mirrors…I have to hand it to her, she’s learned a great many tricks through the ages,” he said admiringly. “If you’d just minded your own business that day at the hospital…” Sammy made a tsking noise. “She already had you in her sights, of course, but you gave her the perfect excuse to go after you, which is exactly what she was waiting for.”
“You know about that?” I mentally cringed, having hoped it would never come up. I didn’t want to think about that black mass of boiling evil I’d seen in the corridor—I had enough problems right now.
“Of course I know about that—the Darkness was quite hungry that day, and you denied it. Got the imps and the ethereals all aflutter, so they were happy to let her teach you a much-needed lesson. It cleared the way for her to do what she wanted, with no repercussions from the Dark side. Come, let me buy you dinner and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Are you joking?” I stared at him like he was from another planet, which, as he had just reminded me, he technically was. “After last night?” I took a deep breath, last night’s fiasco fresh in my mind. “How could you possibly think I’d ever go anywhere with you again?”
Imps and ethereals? No, thank you.
He smiled, blue eyes twinkling in the winter sun. “It was worth a shot.”
“Tell me what is going on with Selene,” I demanded. “No more ‘maybes.’ You know what’s going on, I know you do.”
“It’s simple, darling.”
I gave him a fulminating look, which anybody else would’ve heeded.
“You’ve pissed off the Dark side royally over the way you’ve played me for a fool,” he said lightly. “I’m willing to take my lumps like a man and deal with it—it isn’t over yet, after all. But there are others who don’t feel the same.”
“Others?” I asked faintly, still trying to absorb how anyone could possibly think I’d played Sammy Divine for a fool. That word wasn’t in his vocabulary. Hell, it wasn’t even in his universe.
“It appears my reputation as the Great and Mighty Satan has been tarnished,” he said, with a rueful smile, “by my attraction to a certain mortal woman with a penchant for do-gooding.”
“Right.” I wasn’t buying it. “What a load of crap.”
“It’s true, like it or not.” He gave me a bland look that almost—almost—had me believing he was telling the truth. “I should’ve dealt more harshly with you, I know that. Softness can so easily lead to a downfall…I’m proof enough of that.”
I stared at him, feeling very vulnerable all of a sudden. I’d begun to take for granted that he’d never hurt me, based purely on the fact that he never had.
“I—” Unsure how to respond, I blurted, “Thank you for…for not being harsh,” and left it at that.
He smiled, faintly. The silence between us was filled with something I couldn’t name—something sad, something wistful and fragile—there, then gone.
“I’m about to prove my critics right.” He sighed. “By telling you things I shouldn’t.”
“Tell me.” I didn’t care about his critics; I just wanted to be rid of Selene.
“The point here is that I’m the one being tested, not you,” Sammy said, stunning me into silence. “Selene is here to make your life a living hell, simply because I didn’t. I now have to choose whether to intervene, or to let you suffer the consequences of your actions. She knew I would learn of what she was doing. She wants to see how much power you have over me. Who will I choose to aid: you, or her?”
“Flabbergasted” is a word my mom used to use, and in that moment, I finally understood what it meant.
I stared down at the toes of my scrunchy boots, not seeing them. I focused instead on the pavement beneath them, gray and unyielding. After a moment, I raised my head and asked him shakily, “And when will you decide?”
“I don’t know.” Leaning back on my fender, he cocked his head and shrugged. “The way I look at it, I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t, so I see no need to hurry.”
CHAPTER 19
“So this is all your fault?” I was furious all of a sudden, fear taking a backseat to anger. “I’m some sort of a test among the inhabitants of Hell to fi
nd out how evil you are?”
He shrugged, beginning to smile as he always did when I got angry. “Enlightenment dawns.”
“The hell with enlightenment! You really expect me to believe that”—I waved a hand toward the cathedral, spluttering—“that creature in there is stronger than you?”
“I explained last night about the division of power,” he said calmly, reminding me of what he’d said in the coffee shop. “She is her own crea ture. I didn’t send her, she came of her own volition.” Another slow smile, lazy and self-satisfied. “I do, however, have the power to stop her, so I suggest you stop yelling at me. I suggest, in fact, that you become very, very nice to me.”
“Get your ass off my car,” I snapped, pushed to the breaking point by the implied threat. I’d never bargained with my body, and I wasn’t about to start now.
His eyes gleamed. The silence between us was very different this time, taut, knife-edged with tension.
I was trembling, a combination of fear and anger that left me feeling wild and reckless. “You’re never going to have me,” I said, voice low, “and blackmail is a piss-poor seduction technique.” Once started, I had a hard time shutting up. “But what else should I expect from the Great and Mighty Satan?”
How close I came to incineration I’ll never know, but I do know that if looks could cause a person to burst into flame, I was millimeters from it.
I bit my lip, holding his eye as long as I could, but I was the one who looked away first.
Sammy stood, rising from the hood of my car with careless grace. He turned up the collar of his peacoat, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked away, the silence he left in his wake more frightening than any words.
I watched him go, knowing that if I called him back I was doomed.
I was doomed any way you looked at it.
And since doom was right around the corner, and time short, I got in my car and did what my heart and mind had been urging me to do all day, and drove to Joe’s apartment.
This time, his car was there.