Demons

by Heather Frost

  I rolled my eyes at the both of them. “Come on, guys. Let him breathe for a minute, okay?”

  “Why should we?” Josie asked, one eyebrow cocked. “He didn't let us breathe last time he was over.” She was referring to the movie night that had ended with most of us dying of laughter on the floor.

  Patrick chuckled lightly. “Hey, that wasn't my fault. It was your hyena laugh that kept us going.”

  “Was not!” Josie protested, though her shining eyes contradicted the fierceness of her tone.

  “Was so,” Jenna interjected. “You were snorting and everything.”

  “What about Kate?” Josie reminded everyone.

  Patrick nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, Kate was pretty funny.”

  I smacked his arm with the back of my hand. “Are we all forgetting the fact that Patrick moved the couch?”

  The twins laughed together as we entered the kitchen. Grandpa was filling up a pitcher of water at the sink, and Grandma was just taking the cheesy chicken enchiladas out of the oven. She placed the pan on the stove and closed the oven door deliberately. She then tossed the oven mitts onto the counter and turned to face us, a thin smile on her face.

  Her aura was complicated. It always had been, but tonight—when I wanted to read it so badly—I found it hard to interpret. Which emotions were associated with tonight, and which ones had nothing to do with Patrick? I noticed immediately that the yellow in her aura was virtually absent. She wasn't happy. The blue was also being rapidly replaced by green uneasiness, and there were the usual stains of brown regret and gray sadness. The pain I saw was small, though, so I knew Patrick's presence wasn't the cause of it. And that was a relief. There was also another color mixed in with the rest that I'd never seen around her before—red. In my experience I'd come to think that red signified anger, or competition. Seeing it around Grandma left me more confused than enlightened, and I sort of wished that I hadn't searched her aura in the first place.

  If I hadn't been nervous before, I was now. Was she angry at me? Or Patrick?

  Jenna skipped around us to help Grandpa get some ice, while Josie continued to grip Patrick's wrist. I stepped forward and waved to Patrick, trying to swallow back any fear I felt. “Grandma, this is Patrick. Patrick, this is my Grandma Bennett.”

  He nodded politely to her, extending his free hand. “Ma'am, it's a pleasure to meet you. Kate's told me a lot about you.”

  Grandma took his hand and shook it once. “Patrick. I've heard a lot about you too.” She nodded toward dinner. “I hope you like enchiladas.”

  “They smell wonderful. Thank you for letting me join you tonight.”

  Her head dipped in appreciation, though the colors in her aura remained rigid. “You're welcome. Josie, please stop hanging on him like a monkey and help Kate set the table.”

  I took my indirect order in stride, leading the way to the cupboard that held the plates. I lifted a small stack down and handed them to my grumbling sister. She hefted them over to the wooden table in the corner, where Grandpa was just setting down the water pitcher. Jenna was putting cups at each place setting, so I moved for the silverware drawer. I felt Patrick following behind me, fully aware of my grandmother turning her back on us to focus on the enchiladas.

  I opened the long drawer, and Patrick set his hands on my waist from behind. His head ducked next to my ear, his whisper barely audible. “Maybe I should have been more nervous. She really doesn't like me at all, does she?”

  I just shook my head noncommittally, hoping it would somehow make him feel better, but I didn't dare speak. He shifted to stand beside me, and while I counted out forks, he pulled out a small handful of knives.

  When I pushed the drawer closed, he leaned in for a last quick comment. “I can't imagine being a Seer—she's scary enough without actually Seeing her disgust. Good luck.”

  The drawer thumped closed, and I sent him a small scowl. He smiled deftly, then led the way across the kitchen, back to the table. The twins continued to badger him about soccer games and piano recitals as he laid a knife beside each plate, and I was grateful for the distraction they caused. I passed off the handful of forks to Jenna and wandered over to the fridge, where Grandpa was looking for the salsa and sour cream.

  “She's more upset than I thought she'd be,” Grandpa admitted quietly, stooping lower behind the door.

  I sighed thinly. “Yeah. I've never seen her with red.”

  He chuckled very dimly. “It's not her best color,” he agreed. He pulled out the sour cream and handed the carton to me. I took that as my dismissal and crossed back across the room to get a serving spoon.

  Things got a little better after we were all seated and Grandma got some food in her. I watched as the red in her aura lazily retreated; still, I knew we weren't out of the woods yet. Grandpa's aura grew more relaxed as Grandma's became less defensive, and slowly dinner became more natural. Not for the first time, I wished I could catch even a glimpse of Patrick's emotions, but he hid his aura like most every other immortal person did. All I saw was the silver thread that outlined him, marking him as a Guardian.

  He seemed at ease, though. We sat side by side, facing my grandparents. The twins sat at either end, more focused on food than the slow and stilted conversation.

  Grandpa asked Patrick a few questions about Ireland, and luckily he kept away from the sort of discussion that would betray the fact that Patrick hadn't been in the country for over two hundred years. Roads and buildings might have changed, but the vegetation probably hadn't altered much over the centuries, so green grass was definitely a safe topic.

  Grandma was the one who asked the hardest questions, but in the end I shouldn't have panicked. Patrick was a good liar.

  “So,” she asked suddenly, “how are your parents adjusting to the change of scenery?”

  Patrick chewed quickly and then answered promptly after swallowing. “Pretty well. We lived back East for a couple of years, so at least it wasn't a direct move—that would have been much harder.”

  “I can imagine,” Grandma said, setting down her glass of water. “New Mexico is quite the opposite of Ireland.” She straightened in her chair. “What is it your parents do for a living?”

  My fingers curled tightly around my fork, and I forced my eyes to stay away from him. This was exactly the sort of thing I'd dreaded about tonight.

  Patrick's fluent answer betrayed nothing. “My father works for the church. My mother's jobs include parenting, cleaning, and helping my father. She's the perfect homemaker.”

  Grandma nodded, and I could see in her aura that she approved of the occupation. “Do you have any brothers and sisters?”

  I thought I was prepared for this answer, but he surprised me. “No. I'm an only child.”

  I sent a quick glance toward him, but he was concentrating on taking a drink, and he didn't seem to notice my reaction.

  Grandma gave the twins pointed looks. “Well, hopefully all the noise and attention hasn't scared you off. Little girls can be a little overwhelming.”

  Patrick shook his head, smiling for a quick moment at each of my sisters. “Not at all. They're very welcoming.” He then turned his clear eyes to my grandma, and no one could doubt the sincerity in his words. “You're doing very well with them, Mrs. Bennett.”

  I watched in amazement as her aura transformed before my eyes. The pain and gray depression that had been so present for so long dimmed. The change was slight, but the overall result was staggering. It was like his few words had the power to release her from a good portion of the worry and grief she'd been feeling ever since her son's death. The responsibility that had been so heavy on her shoulders was slightly eased—if only for a moment—and she gave him her first genuine smile.

  “Thank you, Patrick. That's a very kind thing to say.”

  I sent my Grandpa a look, but he seemed as surprised as I was. He offered a thin shrug and then turned back to his food. I watched as Grandma followed his lead, a new thread of yellow widening around her
body.

  I felt Patrick's eyes on the side of my face, and I turned to meet his gaze. Our eyes locked, and I saw the question in his eyes. He'd seen the exchange between Grandpa and me and was silently asking for an explanation. His blue eyes were tinged with worry, and I realized he wondered if he'd said something wrong.

  I just shook my head, letting my pleasure show in my small smile.

  Reassured, though still confused, Patrick returned my smile.

  Jenna brought up school and their newest sub. Josie thought he was “okay,” but Jenna loved him.

  “Will he become permanent?” Grandma asked.

  Jenna shrugged. “I don't know. But I hope so.”

  Josie blew out her breath in a deep sigh. “Until the curse gets him too, I guess.”

  Grandpa spoke for really the first time. “I'd like to meet him. Aren't parent-teacher conferences coming up?”

  Grandma blinked at him. “Henry, you've never wanted to go to those. Not once.”

  “You saying I don't have a right to meet the guy that's teaching my granddaughters?”

  “Of course not. I'm just confused as to why you want to.”

  I knew perfectly well why he wanted to go. He wanted to make sure the new teacher wasn't some kind of Demon, like the last sub the twins had. And I was way ahead of him. I was going to make checking on this sub a new assignment for me and Patrick. The sooner the better.

  After everyone was done eating, Patrick thanked my grandmother for the wonderful dinner and even offered to do the dishes. She waved his offer away, though, and enlisted Grandpa instead. He frowned in Patrick's direction but started to gather the dishes without a word. The twins left to go pick a movie, and I volunteered to prepare dessert.

  While I got out the root beer Grandpa had bought earlier, Patrick opened the freezer and pulled out the vanilla ice cream. Together we stood at the counter and made root beer floats—he scooped and I poured.

  We listened to the sounds of my grandparents in the background clearing off the table—his affable jibes, her precise comebacks. It was a comforting back noise, and it reminded me of my parents.

  Beside me, Patrick spoke thinly. “Did I pass?”

  I watched the ice cream fall out of the scoop and into the glass before I looked up at him and smiled. “I think you excelled.”

  “Excelled, huh?”

  “Don't let it go to your head.” I nudged my elbow into his ribs, and he leaned away in mock pain.

  I just shook my head at him, wondering as I often did what it would be like to be immortal. He'd seen so much—experienced so much. Yet here he was, standing in my kitchen, serving root beer floats to my family.

  “You're kind of amazing, you know,” I whispered, lifting the bottle of soda to fill the next glass. The foam rose faster than the liquid, and I had to stop and allow the fizz to fall back down.

  “Are you trying to inflate my ego?” he asked lowly. “I'm getting mixed signals…”

  I glanced over my shoulder and saw that my grandparents were still hovering around the table. We still had a moment alone. I looked back up at Patrick, regarding him seriously. “What's the most incredible thing you've ever seen? I mean, you've lived for so long, seen so many advances in technology… what's the coolest thing to you?”

  He glanced away from me with pursed lips, working to lever out another scoop of ice cream from the frozen box. “The most amazing thing,” he mused, to himself. He stole a quick look at my face. “That would have to be you, Kate Bennett.”

  I rolled my eyes and started to pour more root beer. “Come on, Patrick, be serious.”

  “I am.”

  “I said something, not someone.”

  “Oh…” His eyes sparkled mischievously. He then turned to watch as he pulled the scoop out the carton and plopped the rough ball of ice cream into the waiting glass. “I don't know… root beer floats. They're pretty cool.”

  I shook my head at him.

  “What?” he asked. “Root beer is a relatively new thing. Just because you've had it your whole life doesn't mean it was always around.”

  “What about computers? Cars? Phones? Indoor plumbing? I guess I thought you'd say something along those lines.”

  We worked in silence for a significant moment, and I thought that would be the end of the conversation. Then he suddenly spoke, and his voice was serious. “Cameras.”

  I looked up to catch his expression; he seemed completely focused on the task of scooping ice cream. He moved meticulously, and I wished once again that I could see his aura. To understand the warmth of his words, the longing in his voice. He must have sensed my silent prompting, because he started to elaborate. “You're very lucky to have them. The power to freeze time, capture a moment, an emotion… a person. That's the most amazing thing to me.”

  I finished filling the glass before setting the root beer aside and turning to face him. He pushed the ice cream scoop back into the box, but before he could fill it again, I placed my hand over his cold fingers.

  He glanced up at me and my lips twisted into a delicate smile. “That's a good one,” I whispered. “And I agree. Cameras are pretty amazing.”

  His eyes searched mine, his jaw flexed with an emotion I couldn't name, and then he was smiling. “Thank you, Kate.”

  Jenna came quickly around the corner, gripping the doorway to stop her thin body from sailing too far into the room. “Kate, can we watch it Patrick-style? Josie wants to know.”

  “It's named after me, huh?” Patrick asked, his voice sounding light and carefree once more. Still, the mood of our brief conversation lingered, and I regretfully retracted my hand from his.

  Jenna was nodding. “Yep. So can we or not?”

  “Ask Grandma,” I told her, and she darted across the kitchen at once, leaving us to finish with dessert.

  In the end, Grandma gave in to watching a movie Patrick-style, though at first she was hesitant. Resisting the twins was easier said than done, so soon we were all gathered in the family room with our root beer floats, watching an action movie with the radio taking the place of the actual movie's audio. Watching a shootout to classical music was just as hilarious as the twins had remembered, and the grandparents weren't exempt from the gasping. Grandma had this really deep laugh that seemed to rumble the whole room, and she wasn't shy about using it.

  When the movie was over and our laughter finally eased, Grandpa laboriously came to his feet and shut off the TV and stereo. “Phew—I haven't laughed like that for a long time.”

  Grandma snorted. “It may bring on a heart attack…”

  The twins spoke at the same time, both turning pleading looks toward their grandfather. “Can we please have another one?” And, “It's not too late yet; there's still time.”

  Grandma was already shaking her head. “Nope. It's a school night, and it's off to bed with the both of you.”

  Patrick had been holding my hand, but he released it now to stand. “I should be going. Thank you for a wonderful time, Mr. and Mrs. Bennett.”

  My grandmother nodded up at him. “Thank you for coming over, Patrick. It was nice to finally meet you.”

  Patrick said his good-byes to the twins, and I stood while he stretched to shake Grandpa's hand across the coffee table. They seemed to exchange a deep look, one I didn't think anyone else noticed besides me. Then Grandpa released Patrick's hand, and the moment ended before I could really make sense of what had been expressed.

  We stepped out of the family room together, since I'd excused myself to walk him to his car. He took my hand again as we wandered through the house, back to the front door.

  Once in the entryway, I spoke softly. “You did great tonight.”

  He paused and reached to open the door, pulling it wide and holding it for me. “You have a wonderful family, Kate.”

  I nodded, taking the first step into the night. I waited on the porch as he closed the door behind us, our hands still joined. “I wish you could have known my parents. They were a lot like my
grandma and grandpa…” I didn't finish the thought, and he didn't press for more.

  We walked leisurely down the porch stairs and followed the trailing sidewalk that wrapped to meet the driveway. His car was parked at the curb, the blue paint gleaming in the night. A few scattered lamps made the street feel safe, despite the darkness.

  I glanced up at him while we crossed the length of the driveway. “So—an only child, huh?” I regretted my more severe tone when I saw the slight grimace twist his face.

  “It was the safest thing to say,” he explained quietly. “If I admitted to having a brother, there's more of a chance someone would ask to meet him. Parents are hard enough to fake when all I have is Toni.”

  “It makes sense—it just took me off guard.”

  “Lying can get pretty complicated.”

  “You do it well. No offense,” I added hastily, realizing only after I'd spoken that there could be a negative connotation to my words.

  A thin smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “None taken. As long as you realize that I would never lie to you.”

  My brain chose this moment to remember the phone call from Terence, and the sudden urge I had to tell Patrick the secret took me by surprise. “Um, yeah. I know you wouldn't. I wouldn't either. “

  As we stepped onto the street, he glanced over at me. Instead of the skeptical or even mocking look I sort of expected to see, I saw his bright eyes and pure smile. He twisted to face me completely, walking the last steps backward and pulling me tenderly with him.

  He stopped at the driver's door, his fingers winding with mine as his free hand came up to cup the left side of my face. His fingertips traced against my skin, his head ducking closer to kiss me. Our lips met perfectly, and I closed my eyes instinctively. I shifted closer to him, my thumb drawing circles on the back of his hand. I felt him relax around me, and his palm smoothed against my cheek briefly before sliding to support the back of my neck. I wished my hair was loose and not bunched up in the ponytail, though his trailing fingers still managed to make my scalp prickle with just touching the few strands that had escaped throughout the day.