Personal Demons

by Lisa Desrochers

  “Yeah. We could work on that physics thing.”

  “Sure,” he says, smiling.

  Gabe’s house isn’t too far from mine and looks like all the other houses in our neighborhood: two stories with white siding, black shutters, and a long front porch. His porch has a ginormous potted Christmas cactus in the corner and a swing near the door. His front walk cuts a gray swath through a lush green lawn and is bordered with short, trimmed shrubs. I follow him up the walk and into the house.

  We step through the front door into the family room. It runs along the entire front of the house with windows on either side of the door, looking out onto the front porch. The stairs ascend from the right side of the room and on the left is an arched doorway into the kitchen. The walls and carpet are all white, as is the couch along the back wall and the two high-backed chairs under the windows. There’s no TV, but there are white stereo speakers on shelves in the corners.

  “Are you still moving in?” I ask, scanning the blank walls.

  He smiles and shrugs. “This is pretty much it. We don’t need much.”

  “Yeah, but …” I trail off, not sure what to say. It seems weird that there are no family pictures or knickknacks. My mom has pictures and other crap scattered everywhere. But as I settle into the couch I realize, despite the austere appearance, it feels warm and welcoming.

  “I’ve got the cure for all ills,” Gabe says and disappears into the kitchen. I dig through my book bag and pull out our physics lab manual. A minute later he comes back with a huge bowl of mocha java lava ice cream and two spoons and sits next to me. He punches the button on a white iPod on the white coffee table. As if from everywhere, there’s music.

  “You okay with sharing?” he says.

  “Sure.” I grab a spoon and shovel in a mouthful. “This is my favorite.”

  He cracks another glowing smile and rakes his hand through his hair. “Seems to be doing the trick.”

  I smile back ’cause he’s right. I don’t know if it’s him or the ice cream, but I couldn’t care less if Luc is shagging Mystery Girl right now.

  Okay, as I think about that I know it’s a lie, but I only want to kill him a little now—and in more humane ways, like with a gun or a knife, and not so much with my bare hands.

  We finish the ice cream and I lean back on the couch. I contemplate cracking open my physics manual and try to convince myself that it’s a good idea, but it’s a tough sell.

  Gabe leans into the back of the couch and loops his arm around my shoulders. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” I say resting my forehead against his shoulder and wondering how it is that I can still want Luc so much.

  Like he read my mind, he puts his cool hand on my cheek and turns my face to look at him. “Just forget him. He’s a jerk.” He gazes into my eyes the same way Luc does—like he’s seeing my soul.

  Suddenly I feel some intense rush of emotion and I want to cry. I close my eyes, focus on the music, and push back the tears. But what I see is Luc’s face. “He’s a jerk,” I repeat, my eyes still closed, trying to make myself believe it.

  Like the wings of a butterfly, I feel Gabe’s lips, soft on my forehead. And before I even know I’ve done it, my hands are on his face and my lips are on his. I hear his breath catch and he hesitates, but then his arms are around me, crushing me to him, and his lips move on mine. And I taste cool winter sunshine.

  In Gabe’s kiss, there’s peace like I’ve never known. Peace so profound I can’t even remember hate or anger or pain. And love, limitless and unconditional. His kiss deepens, and I want to just live here forever.

  But then his hand on my cheek that had been drawing me in is gently pushing me back, and he pulls away. I stare into his unfathomable blue eyes, lost in there, as his thumb traces the lines of my lips. As I become aware of the room again, I wonder how long we’ve been kissing. It feels like eternity in the blink of an eye. And it’s not till he shifts me gently back onto the couch that I realize, in my need to be closer, I’ve climbed right on top of him.

  His eyes finally close, releasing me, and he leans his forehead into mine. “I need to take you home,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. When he opens his eyes, I see regret. Without looking at me, he stands and walks to the door.

  The peace is gone, as if it never happened, and I feel frustration and anger flood through me. I haul myself off the couch and yank my book bag over my shoulder.

  “Am I really that disgusting?”

  “No, I am.” He turns and walks out the door.

  14

  The Devil Takes His Due

  LUC

  After what happened yesterday with Avaira, this has been the most confusing day of my entire pathetic existence. Sitting next to Frannie in English—wanting to say something, to touch her—was torture to rival the flames of the Fiery Pit. The rest of the day she avoided me, and rightly so. But just at the final bell, when she glanced at me … the look in her eyes nearly killed me.

  Last night was a living Hell. Thinking about her. Needing to see her. I followed Gabriel when he dropped her off at her house and spent all night there, in my car, as usual. It took everything I had not to climb her tree and push through her window. I’ve been back and forth all day, because I still have no clue what I’m doing. The one thing I am sure of is that I need to protect her from Belias—for a lot of reasons.

  Who would have ever thought it? Me, the great protector. It’s almost laughable.

  But I can’t let Belias have her. Frannie is my assignment, and, in addition to really not wanting to burn in the Fiery Pit, my pride won’t let me fail. If she’s that important, I want credit for her soul. My bigger reason, though, is that I know how Belias works, and I can’t stand the thought of him touching her, of her soul being bound to him—a filthy incubus. A shudder racks me as my mind shows me what I don’t want to see—the image of her, with him, like that.

  No!

  It’s not going to happen. I’d rather Gabriel won.

  Because I love her.

  That’s got to be what this feeling is—the giddy rush I feel when I look at her, the way all my insides scream when I think about Belias taking her, the insatiable need I have to be with her. How is that possible? There’s no crying in baseball and no love in Hell. It’s just the rules. You could say it’s against our religion, more or less. It flies in the face of everything we are.

  But it’s there, and it’s real, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Which means I need to protect her from me too. If I take her the way I want to, she’ll belong to Hell, but not to me. She’s got Sight. King Lucifer will use her until her soul is nothing but an empty husk, then slough her off with the rest of the Shades. I’ve seen it time and time again. She’ll be dead in every way: body and soul.

  I’ve never questioned an assignment before. It’s not my place. Most mortals deserve what they get. But Frannie’s different. I wasn’t lying when I told her I’d never met anyone like her. She doesn’t deserve that fate.

  I watch her bolt out of last-period government, and a big part of me wants to chase her down, wrap my arms around her, and make everything okay. But the truth is that there is no way for me to do that, because I’m what’s not okay—me and my brethren. So I glue myself to the chair and watch her walk out the door.

  Ten minutes later, I’m still sitting at my desk staring at the door when Coach Runyon meanders up next to me, shrugging into his jacket. He rubs his hand across his coarse five o’clock shadow. “Luc, is there something you need? Because I’ve got to get to baseball practice.”

  “No,” I say, standing up. “Sorry, just thinking.”

  “Yes, I can see that.” His brown eyes spark as his round face pulls into a knowing smile, exposing crooked teeth. He gives me a sage nod, like he gets the whole crazy girl thing. I’m wishing that’s all it was, but it’s the whole of Hell that has me more worried at the moment.

  “Have you played any ball?” he asks as we walk toward the door. “You’ve got the p
hysique for it. We could use some muscle at the plate.”

  “Not for years,” I say. But as we pass through the door, my aching heart drops into my stomach as my sixth sense sparks. Belias! What am I thinking? He’s waiting for an opportunity, and I just gave him one. I should have followed Frannie out to the parking lot to be sure she got home okay. Unholy Hell! How could I be so careless?

  “Think about it,” he shouts after me as I turn and run up the hall to Frannie’s locker.

  When I get to it she’s nowhere in sight. Fighting to keep the panic in check, I slide to a sit on the floor with my hands on my head, back against my locker, and try to think. She’s okay. She has to be. I need to find Taylor and Riley.

  Springing off the floor, I run through the halls and catch them on their way out to the parking lot. “Hey, have you guys seen Frannie?” I ask, unsuccessful in my attempt to hide my panic.

  “You are so lucky we don’t kick your ass,” Taylor growls through her glare.

  “Yeah, okay … I get it. You can kick my ass later, but I really need to know where Frannie is.”

  Riley picks up on my distress. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, really. I just need to talk to her.”

  “Why?” Her eyes are wary.

  “I just need to know she’s okay.”

  Her eyes soften, and she starts to open her mouth to say something, but, before she can, Taylor blurts, “You should have thought of that before you decided to mess around with your ‘cousin.’ ”

  “So you really don’t know where she is?”

  “No clue. Maybe making out with Gabe,” Taylor sneers. I look at Riley, whose expression is heartbroken. She shakes her head.

  I drop my head into my hand, warding off the storm that’s brewing there. “All right. Thanks.”

  As I jog toward my car, my sixth sense flares. What if Belias got to her? If he has her, with the ten-minute head start I gave him, it’s already too late. A groan escapes my throat as I picture what he would be doing to her right now, and I feel that hot throbbing lump in my chest again. Damn it all! If that’s the fate I left her to, then I’ll gladly burn in the Fiery Pit.

  Belias doesn’t have her. I can’t let myself believe he does. I send that message out into the universe as I slide into my car and sit, weighing the possibilities. If she’s not with Taylor or Riley and she’s not with me, there are only a handful of people that she might be with. I never thought I’d hope Frannie was with Gabriel. But, right now, I’m more than hoping she’s with him. I’m praying for it.

  I think about phasing to his house, but if I need to grab Frannie, I’ll need my car. I race across town, ignoring stop signs and speed limits, and pull by Gabriel’s, focusing hard on his house. With his Hell-forsaken celestial field thrown over it, I can’t tell if Frannie’s in there or not. I loop around the block, then pull over a few houses up the street and phase behind Gabriel’s shrubs. I wait, hoping to catch a glimpse of her through the windows.

  What if I’m wasting time and she’s not here? What if Belias has her—if she’s already tagged or worse? Panic takes over, and I throw all caution to the wind. I stride up the stairs two at a time and knock.

  FRANNIE

  Gabe won’t really look at me, which is good, ’cause I can’t bring myself to look at him. But I can’t stop thinking about how I felt when he kissed me yesterday and how I want to feel like that again.

  I sit at his white kitchen table in awkward silence with a mounding bowl of mocha java lava ice cream in front of me. The only reason I’m even here is that I blasted out of school at the bell, avoiding my locker altogether, and he found me tucked behind a pillar near the parking lot hiding from Luc.

  “So, you want to work on that physics assignment?” he finally says.

  “Yeah, that’d be good, ’cause I forgot my book.”

  That’s actually a little bit of a stretch. I didn’t really forget it. More like I abandoned it along with the rest of the contents of my locker.

  He pulls his book out of his bag and drops it on the table just as there’s a knock at the door. His brow creases as he glides up out of his chair. “Give me a sec,” he says, laying his hand on my shoulder, then he disappears through the kitchen door into the family room and out onto the porch, shutting the front door behind him.

  I pull Gabe’s physics book open and try to find the right page, but I’m having trouble thinking clearly. Just as I pick up my pencil, I hear muffled voices from the porch that I do my best to ignore—till I recognize Luc’s raised voice.

  “Is she here or not?”

  I stand up and move through the family room to the window, mad at myself for caring. I try to make myself sit back down and ignore him. But, of course, that’s not gonna happen, ’cause I’m obsessed, and also stupid, and possibly even insane—so I peek out the window at the front porch. Luc is there, looking wild, eyes glowing and teeth bared in a grimace.

  “Chill. She’s here.” Gabe’s voice is low, and I have to strain to hear it.

  I watch as a huge breath heaves Luc’s chest and the panic leaves his face. He hangs his head and says, “She’s safe … okay.”

  Gabe grins. “Dude. You know you really blew it this time.”

  My heart sinks as Luc replies, “Good.” He nods to himself, then he looks up at Gabe, relieved. “Will you make sure she gets home okay?”

  Gabe scrutinizes Luc’s face. “Tell me what’s up.”

  Luc backs away, toward the stairs. “Just be sure she gets safely into her house with the door locked,” he says turning toward his car and striding away.

  And as he walks toward his car it’s all I can do not to run after him. ’Cause I want to kill him. But I also want to kiss him. The thought of not being with him—not touching him again—is going down like a jagged little pill, leaving my insides a raw bleeding mass of frustrated confusion. As hard as it is to admit to myself, what I feel for Luc is more than physical. It’s not love, but it’s something.

  How can I want them both?

  I scramble back to the kitchen as the front door swings open. “Who was that?” I ask all innocent, but the shake in my voice gives me away.

  Clearly, Gabe’s not in a sharing mood. “No one that matters,” he says, but his blue eyes are a shade darker than usual, and his brow furrows as he leans against the counter.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He smiles this completely bogus smile, like that’s supposed to convince me. “Nothing for you to worry about. Everything’s cool.”

  I can’t stand it. I have to know. “I know that was Luc. What did he want?” I blurt.

  He looks up at me with wary eyes. “You, apparently.”

  I watch my hand fan the pages of Gabe’s book. My legs are jittering under the table, dying to spring out of the chair and run after Luc. I work to keep my voice even. “Why?”

  “You’d need to ask him,” he says with a note of frustration. He blows out a sigh and slides into the seat next to me, drawing my attention. He looks me in the eye. “So … about yesterday …” he says very softly, bringing up the elephant in the room.

  I groan and drop my gaze back to my hands. I have no clue what to say—what I’m feeling.

  He’s quiet for an awkward minute then says, “I’m really sorry about … you know.”

  Of course he is. Why would he want to be with me?

  Do I want to be with him?

  “But I need to know if what I felt …” He hesitates and I can’t breathe. “Was it really me you wanted?”

  I feel dazed, like a rabbit in the headlights. There’s nothing I can say to make this right. I lift my head and look at him. He just stares at me for another minute, then his gaze drops to the floor.

  “So … when you kissed me …” He lifts his eyes and I divert mine. I push back my chair, needing space, and walk into the family room, where I drop onto the couch.

  Gabe steps into the door. “Well, I guess that answers that,” he says through a strained smile.


  “It doesn’t answer anything.” I bury my face in my hands. “I’m so confused. I can’t stop thinking about Luc. But I can’t trust him. And you …” I don’t even know how to finish that thought.

  “You’re right. You can’t trust him.” He slides in next to me on the couch and wraps an arm around my shoulders. And from my body’s reaction—the way all my insides flip-flop—it’s clear I can’t be trusted either.

  When I look up at Gabe, my breath catches. I can see everything I want in his deep blue eyes.

  But I also see him struggling with himself. I reach up and touch his cheek, and he pulls me into his lap. When he kisses me, it’s less desperate than last time. Gentle and soft and so tender that it makes me ache all over. I press deeper into him, wanting him closer, and I’m blanketed in his peace and love.

  Oh God, do I love him?

  I pull him tighter as the tears slip from my eyes, and he doesn’t push me off this time. He pulls me closer. Despite the heat pulsing through me, I shiver.

  After forever, when I pull back and look at him, I wonder how I could have ever wanted anything else. And I could almost believe in love. ’Cause it’s right there, in his face.

  He wipes the tears from my cheek with his thumb.

  “Sorry,” I say, not quite sure what I’m apologizing for this time. Everything, I guess.

  He places a finger on my lips. “No. Don’t.” He pulls me closer and rests his face in my hair. And I realize he’s shaking too.

  I pull my face out of his shoulder and look at him. “Are we okay?”

  He nods and smiles, but his smile is strained and his eyes are full of doubt.

  I feel all my insides contract into a hard ball, ’cause I’m being seriously unfair. I’m such a shit. My chin drops to my chest. “I’m so screwed up.”

  “You can’t help the way you feel, Frannie.”

  “Yes I can.” At least I always could.

  “No, you can’t, but you have to be careful about what you want.”

  Despite his summer snow, my simmering frustration boils over. It’s clear in my voice. “You keep saying that. What does that mean?”