The Darker Side of Goodness

by Cheryl Pierson

  When Jack Daniels goes into the local bar for a drink on Halloween, he meets Christian Lightfoot, a demon who shows him the truth about his wife Ashley’s infidelity. Jack learns he’s about to become the recipient of a large inheritance, and his wife has plans for it—plans that don’t include him. Will he live in spite of her evil plot to murder him, or will he choose another path…and walk upon The Darker Side of Goodness?

  THE DARKER SIDE OF GOODNESS

  by

  Cheryl Pierson

  The Darker Side of Goodness by Cheryl Pierson

  Copyright© 2014 Cheryl Pierson

  Cover Design Livia Reasoner

  Fire Star Press

  www.firestarpress.com

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews

  He couldn’t help feeling more at home here than anywhere else. A bar. The Thirsty Traveler. Jack swirled his Patron around the tiny spots of ice at the bottom of his glass before downing it.

  His time here had become more and more frequent, in the last several weeks. It wasn’t far from the apartment. And the atmosphere was a hell of a lot friendlier. He grimaced, thoughts of the latest fiasco skittering through his mind.

  Obviously, though his choice in women might have improved over the years, it still must not be perfected. Ashley seemed to do everything right. Which meant, he did everything wrong—because lately, they never did anything the same way. It was all weird at home, now. And that was why he’d come here. Again.

  The bartender gave him a questioning look and held up a glass. Jack nodded. What the hell. He was not going to the Halloween party tonight. He’d do his drinking here. The Dracula costume they’d paid good money for would hang in the closet, unused. Maybe next year. At least, for this night, there’d be no more of Ashley’s constant fault-finding, no more of her condescending glances that, lately, made him more angry than upset. He probably wouldn’t have made a good Dracula anyhow. That had been her idea.

  His tequila appeared on the bar, his empty glass whisked away. Starting with a clean slate. He smiled at the thought. Fresh drink, clean slate.

  There wasn’t much business here at The Thirsty Traveler tonight and that suited him fine. He hoped Ashley would go to the party alone. After their fight, he was starting to figure it was going to all be his fault if nothing went right tonight…or any other night, for that matter.

  Jack turned his head to the right as something caught his eye. It was almost like lightning in the air beside him, blinding him for an instant. But he blinked as the brightness faded to shimmers, and found himself looking into the face of a man who’d obviously just taken the bar stool beside him.

  “Something wrong?” The man asked, putting a hand out to steady Jack. The heat of his palm warmed Jack’s shoulder, even through the two layers of clothing he wore.

  “No—I…” Jack shook his head. “I didn’t see you come up. Just startled me, is all.”

  The stranger gave him a slow smile, as if Jack’s choice of words amused him. “Yeah. Didn’t mean to. Sorry.” He looked away, glancing around the dimly-lit interior. “Nice place,” he said after a moment. “Comfortable.”

  Jack took a drink and set his glass down. The tequila burned, but only because he’d swallowed it too fast. It was good tequila. Tonight, he was having the best—something he rarely did for himself, though he always made sure of for Ashley. She deserved the best—or so she’d told him often enough.

  Did that mean he was ‘the best’? They’d been married nearly two years now. Maybe that was why they’d been so unhappy lately. Perhaps she realized he wasn’t the best…what she deserved…what she wanted.

  “Yeah,” Jack said softly in agreement. “It’s a good place to be.”

  “As opposed to…?” There was a quizzical look in the stranger’s expression that set Jack at ease.

  How long had it been since he’d had a drink with a friend? How long had it been since he’d done anything at all with a friend? Ashley hadn’t liked the people he’d hung with…so most of those acquaintances were out of his life now. Even his brother, James, along with Jack’s best friend, Alexander, had been distant the last few months.

  Jack gave the stranger a grin and put out his hand. “Home. As opposed to home.” The tequila had allowed him to be himself again. He wasn’t on display or being judged now, he had to remind himself. Ashley wasn’t here. In the next instant, guilt assailed him.

  Understanding lit the other man’s silver-gray eyes as he took Jack’s hand in a quick handshake. “I’m Christian Lightfoot.”

  “Jack Daniels.” Jack smiled at Christian’s look. “I know. I get that all the time. Guess my parents didn’t think about whiskey when they named me.”

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asked, looking at Christian.

  “Gin and tonic.”

  “Got a preference?”

  Christian shook his head. “No. Just set me up.”

  “You got it.”

  Jack smiled. “That means you’ll be paying for the best brand Dale’s got, you know.”

  Christian glanced at the bartender. Sure enough, he was returning the bottle of Australian Botanica to the shelf. “That’s all right. It’s a special occasion.”

  Jack raised a brow.

  “Halloween.” Christian nodded as Dale returned and set the drink down on an orange-and-black polka dotted drink napkin.

  “Just another day in paradise.” Jack lifted his glass for a sip of the tequila, not bothering with the lime.

  “Exactly. How is Ashley getting along?”

  Jack gave a short burst of laughter. “Partying down, most likely. Without me.” It was only after he’d answered that he realized the oddity of the question. “How do you know Ashley?”

  “Because she’s on your mind, Jack. And I know you.”

  Christian’s voice was smooth as silk, vibrating through Jack’s mind. He hadn’t spoken the words aloud. His silver eyes compelled jack to look at him, and when he did, a coldness gripped him. There really was no need to speak, Jack thought. Christian Lightfoot would be able to read every thought that came to him. In fact, he already knew every idea Jack had ever had. He was certain of it, by the look in Lightfoot’s odd-colored eyes.

  “Who are you?” The thought bounced between them, back and forth, like a ping pong ball. But Jack knew he’d thought of it first.

  “Not ‘who,’ Jack. ‘What’ am I?” the smooth voice responded. Christian reached for his glass and took a sip of his drink. He let out a slow, deep sigh of satisfaction.

  “It’s been a long time,” he murmured aloud. “Each year seems to grow longer and more tedious. But it’s worth the wait.”

  Jack pushed his drink away. He’d had enough. Things were turning just a bit too weird. A sense of loss went through him. He’d been enjoying his time here at The Thirsty Traveler. Now, this odd stranger had invited a wave of unease into the bar. Jack looked around. He and Christian were alone. Everyone else had left. Even Dale was nowhere in sight.

  “What does that mean?” Jack asked nervously. He could feel his palms getting clammy. He eased the stool back a couple of inches.

  Christian shook his head. “No need to be afraid, Jack. You are my project this year. I wouldn’t dream of hurting you…not on this night, anyway.” He cocked his head. “Now, last night, perhaps you’d have had something to fear. Tomorrow, you’ll have to be on the lookout again.
But tonight, you’re safe.”

  Jack moistened his lips. “I am so out of here.”

  “Oh, not yet.” Christian’s lips slanted upward as he watched Jack struggle to get down from the bar stool. He took another sip of his gin. “I have some things to say to you, my friend,” Christian went on, “when you’re ready to listen.”

  Jack struggled to keep the dismay at his own helplessness from his expression. Panic edged his voice. “I just need to…to go home. Ashley will be wondering—”

  “Ashley.” Christian spat her name as if it were something foul-tasting.

  Jack looked at him in surprise. He stopped struggling.

  “It should be clear to you, Jack. It should all be clear, by now. You need to cut your losses. Move on.” He gestured with his hands as he spoke, but didn’t raise his voice.

  Panic filled Jack’s chest. Hadn’t he been thinking something very similar just a few minutes before Lightfoot had slid onto the stool beside him? And he hadn’t really ‘slid,’ had he? He had just appeared, with a glimmer and flash.

  “Now, don’t be afraid, Jack. I know—I know what you’re thinking. ‘Who is this demon, and what does he want with me.’ Right?”

  “Demon?”

  Oh, dear God. “Look. I—I just came in for a beer. That’s all. Now, I’m going home. Ashley will be there in a couple of hours, and we’ll—”

  “Kiss and make up like the fool you are, I suppose,” Christian interrupted bitterly. “All right. Go on. Be gone. I don’t know why I ever chose to help you, anyway. The night is young, and believe me, Ashley is making the most of it. Maybe I will, too, since you don’t want my help.”

  Jack cautiously stood down from the stool. Was this a trick? The Demon—if that’s what he truly was—had seemed to give up far too easily.

  Jack reached into his pocket for his wallet, but Christian waved him away. “I’ll get it. Least I can do. Go on home. You’ll need the next four-and-a-half hours to stew while you’re waiting.”

  “How do you know?” Jack’s hand moved away from his pocket.

  “Look.” Christian turned the stool quickly to face Jack.

  Jack took a step back at the simmering anger in his silver eyes.

  “I’m a demon, yes. And this is Halloween. But on this day, once a year, we’re given the choice. It’s something that’s left up to us, individually.”

  “What kind of choice?”

  “We are allowed to do a kindness for a human.” His lips quirked. “I like to call it the darker side of goodness.”

  Jack shook his head. “And you chose me?”

  He glanced around caustically. “Do you see anyone else here with us, Jack?”

  “No.” Jack looked down at the floor…at the tops of his wing-tip shoes that Ashley loved to make fun of. He scrunched his toes up tightly, assuring himself this was real. When he looked up at Christian, the demon wore a smug expression.

  “I’ll not lie to you, Jack. Not tonight. That’s one of the rules.”

  “So, I can ask you anything, and you’ll tell me the truth.”

  “That’s right.” Christian inclined his head slightly. His short, dark hair caught the glow of the red neon sign above the bar, creating a kind of hellish halo around his head. “But be careful, my friend. Be certain you want the answers to the questions you ask.”

  “A ‘kindness,’ you said,” Jack mused. “Why would a demon do a kindness for anyone? On any day of the year? I mean, isn’t that part of your ‘evil-ness’?”

  Christian gave him an indulgent smile. “You believe we were always evil. From the moment we came into the world.”

  It was the way he said it, Jack thought, that made him see Christian in a different light. It wasn’t accusatory, or even angry; but spoken with a certainty and a hint of wistfulness, as if he’d been through this a hundred times. And he probably has.

  “I…don’t know what to think,” Jack admitted, somehow embarrassed.

  “I wasn’t, you know.” Christian fished his cigarettes from his shirt pocket and put one between his lips. It lit instantly. He smiled at the widening of Jack’s eyes. “Magic tricks,” he muttered, taking a deep draw. “Where’s the damn ashtray?” He glanced around. With a careless wave of his hand, one appeared on the wooden bar beside his drink. He laid the burning cigarette in the tray very carefully. “Always have to be so careful with fire. Up here, anyhow…” The smoke rose and curled, then drifted away.

  “If you really are a demon,” Jack said, “and not some clever street magician—”

  “Street magician?” Christian’s eyes creased in laughter. “How quaint.” He gestured with his hand. “Continue, will you, Jack? I’m anxious to know how I might prove myself to you. Earn your trust. Help you.”

  Jack took a deep breath. How would he ask for proof? What would it take? Bearing witness to some vile deed that Christian might suggest? Or…would he have to think of it?

  “Tell me first who you used to be. Before you became a—a demon.” This was ridiculous. Could he truly be standing here beside someone—a demon, he claimed—asking questions? He needed to just leave. Walk right out of the door and head for home. Leave his car parked in the lot. His apartment wasn’t far, and walking in the crisp night air would clear his brain. Make him stop hallucinating—

  “Want to sit down, Jack? It might take a few minutes. No? Then, I’ll give you the abbreviated version.” The demon reached for his cigarette and took a deep drag. “Fact is, I was pretty normal for most of my life.”

  Jack gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “So, you got to be a demon in death from being ‘normal’ in your lifetime? Seems harsh.”

  “Yeah. Just goes to show what a few wrong choices can do for you,” he answered moodily. Finally, he turned to look at Jack again, meeting his eyes with a hard glare. “I suppose everyone has regrets, don’t they? Just remember, most humans aren’t all good, or all bad.”

  “And, evidently, neither are demons,” Jack quipped. “Hey, look, I gotta go.” He reached to squeeze Christian’s shoulder in a gesture of offhand friendliness. The heat that radiated through his palm was scorching. With a cry of surprise and pain, he jerked his hand away and took a startled step back. “Dammit!”

  Christian slowly turned the bar stool to look into Jack’s face. “Sorry. I should’ve controlled that better.” He extended a hand. “Let me see—”

  “Uh…no. It’s okay. I’ll just go home and…” He broke off, trying to figure out what it was he should do. Ashley, damn her, would probably be sitting at one of these stools laughing her head off if she were here right now. She always had such a way of making him feel small, and inadequate. Yet, there was still that spark of hope inside him that made him believe some day, things might be good again.

  “Wait for Ashley?”

  “Look, you smug son of a bitch—” Jack started to reach for Christian’s shirt front, remembering just in time what had happened when he’d touched him moments before. He stopped himself, glancing at his burned hand. It had healed completely, the pain faded to nothing.

  Christian shook his head in sympathy. “Jack, I’m here to help you. This one night is my chance to try to…make things right. At least, a little.”

  “Why? Why did you choose me? Being a demon and all, you’d think you could find someone somewhere more worthy of help than I am. There are children starving, being abused—women who have been forced into a life of prostitution—”

  “You lecture me on the sorrows of the world? You think I don’t know them like the back of my hand?” His silver eyes glittered like mercury.

  “Then why don’t you do something? There are others who need your help more than I do. I mean…” Jack’s voice trailed away. Maybe he needed help more than he knew.

  Christian took a final puff from his cigarette, then stubbed it out. “You gotta go—I do, too.”

  “But you’re supposed to help me, right?”

  Again came the indulgent, all-knowing smile. “You’ve said you don�
��t need my help. I only have tonight to do something good for someone. I don’t plan to waste it, Jack.”

  “But I—”

  “Oh, you’re not the first one, believe me. I’ve had others who didn’t trust or accept. It’s always disappointing.” He fell silent a moment, then he rose slowly to stand beside Jack. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, really. If I was human, I’m not sure I’d believe what I was seeing or hearing, either. Much easier to think of me as some kind of alcohol-fogged delusion or a bad dream.” He took his leather jacket from the stool beside him and slung it over his shoulder. “But, you know—it’s hard. You make up your mind to do it and find the person who needs you, then—” he flicked his hand outward and a burst of orange sparks showered out, glittering, falling to the floor. “All that research for nothing.”

  Jack sidestepped quickly. He didn’t speak for a few seconds, then asked, “How do you know Ashley?” The question had burned since his odd companion had mentioned her in the beginning of their conversation.

  Christian had taken two steps toward the door. At Jack’s question, he stopped, turning to look Jack squarely in the eye. “You are my project, Jack. It’s my business to know who your enemies are.”

  “Enemy? Ashley’s my wife!”

  “Yes. A person can be many things, can’t they? In life—and in death.”

  ****

  Christian started for the door once again, Jack recovering enough to follow after a moment.

  “Wait!”

  They’d come out onto the sidewalk in front of The Thirsty Traveler, Christian a few steps ahead of Jack. The air was cold. Their breath was visible, but steam rolled off of Christian’s entire body, surrounding him in a hazy fog.

  “What does that mean, you damn demon?” Jack was desperate for answers. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore, but worst of all…he was beginning to believe. Anger roiled up inside him. Why should this demon interfere in his life? In the next instant, he answered his own question. Wasn’t that what evil did? Come into a person’s life and make bad things happen?