by Michele Hauf
“The human—” Gloriana swallowed. “I can’t believe it. It’s been twenty years, Savin. And she just walked into your life?”
“Kind of like that.”
“Oh.” Again, Gloriana pressed her fingers to her mouth. “So she was there...with the...demons?” she whispered the last word.
Savin nodded. He’d described to his mother all he had experienced. And then she’d wrapped him in her arms. It might have been the first time he’d let out a breath and truly relaxed after that harrowing experience. It had been a long time coming.
“I’m keeping her safe,” he said.
His mother nodded and grabbed a madeleine to nibble at the end.
“The reason I stopped by is Jett needs to find her mom and dad. She’s alone in the world now and wants to reconnect. I figured if anyone had the smallest thread leading to either of the Montforts, it would be you. You were good friends with her mother.”
“Josette and I were best friends. But, mon cher, you know she left not soon after the divorce. Just up and left her whole life behind. She didn’t say a thing to me, and I haven’t heard from her since. I can understand...” She looked aside. “You know she was angry with me?”
His mother had never told him that. But he could guess why. “Because I came back?”
She nodded, swallowed. “I understand, of course. Her daughter never came back.”
“She has now.”
“That’s incredible. And you say she looks well?”
“She does. Do you think you can help Jett find her parents?”
“Well.” She made the sighing thoughtful noise as her eyes traced about the kitchen. Then her deep blue irises brightened. “I’m not sure what good it will do...” She glanced down the hallway.
“What, Maman?”
“Sit tight. I have some things.” She scurried from the kitchen and into the bedroom, where Savin heard her riffling through a large cabinet of craft supplies she ever fussed over. If she wasn’t baking, she knitted and donated the sweaters to charity.
Savin downed two more cookies and another half glass of ice-cold milk. A man forgets about the comforts of home after living on his own for so long. If his mother were to invest in a food truck business, he would track her down daily for the treats.
“Here it is.” Gloriana returned holding a rumpled brown paper envelope. She sat across from him and set the envelope on the table. “The Montfort house stood empty for a few months after Josette’s departure. No realty sign, nor did I get a call from Josette. Finally, I decided to call the city and see what must be done. I was informed they would clean it out and take in hand all possessions, so I decided it would be best to sneak in and see if there was anything important left behind. Just in case Josette ever returned, you know?”
“Smart, Maman. You’ve always had a sneaky streak.”
“And damned proud of it. Anyway, I found some family documents and important papers. Nothing much.” She pushed the envelope toward him. “I haven’t opened it since that day I took the papers out of their house. You give them to Jett. If they can help her, then I’ll know my sneakery was worth it. I do believe there was mortgage info in there. Although the house has since been torn down. And there was bank account information. If those accounts still exist, Jett might be able to claim something for herself. Does she need money?”
“She doesn’t have a job, but I’ll help her out. You know I can.” He didn’t make the big bucks reckoning demons, but he did have a great financial investment adviser.
“You’re so good, Savin. The two of you were like brother and sister. So close. I remember the day Jett told me she was going to marry you. I figured it would be the best thing that could happen to you. She calmed you. Kept you on course.”
“You never told me that. Was I such a wild child?”
“Yes.” She laughed. “Oh, yes, mon cher, you could never concentrate on a task for more than a few moments. What did they call it? ADD? I think it was that you got bored easily. You needed to feel the world against your skin, and sitting before a school desk all day drove you mad.”
That was truth. There were days he’d cut out of school early just to rush home through the field. And yet another reason he’d dropped out in high school. “Music calms me now.”
“It is good you have something to help you find peace. But never be afraid of your wild, mon cher.”
Savin nodded, smiling. He’d given ninety percent of the details when telling his mother of that harrowing trip to Daemonia. But he could never tell her that he harbored a demon within him. That was definitely his wild. And he wasn’t afraid of the Other. Just wisely cautious.
He grabbed the envelope. “I’m sure Jett will appreciate this. No idea where her mother is living now?”
Gloriana shook her head. “Sorry.”
“You got any more madeleines?”
“I’ve put a batch in the fridge, but I can see that was unnecessary. Need more milk?”
“Yes, please.”
* * *
When the sound of the front door opening alerted Jett, she quickly pulled on her sheen. Oh, but that pinched!
With Savin gone, she’d given in to her desire to revive her energy. Wearing a sheen was so confining. But necessary. Once it was dropped, she had inhaled deeply. Standing in her natural state had allowed her to breathe and relax. She had needed that.
With a dash into the bathroom, she checked her appearance in the mirror. She had put on some lipstick and blush and was feeling more human with every second that passed.
“Looking it, too,” she said with a wink at her reflection as she turned off the light and headed out to greet Savin.
When she walked right up to him, gripped him by the shirtfront and pulled him down to kiss, he didn’t protest. Which she took as a good sign. But it was a quick kiss. Long enough to give her a taste of what she desired, but short enough to keep her wanting. When he pulled away, a confused sort of acceptance wriggled on his face.
“I like kissing you,” she offered quickly. “Maybe it’s that I like kissing in general. It is a good thing.”
“Have to agree with that one. You can kiss me anytime.”
“Really?” She planted another quickie on his cheek, right over that delicious dimple.
“Really. But before you get carried away, I stopped by my mom’s place. The bad news is she doesn’t know where your parents are right now. But the good news is she did have this.”
Jett took the large manila envelope he handed her. It was thick and wrinkled with age. “What is this?”
“Apparently, my maman snuck into your parents’ house the night before the city came through to clear out things before they placed it under lien. Maman took out whatever looked important to her. She thought your mother might return someday, and had intended to give her these things.”
“That was thoughtful of her. So what’s inside?”
“I don’t know. I figured that was for you to open.” He held up a brown paper bag. The bottom corner was glossed with grease. “I picked up some chicken gyros on the way home. There’s a little place down the street that makes the saltiest pommes frites. I love them crammed into my sandwich.”
“Sure.” She sat at the kitchen counter, rubbing her palms over the envelope. “But no salt, please.”
“No salt—Oh. Right. Sorry. The gyros aren’t salted. It’s just the fries. You’ve got to try something. Jett, you haven’t eaten much since you’ve been here.”
“I know. Don’t worry about it. I haven’t developed an appetite for human food yet.”
She could hear his swallow. Wondering what demon food entailed, likely. He did not want to know. It had certainly taken her time to develop a taste for it. And by no means did demons go near salt. And she was not hungry, so she wasn’t concerned.
“If I get hungry,” she said, “I’ll tell
you immediately and make you run out for something. Deal?”
He nodded. “Does that mean I get to eat your fries?”
“You do.”
He sat next to her and unpacked the food, which did smell delicious. But if those fries were indeed extra salty, she was not interested. And when she saw him pour white sauce over the sandwich, she decided there was no way she could work up a hunger now.
The envelope waited.
Inside was a stack of assorted papers. Some were neat and crisp, others folded, and a few were crumpled, having been compressed for years, and held a permanent fold crease.
“I don’t recognize these company names,” she said, glancing over the papers. The last time she’d been in this realm she had been nine. Adult responsibilities such as banks and bills had not been on her radar.
“That is the name of a bank, and that one...” He tilted his head as he read the paper. His hair brushed her cheek and Jett noticed a smudge of sauce on his mustache. “Looks like mortgage stuff. Must be for your parents’ house. That, along with all the other houses in the area, was torn down last year to clear the land for the current construction.”
“So, mortgage information is useless.” She had to force herself to look back at the papers. How she wanted to lick his lips just now. To taste the flavor of the white sauce. And him. “The bank information might be handy,” she said. “And this is...perhaps a list of phone numbers? No names on it. This might be important. Health insurance cards and my father’s passport. Hmm, it’s expired.”
She tapped the small laminated photo inside the passport. It had been so long since she had seen her father, Charles Montfort. She’d never forgotten what he looked like. Yet now it felt as though she were looking at a picture of a stranger in a magazine. No attachment to the small portrait before her. Not even a skip of her heart in recognition.
But she couldn’t let Savin know how alien the man appeared to her. “I got my black hair from him, yes?”
“I liked your dad,” Savin offered. “He played catch with me more often than my dad ever did.”
“If I recall correctly, your dad had a fabulous job jet-setting across countries.”
“He was a pilot. And...a drinker. But he’s dead now.”
She hadn’t remembered the drinking part. Strange, considering her own father had liked to tip back the whiskey. Had Savin’s father turned to drinking after their kidnapping? And the way he’d dismissed the topic by stating he was dead. Jett wouldn’t ask how he had died. She didn’t want to stir up bad memories. Or try at empathy. She’d only just refreshed herself by dropping the sheen. Taking on human emotions could drag her down again.
“Those look like birth certificates.” Savin tapped a yellowed paper. “What’s that one?”
Jett turned it to read and sucked in a breath. “I don’t understand this.”
Savin leaned over to read the title on the page. “Certificate of adoption?”
“And the child’s name on it is mine.”
She met Savin’s wide-eyed gaze. “You’re adopted?” he asked.
“No. I mean, I don’t think so. I’m not. I was... My parents never said anything of the sort.”
She read through the document, her heart dropping with every word of evidence that claimed she had been born to a woman whose name was not her mother’s and...there was no father’s name listed, nor was it on the birth certificate.
And yet, even as her heart fell, the darkness within her nodded. Knowing. You have always wondered...
Besides the birth certificate, the certificate of adoption listed her parents’ names, Josette and Charles Montfort, and a date of adoption. It was all very clear. And the documents were certainly official, to judge by the raised seal signed by a notary.
“I’m adopted,” she said in disbelief. “I can’t believe they never told me.”
“Maybe they were waiting until you got older?”
She nodded, not comprehending, but also taking it all in, so deeply. There had been one thing she had wondered many times while in Daemonia. And to think on it now...
“I really was taken,” she said with a gasp.
Because it had been said to her once—you were taken—but she hadn’t wanted to believe it. No explanation had been given. Only that it hadn’t been an accident that day she was sucked into Daemonia. She had been specifically targeted.
“Jett? What did you say? You were taken? Yes, I suppose you could call it that. We were both taken.”
She collected the stack of papers before her and placed her palms over them. Now the salty scent of Savin’s meal annoyed her. And she felt the immediate need for fresh air.
“I need to walk,” she announced, and slipped off the stool and around Savin. Most important, she wanted to get away from the tug of the wards that now seemed to reach out toward her.
Savin caught her hand and met her gaze. Right now she didn’t want his closeness, or the perceived compassion she suspected. This was big. Too big to take in while in the presence of one whom she must remain cautious of.
“You want me to walk with you?” he asked. “We don’t need to talk.”
It was a kind offer. The man cared about her. But... She shook her head. “I need to breathe for a bit. Alone.”
“Got it. I had an extra key made today while I was out.” He fished it out of his pocket and handed it to her. “If I’m ever not home, you’ll need it. I’ll try to remember to soften the wards when I’m out.”
“Thank you.” She clasped the key and left quickly.
Inside she was screaming and clawing at the darkness that had constantly surrounded her in Daemonia. A darkness she had welcomed and become. Because she’d had no choice.
She was beginning to get answers. And she didn’t like them.
Chapter 8
Savin waited a few hours, but he couldn’t sit around any longer and wonder if Jett would return to his place. She’d been upset by the realization she was adopted. He had to talk to her. And whether or not she wanted to talk to him, he could at least be there for her.
He grabbed his skull cap, pulled it on and left the flat. Wandering down the street beneath a fall of maple leaves, he decided that Jett could be anywhere.
When they’d been kids, their parents would take them into the city and they’d wander, mostly in the fifth and on the Île de la Cité, but they had visited and explored all the city parks and even the cemeteries. The best games were played in the creepiest of places. Would she remember? A graveyard held post down the way, so he veered toward it.
The Montparnasse Cemetery attracted Savin on those occasions when he wanted to avoid the rush of tourists and traffic and get lost in his thoughts. Sure, there were plenty of camera-wielding tourists wandering about the cemetery grounds, but he knew the spots that were less frequented. Baudelaire’s and Maupassant’s graves attracted a lot of tourists. He avoided those sections and sought a back corner. The celebrities in Savin’s ideal corner of the tombstone garden were long forgotten.
When he spied Jett sitting on an aboveground stone coffin, leaning against the headstone, her legs pulled up to her chest and arms wrapped around them, Savin smiled. She returned the smile as he approached, and patted the stone beside her as an invite to sit. He climbed onto the cool perch and stretched out his legs, then took off his hat and set it on his lap.
“Is it okay that I found you?” he asked.
“It is. How did you find me?”
“This is one of my favorite places to visit when I want to think.”
“It’s nice here. And it doesn’t feel threatening. The dead tend to keep their secrets. If there even are any lost souls here. Feels...empty.”
Indeed, Savin had never encountered a paranormal while here, not even a ghost. Surprising, considering the location.
He sat quietly beside Jett, figuring he’d let her brin
g up whatever she wanted to talk about. He wasn’t about the third degree. Actually, it felt comfortable to sit beside her without speaking. In a manner, they were two alike. Together they’d been through some terrible things. They were bonded beyond childhood games and adventures. He liked that. Another person in the world he could relate to. The list was short.
After a few minutes, Jett leaned forward and said softly, “It was a weird thing to find out.” Long dark hair fell over the side of her face and dusted her knees. “Adopted? I can’t believe my parents never said anything. It’s not like it’s such a taboo thing nowadays. Is it?”
“Being adopted is nothing to be ashamed of. I haven’t a clue why your parents didn’t tell you. Although...your mother was a staunch churchgoer.”
“Yes, Sundays were sacred to her.” She smirked. “False gods and a controlling patriarchy. That’s all religion is. There are demons far kinder than some religious zealots I’ve known.”
Savin had to agree, but then, he was sure most of the major religions would pass on admitting him as a member. And yet he’d been trained by an exorcist, and their numbers were welcomed by the Catholic Church. And which institution was always claiming the most demon encounters? The Catholics.
He had to chuckle that most of those claims were unsubstantiated, yet they did get good press. The demons Savin knew were much smarter than to get caught in a human host. Most of them, anyway. And while exorcism was effective, a few rare demons were actually strengthened by the intrusion of the Christian rites. And such demonic strength from within utterly destroyed the human host. Tragic.
“This news doesn’t change anything,” he offered. “Josette and Charles loved you. They raised you. They are your parents.”
“I know that. But do you know... It’s silly to even wonder. I’m not an emotional person.”
She tilted a glance up at him, and the Other inside Savin shivered. He pressed a hand to his chest but didn’t think much of it. Or rather, didn’t want to. The Other was cautious about Jett. To be expected from one who had just come from Daemonia.
Finally, Jett asked, “Were they sad after I was gone?”