“Where is she?”
“I assumed she was with you.”
“Well, dipshit, you know what happens when you assume. She’s not with me. And if you think…” Her face lowered to his. In the corner of her eye was a small bead of blood. He’d really done a number on her, no wonder she was generous with the insults.
“Get off me.” Before I do something I regret. She was too close, and his instincts were at war. Part of him wanted to destroy her for daring to touch him, and the other part wanted to grab the back of her head and attack her lips.
A blush of red appeared on her cheeks before she heaved herself off. Tripping over his feet, she wobbled for a second, but he didn’t offer to help her. He didn’t like the way he reacted to her.
Effortlessly, he rose to his feet, catching her narrowed glare as he did. Jealous. She didn’t like the way he moved. Benefits of not being hindered by the same laws of physics humans were.
“What did you do with her?” Her hand went to her throat. Narrowing his eyes, he reached for her hand to see what she was reaching for, but she smacked it. “No touch!”
Drawing his hand back quickly, he shook his head. Had he heard her correctly? “Did you speak to me like a child?”
“I am simplifying my language as you haven’t answered any of my questions. Clearly, you don’t understand what I’m saying, so I’m making it easier for you.” The sentiment was understood, but she undid her insult by speaking so verbosely immediately following it.
“What are you hiding?”
Her hand remained over her throat. “Argh!” Throwing her hands up in the air, she turned her back on him. “Delia! Honey, where are you?” She went into the graveyard, leaving him staring after her while she called out the way someone would who lost a dog. “De-lia! Delia!”
A bubble of power burst. Interesting. Someone couldn’t contain themselves. It was only a matter of time before she appeared. As long as he stayed with the human, he would find her again.
“Delia!” he called out.
Rounding on him, the human pointed toward the road. “Leave.”
“You can’t be serious.” He lifted an eyebrow. Truly. She didn’t believe she could tell him what to do and he would do it?
“Delia? Go get ice cream somewhere. As long as this dude is here, stay away. Got it, sweetheart?”
A scent invaded the graveyard: anger and disappointment tinged with amusement. Demon-spawn liked this idea and was happy to listen to the human. Examining the cemetery, the human spied a bench and made her way there, sitting down and pulling her legs onto the stone. She shivered, reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone and proceeded to ignore him.
Had she forgotten the pain he put her through? How could she ignore him when he could crush her to nothing? Humans had gone insane after insulting him for less. Perhaps, she needed a reminder of the power he held over her. Glancing up at the sky, he gathered the clouds, pulling down the cold air and whipping it around her in a vortex of snow and ice.
“You made me bleed from my eye holes. This is not frightening.” Was she speaking in Occitan now?
Waving his hand, he dissipated the cold and approached her. “Who are you?”
“Names have power,” she whispered, placing her phone on her lap and regarding him seriously. “What is yours?”
This time she used ancient Hebrew. He inclined his head in acknowledgement. His name was rarely spoken aloud, and when it was, it didn’t fall from human lips. “Tell me, human. Or else I will find it myself and you will not like my methods.”
Her hand went beneath her chin, the back of her fingers flicking toward him: fuck off. He answered her challenge, digging into her mind for her name. Again, she resisted him, and this time, he had a harder time boring into her mind. Not because he couldn’t, but he didn’t want to. Still, he pushed, and when she gasped and screwed up her face in pain, he pushed harder.
Lucia.
“Lucia.”
He withdrew and her body collapsed forward, her hands catching her knees as her shoulders heaved. Twisting to the side, she threw up in the snow.
“Was it worth resisting me?” He honestly wondered, watching her olive skin sallow to an unbecoming yellow.
“Totally,” she choked. “Come closer and I’ll puke on your shoes to prove it.”
He knelt, out of vomit range. “I will find the answers I want. Why not give them to me?”
“Free will,” she answered. She used Hebrew again, and it threw him back to a time when the term was uttered quietly, away from the ever-watchful eye of their creator. He remembered observing the strange creatures, so like the one in front of him now, make decisions that went against every tenet he was forced to obey.
He’d bent this girl to his will the way he’d once been forced to bend, and it hadn’t given him pause for one moment.
A flash of pink light shot past him, his sister’s scent permeating the air. Before he could move, the human was gone and the scent disappeared.
Pushing his power out and away, he tried to find a remnant of it, but there was nothing. Only him and the bones of dead.
6
Lucia
“He’s coming after us.”
Delia nodded, licking around the edge of her waffle cone. When Lucia told her to get an ice cream, she’d taken her direction literally.
The chocolate melted, dripping over her fingers and down her arm. Her pink tongue snuck out, collecting the chocolate as it threatened to drip off her elbow. Holding out the mess to Lucia, she smiled sadly. “My mom would clean up the sides so it wouldn’t do this.”
Taking the proffered cone, Lucia quickly licked around the sides the way she remembered her own mother doing. Grabbing napkins from the center of the picnic table, she cleaned Delia’s face and hands. Her heart ached thinking about the little girl who had no mom to help her with her ice cream. Crumpling the napkins, she grabbed some clean ones and tickled Delia’s chin with them. “Come here,” she teased. “I see some more.”
Her distraction did as she intended. Delia giggled, turning her face away from the napkins and tucking her chin into her chest.
“There’s a little on your cheek!” Lucia bent over, holding the cone away from them so it didn’t drip everywhere and kissed her with noisy smacks that made her giggle louder.
“Lucia!”
“Oops. Missed some on the other side!” She did the same to Delia's other cheek, breathing in the girl’s sweet scent and wrapping her arm around her narrow shoulders so her body rested in the crook of her arm.
Giggles dying away, she kept her head bent, her chin low. Trembling began in her shoulders, and Lucia cuddled her, pitching the ice cream into a bin so she could tug her onto her lap. “I got you, peanut.”
Delia rested her head against her chest, her tears soaking Lucia’s shirt and her sticky hands grabbing handfuls of material. Her throat tightened in sympathy, and her eyes burned. Helpless, there was nothing Lucia could say that would lessen Delia’s sadness. Rocking back and forth, she held her. All she wanted was to make her feel better. “Tell me about your mom.” Maybe, talking would help.
“She was really pretty,” Delia answered after a long moment. Her sticky fingers went in her mouth, and she got a far-off look in her eyes like she was picturing her mother. “Not like you.”
Ignoring the unintended insult, Lucia replied, “I bet she was. If she looked like you, she would be gorgeous.”
Sniffing, Delia nodded. “No one was prettier. Her hair was blonde and curly, and her eyes were deep red. My dad said she had the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. And she was so tall she could reach anything.”
“That’s a helpful skill to have,” she replied truthfully, thinking of the never-used bread-maker sitting in the cabinet over her refrigerator.
“Sometimes she’d change her eyes, just because. But always if I asked. Blue or purple. She’d do purple because it was my favorite color, but my dad always made her change them back.”
“She really loved you.” The picture Delia painted was a happy one. Two parents who loved each other. A man who thought his red-eyed wife beautiful. Whatever had happened since then, Delia had sweet memories to draw upon.
Despite the girl’s slight weight, Lucia started to sweat through her wool coat. Catching the glances of other ice cream patrons, all clad in sandals and shorts or sundresses, she and Delia stood out in their winter clothes. “Can I ask you something else?”
Delia turned a tear-streaked face up to her and nodded.
“Where are we?” When she’d been teleported from the cemetery, she’d appeared here on this picnic bench outside a drive-up ice cream parlor. Her nose burned in the sun.
Giggling, Delia sniffed and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Florida? I think.”
“You want more ice cream?”
The girl shook her head, but leaned against Lucia again. Being upset had exhausted her. Glancing down, she saw the girl let out a huge yawn.
“How about we find a place to rest?”
Delia nodded and swept her hand through the air. Colors rushed past her, faster than the blur of scenery when staring out a car window. Motion sickness threatened, and Lucia closed her eyes. She had nothing to focus on, no fixed point in space to help her get her bearings. Like riding the tilt-a-whirl at a carnival, she prayed for it to be over.
All at once, her body jarred to a stop. Her head whipped forward, and she tripped, eyes opening automatically.
Where were they? She didn’t recognize this place. It was a stark apartment, everything white and chrome. “Is this your house?” Walking to the window, she saw the frozen harbor in the distance, completing the monochromatic aesthetic.
Delia climbed onto the suede couch, and Lucia winced when a smudge of chocolate she missed smeared across the cushion. “No.”
It wasn’t the sort of place a kid would live. “Should we be here?”
Delia’s eyes closed, and her thumb went into her mouth. “I’m too tired to run anymore.”
Sighing, Lucia walked to her. The rug covering the floor beneath the couch and coffee table was white and furry. It would be comfortable enough. Seating herself next to Delia’s head, she brushed the girl’s hair back from her face. “Okay. Take a nap. I’ll be here. Anything I should know?”
“We’ll be fine.” Her words were broken by another huge yawn. “Night, Luce.”
“Night, piccola.”
Weak winter sunlight streamed through every window. Lucia watched Delia, smoothing her hair, waiting for her eyes to dance beneath her closed lids to signal she’d fallen into a deep sleep. It was a long time coming. Delia tossed and turned, and finally, with Lucia’s thumb stroking back and forth across her forehead, she stilled.
Cracking her neck, Lucia carefully withdrew her hand. Delia remained asleep. Good. The girl needed it. Stretching, she stood and decided to explore.
Keeping one eye on Delia, she walked to the window to stare out. Huh. They were back at Pauper’s Cemetery. Why didn’t these things freak her out more? In less than twenty-four hours, everything she thought she knew was turned on its head.
There was the church’s spire, and beyond the white expanse of the open graveyard, stones covered in snow. Maybe she should stop down later, see if the priest could make sense of what the universe had recently revealed to her. Ha! If she set foot in a church after not attending in so long, she’d probably burst into flames.
Ambling around the perimeter of the room, she tried to imagine what sort of person lived here. They had money to burn. Each exterior wall was a window; the entire city visible from wherever she happened to stand. It should have given her a sense of openness, but instead, she found herself wondering what was holding the ceiling above her head. Tipping her head back, she imagined steel and plaster crushing her.
A whimper brought her out of her dark thoughts, and she hurried to the couch. Delia thrashed back and forth, and cried out, “Daddy!”
Frowning, Lucia picked her up. “It’s okay.” She pulled her onto her lap, cradling her in her arms and stroking her back until she calmed. As Delia fell back to sleep, Lucia let her head drop onto the arm of the couch.
She’d gotten herself into a mess—a weird, inter-dimensional mess of biblical proportions. She’d walked home from the library, and bam! Insta-mom. Staring at Delia’s flushed face, Lucia grinned. She wasn’t sorry. This kid had a way about her, and Lucia was smitten.
But she wasn’t prepared for her. Lucia’s student loans supported her. She had no real job. Correcting papers and teaching bored undergrads for less than she could make at a fast-food joint didn’t count. If she had a child, she needed to be smart and self-sufficient.
What was the school system like in her area? She didn’t even know. Was Delia old enough for school? Argh! This was such a mess! No way was she responsible enough to take care of her.
“What are you doing in my home?”
Shit. She knew that voice. “Hey,” she singsonged in greeting at a loss for what else to do. “So, you just, you know, poof into places?”
Crossing his arms, the man glared at her, leather jacket crackling as he moved. Or maybe it was his knuckles cracking. Lucia got the feeling she was on shaky ground with this guy.
“I didn’t know this was your house.” She made a move to shake Delia awake, but the girl was so exhausted, she paused. “Do you mind if we hang for a bit? Delie is beat and needs a nap. When she wakes up, you can go back to squeezing my brain or whatever.” The nickname flowed from her, riding the rising wave of affection cresting in her soul.
His eyes flicked to the girl asleep in her lap and back before dropping his arms. Running his fingers through his perfectly styled hair, he sighed. “I—Fine.” Sitting carefully in a nearby chair, he kept his gaze on Lucia. “What are you doing here?”
“Delia brought us here.”
“Did she?” One eyebrow raised as he considered her sleeping form. What was it about this guy that made her want to douse him in holy water, and then, remove his wet shirt?
“Why are you after her?”
Part of her was amazed at her audacity, but for some reason, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her right now.
Shrugging, he continued to watch them silently.
“Do you know her?”
Icy blue eyes flicked to her, staring at her intently before he shook his head. “No. I don’t know her. But—”
When he didn’t finish, Lucia waved a hand. “But…”
He remained silent. Okay. So, he wasn’t going to answer unless he wanted to. Fine. “Do you know what happened to her parents?”
“Parents?” This threw him off guard. “She doesn’t have parents.”
“Of course, she does. Everyone has parents. She told me about her mother and father. And don’t scoff like it’s crazy, Mr. This is My House. Weirdo. What circle of hell is this, really?”
“Did she?” He ignored her comment about his house. Again—fine. He was only interested in discussing Delia. “What did she say?”
“Why are you after her?” Lucia countered wickedly. She could tit-for-tat, too.
“Have you forgotten what I can do?”
Raising an eyebrow, she shook her head. “I’m unlikely to forget the worst headache of the century or the Our Lady of the Bleeding Eyeballs impression. I can’t stop you. Do it. Go ahead.” Please don’t. Why did she speak without thinking?
“I’m not going to hurt her,” he said.
“But you’re after her?”
Rolling his eyes, he dropped his head to the back to the chair. “I’m not after her. She has something I need.”
“What could a child possible have that you need?” A million horrible answers to the question rattled around in her mind and she wished for a weapon.
“She knows something about someone I’m searching for.”
“You’re so mysterious,” she mocked.
In a blur, he pushed himself out of the chair. His cold fingers wrapped around her throat
, forcing her head closer to his. “Watch yourself, human.”
He wasn’t holding her tightly enough to cut off her breathing, but the threat was there. His fingers were long and cool, and he held her with a strength she wouldn’t have been able to escape, even without Delia in her arms. She used the one thing she had available. Twisting her head to the side, she snapped her teeth at his wrist. Instinctively, he let go.
“I didn’t say you could touch me.”
His eyes warmed, the iciness melting into pools of blue-green. It reminded her of a tropical beach. A sense of calm and safety suffused her. She could drown in those eyes… Wait. “What are you doing?”
The blue-green disappeared, becoming icy again. “What do you mean?”
Snorting, she shifted away from him. Delia snored and Lucia pushed her hair away, keeping her hand on her head. “She’s very sad,” she said without thinking. “She misses her mother.” Staring at him again, she went on. “I don’t know what you think of her, but let me tell you what I know. I know this is a child. I know she is scared and alone, and for some reason, she thinks I can protect her. I will do my best to keep her believing that.”
As she finished, he smiled, cold and mirthless. “Save your proclamations. I don’t need them. I’ll do what I want and you can’t stop me.”
For some reason, his words didn’t frighten her as much as they should. Yes, he was threatening her, and yes, she knew he could inflict torturous pain on her, but right now, he wasn’t and she didn’t think he wanted to. “Yeah, yeah. I know. You’re big and bad. Let’s try this. What do you need to know from her? What will it take for you to fly away?”
Staring at her, he seemed to weigh her question. “I want to know about my sister. Was she the girl’s creator? Where is she now?”
“That’s it?”
A stillness came over him, reminding her of a panther watching its prey while it lay in wait. Finally, he answered, “Yes. That’s it.”
Matched With A Demon Page 4