Earth Angel

by E. Van Lowe

  I was in the passenger seat. Harrison had folded himself neatly into the tight back seat. No complaints. At least not from him. I was full of complaints.

  “What do you mean you asked him to watch over me? I don’t need anyone watching over me!”

  I honestly think the anger was a defense mechanism—a way for me not to face the fact that a demon from hell was after me. I recalled Erin’s words from the dream. This isn’t over, witch!

  “Beggin’ yer pardon, Megan, but it’s a good thing yer fella there called upon me. An Ibwa may be a lesser demon, but to a mortal he’s still quite dangerous.” I didn’t like the way Harrison said my name.

  “Did you keep him from killing me?” I squawked. I looked at him in the rear view mirror. He was staring at me all smug and self-righteous.

  “Yes. In a sense I did,” he responded.

  “Thank you. But now Guy is back. So, I guess we don’t need you anymore.”

  “Don’t be rude,” said Guy, sounding embarrassed for me.

  “What’s rude is having someone watch over me without letting me know. It’s creepy!”

  He let out a long, slow breath. “I didn’t want anything to happen to you while I was away, Megan.” His voice softened. He seemed hurt by my attitude. “I’m sorry if it bothers you.” This last part was a near whisper.

  Great! I thought. Now I was feeling worse for jumping down his throat, when all he was trying to do was protect me. I again looked at Harrison in the rear view. I knew his type—handsome, thinks he’s God’s gift to women. From the look of him, he also thought he was charming and irresistible. He wasn’t. Angel or not, he wasn’t.

  “Mortals,” he snorted in his infernal accent.

  My head whipped around like that girl in The Exorcist. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded, my nostrils flaring.

  “Mortals can be quite emotional,” he replied without backing down. “Sorry if I offended ya,” he said with fake remorse. His eyes softened. It was a trick. I didn’t fall for it.

  “Harrison needs to stay around a little while longer, Megan. He is trained to track demons,” Guy said seriously. “This one needs to be captured.”

  “Destroyed, is more like it,” Harrison rasped. He seemed to enjoy his work.

  I nodded, and my skin began to feel cold and clammy. It was finally sinking in how lucky I was that the demon hadn’t already attacked. I thought of Erin. When she was in my garden the demon could have attacked her as well—if indeed it was Erin that had been in my garden.

  “No worries. I won’t be poppin’ up on ya or anythin’. Since the Ibwa is a lesser demon, if he’s hidin’ somewhere nearby when I’m around, I’ll command him to come out. A lesser demon must answer to those who are more powerful. Once I call him out, I will destroy him, and he won’t be botherin’ ya anymore.”

  I looked at Guy. For the first time I allowed the seriousness of what I’d heard to wash over me. “This sounds dangerous.”

  “It is,” he said somberly. He reached into my lap, found my hand and squeezed it. His touch was comforting.

  I was trying not to freak out. My research had told me there were over two hundred different demons, from lesser demons with no real supernatural powers, to higher demons who were almost as powerful as Satan himself. The Ibwa was a lesser demon. I tried convincing myself this was good news.

  “Why do you think a demon would be stalkin’ ya?” Harrison asked, his gaze stabbing into me.

  “How would I know? Maybe Satan sent him. I did jilt him, you know.”Just then I was starting to get an antsy feeling.

  He considered my response. “No, I don’t think so. I get the sense he’s searchin’ for something. Any idea what that might be?”

  The Mustang pulled up to the curb in front of my house. I flung the door open and jumped out, avoiding Harrison’s gaze. I needed to get away from them as quickly as possible. I had an idea of what the Ibwa might be looking for, and I wasn’t ready to share.

  “Wait!” Guy called as I started up the walk. He got out and came around to the passenger side. “Let me walk you to your door.”

  “Okay,” I replied, a clipped response. Normally the idea of a boy walking me to my door would have been très romantic. But not today. We started walking. I kept my eyes straight ahead.

  “Megan, he—”

  “I don’t like him!” I blurted.

  “I think you made that abundantly clear,” Guy responded. He had the cutest smile playing on his lips. It was hard to be mad with him smiling that way.

  “I mean… he doesn’t act like an angel. He’s so full of himself.”

  “He’s good at what he does, Megan.”

  “Why did you ask him to watch over me?”I was still quite emotional.

  “After what you went through with Satan, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t a target for other demons.”

  I breathed. “I didn’t mean to jump all over you,” I said softening.“This whole thing caught me off guard.”I returned his smile with a weak one of my own.

  We stopped walking. He gazed at me, his eyes smoldering. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

  I started walking again. He grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me around, facing him. “You don’t know that!” he replied. His words were anguished.

  He continued peering at me, his eyes slowly softening, and a subtle sweetness settled over him. “I’m not a mortal, Megan, but if something ever happened to you, I think I would die.”

  My breathing hitched for the second time that day. What do you say when the boy you love is expressing his feelings for you, and you feel exactly the same way? I moved into his arms.

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me. I promise,” I replied in a reassuring whisper.

  “Hey, Megan!” Harrison called, obliterating our moment of bliss. He was now standing at the curb next to the Mustang, an ingratiating smile on his lips. “Nice meetin’ ya.”

  #

  Reluctantly, Guy left me at my door. He wanted to stay until Suze came home, but I knew if she walked in and saw him sitting in our living room on a school day it would open up a whole different can of worms. Thankfully, Harrison convinced him they were better off hunting the Ibwa than standing idle. I didn’t like Harrison, but I was grateful he got Guy to leave.

  I watched the Mustang pulling away from the curb, a chill settling over me like a net. It was the same chill I’d had when Armando promised he’d pay me back for throwing holy water on him the night of the party.

  After making sure all the doors and windows were locked, I went to my room to see if anything had been disturbed. I sat down at my old computer, the one that had been trashed by Armando. The keyboard and monitor were still on my desk, the unplugged CPU still on the floor underneath. My new laptop lay on the nightstand by my bed. I eyed my old CPU, ran my fingers gently along the old keyboard, memories of my ordeal with the devil flooding in.

  I thought it was over. I had hoped and prayed all the demonic trouble that had plagued my life with the arrival of Armando was over. Matt had given his life so that it would be over. The chill I had been feeling earlier now crept into my bones. It wasn’t over.

  I had thirty-seven new Facebook friend requests.

  #

  We hadn’t visited Aunt Jaz in three weeks. I knew I couldn’t show up empty handed, so I bought her a crock pot as a token of my appreciation for all she had done in getting me prepared for my battle with the devil. I didn’t know if Aunt Jaz had a crock pot or not, but I figured with as much cooking as she did, she could always use another one.

  On the ride over, Maudrina talked about the boy she’d met at The Explosion.

  “Curtis called,” she said. “Actually he’s called twice.”

  “Really?” I was surprised. It’s not that Maudrina isn’t cute. She’s very cute—but she’s not a member of the Poplarati.

  Curtis didn’t go to G.U. He attended Jenning
s, a snooty private school for the sons and daughters of the valley’s rich.

  “Just be careful,” I said. You never know with rich kids. It’s not uncommon for rich boys to date outside their circle for one thing and one thing only.

  “Yes, Mommy,” she drawled playfully.

  When Aunt Jaz opened the door, a delicious fragrance thick with spice wafted out to us. “What is that heavenly aroma?” asked Maudrina, peeking in over her aunt’s shoulder.

  “When you told me you were bringing a special guest, I started whipping up a batch of my famous shrimp creole.” She engulfed Maudrina in one of her big bear hugs.

  Aunt Jaz was looking retro-stylish in a navy blue fifties-style dress featuring a flared skirt with big white polka dots. She moved to me.

  “Hi, Aunt Jaz. Why are you all dressed up?” Her hair was cut into a short, neat fifties style with a slight curl at the ends. The woman loved living in the past.

  “This old thing? Trust me, deary, you’ll know when I get dressed up.” She let out her big boisterous laugh. “You like shrimp creole?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never had it.”

  “Then you are in for a treat. I do believe this is my best batch ever.”

  “You tell us that every time you cook,” said Maudrina her eyes crinkling.

  “That’s because the older I get, the better I cook.” Aunt Jaz erupted into more raucous laughter.

  The apartment smelled even better inside. There were two pots on the turn-of-the-century stove. The larger one I’d seen in use when she was making soup, along with a smaller pot, both with steam rising from under their lids.

  The kitchen was as I remembered, a collage of green with a distinctive sixties feel. Maudrina and I sat at the dinette that was several odd shades of green, while Aunt Jaz moved to the stove to check on the shrimp creole. She lifted the lid on the big pot and a cloud of steam escaped to the ceiling. She took a sniff. “Almost done,” she called.

  When she joined us at the dinette, I held the shopping bag out to her.

  “What’s this?”

  “A gift. For you. For all your help.”

  “Oh, my goodness!”Her hands went to her chest in surprise. “Come here, you!” She yanked me up, pulling me into one of her bear hugs. “You are just too special,” she said squeezing the breath out of me.

  “You’re the special one,” I rasped, and she let go, realizing she was holding on too tight. “I’d probably be the devil’s bride right now if it weren’t for you.”

  “Thank you,” she said modestly. “You are too kind.”

  “Open it.” I was still holding onto the bag. She took it from my hands.

  “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to wait a while. You’ve already given me a big ole thrill just by thinking of me. I’d like to open it in a day or two when the thrill has worn off, and then I get to have this good feeling all over again.”

  “Okay, sure,” I replied. “Open it whenever you want.” Aunt Jaz was a strange woman, but strange in a good way. My mother would call her eccentric.

  “So, I hear you’ve got a new problem.” Her expression turned serious. Aunt Jaz had a knack for changing the mood quickly.

  “Yes,” I said somberly. “I am being stalked by a demon.”

  “Oh, my! That is a problem.”

  “The demon wants something,” Maudrina said.

  For the first time since I’d known her, Aunt Jaz seemed perplexed. “Something to do with the devil, you think?”

  “Yes. We think he’s looking for The Book of Calls,” I replied.

  A look of dread came over her. “I’ve heard of that wretched book,” she said with distaste. “I thought it was a myth.”

  “It’s not a myth,” I said, my voice even.

  She blew out a slow breath that seemed as though all the wind was being taken out of her sails. “In the hands of the wrong person, The Book of Calls could wreak havoc on the planet. They say the black plague of the thirteen hundreds was a spell cast by an evil Monarch from that treacherous book.” She looked at me.“Why on earth would a demon think you possess The Book of Calls?”

  “Because I do.”

  Chapter Eight

  The only person aside from me and Maudrina who knew about the book was Matt, who was now dead. While I had shared the story of defeating the devil with both Guy and Aunt Jaz, for some reason I left out the part where I’d gone to the house and retrieved the book I used for the reversal incantation. I never told them of sneaking in Armando’s house in the middle of the night and finding the book locked in a desk drawer. Or of being attacked by Señora Marisol’s familiar/dog. I guess I figured the fewer people who knew about the book, the better.

  Aunt Jaz sat dumbfounded as I told her the entire story, this time filling in the gaps I’d left out last time.

  “You have The Book of Calls?”

  “Yes.”

  “The Book of Calls is in your possession?” She seemed astonished.

  “Yes,” I repeated.

  “Amazing.” She sat back in her chair, her eyes drifting toward the ceiling. She kept them there as if she was searching for something amidst the chips in the paint.

  “Are you okay?” asked Maudrina.

  “Yes, deary, I’m fine. Just thinking is all. I didn’t know the book actually existed. And to think I know the person who possesses it.” She got up, moved to the stove and checked on the shrimp creole. “It’s done. We’ll let it cool a little bit before digging in.” She turned off the heat under both pots.

  She busied herself around the stove, doing her best to act naturally, but I could tell she was troubled. I knew The Book of Calls was a big deal. I now realized it was a bigger deal than I had imagined.

  “Am I in danger?” I already knew the answer. There was a demon stalking me—of course I was in danger.

  “Who else knows you have the book?”

  “Just the two of you.”

  “Guy doesn’t know?” She seemed surprised.

  I shook my head. “Once my ordeal with Armando was over, I never wanted to talk about it. I was alive and one of my best friends was dead. The book didn’t seem that important at the time.”

  Aunt Jaz moved back to the table and sat across from me. “I suspect there are others who may know of its existence. Matt knew about it. And it was in Señora Marisol’s house, so we know she knew about it. I believe other Satanists who were at the house the night Satan performed his little trick may know of its existence as well and are searching for it right now.”

  A lump the size of a chunk of coal formed in my throat. I was finding it hard to swallow. “But they don’t know I have it—yet.”

  “Yet,” she repeated grimly. “If they did know, you’d probably be dead by now.”

  “Dead!”Maudrina squawked. “Hold on, Aunt Jaz. Aren’t you being a bit melodramatic? I know the book is a big deal. If they knew Megan had it they might try taking it from her, but I don’t think anyone would kill her for it.”

  “I hope you’re right,” was Aunt Jaz’s grim reply.

  “I think they would,” I muttered darkly. “The existence, of the book is a little known secret. The fewer who know of its existence, the easier it will be to protect it.” I looked into Maudrina’s eyes. They were lovely eyes, big and brown, and usually filled with joy. At the moment, they were filling with horror. “Right now, most people think the book is a myth. If people knew it was real, no telling what they might do to get their hands on it, even killing whoever has it.”

  Neither of them responded. We sat in uneasy silence for several minutes.

  “Well, I have demons and Satanists after me. I’m pretty darned popular. I say we celebrate with a bowl or dish or plate of shrimp creole.” I kept my voice cheery, smiling when I spoke. It was far from what I was feeling inside.

  “It’s served in a bowl,” Aunt Jaz responded. She was staring at me, trying to figure out if my cheeriness was fake, or if I had lost my mind.

  “A big bowl. A bed of ri
ce on the bottom, and shrimp creole piled on top,” added Maudrina. She was staring at me as well.

  “Pitiful,” said Aunt Jaz, wagging her head back and forth. “This poor child don’t know a thing about good food.”

  “Not a thing,” replied Maudrina in a sorrowful tone. The two of them looked at each other, and I could see laughter percolating in their eyes.

  “If I keep coming here, I just might learn a thing or two,” I said with a teasing smile.

  “You just might.” They both burst into laughter. When the laughter died down Aunt Jaz repeated the phrase. “You just might.” She spoke more softly the second time, and there was a severity underlying her words. I got the feeling she was talking about more than food.

  #

  Shrimp creole is a tomato-based stew. It’s also heavenly.

  The meal lightened the mood somewhat. Afterwards, Aunt Jaz mused over who might have engaged the Ibwa.

  “Perhaps it was Satan himself,” Aunt jaz said. She figured Satan would want to retrieve the book that helped thwart his plans. But she also thought it might be other major demons, like Lucifer or Mephistopheles. Possessing The Book of Calls could increase their significance in hell.

  My head was spinning as I heard the names of the powerful demons that might be after me. I’d heard the names before in the Bible and horror movies. I never thought I’d hear my name in the same sentence as Lucifer. Go figure.

  “What do you plan on doing with the book?” Aunt Jaz asked.

  “I haven’t thought about it.”

  Her face clouded over. “You need to think about it, Deary.”

  On top of the demons, there were also Satanists who were after the book. While Satanists had no supernatural powers, they could take me out more easily because crucifixes and holy water didn’t work on them.

  What a mess I found myself in. You’d think with all the trouble in my life, I would have been freaking out. But I wasn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I was scared to death. But this time I knew I had heaven on my side. Guy was my angel, stripped of his wings because he loved me. I knew he and Harrison were tracking the demon stalking me. He wouldn’t let me down.