Devil Take Me

by Karilyn Bentley

  Sea of blue…sea of blue…sea of blue…

  Healing. I'm being healed by the Agency's albino healer, Eloise.

  My lids drift shut.

  The next time my eyes open when I gasp for air. My gaze fixates on the white, non-laughing ceiling. Right. Because ceilings don’t laugh, have grins, nor do they stare at a person. Unless the person has issues.

  I am not going there.

  T sits to my left on the bed. Smythe kneels on the floor to my right, holding my hand in his large palm. A slight rustle of clothing sounds from behind my head. Eloise. Her presence fills my bedroom as if the air sings in her proximity. I tilt my head back, stare into her sightless red eyes as she stands over me at the foot of my bed. I lay upside down on the bed, feet propped on my pillow, my typical healing position.

  When I open my lips to speak, I have to swallow several times before the words will come out, my tongue thick and dry against the roof of my mouth.

  “Thank you.” I say those words to her so often it’s like a cracked record hopping in the same spot over and over and over.

  She nods, lips turning in a gentle smile.

  “What happened?” Yeah, I remember the demon fight, the way Rahab played toss Gin into the walls and ceiling, the pain of landing crumpled and broken on the kitchen floor. But everything afterward remains a dark well of missing information.

  “You were hurt.” Smythe squeezes my hand before releasing it like I have the plague. His gaze skitters off my face faster than a roach darts out of the light.

  I wish he’d listen and believe me when I tell him nothing happened. He should know me better, but emotional pain prohibits reasoning and it’s clear from the way he prefers to look at the ground his pain hurts as deep as mine.

  Which doesn’t excuse his behavior.

  “Eloise came after the demon escaped.” T interrupts my thoughts, snapping me back to the question I asked and promptly forgot about once Smythe spoke. What happened after lights out, sucka. “You’ve been out for a day.”

  A day? A whole day? Wait, that makes it Wednesday. I’m supposed to be in the ER today. Oh shit.

  “What?” This time my words have no problem crossing a thick and dry tongue. “Did I miss work?”

  Say no, please, say no.

  T, Smythe and Eloise exchange a look, somewhere between wondering if the healing didn’t completely work and needing to lie. Crap, I could lose my job if I missed a day without calling in. After the last time, my boss Ruth, a.k.a Nurse Hatchet, wouldn’t be so generous to let me off with only a write-up.

  “Oh god, I’m gonna be fired.” My eyes close, my shaky hands resting on top of them as if the motion will make the day restart. My stomach makes a pit and drops my heart into it.

  What will I do without my job? How will I pay the bills?

  “I called in for you.”

  My hands drop as I stare through blurry eyes at a serious T. I bet that went over well with Ruth, the stickler for speaking with the ill employee.

  “How—”

  “Told her you were bad sick. She wanted a doctor’s note.” He shrugs, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Guess she didn’t believe me.”

  “Thanks, but I’m still screwed sideways.”

  “I wrote you a note,” Eloise says.

  My eyes widen as my breath hitches in shocked lungs. “You have official doctor’s office letterhead? Because she won’t accept anything less. I’m surprised she even took your call, T. She doesn’t normally speak to anyone except the employee who’s ill.”

  Eloise touches my shoulder, her gaze zeroing in on mine. “The paper and note will look official, don’t worry.”

  Air rushes out of my lungs on a whoosh of relief. “Thank you. I seem to say those words a lot to you.”

  “That’s what friends are for.” She taps my shoulder twice. “Now, be sure to rest, you had a nasty blow to the head. You’re lucky I was available.”

  Translation: you would’ve died without my healing.

  I swing my legs over the side of the bed—causing Smythe to take a step back—and pause until a swirl of dizziness stops making the room spin. Then I launch myself at Eloise, wrapping my arms around her waist, hugging her for all I am worth.

  She saved my life so many times I’ve lost count.

  “I’m glad you’re my friend.”

  She pats my back before pulling away.

  “So Gin’s okay?” Smythe asks. “No lingering effects?”

  “None,” Eloise replies. “She had a hard blow and still needs rest but she’s fine.”

  “Good.” My mentor nods. “I need to check on some things at the Agency. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “How did you know to come?”

  He raises a brow. “The demon notification program alerted us to Rahab’s presence.”

  “It worked?” And in my favor too? What were the chances?

  His stare lasts a beat too long. Heat flushes my cheeks. Good observation, Gin. Of course it worked. They came and chased off the demon before he caused me irreparable damage.

  “Thanks for coming.” I want to reach for him, to offer an apology without words, but clasp my hands together before they can move. No matter the gratitude rushing through me, he needs to be the one apologizing to me.

  But oh, how I want to touch him.

  After a lingering stare followed by another nod, he mutters words sounding suspiciously like Latin, steps into his portal and disappears. A puff of warm air from the portal swirls around my ankles. At least he stuck around to find out whether or not I’d be okay.

  It might have been simply to ensure his mentee lived, but I prefer to think it was because he actually cared about me, maybe even realized he was wrong about Donny and me. And since it’s just me and my thoughts, I can believe whatever I want.

  Sometimes delusions are all one has.

  “Ass,” T’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “You’d think he’d stick around longer.”

  “Sometimes giving one’s all seems like so little to others.” Eloise stares at where Smythe disappeared.

  I step around her, throwing my arms around my twin and squeezing until he pats my back.

  “I thought you were hurt bad.”

  “I thought you were dead.”

  Peace flows through both of us, the other’s touch a calming balm for our souls. What would I have done if Rahab had killed my twin? What would T have done if I’d died?

  Thoughts to shove to the back of my mind to review on another day.

  A squeak of springs indicates Eloise sits on my bed. Sits. As if she plans on staying.

  T releases me to plop down next to her. He smiles at her. She grins at him. Great. The lovebirds are in my bedroom. T cuts me a glare like he heard my thoughts.

  I did hear your thoughts.

  Great.

  I crawl onto the middle the bed so I can look at both of them while talking. “What happened after I blacked out? You mentioned Rahab escaped?”

  Eloise nods while T answers.

  “I blacked out too, but woke in time to see him hop a portal right after he slammed you into the ground.” His jaw tenses. “I hope to never see you hurt again. Damn demon. You really need to quit this job.”

  “We’ve been over this.” Now it’s my turn for the clenched jaw.

  Eloise’s head turns from T to me as if she’s never heard siblings argue.

  “T,” Eloise pats my twin’s thigh, her voice a soothing poultice to frayed souls. He straightens, but not with anger. “Gin is a Justitian. She can no more give up being one than you can change the color of your skin by thinking it done. The bond is irreversible. We have to learn to accept the inevitable if we wish to move forward.”

  Eloise, the deep thought guru.

  Giving her a narrowed glare, T removes her hand, placing it on her leg and stands. “Just ’cause you accept something as is, don’t mean you have to like it.”

  He wraps me in a quick hug before storming out of the room. Elo
ise sighs.

  “Sorry.” I pat her shoulder. “You tried. Thank you again for saving me.”

  “It was my pleasure, Gin. I only wish…never mind.”

  “You have the hots for my twin, don’t you?”

  Red tinges her cheeks. Bingo. As if I didn’t already know.

  “We shouldn’t discuss this.”

  “Just tell him how you feel. He likes you too.”

  She stands, the red tinge on her face turning into a deep rose. “I am most glad you are better, Gin. I must be going, but will visit you again, I’m sure.”

  With a wave of her hand, she vanishes into a portal.

  Avoidance seems to be a theme tonight.

  My stomach decides to rumble, reminding me it’s been empty for more than a day. Thank you, Rahab. I walk out of my bedroom toward the kitchen, relieved to see the Agency cleanup crew has been hard at work. Not a scratch, tear or hole in the place. Amazing what a group of mages and some spells can accomplish.

  T stands at the window staring into the darkened street. Yep, I definitely slept for an entire day. A quick glance at the clock shows it to be six-thirty.

  “You okay?”

  T turns to me, leaning against the cabinet. “You almost died.”

  “Eloise fixed me.”

  “Yeah, but what if she couldn’t? What if she wasn’t available? You can’t die on me.”

  “Trust me, I don’t want to die on you. But fighting demons is my job.”

  “Then I’m going to learn to be a ghost talker.”

  “You’ve said that before.”

  “Didn’t really mean it before.” A hint of red splashes his cheeks as his lips twitch. “Was a way to get closer to Eloise.”

  Ah-ha! My suspicion proved correct. “What changed your mind?”

  “Both she and Smythe said ghost talkers can control ghosts to fight demons. All I have to do is learn how, then I can help you and you won’t get hurt.”

  I smile. From my heart to my lips. I love my twin, he’s the best, but… “I can’t let you do something where you could be hurt.”

  “Like I don’t feel the same way about you?”

  Pot, kettle, Gin. Heat touches my cheeks. “Yeah, well. I can say that.”

  “Uh-huh. And so can I.” He crosses his arms. “How hard can it be?” His jaw tenses as his gaze grows distant. Memories. Always with the memories even when we wish they would vanish into the mists of time never to return.

  “Ever since—” I wave a hand between us. He doesn’t need me to say the words to remember the day we killed our father, buried his body in a fresh grave and used a ghost’s help to do the deed. The evil of that particular ghost freaked T out from ever wanting to talk to another spirit. “—that day, you swore off talking to ghosts. Hell, you even poured salt around our windows and doors.”

  “Lot of good it did. Blake still came in.”

  I swallow at the mention of my dead friend and lover. Pain punches me in the chest, lighter than normal, but still a reminder of my loss.

  “Probably because we used the doors and windows. But that’s not the point. The point is you fear what a ghost might say.” At his expression from the word “fear” I hurry to finish the rest of my thought. “You haven’t wanted to change before and it’s okay, I understand, really I do, but you can’t go against your sense of self-preservation, or whatever, to feel like you’re coming to my rescue. I don’t want you hurt by another evil ghost.”

  He drops his arms, pressing his lips together for a moment. “They aren’t all bad, you know. Ghosts. Some of them are helpful. Most aren’t evil.”

  “You just found the one that was.”

  “Yeah.” He runs a hand over his head, his buzzed short, brown hair not moving. “Did what had to be done, but damn, it was one scary fucker. It’s time for me to get over myself. They aren’t all evil. And people like me, true ghost talkers, not mediums, are rare. I can help fight demons. Hell, if I learn enough control, I can take out a demon. Send its ass back to burn.”

  “But not kill him. Or her. Ghosts can’t kill a demon.” I hold up my wrist, give the justitia a shake. “Only this can.”

  “Maybe not, but they can damage ’em all the same.”

  I stare into his eyes, seeing nothing except determination. Which means no matter what I say, no matter how hard I argue against it, nothing I say will change his mind. He wants to learn to control ghosts, to convince the little see-through buggers do his bidding. To make a difference.

  Can’t blame him there. I want to make a difference too.

  “Do they train you? Or throw you into the field and hope for the best?”

  One side of his mouth quirks. “Both, sorta. There’s not been a ghost talker at the Agency in a while, so no one who can personally train me. But there are plenty of books, or so Eloise says.”

  “What does Smythe say?”

  “He doesn’t seem as familiar with it as she does.”

  I’m learning Smythe doesn’t know as much as I thought. Which doesn’t mean he’s stupid, except when it comes to Donny.

  A potent mix of anger and shame roils through my chest as I draw in a deep breath. Donny is not the topic of this convo; T is, so I need to focus on my twin and not the football star I killed. Hard to do when grief sucker punches me with no warning.

  T’s brow furrows. Uh-oh, I took too long to answer.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. My mind took a rabbit path. Anyway, back to you. When do you start hitting the books?” Who would’ve thought my twin would become a study-aholic?

  T answers after a pause. “As soon as Eloise can bring them to me.”

  Little warning bells echo in my brain. “Wait. What do you mean, when she brings them to you? Aren’t you going to go to the Agency’s library and study?”

  He shrugs. “I’m telling you what she told me. She’ll bring the books here.”

  “Does the Agency know she asked you to become a ghost talker?”

  “I suppose. Why?”

  Now it’s my turn for a shrug. “It seems a little odd to me. When I first became a Justitian, Smythe brought me in to meet his father, the leader of the mages. Would’ve thought they’d do the same with you.”

  T crosses his arms, narrows his eyes. “Yeah. That makes sense. So what’s she playing at?”

  “Might not be anything. Bringing the books to my place might be the way they operate for ghost talkers, I have no idea. Just saying it seems a little hinky to me. Why don’t you ask her?”

  “Yeah, sure. She’s supposed to come over tomorrow evening to chat after I get off work.”

  Work. I missed work today. As in, another mark against me. Until I started wearing the justitia I never had a write-up, a talking to, or anything derogatory about my performance on the job. And now? I seem to be getting write-ups every week. At this rate, I’ll be out of a job.

  Which would not be good on so many levels.

  “You’re gone, again, Gin.”

  T’s voice turns my attention back to him.

  “Sorry. Can’t believe Ruth let you call in for me.”

  He grins. “I can be persuasive when needed.”

  I give him a hug. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving. Wanna try for steaks again?”

  “Sure.”

  Chapter Ten

  Hours later I sit on my bed, staring at my phone, playing a game. T is in bed, but due to a twenty-four-hour healing session I’m awake and ready to go. Unfortunately, going somewhere is not an option. Hence the game.

  Which does nothing to soothe my frazzled mind.

  For the first time all week, Donny’s death ranks as the least of my worries. Normally, I’d agree it was a good thing to no longer be focused on my involvement in his early demise. However, with T’s little ghost talker announcement, my mind whirls like an out-of- control dervish.

  Was my twin really going to hop on the Agency’s bandwagon of demon killing expertise? Or was he going all out to impress the gi
rl, a.k.a Eloise? Even asleep, his mind is impervious to my telepathic attempts.

  “Leave it all behind. Take my hand.”

  The deep voice from inside my room jerks my head up from where I stare at my phone. The dream man, who I now know to be a despair demon, stands against the wall, outline fuzzy like a hazy spirit come for a visit. My breath hitches as my body freezes in a vain attempt to hide. As if my statue-like posture renders me invisible to a demon who can project itself inside my mind. Forcing myself to move, I shake the justitia, but the damn thing won’t turn into a sword.

  Really? Come on. There’s a freaking demon in my room!

  The thing performs the equivalent of a shrug along my nerves. No demon. No sword.

  Great. I’m on my own.

  Swallowing a hunk of fear disguised as a dry mouth, I glare at the fuzzy demon. Because glaring makes one look tough.

  Fake it until you make it.

  “You aren’t real.” I lower my phone to the bed one inch at a time, hoping the slow speed will avoid him noticing the movement.

  Which, of course, he’s going to notice since his attention focuses on me with the hyper-acuity of a predator to its prey.

  All these thoughts rush through my mind in the time it takes the demon to blink in surprise at my announcement. Puzzlement covers his face as he fumbles for a comeback.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m as real as you.” He holds out his hand. “My name is Perdix. Come to me. I will give you rest.”

  I fail to stop the eye roll. “Drop the act, buster. I’m on to you.” I point a finger at him. “Why don’t you tell me where you’re at so we can meet one on one? Then we’ll see who gives who rest.”

  Pushing off the wall, he glares at me while taking a step forward. “I’m powerful. You will treat me with respect.”

  Oh come on. If demons want respect they need to come up with some better lines.

  “Respect’s earned. You don’t have it. Come on, tell me where you’re really at. Next door? Down the street? Outside my window? You can tell me.” I stretch my hand out, palm up, and waggle my fingers in a come-to-me wave.

  He takes a step closer, but I’m not fooled. He’s not about to grab my hand. Nor do I really want him to, so I drop my hand to my lap. Judging from his narrowed eyes, he’s more likely to hit me than clasp palms. He circles to the side of the bed, his gaze dropping from my face to my neck, brows furrowed.