by Renee George
“Wow,” Tristan whispered.
I turned my watery gaze on him.
Tristan looked from me to the old black and white photo then back to me. “You haven’t aged a day,” Tristan said. He didn’t seem all that surprised to find me in a photo with his grandfather. In fact, he was taking the whole thing a lot better than most humans.
“You knew about me, didn’t you?” I asked.
He nodded. “I know you’re a minion. And I know about your bargain with Moloch.”
“Don’t say his name,” I admonished. Then I looked at him and frowned. “So, you knew about your grandfather’s work. Why not just admit it?”
“I’ve learned you can’t always believe your eyes,” he said softly. “And sometimes, you can’t even believe your heart.”
“You really are his grandson. He loved saying that same the kind of crap.” Yeah, I was trying to play it off, but I had goosebumps. Being in this place with a lookalike David was just too much for my mental state. I have to get out of here.
I placed the photograph on the table and picked up the envelope that had yellowed with age. On the outside, David had written, “Liv.” My breath caught in my chest for a moment then I exhaled noisily. I opened the envelope and pulled out the handwritten letter.
Dearest Liv,
I go out walking after midnight—searching for you. And I’d hoped that, maybe, you were searching for me, too.
It’s useless, I know, to go outside and stand in the moonlight and hope that you might appear. As you told me once, the heart wants what the heart wants.
And, God help me, I wanted you.
You are the most selfless person I’ve ever met. You bargained your soul to save your sisters, and then you bargained your freedom to save my family and me.
I want you to know that I will never stop fighting to find a way to free you from Moloch.
If you’re reading this letter, then I’ve failed in my lifetime to break the devil’s deal. I hope that’s not the case. I hope you never read this letter because you are with me.
And yet, if you are reading these words, then I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.
Everything I have in the office I’ve always thought of as ours belongs to you now. I wish you well, my dearest Olivia.
Crazy for you,
David
I choked on the sob that erupted from my throat. My hands shaking, I folded the letter and put it down on the desk. I blinked through tears as I turned my gaze to Tristan. I put my hand on his, the warmth of his skin softening the chilly edge of regret inside me. “I’m not asking you to believe any of this is real. The burden of knowledge is a terrible thing.” I glanced down at the bloodied mouth of Eve. She was an expert on the subject. “I’ll take the chest and go. You never have to see me again.”
Even as I made the offer, a part of me cried out to stay. Tristan wasn’t David, but he was a part of him, and a part of David in this moment was better than letting him go. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Truthfully, there was something about Tristan, aside from his good looks, that made me want to stay.
I missed having a comrade-in-arms. Yeah. That was it. The only people who knew what I did and understood my motives were my sisters, and they were dead. David had been the only living person to know me—and accept me, demon bargain and all.
And here was his grandson. Alive. Handsome. Smart. Empathetic.
Was this mere loneliness? Did I want to tell Tristan everything, to make him believe, so that I wouldn’t have to face Moloch and his lesser demons by myself? David had been my one and only partner in my quest. Not even his friends in the PSPR knew the truth about me. When I was forced to give him up, I had given up on the idea of having any companions at all.
“You should pretend we never met,” I told Tristan.
“You are not easy to forget.” His voice was low, soft, and edged with emotion. He stood up, removing his hand from under mine. “I won’t abandon you.”
Gah! He was just as stubborn as David. At the end of the day, I wouldn’t bring the same demonic heat on Tristan that I had his grandfather. All Moloch wanted was the damned book. David said everything in the office was mine, so it had to be here somewhere. But where would it be that Moloch couldn’t find it?
“Why do you care?” I asked. Desperation made my tone caustic.
He looked down at the desk, his gaze perusing the box and then the folded letter. He sighed as he returned his gaze to mine. “There’s something else in the box,” he said, adeptly changing the subject.
I reached in for the last item tucked into the box. It was a small rectangular object wrapped in a cream-colored cloth, frail with age. As I unwrapped it, relief flooded through me. “It’s the book.”
“The book?” Tristan asked. “Had you been looking for it?”
“Uhm,” I didn’t want to lie, but how could I explain that I planned to hand over to Moloch the one thing David didn’t want Moloch to have? I couldn’t, so instead, I studied the book. Handing it over would negate the one-way ticket to Hell for my sisters. I was headed down under no matter what, but that didn’t mean I wanted to give up my last fifty years on Earth. My stomach clenched. The idea of giving Moloch power of any kind made me nauseous.
But what choice did I have? Better David’s book than some poor soul that didn’t deserve a permanent vacation at Hotel Brimstone.
“Why were you looking for the book, Liv?”
His use of my nickname startled me. “I, well, I just want it.”
“I think you’re lying.” He grabbed the arms of my chair and pulled me forward. My knees jammed between his legs, and suddenly, I found myself two inches away from Tristan’s stormy expression. My breath hitched. Swirling in that gray gaze was fury—and passion.
A passion that echoed my own.
“Stop it.” I pushed back and scrambled out of my chair. “Do you want me to smite you? Because I can totally smite you.” I couldn’t actually smite him, but what did he know?
“Go ahead.” He stepped toward me, and I stepped back. Maybe he knew more than I thought.
“You stop that right now, mister,” said Charlotte. She’d appeared on my left and took my hand. Eliza shimmered into existence on my right and took my other hand, and then Elisa popped up and grasped Eliza’s hand. Over the past three decades, they’d perfected the trick of becoming visible when they touched me. They looked like holograms, slightly see-through, but visible. It was weird, but when they were visible to other people, it was the only time they looked like ghosts to me.
Tristan paled and scrambled backward. “Your—your sisters?”
“In all our Southern glory,” drawled Charlotte. “And you should know better than to lay your hands on a lady.”
Tristan staggered as if his knees had buckled beneath him, but he managed to keep his feet. “I’ve never seen real ghosts before.”
“Well, aren’t you having a heck of a day,” I said, recovering some of my bravado. “You’ve met a demon’s minion and three ghosts.”
“Sister,” Charlotte said. “You best get that man a chair, or he is going to plum pass out.”
I let their hands go, knowing they would disappear from Tristan’s view. They didn’t move far from me, though. Charlotte looked at me. “Are you all right?”
I nodded.
“Then we shall depart,” she said. “But we’ll be back in the flick of a lady’s fan if he even thinks about touching you again.”
My sisters disappeared, and I turned my attention to Tristan, who was still looking worse for wear. “You better sit down.”
“Yeah.” He returned to his chair and ran his fingers through his hair.
David used to have a hidden stash of hooch under the floorboard. I walked to the far corner and moved some boxes out of the way. The board was loose, and it was easy to tug up. Inside the nook below was a bottle of amber whiskey.
I retrieved the bottle and held it up. “How about a drink?”
He gave me an in
credulous stare. “I forgot about that.” He frowned. “I mean, that Gramps liked a drink every now and again. Is that stuff any good? No telling how long it’s been down there.”
“I have no idea.” The bottle had no label, but I looked at the bottom. 1956 was etched in the glass. Damn. This was the same booze David, and I had taken swigs from many times after dispatching demons. “Here you go.”
Tristan took it from me then uncorked the top and made a face as the alcohol scent wafted from the opening. “Christ. Are you sure this isn’t paint thinner?”
“Same difference. David never drank less than one-hundred and eighty proof.”
“I’ll risk it.” He took a drink. His face turned red as he swallowed. He handed me the bottle. “Jesus. It feels like I just drank fire.”
I took a quick drink, the amber liquid burning all the way to my stomach. “Smooooth.” I breathed out then coughed. It had been a long time since I drank anything that strong. I re-corked the bottle and put it on the desk.
“Where’d they go?” Tristan asked.
“Who?”
“Your sisters.”
“How do you know they left?”
He hesitated, his eyes going wide. “Are they still here?”
“No,” I said. I placed the book in front of me. “Let’s see what David left for me.” I emphasized the word me just in case Tristan got any weird ideas about trying to take it back. There wasn’t any writing on the front, so I opened the cover, careful of the delicate binding.
Tristan leaned over my shoulder and studied the inner page. “Looks like Greek to me.”
I shook my head. “Close. It’s definitely Hebrew.” I pointed to the word embossed on the first inside page: Shedim. “That’s Hebrew for demon.”
“So you know that language, too.”
“I know a few words. Enough to get me into trouble.” I scanned the first page. It was an older dialect, and I could make out the fact that it wasn’t a historical record or an instruction manual. “Huh,” I said.
“What?”
“I think this is a Jewish fable. A folk tale. But it’s not one I’ve ever seen before.”
“What’s it about?”
“Demons, obviously, something about a conflict. And here, where it says lemolek, I’ve seen that referenced before. It’s a sacrifice to Malkam, a great demon king.”
“Who is Malkam?”
“Moloch.” If I had any reservations whether this was the right book or not, they went out the window at the mention of his other name. I winced, hoping he wouldn’t suddenly appear. “It’s one of several names used over the centuries to describe the demon lord who owns my soul.”
Chapter 6
I’d had enough surprises for one day, so I suggested returning to the kitchen where I could put some distance between me and the memories crowding the basement. While Tristan made fresh glasses of lemonade, I sat at the kitchen table and thumbed through the thin journal. I really wish David had thrown in a copy of Demon Translation for Dummies so I could understand more about the story inscribed in the pages—and why Moloch wanted it so badly.
Tristan put the lemonades on the table and then sat across from me. “You can stay here while you figure things out,” he said. “I’ll make up one of the guest rooms.”
“I don’t know if I can sleep in David’s house.”
“Oh, yeah.” Tristan looked around. “Too many ghosts?”
“My sisters aren’t here right now.” But oh God, could David’s ghost show up? I never thought I’d see my sisters again after they died—and you see how that worked out. No. I had to believe David was in heaven. He deserved peace. “I’ll take the couch if that’s all right. Do you have an extension cord for my phone charger? And what’s the password for your Wi-Fi?”
“I do have an extension cord, but unfortunately, there’s no cell reception here. Gramps never adapted to modern technology. We don’t have Internet. He doesn’t even own a television.”
No TV? He used to have one. Clarissa never missed an episode of I Love Lucy or The Ed Sullivan Show. Even if he got rid of the boob tube, I couldn’t believe David would knowingly cut off the information highway. He could work his way through a stack of medieval manuscripts faster than I could throw my stiletto at a demon’s head. Why would he eschew the ability to access global information about the supernatural?
“I’d like to research some of the phrases I found in the demon book. Where’s the closest connection?”
“In town.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s nearly five o’clock. Why don’t we drive in for dinner? The Burger Bar in Sanctum has free Wi-Fi and the best apple pie in Missouri.”
“You had me at pie,” I said.
“I think someone has courtin’ on his mind,” Eliza said as she, Elise, and Charlotte appeared in the kitchen.
“Uh-hum,” Char agreed, but not with the same kind of enthusiasm.
“Did you know the kitchen sponge has more bacteria than a toilet?” asked Elise. She floated to the sink and studied the chrome. “When’s the last time he cleaned this?”
I groaned.
Tristan gave me a look, and said, “Sisters?”
“Elise thinks your sink needs cleaning, and Eliza thinks you’re asking me out on a date.”
“Would that be so awful?” Tristan asked. “The date. Not the sink cleaning.”
“I knew it!” Eliza clapped her hands and spun around, her skirt billowing out. “Well, tell the man you’ll let him take you to dinner, Liv.”
“I already did.” I glared at her. “Now, get lost. All of you.”
“Well, I nevah,” said Eliza, every ounce the offended Southern Belle.
“We can’t leave you un-chaperoned,” added Charlotte, smirking.
Tristan leaned over the table, his shirt gaping open so that I could see the soft brown hair smattering his chest. The corner of his mouth crooked up in a half-smile.”
“Let’s get dinner, strictly platonic,” I said, suddenly feeling hot and bothered, “and then we can find a good connection.”
Tristan’s eyes held a glint of promise that warmed me to my toes. “I think we’re well on our way to a great connection,” he said.
“I can see you inherited your charm from David. Sometimes you say things that remind me so much of him.” Then I gave him what I hoped was a serious look. “I’m not interested in anything happening between us.”
He looked taken aback. “Why?”
“I have only ever loved one man.” I blinked up at Tristan, trying hard not to think about how much he looked like that man. He stared at me, and I swear I saw hurt in his gaze.
“Why aren’t you with him?”
“Because my dreamboat will never come home,” I said, echoing the sentiment from another Patsy Cline song that David used to play for me. “And anyway, it’s really none of your business.”
Tristan gave me a look I couldn’t interpret. The storm in his eyes churned, but he didn’t press me further. “I’ll shower up and get changed for dinner.”
The idea of Tristan naked made my mouth dry. When I tried to speak, I discovered I couldn’t form words, so I nodded and squeaked out a barely coherent, “Uh huh.”
After Tristan left the kitchen, Char said, “That was so eloquent, Liv.”
“Yes, sister,” added Eliza, “you certainly have impeccable communication skills.”
“Hush up,” I told them. I looked at Elise. “Where’s your two cents?”
“I feel strange,” Elise whispered. Her image wavered.
“What’s happening?” My pulse quickened when Elise’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. I looked at Charlotte and Eliza. My other sisters had paled, and not from blanching. Their forms began to waver as well. “Char? Eliza?” I jumped up to my feet as panic made me light-headed.
“We can’t…stay,” Char said, her voice as quiet as Elise’s had been. “Something is forcing us to leave.”
“Help us,” Eliza said, her diaphanous body ripplin
g like a stone skipping water.
“Olivia,” cried Elise.
They looked so stricken, so helpless.
And then they were gone.
“No!” I shouted to the space now empty of my siblings. “Get back here right now!” I spun around, yelling out my sisters’ names. I felt tears crowd my eyes. Only one asshole was brazen enough to kidnap my siblings. “Moloch!”
“You called, m’dear?” The demon lord suddenly stood in the center of the kitchen. He looked more surprised than I felt. “Hmm. I hadn’t realized I could breach the parameters. It seems I didn’t need you, after all, dearest Olivia.”
I lunged at the cocky jerk, and he easily side-stepped my attack. “That is no way to treat your master.”
“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Tristan ran into the kitchen, sliding a little on wet feet, and wearing nothing but a pair of hastily donned jeans. The buttons were still undone.
“Get out of here, Tristan!”
Moloch’s gaze pivoted, landing on David’s grandson. “And who is this gentleman? A new lover, perhaps?”
“No!” I said with a little too much force.
Tristan put himself between Moloch and me. “I knew you couldn’t resist coming.” Tristan reached into his back pocket and produced the unholy lock.
“Tristan, stay back,” I said. “What...what are you doing? How did you...”
Tristan threw the lock down. Some of my blood spilled out of Eve’s mouth as it skidded across the linoleum toward Moloch’s feet. The second the lock touched him, Moloch’s red eyes widened with disbelief then shifted to terror as a blinding light shot from the floor to the ceiling, bathing the demon in a golden glow.
“Got you!” Tristan crowed triumphantly.
I stared at Tristan and watched the gray color drained from his eyes.
Now his eyes were hazel in color.
Hazel, like David’s.
David.
Moloch flung his arms out, pain edging his features. He raised his hands over his head and swung them down. “Enough!” The golden light collapsed to the floor and disappeared.