Sins of the Demon

I stepped out of the back door and then let out a shocked cry as someone slammed me up against the outside wall. Or rather, I would have let out a shocked cry if I had any air left in my lungs.

Eilahn glared at me as she pi

“Don’t forget,” she said in a mild tone that belied the fury in her narrowed eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” I managed to rasp. “Sorry…?” I offered her as groveling a smile as I could manage.

She hmmfed and released me but only to grab my wrist and snap the cuff around it. “Don’t forget,” she repeated.

I took a shuddering breath as the faint queasiness returned. “I won’t. I’m really sorry.”

Her expression softened, and she laid a hand on my shoulder. “I am not wroth with you. But this is a habit that you must form.”

“I will.” I took a deep breath in a futile attempt to settle my stomach. “Thanks for watching out for me.”

She smiled. “It is my pleasure.” And with that she turned and walked off. I watched her until she turned the corner, then I continued on to my car. If I’d ever had any doubts about her ability to be at my side in a split second, they were gone now. Not that I’d ever had any, to be honest.

My demon bodyguard kicked ass. Unfortunately, every now and then that ass was mine.

Chapter 10

I gave the door of Tessa’s house a cursory knock, then entered, a split second ahead of her shout of “Kitchen!” At least that much was normal—or as normal as anything to do with my aunt could be. I paused, slipped the cuff off, and stuffed it into my bag before shedding my coat. My aunt’s pristine white, century-old house was warded to the teeth; I had no fear of being attacked or summoned while in here. Situated in a historical district on the lakefront, Tessa kept her house in exquisite condition, with carefully maintained landscaping, eggshell-blue gingerbread molding along the porch, and a set of white rockers that, unlike mine, had actually been taken out of the boxes they came in and assembled. The inside of her house was just as lovely—brilliant hardwood floors, crown molding, and flowered wallpaper in a subtle pattern of rose and gold. Not that she ever let anyone inside to see it whom she didn’t trust completely. Even the “Welcome” sign on the door was a standing joke, at least in my opinion. The aversions were such that only someone who was welcome—or seriously determined—would ever get close enough to the house to see it.

Continuing on down the hallway, I entered the kitchen to see Tessa and Carl sitting at the table playing some sort of card game. Staying true to her incredibly eclectic and weird sense of style, she had on a thigh-length black sweater dress embroidered in gold spider webs, with gold lamé leggings underneath that and knee-high boots—with what had to be five-inch heels. Her wild, kinky blond hair was pulled back from her face by a white scarf. As usual, it totally worked on her. It helped that she was a tiny little thing without a spare ounce of fat on her body.

Tessa gave me a cheery smile, then returned her attention to the richly colored cards displayed in front of her and in her hand. “There’s hot water in the kettle if you want tea,” she informed me.

“I’m good, thanks,” I said, pulling myself onto a stool at the counter. “Are those tarot cards?”

Tessa let out a bright peal of laughter. “Oh, heavens, no. Nothing that silly. We’re playing ‘Magic, The Gathering.’”

After umpteen years of living with my aunt, somehow she still managed to confuse and surprise me. “Um. Okay. That’s like ‘Dungeons and Dragons’ or something, right?”

She shook her head, then shrugged. “Not quite the same thing. This is a complex trading card game simulating battles between fantasy armies, complete with dragons, angels, elves, goblins, and magic.”

“Ah. Of course.” Through sheer will and love of my aunt I somehow managed to keep from rolling my eyes.

“Besides,” she continued, “Thursday nights are our D&D games. Carl and I are just passing a little time.” She cast a fond look at the man across the table from her. In response he reached out and touched the back of her hand. It was a tiny gesture, made with barely a change in his expression, but somehow it conveyed so much tenderness that my throat briefly closed from the utterly simple beauty of it.

“Would you like to join us?” Tessa asked me, but there was enough of a twinkle in her eye that I knew she wasn’t serious. Not that she wanted to exclude me or anything of the sort, but she was all too aware that I was far from the type to play role playing games or indulge in any other sort of geekiness. I had enough of the real thing in my life, thank you very much.

“Gee, maybe next time,” I replied, and this time I did roll my eyes. “Do you mind if I take a stroll through your library instead?”

“Not at all,” she replied without the slightest hitch or hesitation. I was watching for anything like that and was almost surprised at the ease of her agreement. “Does this have something to do with a case?”

“Possibly,” I said, thinking of the presence of the graa. “I went out on a scene yesterday…” Now I was the one to hesitate. We didn’t talk much about the Shit Years—which was how I thought of that time between the death of my father and my entry into the world of demon summoning. My relationship with my aunt had consisted mostly of screaming matches and sullen resentment—on both sides—and once we finally managed to find common ground we were both glad to put that time behind us. I had less problem talking about my wayward past with people like Jill and Carl, probably because they weren’t involved.

Carl set his cards down and stood. “I’m going to enjoy the backyard for a little while,” he remarked to no one in particular, then silently quit the room.

I could totally see why my aunt adored him. I did too at that moment. Taking a steadying breath, I asked, “Do you remember Tammy North?”

“I do,” Tessa said, slight frown puckering her forehead. “You and she used to hang out.”

“If by ‘hang out’ you mean ‘do drugs,’” I corrected, grimacing.

She gave a soft sigh. “Yes, that too.

“Found out today that she died a while back.” I paused. “Overdose.”

Her eyes shadowed. “You’re not surprised,” Tessa stated.

“I feel like I should have…I du

A smile whispered across her face. “Still do, sweets.” Her eyes grazed across the arcane tattoo on the inside of my left forearm for a hundredth of a heartbeat, then returned to mine. I knew that my aunt could see the Mark on my arm. Even through the fabric of my long-sleeved shirt, she could surely sense it. I also knew she was fully aware of what it meant—that I was sworn to Lord Rhyzkahl. I’d expected some sort of argument or confrontation about it, but it had never materialized. Yet in that ever-so-brief flick of her eyes, we’d had the discussion about the mark and what it meant. She wouldn’t stop worrying, but I knew she supported me, no matter what.

“I know,” I replied, suddenly all full of warm fuzzies. I cleared my throat, about to embarrass myself by welling up with tears or something equally dorky.

Tessa saved me. “Who was the victim at your scene?” she asked.

I straightened my shoulders and got control of myself. “Her brother. Barry.”

Tessa’s mouth became a stiff line. “Yes. The one who thought you were ready to try heroin at the tender age of fourteen.”

“That’s the one.”

“You’ll pardon me if I’m not consumed with grief over his passing.”