A Demon's Desire Read online

  He lifted the box. Whatever it was, it was bad. Really bad.

  Emma, Emma. What on earth did you drag us into?

  Chapter Two

  Emma stepped from the shower and dressed quickly, convinced the owner of the apartment would appear out of the shadows at will and determined not to be naked when he did so. She used his comb to work out the tangles in her hair and opened the door from the small bathroom to the bedroom to allow the steam to escape, wearing a pair of boxers and a T-shirt she found atop his plain, worn chest of drawers.

  Her hellhound waited on the bed. Sightless white eyes turned toward her, and her tail thumped in greeting.

  She felt rested for the first time in two weeks. The room was pleasantly scented, the dark, earthy musk of a mysterious man. His scent clung to her skin; she had not tried overly hard to scrub it free. She liked the way he smelled. She’d forgotten how comforting a man’s scent could be after two years eschewing the opposite sex.

  The simplicity of his neat and clean bedroom bordered on sterility. His drawers contained folded, organized clothing, and pairs of shoes peeked from beneath the bed. There were no pictures, no wall hangings, no trinkets, doodads, or decorations.

  She hesitated before opening the door into the hall. The Great Dane climbed off the bed and nudged past her, starting down a narrow hall with a cool wooden floor. She followed, peering into a tiny living room with an awkwardly massive couch. The dining area, a round table with four chairs, sat squashed in the corner of a narrow kitchen.

  Her stomach roared to life. She took in the empty dish drainer and spotless sink, the aligned appliances on the countertops, and the spacing of towels hanging off the oven. It was not what she expected, though how she expected the devil to live she didn’t know. No fire and brimstone or minions roasting humans over a spit.

  She opened a small pantry. Herbs hung from the ceiling and jars of creams and pastes lined the wall before her. The scent of the pantry was strong, and she recognized rosemary, basil, and mint before the urge to sneeze made her grab a box of cereal and close the door. She crossed to the refrigerator and grimaced as she looked over the contents of his fridge.

  “Who knew the devil was a health nut?” she muttered. She retrieved soy milk, fished out a bowl and spoon from cabinets, then turned at the hellhound’s whine. The Great Dane stood with its nose at the cabinets under the sink. Emma opened it to reveal a folded bag of dog food and clean dish.

  “Your master is a bit on the anal side,” she told her.

  After breakfast, further exploration led to the discovery of her shoes sitting with his under the bed, and her purse tucked away in one of his drawers. She changed back into the clothes she’d been in the night before and debated leaving her dirty bowl in the sink to break up the creepy organization around her or rinsing it and putting it away. He had, after all, taken her in.

  He’d also drugged her after blackmailing her into having sex with him. But she’d do anything to have Sissy well again, even sleep with some weird stranger. After all, her last boyfriend had been a stranger to her even after their time together.

  She left the bowl in the sink and put on her shoes without making the bed.

  “C’mon, angel,” she called to the dog and started to the door in the kitchen. She held it open for the Great Dane, who led her down a narrow hall lined with three more doors to a set of stairs. The scent rising from the floor below caught up with her as she descended the stairs. It was different from that of the night. Jasmine, she mused, and something she didn’t recognize. Sultry, exotic scents, like the shadow man himself.

  She entered the store. It was as small as she remembered, though bright and non-threatening in the light of day. There were no corners with impenetrable shadows, no gleaming eyes, no devil.

  Same clerks. Emma almost rolled her eyes but looked to the back of the shop. He did have Coke.

  “Will you tell Tristan if he leaves his coffin that I’m going to call a tow truck for my car?”

  They both gave her looks more hostile than previously.

  She ignored a hiss of bitch and stepped into the sunlight. The street was as she left it: possessed. There were plenty of vampire and fairy wannabes, more than she had ever seen concentrated anywhere except during Halloween, mingling with the tourists cheerfully strolling in and out of shops with names like Witch’s Brew, Demon Delicacies, and World’s Smallest Portal to Hell.

  Distracted by the weirdos, she didn’t realize her car was gone until she reminded herself why she’d come outside. She muttered a curse, her gaze lingering in front of the store where she’d parked.

  No keys, no car. It was fully insured, though that wouldn’t get her home today. Unease stirred within her. Tristan didn’t seem like a very eager host, and his location of living quarters left much to be desired. Most of the caped and winged people on the street deserved to reside in a mental institution at the very least.

  Her phone rang. She pulled it free of her pocket.

  “Hey, sis. How are you?” The woman’s voice on the other end was strained, tired. Guilt engulfed Emma. She’d had a good night’s rest and had managed to avoid the pain and sorrow at the edge of her thoughts. Her sister had no such opportunities.

  “How are you? Have you gotten any rest?” she asked.

  “Some,” was the evasive answer. “You sound good; you needed some sleep.”

  “Thanks, Amber,” Emma said.

  “Hey, look, someone called today claiming to be a friend of yours. I’ve never heard you talk about him, so I wasn’t sure. He said your car was being towed and that you asked him to help my baby.”

  “Yes,” she said slowly, wondering how Tristan had figured out her sister’s phone number and address. “Tristan, right?”

  “Yeah. Pretty accent. Is he French or something?”

  “No idea.”

  “So is he okay?”

  “He’s there to try and help,” she hedged. “He’s different, so don’t be surprised.”

  “None of your friends surprise me, not that I’ve met more than a couple. What’s the story?”

  “I’m kind of seeing him,” she said, unable to voice the truth.

  “Boyfriend?” The surprise in Amber’s voice was apparent. “I’ve been so worried about Sissy I haven’t paid any attention. You think he can help Sissy?”

  “I think if anyone can, he can,” Emma said honestly. Pain filtered through her at the desperation in her sister’s voice.

  “Is he a doctor?”

  “Not quite.”

  “I trust you, Em.” Amber’s voice was quiet. Her words tore at Emma’s heart. She took a deep breath and felt her eyes water. She’d invited the devil into her sister’s home, to meet with her four-year-old, dying niece.

  What if I made a mistake?

  “We’ve never met anyone you dated. Is it serious?” Amber continued.

  “Most of the guys I date turn out to be idiots. I’m doing a favor by not introducing you to them,” Emma said, her mind going to Adam, the last man she’d dated. “No, it’s not serious.”

  “You trusted him with your car, and he’s coming to meet us!” The hopeful note in her sister’s voice was too sweet, too long absent for Emma to correct her.

  “Yeah, well, this one might be useful,” she said lamely.

  “This is really cool. I’ll have Mama drop by to meet him,” Amber said.

  “That’s fine,” she managed, growing even more unsettled by the thought of introducing everyone she loved to a stranger who wasn’t quite normal. “Maybe I’ll drive over, too, and, uh, introduce him or something.”

  “You’ve made my day.”

  “Thanks, Amber. Take care of baby and tell Mama I said hello.”

  “I will. You’ve done enough, Em. You need to get back to your life,” Amber lectured.

  “Sis, you and baby are my life.”

  “Yes, but if this guy is serious, don’t lose him on account of us.”

  “Oh, no problem there,” Emma assure
d her. “I’ve never let a guy come between my family and me before.”

  “You ought to. Someone needs to take care of you.”

  “I know, sis.”

  “Well, have a good day,” Amber said.

  “You, too. Please take care of yourself.” Emma hung up and stared at the phone then glanced at the Great Dane sitting patiently beside her. “Your master has a lot of nerve, angel. He better not be some wacko.”

  The dog stood as she started forward, and Emma pocketed her phone. She passed through the shop, ignoring the poisonous stares from the clerks. She trotted up the stairs and to the apartment. His scent lingered where it hadn’t before. Her cereal bowl was no longer in the kitchen sink. Her eyes settled on the fridge, where a note that hadn’t been there when she stepped out was held in place by a black magnet.

  Emma -

  I called your sis to tell her where you are and had your car towed to her house. I rented you a car. It’s out back. Bring Isolde. The keys are on the dresser and my cell number below.

  T

  Emma shivered. Not only could the man read minds, but he must’ve been invisible or gone in and out a back way in the five minutes she spent downstairs. What was he?

  “Your name is Isolde?” she asked the dog, forcing her mind on something other than a sense of panic and foreboding building within her. The dog thumped its tail.

  “I hope you like car rides.”

  Thump, thump, thump.

  “God help me,” she murmured and turned away from the note from the fridge.

  * * *

  Tristan understood Emma’s exhaustion and sense of urgency the moment he entered the small apartment. He stood in the doorway of a brightly painted child’s room. The bed across from him held a sleeping girl as pale as her white pillow and covered in a cartoon character sheet. Her hair was a mass of soft, dark curls, her chubby face heart-shaped. The room smelled of her, an innocent, pure scent, tainted with the heavier scent of sickness. Toys were organized in an open trunk and fat picture books stacked on one bookshelf. Stuffed animals had been banned to a beanbag in the corner, and a large dollhouse took up the area between the bed and one wall. An empty wooden rocking chair sat close to the bed.

  He took in everything with a critical glance and knew without stepping into the room what afflicted her. Darkness, like that in Emma’s box, hovered around the girl and throughout the room in patches. It called to him as a brother, its presence familiar and soothing. He stepped away, hands sweaty. He’d never faced anything this strong, wasn’t sure he could suppress the evil within him and the evil of the room at the same time.

  Emma’s sister, a pale woman with dark blond hair, stood over the bed. Despair clung to her. She had already given up on finding a cure for her daughter.

  “Emma swore she’d find a way to help,” Amber said in a distant voice. She straightened. “Thank you for coming.”

  Tristan was not unaffected by the scene before him or her words. How would he feel if he sensed the danger without understanding anything about it?

  “Amber,” he said, drawing off his shadows to reach the woman’s exhausted mind. She turned, dark green eyes focusing. “Come with me.”

  Tristan led her past the bright living room and into the kitchen. Amber slumped on a stool at the counter overlooking a double sink and watched him with glazed eyes. Tristan prepared a cup of tea to put her mind at rest long enough for her to get some sleep.

  “Tell me what happened,” he instructed.

  “A couple of months ago, Sissy started … to get sick. Fevers and such. Kids are always sick when in daycare, so I took her to the doctor. He gave her penicillin, and she seemed okay for a couple days. Then it came back, worse, and she slept for a few days, recovered, and seemed okay again. I took her to a specialist, to a few specialists, but they didn’t find anything wrong.” Amber’s voice was monotonous, her hand propping up her head. “She said she had nightmares, and one night she was crying. I went in to see her. She was okay, and I stayed until she was asleep. She didn’t wake up for a week. I took her to the hospital, and they hooked her up to machines but found nothing. When she woke, she seemed okay again, then … more fevers, more nightmares, more days when she slept without waking.”

  “How long has she been out this time?”

  “Over a week. The doctor …” Her voice broke. Tristan turned away to give her privacy and retrieved the water from the microwave. “The doctor says she can stay in the hospital or here at home, but that the chances … the chances of …” Amber blinked back tears and stared, unseeing. Tristan dipped a loose leaf strainer into the hot water. He said nothing for several moments, withdrew it, and handed her the tea. She offered a ghost of a smile.

  “Thanks,” she murmured. “I’m sorry. Emma’s the strong one.”

  “You’re strong, Amber,” he assured her, touched. Even if he wasn’t sure he could control the darkness within him, he’d do whatever he could to alleviate the sisters’ pain. “Did Sissy tell you about her nightmares?”

  “She said there was a man by her bed, a dark man with snow clouds. She was afraid of him, but I didn’t understand why exactly. She said he just stood there and watched her. He wanted her to go somewhere, but she didn’t want to go.”

  A knot of understanding sank into his stomach.

  “Emma came back two weeks ago from a business trip. I thought … I was too tired to think much, but she heard Sissy talk about her dreams, and she acted really weird. Wouldn’t go into her bedroom even when Sissy asked for her. I yelled at her. We were both stressed, but she actually cried. I’ve never seen Emma cry, and she’s-- we’ve-- been through a lot. She’s been working so hard to find someone to help.” Amber paused then added drowsily, “Emma and Sissy are so much alike. They have the same hair and are afraid of the dark.”

  Tristan leaned his hips against the counter across from her, watching. The tea was taking effect, and tension eased from the slender woman’s frame.

  “Go rest.”

  “Mama will be here in a bit,” she said in a thin voice as she rose. “Make yourself at home. Em never brings people to meet us, especially not boyfriends. You must be special.”

  “We’ll talk more when you wake up.” His eyes followed her shape until the door to her room closed. He returned to Sissy’s room and took in the patches of shadows. Emma was hiding something from her sister and him. There was more to her than he expected, but had the darkness within him not warned him of such?

  He stepped into the room, at once inundated with hot and cold as shadows and darkness were propelled to him like paperclips to a magnet. He paused a few feet from the bed and let the darkness acclimate to him. He hesitated, then let the darkness within him enough freedom to greet the evil in the room to keep it from targeting him next. He shuddered in uneasy pleasure as the two essences merged.

  Welcome, Tristan. The voice was so soft, he barely heard it. His body recognized this darkness, though he didn’t know how. He moved forward slowly once again, feeling the shadows swirl around him like a soft night breeze. He sat on the bed and touched the girl’s clammy forehead with a steady hand. Her breathing was shallow and uneven, her body laboring.

  It was evil that afflicted her. The shadows that clung to the teddy bear in the box Emma carried had also crept into the little girl’s body. Removing them wouldn’t be hard for him. Ridding the room and apartment would take more time, unless he could identify what object in the apartment had been tagged by evil. The shadows were guided to their target by something touched by a curse, and he needed to find whatever that was. This was no accident. Emma had known enough to know she needed to seek out someone like him. He couldn’t help feeling she had a few things to explain.

  “Hello?” a cheerful voice called out.

  Tristan shook off the shadows and strode to the door. An older woman with fluffed brown hair highlighted with silver and Emma’s stunning green eyes behind large glasses entered the apartment. Her smile brightened as she saw him, and he wai
ted for her to recoil in the usual horror people displayed when they first met him. She hesitated and then crossed the room with her hand extended.

  “You must be Tristan,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, surprised she’d approached him.

  “Call me Mama. The girls introduce me to everyone as Mama,” she said and studied him. There was intelligence behind the shining eyes, and Tristan suspected she was assessing him even as she smiled. She would’ve seen and felt his darkness like everyone else did. Instead of running away screaming, Mama’s eyes went to Sissy’s room. “Is Amber …”

  “Resting,” he supplied.

  “Good. Don’t think she’s slept in a couple of weeks. Emma will be here today, right?” The older woman searched through the bag she carried as she walked to the kitchen.

  “She’ll be in about four.” Tristan followed her.

  Mama withdrew several bags of cookies and looked at him closely before choosing one bag. “You look like an oatmeal chocolate chip cookie type,” she decided.

  “How is that?” he asked and accepted the bag, puzzled.

  “Complex,” she said and flashed a smile. Her interest turned to the pouches he’d placed on the counter. “Did you bring tea?”

  “I did. Do you like herbal teas?”

  “I do! Where’d Emma find you?”

  “Maryland coast.” He braced himself for the typical rejection he faced when dealing with normal people.

  “I think it’s a good thing,” she said.

  Her attention turned to the contents of his bag, and he realized he’d passed whatever test protective mothers gave the men dating their daughters. It was a first for him. He watched her explore the herbs and salves in the pouches with the curiosity of a child. Most who met him either ran or tried to kill him, believing him to be a vampire, and yet Emma’s family had accepted him. For the first time in his life, he thought someone other than himself was weird.