A Demon's Desire Read online

  “I was about to start my trade. Would you like to join me?” he asked.

  Mama nodded. Tristan secured a small bag resting on the adjacent stool, took his cookies, and went to Sissy’s room. Shadows welcomed him and gathered once more. He missed a step, still uncertain about his own ability to control the shadows, but forced himself to Sissy’s side. The middle-aged woman followed and pulled up a chair next to Sissy.

  Tristan set to work. He placed candles and incense oils around the room, smeared soothing balm on the little girl’s chest, and sent Mama to the kitchen to prepare a special tea. His actions were mainly for show. What he did to cure Sissy had nothing to do with anything Mama and the girls understood, but seeing physical signs of his trade might comfort them.

  When she left, Tristan touched Sissy’s forehead again and closed his eyes. Her mind was dark and quiet, as if blanketed by night, and he probed to get a sense of the black magic that held her. It was potent, he realized as he stirred it like a gust of wind stirred clouds.

  Tristan forced it to answer to him, manipulating it, moving it, gathering it, like he did the shadows within him when they became too restless. He drew away when Mama returned. Sissy’s breathing was deeper, less strained, the breathing of one in deep slumber and not battling illness.

  “What kind of tea is it?” Mama asked.

  “Healing tea,” he answered. “It soothes and cleanses the body.”

  “There’s ginger, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He took it and tested its heat, found it to be lukewarm, and shifted forward to lift Sissy’s head and chest from the bed. Her body was warm but not fevered. Tristan placed the cup to her lips and softly whispered commands for her body to take it and the shadows not to interfere. Both responded, and he tilted the cup until its contents were drained.

  “You must be a magician of some sort,” Mama said quietly. Tristan said nothing and lowered the girl back to the bed. “It’s devil’s work, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t believe in the devil,” he replied.

  “Evil, then. I imagine you’re not um, Catholic,” she said. “But you believe in evil and good, I’m sure.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then it’s evil.”

  “Yeah, it is,” he said, wondering if she’d ask about him next.

  “And you are a dark angel.”

  He looked up with a surprised chuckle. “I’ve been called many things, Mama, but never an angel,” he admitted.

  “If you can help our Sissy …” Mama’s green eyes fell to her grandchild, and her smile faded. “Thank you for coming, Tristan.”

  Tristan pulled out one of the cookies.

  “Are you hungry?” She roused herself from her sorrow.

  “Maybe a little,” he said, sensing her restlessness.

  “Do you eat home cookin’?”

  “I’ll eat anything.”

  “Good. I’ve got a casserole to make!” Mama said and left. Tristan placed a hand on the girl’s arm, communicating with the shadows. Emma was probably pissed he’d left her there, but he’d long ago found it easier to assess a situation involving the occult without the charged, negative energy of his client interfering. She didn’t seem to be the kind who liked surprises overly much, though she didn’t seem to mind leaving him in the dark about whatever evil it was that invaded Sissy’s room and body.

  * * *

  “I found her.”

  Hunched over the ancient spell book for the past few hours, Olivia grimaced as she straightened. She’d spent another long day in Jeffrey’s extensive library, where he’d collected and translated books older than she could guess on mythology, occult, and witchcraft. His library was the reason she sought him out; he was known throughout the occult world for his seemingly deep pockets he used to build an occult library the size of an apartment. She’d hoped to find the spells she needed to bring back Adam and destroy the woman who took him from her. After two years in the musty library, she’d almost found the last incantation.

  “Found who, Jeffrey?” she asked, irritated at being disturbed to hear about his latest witchy floozy.

  “Emma.”

  She whipped around, her mouth dropping open in silent words. Jeffrey flung himself onto the couch across from the table at which she sat.

  “I thought you were just interested in bringing back Adam,” he said. “You should’ve told me about her. I know quite a bit about revenge.”

  “How did you find out about Emma?” she managed at last, her face warm with anger.

  “I heard,” he said vaguely. “One of your shadow demons tried to pull one of its friends from Hell into the basement. We had a little talk before I sent both of them back.” The shadows in the room lazily drifted toward him, drawn by the same darkness she saw in his eyes. Lately, she’d felt more and more uneasy around him.

  “It’s none of your business,” she said.

  “So you’re not interested in knowing where she is?”

  “Of course I am.” Olivia wanted so much to turn around and ignore him. The raw meat he dangled in front of her was too much of a temptation, but oh, how she hated his smugness! “I don’t need you, Jeffrey. My shadow messengers will tell me.”

  “How’s that working for you after two years? You grow uglier and weaker by the day, Olivia. You don’t have another two years.”

  “You son of-- ”

  “Just saying. I know you’ve read enough of my library to know you can use her blood to bring Adam back. He had no family; she was the only thing on this earth he loved.”

  “He loved me!” she retorted, anger rising. “And yes, I know that!”

  “Look, I’ll make this easy for you. You’re a member of my little family here. I’ll help you bring her in and bring him back. I’ll even do it for-- ”

  “Get out!” she shouted. “I don’t want your help, Jeffrey! I want you to leave me the hell alone!”

  Fire flashed in Jeffrey’s eyes, and he rose, crossing to the table. He planted his hands on the table and leaned close to her.

  “It’s too late, Olivia. You cracked the gates to Hell. Only I can keep Hell from taking you.”

  She started to argue. He grabbed her around the neck with one hand and hauled her to a mirror, ignoring her kicks and punches. Thrusting her in front of it, he squeezed her neck until she stilled for fear he’d snap it.

  “What do you see, Olivia?”

  She was beautiful, dazzling, with sleek, long, blue-black hair, large blue eyes, flawless porcelain skin, and full red lips. Surprised, she saw herself, and her own beauty took her breath away.

  “Me,” she whispered, touching her face in awe.

  The mirror changed suddenly, reflecting a haggard woman whose blue eyes were faded beyond their twenty-one years. Her skin was grayish and splotchy, her hair a mix of black and yellow, her eyes baggy.

  “Look at what you’ve become,” Jeffrey whispered. “Even a dead man would want nothing to do with you.” He released her and stepped back.

  She remained in place, stunned once more. She’d avoided mirrors for about a year, not wanting to see the impact black magic had on her. Even last year, she’d looked nothing like the worn woman in the mirror.

  “Adam would love me anyway,” she said, trying hard to ignore the whisper of doubt in her mind.

  “Not if he had to choose between you and Emma. She’s beautiful and you’re …” He drifted off, letting the mirror complete his thought. “Even at your best, Adam chose her. I can make you better, more beautiful, invincible.”

  Her heart ached at his words. Adam had chosen another woman over her, even when she was at her most beautiful. She’d kill Emma, but what if he did it again? Emma had been one of half a dozen women she’d punished for trying to take Adam from her. If she were able to keep him from straying in the first place, she would never have to deal with them again.

  “How?” she asked.

  “I have the incantation you’re looking for, and I have the power to give you what you want.” A
t his words, the image in the mirror turned again to the beautiful woman. “Just say yes.”

  He moved forward again, his warm body at her back. He touched her shoulders and then let his hands roam downwards, over her arms, to her waist. She gazed longingly at the beautiful woman in the mirror and watched as he kissed her neck. A woman as beautiful as the one peering back at her could have anything-- and anyone-- she wanted. Adam would never leave her.

  The thought of a night with her lover made her heart leap and her body grow weak. She closed her eyes as one of Jeffrey’s hands traveled across her belly. He pulled her against him hard, and she felt the length of his erection against her backside. His other hand slid into her jeans. Strange fire flowed from his hands into her.

  “You’ll give me Adam and help me destroy Emma?” she whispered, beyond aroused.

  “I will. He’ll be yours forever.”

  “Yes, Jeffrey.”

  “Come to bed with me. When you awaken, you will be beautiful again.”

  She turned and kissed him with passion she’d only shared with Adam. He groaned in pleasure and pushed her onto the table. Unable to control the unnatural heat building in her blood, she pulled him on top of her.

  “Now, Jeffrey!” she ordered hoarsely.

  * * *

  Emma stared at the apartment building with a sense of foreboding. The fall sun hovered low on the horizon, casting long shadows around her. She would rather sleep in the breezeway than step foot in the apartment. Guiltily, she touched Isolde’s head.

  “C’mon, angel,” she murmured.

  The dog followed. Emma climbed three flights of steps, guiding the animal with touches, and paused outside the door to Amber’s large, bright apartment. Her house keys were on the lost keychain. Doom and fear made her shudder. She mentally pictured herself stuffing each negative emotion into a bottle and then corking it.

  Face the devil unafraid, Emma, she ordered herself. Of course, this devil could read minds.

  “Dammit,” she muttered and beat on the door. Mama answered.

  “Hello, Emma-doodle!” Mama called.

  “Mama, don’t call me that,” she sighed. “I’m not five.”

  Mama smiled brightly and hugged her. Emma hugged her back, relaxing in the safety of her arms. She pulled away.

  “You brought a friend.” Mama looked down to Isolde. “Hello there!”

  Isolde thumped her tail and sniffed, taking a hesitant step forward to find the source of Mama’s voice. The apartment was already too dark for Emma’s comfort, with the shadowy doorway to Sissy’s room darker than the rest. She eyed the lamps above the entertainment center.

  “Her name’s Isolde,” Emma said. “She’s Tristan’s.”

  “Did she fit in the car?” Mama asked. “I’ve never seen a dog that big!”

  “Yes, Mama,” she murmured. “I smell dinner.”

  “My weekly experimental casserole.”

  Emma groaned and entered, closing the door behind her. She turned on the nearest light and set her bag down by the door before removing her shoes. Isolde started forward, following the sounds of Mama’s retreat and the scent of food.

  “Where’s Amber?” she asked, glancing around.

  “Tristan gave her some relaxation tea, and she went to sleep.”

  “I forgot about his drugged tea! But at least she’s getting some sleep,” Emma said darkly. Mama looked at her curiously from the kitchen.

  Emma turned on two more lamps and glanced apprehensively at Sissy’s door. He was there, with the rest of the darkness. Emma started toward the half-closed door, paused, and turned on another lamp. She pushed the door open, not certain what to expect but awaiting a scene from Poltergeist.

  Sissy slept deeply, her room much more organized than Emma had ever seen it. Tristan sat in the rocking chair beside her, dressed in a light blue polo shirt, unbuttoned to reveal curls of dark chest hair, and stonewashed khaki pants that clung to his lean form.

  In the darkness of his shop, she hadn’t noticed his body. He was lean with wide shoulders and chest and thick thighs. How had she not noticed his looks? He was beautiful in a wild, animal-like way with the sense of deceptively relaxed dark power.

  His piercing eyes pinned her in place. Emma stood in the doorway, arrested once more by eyes darker than night. They glinted with something too raw to be natural. It thrilled her as well as unnerved her. Her body responded to the sight of him, grew warmer and aware. He seemed unable or unwilling to look away from her, and Emma was more than aware of the way the shadows of the room all pointed and angled toward him, as if stretching to reach him where he sat.

  I brought the devil into my sister’s home.

  One eyebrow twitched. A look of amusement crossed his face. She’d almost convinced herself to disregard the strangeness of their first meeting, that she’d been too tired to understand much of anything.

  “You look rested.”

  Likewise, she had forgotten the softness of his dark voice, how it traveled like a dark caress on a fall breeze, grazed her, made her shiver.

  “Yes, thank you,” she replied with effort. “I see …” …you’ve met Sissy. A sense of guilt washed over her, and she stepped back, struggling to keep her emotions bottled. What was she doing?

  Seeking help from the only man capable of giving it. The thought was not entirely hers, but she accepted it. It was the truth; there was no one else who could help. She had made a deal with the devil. As long as he kept his part, she would keep hers. There was no more debating.

  Tristan smiled and blinked, releasing her from his spell.

  “You can save her?” she ventured, uncertain if she were ready for an honest answer.

  “Yes, Emma.” The calmness of his dark voice soothed her. She looked away and glanced around at the burning oil. It smelled of musky earth and fresh ocean. The window above the bed was open.

  “I brought Isolde,” she said awkwardly. “I don’t think she likes long car rides.”

  “I don’t either,” he said.

  “Used to turning into a bat and flying?” she asked.

  “You have a charming family,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Yes, thank you,” she replied. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t know how else to explain you. I told them … well, that we’re dating.”

  “I have no problem with that. Why don’t you come in?” His voice changed, as did his face, and Emma felt again they were on a fence and he was assessing her. The air tensed until even the shadows were wary and waiting. The feeling made her queasy. She glanced around.

  “No,” she said. “No.”

  His eyes were hot enough to make her skin warm. The sense passed, and she met his gaze once more.

  “You feel it,” he said. “It was meant for you?”

  “I’m going to eat now,” she told him. She closed the door until she could no longer feel his eyes on her. Shivering, she crossed the living room to the breakfast counter at the edge of the kitchen.

  “Isolde likes my casserole,” Mama said.

  Emma’s eyes dropped to the floor, where Isolde stood devouring a plate of meat, noodles, cheeses, and vegetables.

  “I like him, Emma.” Mama lowered her voice. “He’s reserved but very nice.”

  “Don’t get used to him, Mama,” Emma advised. “Think of him like every other man, a commitment-phobe.”

  “Emma-doodle, you’re the commitment-phobe.”

  “Mama, don’t call me that.” Emma flushed. Mama had a way of making her feel like she was waist high, yet Emma also felt as if she were twice as old as her mother, that in the absence of her father, she was their only buffer between the sweetness of Amber and Mama and the evils of the world.

  Her eyes strayed to Sissy’s room. First a curse from a black witch, then the devil. She was doing an awful job of taking care of her family. Depressed, she sighed.

  “Really, Emma, you haven’t dated in so long, and you didn’t even tell us you started seeing someone new,” Mama went on. “I di
dn’t know about Tristan; neither did Amber.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Mama,” Emma said. “I’m not bringing riffraff to meet my family.”

  “You don’t bring anyone to meet your family.”

  “Don’t get lippy, lady,” Emma warned. “Besides, there’s a man here now, isn’t there?”

  “You still haven’t told us anything, like where you met, how serious you are, or anything about him,” Mama said pointedly and dropped the plate of casserole in front of Emma.

  “Mama!” she exclaimed as casserole splattered across the counter. “It’s not serious. We’re just dating. His name is Tristan, and he owns an … herbally type store and has a dog. He’s a health nut. I met him when he pretty much saved me from a gang of street urchins after I lost my car keys. Happy?”

  “You’re as stubborn as Sissy in the toy aisle.”

  “What do you want me to tell you?” Emma asked in exasperation.

  “Your feelings.”

  “I don’t have any,” Emma replied gruffly. “I stuff them all in my toes so they can’t come out.”

  “I’ll get answers from Tristan,” Mama said.

  “Oh, you’re welcome to try.”

  “I’m just happy you finally got over that one guy, Adam. It’s been long enough. We talked about the devil today.” Emma choked on her mouthful of casserole at Mama’s words. “Tristan is a really interesting person to talk to.” Emma nodded, coughing until her face was red, and pounded on her chest. “You okay?” Mama asked, pouring a glass of water.

  Emma swallowed a mouthful of water.

  “He’s been with Sissy all day, but he came out once, and we talked about a few things,” Mama went on. “He’s nice and sharp, I think maybe even as smart as you.”

  “I’m glad you like him, Mama. You can keep him and toss me back.”

  “Emma!”

  “How’s Amber?” she asked, wanting to change the subject away from Tristan.

  “Stressed, exhausted,” Mama said. “I’ve been coming over to make sure she eats, but she wouldn’t sleep before today.”