Boyfriend From Hell (Falling Angels Saga) (18 page)

 “You are so special.” She corralled me in her arms.

I was starting to get the bad feeling again. She was so happy Armando and I were working together. I didn’t want to spoil that. I wished Armando and I were two normal people who had worked through their differences. But Armando was the devil. You don’t work through differences with the devil.

“Let’s open gifts,” I whispered.

“Okay,” she replied, eyes sparkling. “And thanks again.”

In a few moments, I was next to her on the couch. Armando sat on the other side, a small pile of brightly wrapped gifts on the coffee table in front of us. Her friends were gathered around. I stood.

“Shall we hold hands?” As everyone clasped hands, I bowed my head. “Let us pray. Dear almighty, please cast the satanic forces of evil from this house FOREVERRRR,” I cried, my voice booming. I looked up. Everyone was staring at me. “…Or, umm, we could sing happy birthday,” I mumbled sheepishly.

“Why don’t we just open gifts for now,” said Suze.

“An excellent idea.”

I handed her the gifts one at a time. She unwrapped each amid
oohs
and
ahhs
from the group.

“This one’s from me,” I chimed, handing her a brightly wrapped bundle.

“Ooh, it’s heavy.” She took the package, giggling as she unwrapped it. Inside was a fifteen-inch, jewel-encrusted, wrought-iron crucifix on a rusting metal chain. She peered down at the gift with an odd smile.

“It’s a piece of personal art,” I said by way of explanation. “From the fifteenth century.”

Okay, it was a knock off of a crucifix from the fifteenth century, but it had been blessed, so I was hoping it would have the same devastating effect.

“Sounds expensive.” She held it up for all to see. It took both hands for her to heft the weighty cross over her head. I looked over at Armando. I thought I would find him shrinking into the couch. But he was gone. I hadn’t seen him move, but he was no longer next to her. Instead, he was standing across the room, by the window, leaning casually against the wall.

He didn’t fool me with the casual pose. I had him on the run.

“Come on over here, Armando,” I called. “Hang that pretty little thing around your sweet lady’s neck.” I looked to Maudrina. “Go get him and bring him back over here,” I said with a playful smile. There was nothing playful about my intentions.

Fury bubbled just beneath Armando’s calm expression. By now it was obvious I was hell bent (pun intended) on exposing him.

“Honey, I find the cross an… interesting piece. But I don’t think I want to wear it.”

A slow, chilling smile spread across Armando’s lips. I smiled back. Game on.

Meanwhile, Matt and Erin were in another part of the room scrutinizing my every move—the poor little crazy girl. Throughout the evening, whenever I looked in their direction, I couldn’t help but notice the pity on both their faces.

Just you wait, I thought.

A short time later we sang happy birthday and cut the cake. By then, Armando was suspicious of everything I went near. He avoided the cake like it was diseased.

“Hey, Armando, why don’t you feed her a piece? I called. He was still avoiding me. “It would make a great picture.” I held up my digital camera.

“Honey,” Suze interrupted, her voice dropping. “We’re not getting married. I can feed myself, thank you.” Armando shrugged helplessly, as if to say: “She’s the boss.” Yeah, right.

The evening was winding down.

Our guests were starting to fidget and look at their watches, and I hadn’t yet exposed Satan. My golden opportunity was slipping away. If I didn’t expose him tonight I might never get another chance. Not to mention, I had given my
former
friends full permission to think I was certifiable if I didn’t unmask him tonight.

I needed something to happen quickly. I pulled out my tiny bottle of holy water, the one I’d saved for an emergency.
This
was an emergency.

Armando was standing across the room with my mother, saying good night to some friends. I unscrewed the cap and started  toward them. As I stepped in their direction his head jerked up as if an alarm had gone off in his brain. Like a dog sniffing out a treat, his gaze bounced around the room, eyes finally falling on me. They bored into me, commanding me to stop.

I didn’t. I kept moving. A blast of energy shot from his eyes and across the room, slamming into my chest. It was as if I’d been sucker punched by a heavyweight. I hadn’t seen the blow coming. But I felt it.

I stopped momentarily, reeling from the pain. I looked around. The room was as it was, friends chatting amongst friends, no one aware of the tremendous blow I had endured—no one, that is, except Armando. He flashed me a confident smile, to let me know he was in control.

Haltingly, I continued forward. With each step, my chest absorbed another blow. As the punches hammered into me, my breathing labored, my ribs ached, my lungs felt as if they were slowly filling with water… or blood.

I can’t go on,
I thought. But I had to expose Armando. I
had
to! I kept going.

“Hey, Armando,” I wheezed, trying to sound natural, “Here’s a gift I forgot to give my mom. Perfume. I’d like to get your opinion of it. You know, just to make sure you approve of the stuff.”

Although my ribs and lungs were screaming, I forced a playful smile. My mother and the others looked up from their conversations.

Just then, the bombarding of my chest subsided. With all eyes on me, Armando couldn’t blatantly continue his attack. He was backing down. Good. I wasn’t. I kept going.

His eyes raged at me, but I didn’t care. I had to expose him. It was now or never.

“I’d love to,” Armando called back, all smiles.

When I was a few feet from him, I
‘accidentally’
stumbled forward. My flailing hand flung the holy water in his direction.

Take that, devil!

Yet when I looked up, holy water was all over my face and arms. I was drenched. Armando was desert dry.

“Oh, my! Are you alright?” my mother called.

Armando should have been doused in holy water, and yet it was all over
me
.

“Can I get you a towel?” I hadn’t seen him move, but Armando was suddenly by my side, his dark eyes laughing. Maudrina handed me a small hand towel.

“I’m good,” I replied, dripping holy water into the carpet. I turned and started from the room. 

Armando sniffed the air behind me.
Sniff, sniff.
“If it makes it any better, I do like the fragrance, Megan. Smells heavenly.”

The room erupted with laughter.

#

The night had pretty much been a bust. There was no other way to describe it. Yes, when my mother went to bed she gave me the biggest hug she’d given me in a long time. Yes, Maudrina, my new best friend, had the time of her life, hanging out with human beings for a change. Yes, my guests said it was a lovely party, and that I was the perfect hostess. Those were the positives.

But Matt and Erin were no longer going to be friends with me until I got help.

“The ball’s in your court,” Matt had said as they walked out the door.

My world was about to become a very lonely place. Matt had been a part of my life for as far back as I could remember. He was like a brother to me. That was over now.

A part of me wanted to cry uncle and say “Okay, you’re right. There is no such thing as the devil.” But there was more than a life-long friendship at stake here. My mother’s future was tied to this. I couldn’t pretend Armando was a normal human being. It would have been easy to do it. But it would have been wrong.

I was now also faced with the fact that Armando knew I was on to him.

What will he do to me? What can he do to me?

I was exhausted. Throwing a surprise party where you’re trying to out the devil is tiring work. Despite all my concerns about losing my friends, about Armando seeking some form of retaliation, I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. I wanted to be vigilant, but my eyelids were growing heavier and heavier. Eventually I dragged my sleeping bag inside the hexagram and lay down. Just for a few minutes. That was all I needed. A few minutes sleep.

As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was gone. As I drifted off to sleep, I thought I smelled incense.

#

I awoke with a start.

Something had disturbed my sleep.

It was the humming of my cell. I looked down at my phone. A text message.

Guy
, I thought. I looked over at the clock. Two a.m. I’d been out for over an hour.

Guy must have been thinking about how he’d treated me when we were in the stairwell and he couldn’t sleep either.
He probably wants to apologize.
At least that’s what I hoped. I snatched up my phone and read:

Where R U?

Bed

come downstairs

???

ur livng rm

My living room?

A fear crept over me the likes of which I’d never known. It was a fear that seeped into my bones like a winter chill. I wanted to zip myself into the sleeping bag, a cocooning caterpillar, and cower there til dawn.

The text had come from a blocked number. What could Guy Matson possibly be doing in my living room at two in the morning?

I got up, rereading the message again and again, hoping, praying I’d read it wrong. Then a new, even more chilling text flashed onto the screen:

Coming? J

Aching with fear, I urged my legs forward, opened my bedroom door, and went downstairs.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs I could make out the silhouette of someone, a man, sitting in the darkened living room.

The Happy Birthday streamers cast a shadow over his face, so at first I couldn’t make out who it was. But as I moved closer my worst fears came to pass. Armando was seated on our couch, dressed in a black warm-up suit. How appropriately sinister.

The cushion that earlier had held my mother’s princess scepter was in his lap. He drummed his fingers on it impatiently as I stepped into the room.

Instinctively, I turned to run back upstairs.  I took two steps in the direction of the staircase when, to my surprise, he was now standing in front me, blocking my path. A smile spread across his face that was so filled with evil, my blood ran cold. I wanted to move, to run in the other direction, but I was frozen in fear.

“Come now. You knew you couldn’t get away from me that easily, didn’t you?”

My shoulders slumped. “Yeah. I guess I did.” There was a hopelessness in my voice that seemed to encourage him.

“Of course you did. After all, I am all powerful.”  He laughed. It was booming and penetrating. It seeped into my bones and made me shiver.  I looked up the stairs. “Not to worry. Your mother cannot hear us. That’s one of the perks of being me. The only person who can hear what I am saying is the person I choose to hear—you. Let’s have a little chat, shall we?”

“Sure,” I said. What else could I say? I didn’t have a choice. I tried looking on the bright side. It isn’t every day you get to have a
little chat
with Satan.

He took me by the hand and led me to the couch. He had an overwhelming presence that left me feeling puny and weak.  He sat next to me on the couch, crossed his legs, and sighed.

“That was a delightful party. Holy water, crucifixes, prayers. You’re a regular Martha Stewart, aren’t you?” He was toying with me. And why not? I was defenseless against his power, and he knew it.

“What do you want?” I rasped. It was the voice of a little girl lost.

“Whatever do you mean? I want to date.”

“She’s not your type.”

“Ahh, but I am
your
type.”

I had no idea what he was talking about. “My type?” I said, my face twisted into a question mark.

“Don’t you see? I am everything you have ever wanted in a man.”

My eyes widened. He again picked up the cushion and squeezed it playfully with both hands, as if it were a plush toy.

“Do not try to deny it. I am the boyfriend of your dreams, the boyfriend you prayed for for her.” He nodded and smiled. “I am the answer to your prayers.”

“But… she’s good,” I stammered. “She’s a good person.”

“I know. At first that was a problem for me, being Satan and all. But the bad-girl types have lost their appeal. I guess I’m maturing.” He laughed again.

“Stop teasing me!” My voice had been reduced to a soft whine. I felt ashamed of what he had so easily turned me into—a coward.

“You’re right. I’m being cruel. Although, not as cruel as someone who tried to throw holy water on me.
Ouch!
” He was really enjoying himself.

“I’M GOING TO SEND YOU BACK TO HELL!” I screamed. The words exploded out of me like a bomb.

I don’t know how, in that moment, I mustered the courage to yell at him. I was so scared. But fear is one of Satan’s biggest weapons. I realized this instinctively and knew that if I continued to show fear, it would let him know he was winning. I couldn’t afford that. Not with all that was at stake. I marshaled even more courage and glared at him.  

His expression changed momentarily, blooms of doubt creeping across his brow. His eyes narrowed.

“Okay, Megan. Let’s get down to business. You must realize by now you cannot beat me. I have been doing this for as long as man has walked the earth. Trust me when I say I have beaten better men than you. Your mother shall be my bride. I have chosen. It shall come to pass. Do not try to stand in the way of destiny.”

A knot began forming in the pit of my stomach, as I finally understood where this was headed. He wanted to marry my mother. Satan’s bride.

I looked around at the decorations Maudrina and I had painstakingly hung to turn my living room into a fairy princess wonderland.
Wasted,
I thought, as I realized how foolish I had been, believing I could set a trap for the devil.

“If you behave yourself, this can be rewarding for you, as well. Love. Popularity. Money. Youth. Any or all these can be yours. You witnessed the gift I bestowed upon Señora Marisol.”