Demon Ex Machina: Tales of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom (7 page)

He’d kept secrets from me. Secrets that—if I’d known—might have spared us the danger now lurking inside him.

I closed my eyes and bit my lip, wondering if, had I known, I would have had the strength not to use the Lazarus Bones. Would I have been able to stand there, with Allie looking on, and let her father die?

So help me, I didn’t know. And that made me wonder what I would do tomorrow or the next day or the next. What would I do when the demon finally burst free and I had to make the hardest choice of all?

“Katie,” he said, his voice cracking. He pressed his hands to my shoulders and his lips to my hair. I closed my eyes, taking some strength from him, but that was all I would take.

I told myself that was all I
wanted
to take. But that, of course, was a lie.

“Don’t push me away, Katie.”

“I’m not the one pushing,” I said. I turned in his arms. “We need to fight this thing, Eric. We need to fight it together.”

“Except we’re not together.”

I shook my head, not willing to let him go there again. “I love my husband, Eric, and nothing is going to change that. I love you, too. But we’re in a different place now, and you know it. So don’t try to lessen what’s between you and me by lashing out against Stuart.”

“Fine.” He nodded. “Fine. You help. And maybe we’ll figure it out before it’s too late.”

I angled a glance at him, hating myself for suspecting that he was lying, saying what I wanted to hear so that I’d shut up and go away. “Do you know . . . I mean, have you got any idea how long—”

“How much time I have? How long I can fight back the beast?” I winced from the harsh edge of his voice, but nodded. “I don’t know,” he said. “Probably not long.”

I drew in a breath, tried to digest that information. “You don’t patrol with Allie anymore,” I said. “Not without me.”

“You’ve been enforcing that rule for a while. What?” he added, apparently catching my surprised expression. “You think I hadn’t noticed?”

“Fair enough,” I said. “But she doesn’t go to your apartment, either.”

I braced, expecting a fight, but all I got was a simple nod, and that gesture of acquiescence scared me more than anything. Because it set out in sharp relief what we both already knew. The demon was coming closer. The battle was taking its toll. And he didn’t want his daughter anywhere near when and if the beast finally burst forth.

We stood silently, both of us acknowledging that unspoken truth, and as we did, I heard a car pull into the driveway, followed by the steady churn of the garage door mechanism kicking into gear.

“You should go,” I said, then exhaled in frustration as he crossed his arms over his chest and parked himself on a chair. “Dammit, Eric.”

“What? Are we through here? You don’t want to discuss strategy? A plan? Research venues?”

“You’re being an ass,” I said, but I didn’t have time to elaborate because Allie came barreling out of the kitchen and into the living room. She hit the brakes, skidding to a stop in front of the couch and turning toward the door, probably noticing the back porch light. That was all it took. Her high squeal of “Daddy!” rang through the house, and she jumped onto the couch, vaulted over the back, and threw open the door.

“Hey, baby,” he said, standing up and catching her as she launched herself at him.

“What are you doing here? It’s like the middle of the night.”

“It’s not like it at all,” I said. “It is the middle of the night.”

She rolled her eyes. “Mom.”

“I’m just saying.” I saw Stuart and Eddie in the living room, their heads swiveling in unison toward the back porch. A flash of something harsh crossed Stuart’s face, erased in an instant by a now-familiar political smile.

“David,” he said, nodding curtly as he stepped onto the patio. “Timmy asleep?” he asked me.

“At Laura’s. I was in her kitchen when we saw someone moving in the house,” I added. “Or thought we did.”

A muscle in Stuart’s jaw twitched as he turned to face Eric.

“I don’t need to break and enter,” Eric said, taking a step closer to me. “I’m welcome.”

Considering the level of testosterone flying around, I decided this was a good time to send Allie up to bed. “But it’s the weekend!” she protested.

“And a good thing, too. Considering how far in the toilet your grades are, you need the weekend to study.”

“But—”

“Go on,” Eric said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I could tell she wanted to argue, but one of the benefits of having her father dumped recently back into her life was that Allie tended to be on her best behavior around him. Which translated into a quick nod, a good-night kiss, and a hassle-free departure.

Stuart waited until she disappeared from view before rounding on Eric. “Did you come to patrol? To warn us about an imminent demonic threat? To avert the apocalypse?”

“I came to talk to Kate,” Eric said evenly.

“It’s after midnight,” Stuart said. “And last time I checked, Kate’s cell phone worked just fine.”

“I wanted to talk to her in person.”

Stuart took a deep breath, then nodded, as if he was thinking that one over. Honestly, I didn’t much like the look of whatever he was thinking, and when he took a step toward Eric, I casually placed myself between the two of them. “Let’s be clear,” Stuart said, moving in close and putting a possessive hand on my shoulder while he stared down Eric. “Kate’s my wife now. And this is my house. I’ll admit I was a little freaked out when I learned the truth about you—about all of it—but I came back. I came back,” he repeated, “and I swore I’d fight for her. For my family. So don’t think I didn’t mean it.”

“If it’s a fight you want,” Eric said, “I think we can work something out.”

“Eric—” I said, my voice low and my tone fierce.

But Stuart didn’t need my help. “Do
not
,” he said. “Do not come onto my property and play games with me. I respect that you love my wife. I get that you two have a history beyond anything I can imagine. Most of all, I understand that you lost your family and that you want time with your daughter. I understand it, I acknowledge it, and I even support it. But not like this. You do not show up at my house in the middle of the night to meet clandestinely with my wife. You don’t disrupt our household. And whatever personal problems you may have because you landed in some other guy’s body or because some badass demon wants to pull your chain, you deal with those somewhere else. Not here. Not in my home.”

He took another step closer to Eric. “Are we clear?”

I tensed, waiting for the explosion, but it didn’t come. Instead, Eric kept his eyes on Stuart, as if taking his measure, and for the first time finding Stuart adequate. He nodded, short and curt, before turning to face me. “Tomorrow,” he said. “We patrol.”

“Tomorrow,” I acknowledged, then watched as he moved through the dark to the side gate, Stuart clutching tight to my hand.

“I don’t want him in my house,” Stuart said after the gate swung shut.

“Inside,” I said, opening the back door and leading Stuart in before locking it and resetting the alarm.

“I mean it,” Stuart said. “He isn’t welcome here.”

I glanced automatically toward the stairs, but saw no evidence that Allie was snooping. “He’s the father to my daughter,” I said, keeping my voice low as I led him into the kitchen. “I’m not sleeping with him.”

Stuart winced, but had the grace to look chagrined. “You love him.”

I closed my eyes. That one, I couldn’t deny. And when I looked again at Stuart, I didn’t see anger or jealousy. All I saw was frustration, and that directed not at me, but at himself.

“Oh, God, Kate,” he said, sinking into one of the chairs around our battered Formica breakfast table. “I’m sorry. I trust you. Hell, I even pity you. Not exactly the typical interaction with the former husband we’ve got going here. But I gotta be honest. He terrifies me.”

“He’s not taking me from you,” I said.

“That’s not what I mean.” He pushed the chair beside him out with his toe, and I sat down, facing him, and knowing exactly where this was going. “There’s a demon inside him, remember? You’re the one who explained it to me. Or have you forgotten?”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten,” I snapped, though at the moment, I regretted my decision to be quite so forthcoming.

“He’s dangerous, Kate.”

“He won’t hurt me.”

“Maybe,” Stuart acknowledged. “And maybe not. But what about me? Or Timmy? And even if he doesn’t physically hurt Allie . . .” He trailed off, leaving me to draw my own conclusions.

“I’m working on it,” I said. “He’s working on it.”

Stuart looked at me, his eyes seeing more than I wanted. “Whatever you’re doing,” he said, “do it faster.”

“
Mommymommymommymommmeeeeeeeee!
Get up, Mommy!
Up! Up! Up!”

I shoved a pillow over my head and rolled over, which was not the way to soothe the savage toddler, who proceeded to march atop the bed humming and screaming and generally making a nuisance of himself.

“Where’s your father?” I asked. “Your sister. Somebody, anybody, help me.”

“Me, me, me,” he said, plunking his little body on my back and aiming a spit-filled whisper toward my ear. “Daddy says up, Mommy. Get up now!”

I rolled over, saw the empty side of the bed, and smelled a rat. “Did Daddy send you to wake me?”

He nodded gleefully, then thrust his arms up toward the ceiling. “Do that, Mommy!”

And despite the fact that I was operating on absolutely no sleep, I tossed my arm above my head, which I considered hugely generous since I knew exactly what was coming.

Sure enough, Timmy leaped on me, his little fingers scratching under my arms in a toddler’s version of tickling. I writhed and chuckled and generally pretended he’d managed to hit a tickle nerve. He kept it up for about forty seconds, at which point he couldn’t stand it any longer. He flopped back on the bed, arms high above his head. “Do me, Mommy! Do me!”

“I don’t know,” I said, as if I really had an option here. “Daddy said I’m supposed to get up, not tickle a little boy.”

“Yes, tickle!” he screeched, his little face scrunching up and displaying all the signs of an oncoming tantrum.

“Whoa, whoa,” I said. “I was just kidding.” I looked up at the ceiling. “Wow!” I said, as if amazed. “Look at that. Can you reach it?”

“What?” Tantrum forgotten, he turned big eyes upward. “Right above you,” I said. “If you reach really high, you might be able to catch one.”

He climbed to his feet, a bit unsteady on the soft mattress and stretched his arms up toward the ceiling, grasping at nothing.

I pounced, pulling him down to the mattress even as my fingers went for his underarms, tickling for all I was worth. He squealed and kicked and screamed and appeared generally delighted with the whole thing. So delighted, in fact, that even when I fell back exhausted on the bed, he bounced and bounced, crying, “Again! Again! Again!” so many times that Stuart and Allie appeared in the doorway.

“You’re stuck now,” Allie said. “Once he starts, there’s no going back. Duh-duh-duh-dummmmmm,” she added, in a bad parody of a horror movie soundtrack.

“Thanks,” I deadpanned. “You’re very helpful. You?” I asked, shifting my attention from my daughter to Stuart.

“Sorry. I got nothing. Except pancakes. How about it, sport? Want to make a trade? Your mother’s freedom for a Mickey Mouse pancake with chocolate chip eyes?”

“Pancakes!” he screamed, then leaped off the bed and scurried past his father for the stairs.

“Tossed aside for carbohydrates,” I said. “Isn’t it always the way?”

Stuart blew me a kiss, then headed out of the room to make good on his promise. I rolled out of bed and headed to the armchair that has never seen a person’s tush, seeing as it has throughout our entire marriage served only as a place to hold clothes. I found a pair of sweatpants and tugged them on. I was already wearing a Coronado High PTA T-shirt, so I was now as dressed as I intended to get until after coffee.

I checked the clock, saw that it was painfully early for a Saturday, and decided I had plenty of time before Timmy’s ten o’clock social engagement. I also saw that Allie was still hovering in the doorway looking expectantly in my direction.

“Well?”

In response, I shoved my feet into fuzzy bunny slippers. “Ummm?”

“Daddy,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Why was he here? Can I hang out at his place this weekend?”

“He was here because we had things to discuss, and not this weekend.”

“But—”

“He has to run into L.A.,” I lied.

“I could go with him.”

I bent down and adjusted my bunny slippers so that my daughter wouldn’t see the lie on my face. “I don’t think it’s convenient this time, kiddo.”

“But we can ask him, right? I mean, I could call, and—”

“No.”

“What? Why?” Her wail drifted all the way downstairs, and Stuart yelled back up with a curt, “I didn’t say anything.”

“But why not?” Allie said, trying again with a softer voice.

“Your grades, for one,” I said, heading for the door. “Your father and I are both concerned.” I told myself I was feeling no guilt. We
were
concerned. That just wasn’t my reason for keeping my daughter from her father.

As for the real reason, I should feel no guilt there, either. After all, my first job as a mom was to keep my kids safe. And even Eric agreed that Allie was better off not being alone with him.

That simple fact sat like a dead weight in my stomach, and my fingers itched to pick up the phone and try to reach Father Corletti. We were missing something. Something huge. Something that would save Eric if only we could find it. And now, with the demon inside gaining strength and some anonymous She-Demon out there, I feared we had to find it fast.

I frowned, realizing I hadn’t told Stuart about our little encounter with Gargantua the Wonder Demon last night. I glanced toward the door, guilt pooling in my gut. I’d promised Stuart full disclosure, but I hadn’t realized how quickly that would become dicey. Demons attacking in the backyard. Demons buddying up to Eric. That was the kind of stuff that could really worry a man. Hell, it worried me.