The_Demons_Wife_ARC (20 page)

Claire was
trembling as she approached him, no longer caring that she was naked in front
of him. She reached down and took his hands and raised him to his feet. He
towered over her, and she let herself be engulfed by the strength and warmth of
his embrace. Moving slowly and in perfect harmony, they went back to the bed
and collapsed onto it in a writhing mass. It wasn’t long before they were
making love, and Claire could no longer distinguish when she ended and he
began.

They were
one.  

~ * ~

Sometime
later—time became meaningless, Claire thought, whenever they were together—they
were lying side by side, their bodies slick with sweat and limp with
exhaustion.

“You never
said it,” Samael said, his voice soothing in the semidarkness.

“Said what?”

“That you love
me.”

Claire didn’t
respond immediately. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to
catch her breath along with her thoughts.

“I meant it,
you know,” Samael said. “For I don’t know how long, I’ve dedicated myself to
Evil. But now I…I have no idea what’s happened to me. I feel pity and
compassion for a man I wanted to damn to Hell, and I find myself wanting…wanting
to get back something I willingly gave up millennia ago.”

“And that
is…?” Claire asked. She was positive she already knew the answer, but she was
determined to hear him say it out loud.

“I want my
soul back,” Samael said.

The first time
he said it, his voice was low and hesitant, but when he said it again—

“I want my
soul back.”

—there was
iron determination and strength in his voice.

The third time
he said it—

“I want my
soul back.”

—he clenched
hands into fists and punched the mattress hard enough to frighten Claire.

She was amazed
that this was happening, but any lingering doubts vanished. She took a tiny sip
of breath and held it until her head started to spin. Then, in absolute
disbelief, she listened to her own voice like it was someone else’s when she
said, “Yes, Samael. I love you, too…and want to marry you.”

Marry a demon
, a voice
inside her head cried out.
Are you fucking crazy?…Are you genuinely in
love…or has he cast a spell on you?

Either way,
you’re probably going straight to Hell.

In the end,
none of it mattered because this was her life, and come Hell or high water, she
was going to do whatever she wanted to do…whatever she felt compelled to do. If
it was done for love, then it couldn’t be bad. And one thing she was absolutely
certain of—she couldn’t and she wouldn’t even consider living a day without
Samael in her life.

If she had
just sold her soul, he’d been right: She hardly knew it.

All she felt
was contentment like she had never known it before.

~ * ~

“So what do
you say we get dressed and go out for breakfast?”

“It’s not
lunch time? It seems like we’ve been in bed forever.”

Claire’s
stomach was grumbling. One thing she knew for sure: it was already too late to
get to work on time or to call in sick. She debated calling the office now and
making some lame excuse about her alarm clock not going off, but she decided—to
Hell with that.

“There’s this
great diner out on Route One,” Samael said. “Called Ma Parker’s. Good,
down-home food. Let’s grab lunch there, and then I’ll drive you over to the
office, and you can go in and quit.”

“You really
think I should?”

“Believe me.
You will never have to work another day in your life,” Samael said.

The temptation
to do something dramatic to end her employment—something memorable and,
ultimately, personally satisfying—was strong. She took pleasure imagining
Marty’s reaction when she walked up to him and told him she quit. She grinned
inwardly, picturing herself telling him what she really thought of him.

Hell, that
place will fall apart without me around,
she thought.
And—Good
God-a-mighty, it would be worth anything…maybe even
…

She thought to
finish the sentence my soul to do it, but she caught herself.

She was determined
not to let Samael influence what she said or did. She was her own person, and
from now on, anything she said or did was going to be because it was her
decision, not Samael’s or her parents’ or Sally’s, or anyone else’s.

“I’ll even
come into the office with you, if you want moral support,” Samael offered.

Claire
clutched her arms against her chest and shook her head.

“No,” she
said, moving close to him and embracing him. The heat radiating from him was
intense. “I can handle it.”

“I know you
can,” he said.

With that,
they collapsed back onto the bed. By the time they were through, it was
definitely time for lunch instead of breakfast.

~ * ~

The sky was
overcast, a gunmetal gray that was spitting snow as Samael’s car pulled into
the parking lot of Montressor Chemical Company, and he killed the engine.
Across the parking lot, which was filled with eighteen-wheelers, was a
chainlink fence. Beyond the fence were the Downeaster railroad tracks. A long
string of boxcars was moving by slowly, their wheels squealing and clanking.
The ground shook with their ponderous passing.

Claire bit her
lower lip.

“I can do
this…I know I can.”

She kissed him
on the cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her cold lips.

“I’ll be
waiting right here.”

She felt remarkable
calm as she walked up the cement steps, entered her pass code numbers, and
opened the door when the lock buzzed.

She walked
past Edna’s desk and nodded a silent greeting to the receptionist.

“I didn’t
expect to see you today,” Edna said.

Claire smiled
and shrugged. She’d always liked Edna well enough, but it wasn’t like they were
friends or anything. They never hung out at work or after hours, mostly because
all Edna did was complain about her physical problems and her family life. 

“Marty in?” she
asked.

Edna nodded
and started to say something, but Claire was around the corner and only heard,
“But he…”

The door to
Marty’s office was closed, so Claire gave it a quick rap and then twisted the
doorknob and pushed it open. Marty—the little Napoleon—was sitting at his desk
with his feet up and leaning back in his chair. He had a sandwich in one hand
and was chewing as he stared blankly up at the ceiling.

“Claire,” he
said. His eyes widened with surprise, and he dropped his feet to the floor and
leaned forward. He placed the sandwich on its wrapping paper and brushed crumbs
from his chest. “Where have you been? I’ve been call—”

“I could have
phoned it in, but I came to tell you in person.”

His eyes
widened. He knew.

“I quit. Right
now.”

The words were
out of her—fast and strong—before she had time to reconsider.

And she had
been right. The expression on Marty’s face was priceless. He looked for all the
world like a fish that had been landed with the hook still impaled in its
mouth. His eyes bugged from his head, and his face went ghostly pale.

“You…quit?” he
echoed.

“Yup.”

“I…I, ahh, I
see.”

He kept
brushing crumbs from his chest as though that would restore his dignity. His
mouth was making little twitchy motions as if his mind was flooded with
thoughts but he couldn’t get a single word out.

Finally, he
managed to say, “You mean you’re giving your two-week notice?”

Claire folded
her arms across her chest and pursed her lips.

“No. I mean
now. I quit. Today. This instant.”

She knew this
was the point where she should turn on her heel and leave, allowing him to deal
with it any way he wanted to, but she didn’t. She wanted to stay long enough to
hear what he had to say even though she didn’t expect any surprises.

But there was
a surprise.

Instead of the
anger and vitriol she was expecting, tears filmed his eyes. His lower lip was
quivering. His face looked like it was made of pasty, white dough that hadn’t
yet risen.

“Is it…? Can
we talk about this? Is there anything I can do about it?”

Claire hadn’t been
ready for him to take this so personally, and she experienced a genuine bolt of
pity. His shock touched her heart, and she immediately regretted saying what
she had said.  

But from
somewhere that didn’t feel like it was coming from her, exactly, she heard
herself say, “There’s nothing to discuss. I have to move on.” And then, as a
token, she added, “I’m sorry I have to do it this way.”

“Me, too. I
mean…is it about pay? Did you find another job? We really—I really need you
here. I depend on you in ways I…I…I’m not sure I can do my job without you.”

“I’m sorry,
Marty,” Claire said again, and suddenly she saw him in a completely different
light. He wasn’t at all the martinet she had thought he was. He was nothing
more than a frightened, insecure little man who, she had to admit, was simply
doing the best he could under very trying situations. He made her life
miserable only because he was an incompetent manager, not because he was a
prick. It wasn’t as if his job was any more exciting or productive than hers.
And the home office sure didn’t make it any easier for either one of them.
Given different personalities, they could have been a helluva team.

She was
tempted to say something…to apologize…to try to take it all back. Marty wasn’t
such a bad guy after all, she decided. But as she was phrasing her reasonable
apology in her mind, the office floor suddenly started to shake. It shook
several times a day as trains went by, but this time, the rumbling was more
intense than usual.

“What the
bloody Hell?” Marty said, shouting to be heard about the thunderous sound.

He lurched
from his chair and took three quick steps to the window overlooking the parking
lot. Claire started over to see what was going on outside, too, but she checked
herself when a sudden flash of bright light flared across her view. A split
second later, a heart-thumping boom shook the building. The windows rattled in
their frames. Items on Marty’s desk vibrated like they were dancing, and the
pictures on the wall went crazily askew. The light framing Marty’s face got
rapidly brighter and began to flicker with a wicked red glow.

“What’s
happening?” Claire asked, her voice edged with panic. Her first thought was
that Samael was waiting outside in his car and that the explosion must have hit
him harder than it had the office building.

She clasped
the doorframe for support, expecting the office building to blow apart with her
in it.

Some fucking
irony that would be
,
she thought.

If something
had exploded and was burning out there on the tracks or in the rail yard, she
sure as Hell didn’t want to be anywhere near a window in case another, stronger
explosion sent glass and steel flying.

 “Looks like a
train derailed,” Marty said. “Must have been carrying something explosive.”

The brief
flash of light had faded, but it left an afterimage. Something outside was on
fire, flickered wildly. Claire could clearly see Marty’s reflection in the
glass.

A stronger
jolt of panic hit her in the chest when the fire alarm began to blare.  

Is Samael all
right outside in the parking lot?

Without
another word, she turned and ran down the corridor, past Edna’s desk. Edna was
already on the phone, talking frantically to someone—no doubt the fire or
police department. Hell, these days, it was probably Homeland Security. Without
a word, Claire shouldered open the door and rushed outside.

It had started
to snow, but Samael was standing at the far end of the parking lot, leaning
against his car, his arms folded across his chest as he watched what was going
on. Sharp shrieks of twisting, tortured metal filled the air as more railcars
derailed. The flames erupted with a whooshing roar, and a thick column of black
smoke that looked like an approaching tornado spiraled into the sky. It
contrasted starkly with the falling snow. Dozens of men—railroad and factory
workers alike—were scrambling about. From far off in the distance, there came
the rising and falling wail of sirens.

Numbed by what
was going on, Claire walked down the steps and started over toward Samael. She
couldn’t tear her gaze away from the destruction. In the seven years she had
worked here, she had always feared something like this would happen.

And now it
had.

She stepped up
beside Samael, who was watching the flames rise higher with a look of pure,
childlike delight on his face. And at that moment, remembering the scene last
weekend at the floating restaurant, a thought too horrible to frame into words
came to mind. She was trembling as she placed her hand on Samael’s chin and
twisted his head around so he was facing her.