The_Demons_Wife_ARC (25 page)

He answered
after the first ring, and Claire knew he’d been waiting, anxiously, to hear
from her. Her spirits lifted…a little.

“Where are
you?” he said, his voice snapping like the crack of a whip through the phone.
“Are you all right?”

“I’m lost…in
the woods,” she said as tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision and choking
her voice.

“What do you
mean?” His voice was calmer now, and she felt closer to him than she ever had
before. It was almost as if he were standing right here next to her in the
dark.

“I’m not sure
where I am or which way to go.”

There was a
long pause at the other end of the line. Claire could hear him breathing into
the phone, and she thought—wished—hoped he was thinking of something he could
do to help.

But how could
he help when he was hundreds of miles away?

“You have to
keep on going,” Samael finally said, his voice firm and tinged with concern.
“You can’t give up now. You can’t let them get to us.”

I’m the one
who might die,
Claire thought but didn’t say.

“Does your
cell phone have a GPS or Google maps…something that will point out where you
are?”

Claire shook
her head bitterly and said, “Mine just makes phone calls. It’s not a smart
phone. Besides, I’m probably too far north to even have that service.”

“We’ll have to
get you one when you get back,” Samael said, and she liked the way he assumed
there would be a future time when they could get her one.

“So you’ll
have to figure out where you are,” he said. “Just stay calm.”

She used her
glove to wipe the tears from her eyes and took a calming breath as she looked
around. She focused once again on the single light, glimmering like an illusion
through the trees.

Speaking as
much to herself as to Samael, she said, “I will.”

“I love you,”
he said, his voice as soft now as when he whispered to her in the darkness of
the bedroom.

“And I love
you,” she said, fighting hard to contain the emotions that were welling up
inside her. “I really do.”

“Call me as
soon as you’re safe and on your way home, ‘kay?”

“I will,”
Claire said.

And then she
ended the call and started walking toward the pinpoint of light.

~ * ~

Claire had no
idea how she eventually made it to the bus station, but sometime before dawn,
at the end of a night she had been convinced would never end, she found herself
sitting in the waiting area of the bus terminal. The heater was going full
blast and was making her sweat.

The light she
had seen through the trees had, in fact, turned out to be a house—the Crosby
house, as it turned out. She had known the Crosby family since she was a kid
growing up here. Their children—a son, Andrew, and a daughter, Alice—had been a
few years ahead of Claire in school. They were old enough so she had never been
friends with either of them, but she knew them well enough to smile and say
“hi.” As far as she knew, the old folks were still living in the old family
home. At least her parents had never mentioned to her that they had died, and
her mother was good at keeping her posted on who had died in town.

She had
approached the house, thinking she’d wake them up and ask for help, but as she
got close to the house, their dog started barking. He sounded mean enough to
avoid, and she decided that if she showed up at this ungodly hour, word would
definitely get back to her parents. Then she’d have some explaining to do.

But at least
it was a familiar landmark. She knew where she was.

So she had
kept on walking until she made it to the bus station about an hour later.

She sat on a
bench in the far corner of the room where she could keep an eye on anyone and
everyone who came or went. Not that there were many people around at this hour.
Houlton wasn’t exactly a bustling town, and she didn’t want to be seen by
anyone who might report back to her parents. And she certainly didn’t trust any
strangers she might see because he—or she—might be the demon who was trying to
trick her.

The front desk
didn’t open for another hour, so she bought a Pepsi and some Ritz crackers with
peanut butter from the vending machines, and sat as far away from everyone as
she could.

When dawn
broke, the sun shining a bright orange beam across the floor, Claire was wrung
out with exhaustion, she didn’t dare to nap now because she still didn’t feel
safe.

When will I
feel safe?
She wondered.

She doubted
she’d feel much better even once she was on board a bus heading south. Even
then, if she didn’t recognize anyone on the bus, she wouldn’t dare let her
guard down. The strain was getting to her.

The office
finally opened at six A.M. She recognized the man behind the desk selling
tickets. He was Mr. Henry, a friend of her father’s. He’d been working here
since before she’d left home for college, and this morning, he was as efficient
as a machine, going through the routine of selling and verifying tickets. A
young woman with two children—one in a stroller—were in front of Claire. Once
they were set, she stepped forward. When Mr. Henry recognized her, he smiled
and greeted her warmly.

“Well, now,
good mornin’ to yah, Claire,” he said, but then his expression darkened and he
added, “What in the blazes, if you don’t mind me askin,’ are you doin’ here
this time o’day?” Mr. Henry had a thick Maine accent and pronounced the word
“here” as two syllables—“He-ahh.”

“I’m heading
south,” Claire said, hoping to keep her voice friendly and firm.

She knew she
must look a wreck after spending the whole night thrashing around in the woods,
but there wasn’t much she could do about that now. First thing when she got to
the bus station, she had gone into the ladies room and fixed herself up as best
she could, but her hair was still a tangled mess, and her makeup was gone.

“Just like old
times, huh?” Mr. Henry smiled. “I ‘member when you was in college, you comin’
in and takin’ the bus back to university after holidays and such.”

“That was a
long time ago, Mr. Henry,” she said with a tight smile. Truth to tell, Mr.
Henry didn’t look to have aged much in the intervening years.

“I didn’t know
you was in town. Your father never mentioned it.”

“We—I just
came up for the day yesterday.” She hoped that would satisfy him, but this was
small-town Maine, and word of mouth would get around about her being at the
station at the crack of dawn, buying a ticket south.

“I had a bit
of—ah, car trouble, and I have to get back to Portland for work.”

“Bus won’t get
to Portland ‘till after two o’clock this afternoon,” he said as he handed her
the ticket. She fumbled in her purse—glad she had hung on to it—and paid with a
credit card.

“I’ll have to
do my best,” she said.

“Ay-yuh.
Wouldn’t want to lose a job in this economy.”

Claire nodded
and started to leave so the person behind her—an elderly man wearing a tattered
and faded suit coat—could buy his ticket. She didn’t recognize him and scanned
him surreptitiously, wondering if he was the demon who was after her. How
easily could he assume a new disguise?

Before she
left the ticket desk, though, Claire turned back to Mr. Henry.

“Somethin’ the
matter?” he asked.

She realized
he must be reacting to the expression on her face, but her voice was steady as
she lowered it to a whisper and said, “I’d appreciate if you didn’t mention me
being here to my folks. They think I left yesterday evening, and they’d just be
worried if they knew…”

Her voice
faded away because she didn’t know what else to say. She had no doubt that,
before the morning was over, Mr. Henry would make a call to her father and tell
him the whole story.

Since there
was nothing more she could do about it, she took her ticket and went back to
the furthest corner to wait. An hour and a half later she was sitting in a
Greyhound bus, heading south on I-95. 

~ * ~

Claire sat at
the back of the bus, hoping her position clearly communicated to everyone:
Leave
me the fuck alone.
Fortunately, the young woman with the two kids sat up
front behind the driver. They started whining as soon as the bus, belching a
huge plume of dense, sooty exhaust, pulled out of the station. There were only
a few other passengers. The old man she had noticed earlier was seated about
halfway to the back of the bus. He smiled and nodded to Claire as she passed,
but after that, he appeared to studiously ignore her.

Appeared…Claire
thought, wondering if that was exactly how he would behave…until he managed to
get her alone.

There were
other passengers—the usual mix of bus riders—people who for whatever reason
didn’t have or use private transportation. A couple of kids who looked like 60s
hippies sat closer to Claire. They had, obviously, gotten baked first thing in
the morning before their bus trip. They kept looking around and giggling like
harmless morons.

Or are they
harmless? Claire wondered. What if the demon is one of them? It’s perfect cover
for the unsuspecting.

Claire shook
her head, telling herself to stop being so damned paranoid, but another voice
in her head told her she had to stay alert for any and all possible dangers.
Still, she didn’t have to get paranoid and jump or cringe at every sound or
anything that moved. No matter what she told herself, her hands were shaking as
she drew her cell phone from her purse and hit the speed dial for Samael’s
number.

The phone rang
once…twice…and by the third ring, a vague sense of uneasiness stirred within
her.

“Come on.”

The phone rang
a fourth time.

“Answer the
phone…”

Or will it
kick over to voicemail?

“Pick up…Pick
up,” she whispered.

Beads of sweat
formed on her forehead and ran, tickling, down the sides of her face and back
of her neck. The hot air vent was blowing directly into her face, but try as she
might, she couldn’t get it to shut off. She considered switching seats but
didn’t want to draw attention to herself.

Remember,
they’re really after Samael, not you…but they’ll use you to get to him
…

A fifth ring,
and then the phone clicked.

What if they
got to him already?

For what
seemed a terribly long moment that, in reality, must have been only a second or
two, tops, there was utter silence. Her breath caught like a hot coal in her
throat. Her heart was racing so fast her vision jumped in time with it.

And then—

“Hey.”

It was almost
impossible to hear him over the roaring sound the bus was making, but relief
instantly flooded Claire.

“Hey,
yourself,” she said breathlessly, leaning forward and cupping the phone with
her hand so the stoners or anyone else wouldn’t hear her.

“So where are
you?” he asked. He sounded nervous…edgy, and Claire thought that was a good
sign. “Are you safe?”

Claire scanned
the passengers in the bus. Except for the young mother, who was trying to
breastfeed the infant, everyone else was either dozing or reading a morning
newspaper. The hippies were chatting and texting on their phones. The steady
loud rumble of the bus was far from soothing, but in her relief, Claire
realized just how exhausted she was.

“I think so.
I’m on the bus, heading south,” she said. “I won’t get into Portland until—”
She fished her ticket from her pocket and checked the ETA to be sure. “Looks
like two forty-five this afternoon.”

“I’ll be
there. Greyhound, right?”

“Yup.”

“I’ll be
there. Don’t worry.”

A little late
for that advice
,
Claire thought but didn’t say.

“So how are
you?” she asked. “Did you have any…trouble last night?”

There was an
uncomfortably long pause at the other end of the line. Claire sensed he was
debating what or how much to tell her.

“Nothing I
couldn’t handle. Bush-league stuff,” he said finally. It was vague and
threatening enough so she did, in fact, begin to worry.

But a cell
phone—easily compromised—was not the way to discuss it.

“So you must
not have had any trouble finding your way out of the woods.”

Like Samael,
she decided not to tell everything so he wouldn’t worry. At least that was
over!

“I was so
worried about you last night. I couldn’t sleep.”

DO you ever
sleep?
Claire wanted to ask but didn’t. She smiled at the note of genuine concern—worry,
even—in his voice. Closing her eyes, she imagined they were already back
together.

“I’m beat
after hiking all night. It’s weird because…it’s like it was all a bad dream or
something.”