“Really, Delaney, who is?”
“It’s not something you’d understand. Believe me when I tell you, if you thought I was a hard sell, with Kellen it’ll be like trying to sell rhythm to J-Lo. Now seeing as you’re in the habit of jamming feet in your mouth on a regular basis, and you have all the sensitivity of an earthworm—just be quiet. Okay?”
The lone bulb hanging above his head highlighted the sharp planes of his face while the wheels of his fact-loving mind visibly turned. “Interesting fact, earthworms are hermaphrodites. They can have relations with either male or female worms and still reproduce. I’m unsure whether they have emotions, though.”
Again with the intercourse. Delaney narrowed her eyes at him. “If only to be an earthworm. Just lay low and can the Discovery Channel regurgitations from out of nowhere.” She rapped on the door, slapping a smile on her face for Kellen, remembering to step in front of Clyde to prevent her overprotective brother from right-hooking her demon’s jaw.
Kellen threw open the door wide, stopping short when he saw Clyde standing behind her. Both men sized each other up. Kellen’s narrowed gaze honed in on Clyde.
In a pink bathrobe.
And that had to be anything but a testosterone boost for Clyde.
Yet Clyde never left her back, though she sensed his nostrils were probably flaring much the way Kellen’s were.
“So this is the demon, huh? Nice robe, man,” Kellen drawled, jamming his hands under his armpits.
“Kellen,” she warned, “just listen before you drag your knuckles on the floor. C’mon, Clyde,” she prompted, placing his hand in hers and taking him to the kitchen. Delaney threw the bag on Kellen’s small dinette table, handing Clyde his requested sandwich. “Here. Clog those arteries. You”—she pointed at Kellen—“sit down. We have some really serious stuff to discuss.”
But her intentions were all but forgotten when the cabinets above Kellen’s stove began to open and shut with crackling thwacks to the wood.
“Visitor?” Kellen asked—used to the interruptions Delaney’s mad, mad world presented.
Her eyes scanned the room, searching for the entity. Goose bumps came and went, skittering along her arms and down her spine on spiderlike feet.
Clyde rose to his full height. “Where?”
The instant he did was the moment the cabinets stopped clattering and the chill disappeared. “Sit down. Don’t move.”
As though the man himself had arrived and given him an order, Clyde actually listened to her, his ass hitting the padded chair hard in obedience.
She placed a finger over her lips, glancing at both men. “Hellll loooo?” she called to the room. “Oh, c’mon, don’t be shy. It’s really okay. Come out and talk to me,” she coaxed, hoping her light tone would extend her willingness to talk and inspire trust.
When the slither of a black shadow took form, Delaney cocked her head, gazing at the spot just above Clyde’s head.
Weee doggie, that had to have been major suckage.
“Delaney?” Kellen’s concerned voice broke her fixated stare at the image in front of her. “Who is it?”
“Well, could be a doctor—definitely someone in the medical profession because he has scrubs on.”
“And that’s unusual why?” Clyde questioned.
Delaney grimaced at Clyde. “First, do not move. He’s coming in loud and clear, and every time you so much as blink an eye, he fades. Second, don’t freak on me, okay?”
Clyde’s face darkened. “Why would I freak?”
“Because he’s resting his head on your shoulder.”
“That’s not so freaky.”
“Well, here’s the thing.”
Now his gaze grew wary. “What’s the thing?”
“It could be interpreted as such if it’s in his hands.”
ten
Clyde bolted upright, shoving away from the table and brushing at his shoulders, knocking over the soup she’d bought for Kellen with a wet splat of chicken and dumplings.
She flicked his arm with an angry finger. “I told you not to move! Jesus, Clyde—now he’s gone again.” Her eyes darted around the room, searching for the spirit.
Clyde whipped around, eyeing Delaney with a visible shudder. “Call me all kinds of sorry I scared the guy with the head in his hands away. Jesus.” He gave a vigorous rub to his broad shoulder again for obvious good measure.
“I told you not to freak. It’s not like it’s real real. He was just a ghost. Transparent, ya know? No substance—honest. Don’t be such a candy-ass.”
“Says you. It wasn’t your shoulder his head—not attached to his body, I might add—was resting on.”
“Don’t be such a total girl. You’re a demon, for crap’s sake. Some people would call that creepy.”
“But I’m a demon with my head. Not as creepy.”