The Black Parade

“Poor, sweet Jordan,” he whispered, his reptilian eyes swallowing my vision. “Without your angel, who will protect your heart?”

 

 

He let his gloved fingertips trail down the left side of my neck, resting the palm over the scar just above my breast. The demon leaned in, his lips brushing my ear and making me shiver.

 

“Will you give it to me or shall I take it?”

 

“You can chase me for a thousand years. You can hunt me wherever I go, threaten everyone I love, and take away everything I care about…but I will never…ever…give myself to you.” My voice came out clear and harsh, almost brash, but it was the truth.

 

Belial inhaled sharply, dragging his hot tongue over my pulse. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

 

His fangs pierced my skin and I screamed until I woke up.

 

As if the nightmares weren’t stressful enough, Terrell’s family had engaged in a legal battle about where and when to inter his body. Apparently, he hadn’t specified in his will and his mother’s side wanted to bury him with her grandparents, while his father’s side wanted to bury him in their grandparents’ graveyard. The only reason I knew about any of it was because of his sweet younger sister, Grace. Even after we broke up years ago, she never hated me like his mother did and so she called to tell me it would be a while before they got the issue settled. I tried to refuse the invitation, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer, bless her heart.

 

When the third month rolled around, the depression slackened. I threw myself into work and put more energy towards solving cases. Ghosts poured in at a steady rate. I took extra care to carry my gun, rosary, and a couple vials of holy water with me in case one of the demons resurfaced, but there was no sign of them. Though I did develop an intense fear of cats. Every time I saw one, I hurried off in the opposite direction. Sad, but true.

 

I also started watching Food Network on a regular basis. I started simple with dinner entrees and then worked my way up to baking. By the end of the month, I could make cornbread, chocolate chip cookies, and banana bread from scratch. I let Gabriel and Raphael try some of them. After that, all of Gabriel’s visits were in person just so he could try whatever new sweets I’d made that week.

 

By the fourth month, I still didn’t feel busy enough, so I started looking into enrolling in Excelsior College for their Bachelor of Science program for restaurant management. After all, I couldn’t be a waitress forever. Spending time at the restaurant made me realize how much I enjoyed cooking food and being around people while they ate. It would be a while before I’d be able to afford it, though. I made a folder for the pamphlets I found and wrote “Promises to Keep” on it.

 

It was the end of March before anything related to Michael cropped up. I sat in my kitchen, sharing half of a loaf of banana bread with Lauren after our shift at work. Lily was at the babysitter’s, because Lauren needed to vent about her divorce over sweets. Our conversation had fallen silent for a few comfortable moments before she spoke.

 

“I need to tell you something, but first you have to promise not to get mad at me,” she said after downing half her glass of milk.

 

I eyed her. “Go ahead.”

 

“I bumped into Michael the other night.”

 

The sudden mention of his name made my heart rate spike. “Oh.”

 

She dropped her gaze to the table top, folding one corner of her napkin. “We went out for a drink.”

 

The look on my face must have scared her, because she held up her hands in supplication. “No, no, not like that. He wanted to catch up, not go on a date.”

 

I relaxed a little. Before he left, Lauren and Michael did get along pretty well so it made sense he’d want to talk to her.

 

She continued. “I asked him how things were going and he said he pretty much just writes songs, works at Guitar Center, and sleeps. Nothing in between. He’s not seeing anybody, in case you were wondering.”

 

“I wasn’t,” I said, and she rolled her eyes at me.

 

“He asked me how you were.”

 

“What did you tell him?”

 

Lauren shrugged. “That you were good. Busy.”

 

The silence mounted. She folded the napkin into a limp little goose. After a while, she sighed. “Jor, he looked awful. Like he hasn’t been sleeping or taking good care of himself. Around other people, he can hold it together, but I could tell he was miserable.”

 

She met my gaze, her voice soft. “He misses you.”

 

I closed my eyes. “Lauren…”

 

“I don’t run your life. I won’t tell you what to do with it because it’s not like I know anything, I mean, I’m getting a divorce. But he’s not the same without you.”

 

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