She turned toward the stairs behind her to find an impressive short, voluptuous brunette standing there in a pair of ragged jeans and a black tee.
Was there some unwritten law that everyone in her building had to be extremely attractive?
Anna wondered how she’d made the cut, given the fact that she was twenty pounds overweight and approaching middle age at warp speed. Not to mention, she was hot and sweaty, and unlike her neighbors, her sweat didn’t make her glisten.
It made her gross and smelly.
“Which Alphabet Soup label does he fall under?” Anna asked the beauty as she came closer.
“TAS.”
Anna scratched at the sweat on her cheek at one that was new to her. “Never heard of it.”
“Terminal Asshole Syndrome. Not sure if it was congenital or something he contracted after puberty. Either way, he has a fatal dose of it.”
She laughed at the woman. “I’m Anna Carol, by the way.”
“Two first names? Or did God not like you, to curse you with that particular moniker.”
“The latter.”
“Ouch. Not that the Big Guy or mi querida madre was any kinder to me.” She tucked her hands in to her jeans pockets. “Marisol Verástegui.”
“That’s beautiful.”
“Glad you think so. But then you’re not the one who has to try and get it straight at the DMV, or on any legal document. Talk about a nightmare!”
“I can see where that might make you crazy.”
“Oh yeah. But hey, it’s hysterical at Starbucks. I love to make the baristas cry.”
Anna laughed. While Luke might leave a lot to be desired in the friendly department, she really liked this neighbor. “It’s nice to meet you, Marisol. I take it you live upstairs, too?”
“I used to.” A dark sadness came into her eyes.
“Used to?”
Marisol nodded, then turned around and walked through the wall.
Anna choked on a scream.
The entire backside of Marisol’s skull was missing.
Chapter 2
You can’t break your lease, Ms. Carol. It’s impossible.”
Anna gripped her phone tighter. Over the last two weeks, she hadn’t slept, or had a moment of peace. The hauntings that had begun with Luke—who turned out to be a suicide from three years ago, and Marisol who’d died in a murder last year—had only gotten worse and worse.
“Of course, I can. Just tell me how much.”
The realtor let out a low, sinister laugh that didn’t sound like her usual high-pitched voice. “You don’t understand. You entered the agreement of your own free volition. No one forced you into it. The moment you did so, you became one of ours.”
“Pardon?”
“You heard me. You came to me seeking a new life. I delivered it. You have a new job and place to live. I fulfilled our bargain. In return, you signed away your soul.”
This had to be a joke. Was she high?
“Um... what?”
“You heard me,” she repeated. “Read the fine print on the contract. You came here looking to start over. I told you when I handed you the keys, and you crossed the apartment’s threshold that you would be entering a whole new life. Did you think I was kidding?”
“I assumed you were speaking metaphorically.”
“Well you know what they say about assume. It makes an ass out of u and me.” Then, the witch had the nerve to actually hang up.
Hang up!
Demonic laughter rang through her apartment.
Unamused, Anna stood there, grinding her teeth.
Okay. I have sold my soul to the devil.
She had no response to that. Face it, it wasn’t exactly something someone dealt with every day. At least not normal people.
“Well, it’s a good thing I come from a basketload of crazy.”
And that was being generous. Crazy had kind of looped around her family a couple of times. Rebounded back, decided it really liked them and then moved in, and planted some serious roots. Then, because she was really Southern, it had remarried a few cousins, committed incest, and decided to never branch off her family tree. So the lunacy had just quadrupled with each subsequent generation, until it was no longer eccentric, it was downright felonious.
Yeah, that was her family.
And that was her insanity.
In Randolph County, Alabama where her family hailed from, she could get someone killed for a simple keg of beer. No questions asked.
Which was why she’d moved to Huntsville when she married. Although her ex had often claimed that three hours away just wasn’t far enough.
Sometimes, she agreed.
But right now, she needed that kind of crazy. Because they were the only ones who could make this seem normal. And who wouldn’t have her committed when she called them.
Anna started to dial her father, then stopped herself.
After all, she was in Satan’s apartment.
Um, yeah. She’d seen enough horror movies to know how this would play out. It always ended to same for the idiot on the phone.
Grizzly death.
She slid her phone into her back pocket. “I’m just going to the grocery store to get some milk. I’ll be back in a minute.”
As calmly as she could, she grabbed her keys and pocketbook, then headed for the door. “Hey, Satan? Could you turn out the lights for me? Thanks!”
She headed out, and tried not to freak as she got to her Jeep, and saw the lights in her apartment turn off.
Never let it be said that the devil didn’t have a wicked sense of humor.
Trying to stay calm, she got into the Jeep, and drove to the store as if all was right in the world. Just in case she had an unseen visitor keeping her company.
She’d seen that movie, too.
Once she was inside the store, and had found a place where nothing too hard or sharp could fall on her, and where she had a good line-of-sight on anyone who might get possessed and come charging after her, including devil or zombie dogs, rats or insects, she dialed her dad.
Luckily, he wasn’t out bowling with his buds or watching a game. He never picked up the phone on game nights.
“Hey, sweetie. How’s my girl?”
“Hey, Daddy. I have a little problem.” She glanced around the store, and lowered her voice so that no one could overhear her and think her nuts. ‘Cause honestly, she thought she was pretty crazy herself. “Turns out, you’ve been wrong in your sermons lately. The devil isn’t coming up in those hell-pits down in Georgia that’s been causing their interstates to rise up and buckle. He’s actually here in Richmond. Living in my apartment building.”
“Say what?”
“Uh, yeah. Apparently, I accidentally sold my soul to him when I signed my lease.”
Now most fathers would have probably committed their daughters over such a statement. At the very least, would have laughed it off, and thought it a prank.
Lucky thing for Anna, her daddy was a Southern Baptist preacher who specialized in spiritual warfare. In fact, her family came from a long, long line of such men and women who were famed for scaring the devil out of generations of parishioners and farms.