On Demon Wings

My dad narrowed his eyes at him briefly, then relaxed. “I know you like your food down South; however, there’s no need to make the carpets Cajun too.”

 

Was that a…joke?

 

Yes. My dad smiled at Maximus, despite what was going on. He smiled, then patted him on the shoulder and my mother and him left the kitchen and went up the stairs to their room.

 

Once they were out of earshot and I could no longer hear my mother’s faraway cries over the discovery of more cinnamon and sulphur, I smacked Maximus hard across the arm. I almost went for his face but a quick glance at his cheek told me to back off.

 

“What the fuck was that?” I yel ed at him, trying to keep my voice even and under control and failing epical y. The anger and frustration inside was dangerously high, swimming in my throat, ready to spew the most poisonous venom at him.

 

“Ow,” he said, and grabbed his arm, rubbing it and stepping away from me.

 

“You’re an ass!”

 

“Seconded!” Ada put in.

 

He shrugged dramatical y. “What? I couldn’t just nod along with you ladies; that would have made me seem just as loco as you two.”

 

“Excuse me?” I drew out the vowels in a shril cry.

 

I took a step toward him and he took a few back until his legs hit the stove.

 

“What?” I asked. “You afraid of me now? Afraid of me when you saw what happened tonight?! I mean, you saw.

 

You saw it. You saw the thing outside, you saw the lights go out, the fireplace, the damn fireplace lit up al by its fucking self. And the picture. The picture of my family, now who did that? And don’t say I did, don’t you dare!”

 

“Lower your voice,” he said to me, his eyes hardening.

 

I walked until I was pressed right up to him and jabbed my finger near his eye.

 

“Don’t you dare tel me to lower my voice. You and your, your…passiveness,

 

your

 

chicken-shit,

 

yel ow-bel ied

 

fuckery, you nearly cost me a visit to my old shrink! You could have ruined my life, and no I’m not saying that lightly.”

 

“Perry. You reckon you’re possessed by a ghost, and in some cases, the devil. I’d say your life is already ruined.

 

Isn’t it?”

 

I had no words for that, so I just glared at him and then walked away in a huff and stood, seething, by my sister.

 

She shot me an apologetic glance and said to Maximus, “But you did see it. I saw it too, and I know I’m not cray-cray.

 

Wel , not always. Not often. I mean, come on, there’s something here. And now it’s going to stay here because you were too afraid to tel my parents the truth. You…

 

douchecanoe!”

 

She looked at me at that last word to see if she said it right. I nodded.

 

“Why is it going to stay?” he asked, total y nonchalant.

 

“We did the ritual. The candles went out on their own, we didn’t touch them. Al you have to do now is bury them in the back yard.”

 

When I relayed the events to my parents, I conveniently left out the part about burying the Witch Bottle. Oh, and seeing a monster in the house. It was pointless to mention them, real y, and I didn’t want my dad digging it up, because he would have on account of it being al “black majick” and stuff.

 

“Or the front yard, real y,” he continued. “I’l make sure to empty the vacuum bag right away. The ritual wil stil hold.”

 

“How do we know that?” I asked. “You saw the photo.

 

The fireplace. That was after everything was said and done.”

 

“It’s not buried yet. Then it’s said and done. And then, wel darlin’, you know the dril al too wel by now. We just wait and see.”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

 

The next morning I wanted nothing more to just sleep and sleep. Sleep for the next day, the week, the next year. After we had buried the candles (in the front yard now, away from my parents’ prying eyes since their bedroom looked onto the back), I helped Maximus in vacuuming up the smel y, powdery mess we created. Unfortunately, this meant having to go into my parents’ room while they were getting ready for bed but at least it was taken care of before my mother had a conniption.

 

When we said our goodbyes, somewhere just before midnight, he had gone in for a kiss. But I just couldn’t return it. His actions had rankled me, and even though he said he was doing it al for me, something just wasn’t sitting right.

 

Maybe it had something to do with what Ada had said, about how she couldn’t trust him. Whatever it was, it had me on edge and I was definitely in no mood to be amorous with him, even though there was something extremely sexy about the dominating and fierce edge I had seen during the rituals.

 

But that was just my lady parts talking. My head and gut told me to abruptly look away and say, “I’l talk to you soon.

 

Thanks for your help,” and shut the door. Perhaps I should have been a bit more grateful to him.

 

Needless to say, I was exhausted when 10 a.m. rol ed around and I was rudely awakened by my phone.

 

I pried open one eye and was met with a grey, overcast gloom that appeared to seep in through the windows and settle in my room. I rol ed over and grabbed the phone, eyeing the screen with my blurry vision.

 

Shit. It was Shay.

 

I cleared my throat and quickly answered it. “Hel o?”

 

“Perry,” she said in an oddly professional voice. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Um,” I rol ed over onto my back and scrunched up my forehead with my hand. How to answer that? “I’ve been better but I’m doing OK.”

 

“Oh that’s great to hear,” she said, as if I had just told her I was feeling like a mil ion bucks. “Listen, would you mind popping by today?”

 

“To Port-Town?”

 

“Yes. This isn’t a shift. I just wanted to talk to you.”

 

Uh oh. I was suddenly overcome by a wave of nausea, fol owed by a stab of hol owness in my chest.

 

“Oh…OK.”

 

“Don’t worry,” she said but then didn’t elaborate. “Just come by before three.”

 

“I wil . See you then,” I said blankly and stared down at the phone as I heard her hang up. I gradual y pushed the button to end the cal and placed the phone beside me.

 

I’d been down this path before. I knew what was up. It didn’t matter that she told me not to worry. I knew what was coming.

 

Though, perhaps I was always too eager to jump to the worst case scenario. Shay just wanted to see me. She wanted to know if I was feeling better. Shay was a nice woman; she was almost a friend. She liked me, didn’t she?

 

She wouldn’t fire someone just because someone was sick. I mean, that was il egal, wasn’t it?

 

I let out a huge intake of air. She probably just wanted to see me in person and work out some sort of schedule, instead of doing it over the phone. Shay was personable like that.

 

I took in another breath and then got up to start the day.