Demon Ex Machina: Tales of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom (38 page)

“Your loss,” he said, which had me rolling my eyes again.

“I’m going to go make sure we’ve got luggage tags on everything,” I said, then moved to the hallway. Which is where I was when Laura found me, rummaging in my suitcase for the knife I’d decided to leave behind.

“Sucker,” she said.

“He might be right. Besides, I can get another knife in Rome.”

Her brows rose slightly. “Are you going to need one? You’re going to see Father Corletti and let Allie get a taste of real training, right? Maybe do some sightseeing? It’s not like you’re going to be sliding into the catacombs hunting demons.”

She had a point, but I only shrugged, noncommittal. If I’d learned one thing for certain, it was to never take a demon for granted.

The sharp toot of a horn sounded outside, and my eyes darted to Laura’s, even as a surge of excitement mixed with grief swept through me, making me more than a little unsteady. “We’re really going. I can’t believe we’re really going.” Part of me wished we were already gone, both so that I could see the place I’d once known as home, and also so that I could escape the sadness that clung to me as I walked the halls of this house. Another part of me didn’t ever want to leave, wanted instead to cling to that sadness. Because the longer I held on to it, the longer it was real. And if it was real, there was a possibility I’d have that life again. A happy, suburban life with my husband, my kids, and my cat.

Those days, I knew, were behind me.

I just didn’t want to accept reality.

“You okay?” Laura asked, looking so hard at me I was certain she could read my mind.

“I will be. Ten hours in coach will set me right.” I gave her a hug, then hauled my carry-on bag to my shoulder as Allie and Mindy bounded into the room.

“The shuttle’s here! Come on, Mom! Let’s go!” She jumped in front of me, yanked open the door, then froze, emitting a tiny puff of air that formed into a single word: “Oh.”

Alarmed, I rushed to her side, expecting a demonic horde. Instead, I saw Stuart.

The Infiniti was parked in the drive, and my husband stood beside it, my sleepy son curled in his arms. At his feet were a suitcase, a briefcase, and a Thomas the Tank backpack.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

“Oh my God!” Allie hooted, then ran to give him a hug. She stared down at the suitcases. “You’re coming? You’re coming, too?”

Stuart put a hand on her head, then looked at me. He said nothing, but reached into his briefcase and held up two plane tickets and two passports. “It was easier to run than to fight,” he said. “But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I’ve come to the rather astounding conclusion that life isn’t always easy.”

“No,” I said, managing to talk through the tears that had begun to silently stream down my face. “No, it really isn’t.”

A pair of headlights cut through the night, and the airport shuttle slid to a halt in front of the house. Stuart looked over his shoulder at it, then looked at me. “What do you say? You ready for the next adventure?”

The band that had been constricting my heart for so many days loosened, and I nodded. “Yeah,” I said, taking a step toward him. Toward my family. “Yeah, I really am.”