Personal Demons 2 - Original Sin (6 page)

And
now
they're being totally disgusting. She stops thinking when she's with him.

Still invisible, and trying not to look at the public display, I sidle over to where they're getting frisky on the lawn and nudge Frannie's shoulder with my knee. “Get a room, sis.”

She springs off the demon and stands over him in a defensive crouch, eyes darting wildly.

Reflexively, I back off a step. “Get a grip. It's just me.”

She scowls and straightens up, then turns to offer Luc a hand where he's still lying in the grass. He takes it and Frannie pulls him to his feet. She spins back as color slides up her cheeks. “Do you have to follow me everywhere?”

“Yes!” The demon says it before I can.

I glare in his direction, even though he can't see me.

“Almost,” I amend. “Besides, you can't have sex on the front lawn—for more reasons than I can list.”

“Shut up.” She scowls in the direction of my voice, almost looking directly at me. “We weren't having sex. I was kicking his ass.”

The skanky demon steps up behind her and rests a hand on her shoulder. “Let's walk,” he says, pulling her toward the sidewalk with a glance in my direction.

She blows out a long sigh. “Yeah.”

I trail behind as they move up the street to the park. It's a golden pink dusk, and I examine the shadows under the willows as Frannie and her demon find a bench and sit. He loops his arm over her shoulders and I circle around behind them, trying to stay out of earshot as they talk in hushed tones.

There are rules to being a guardian angel. Rule number one is that we can't interfere in our charges' lives. They have to be free to make their own decisions. Rule number two is that we can't invade their privacy. Or anyone else's.

Luc is human now, so that rule applies to him too—unfortunately.

Still, I can't help myself, and my sense of duty overrides her need for privacy. I move a little closer and lean against the carved bark of a willow not far from their bench.

“Just pick one and focus,” Luc says, his voice low.

I follow their gaze and see a group of junior high boys in the skate park directly in front of them. I watch for a few minutes as they razz each other when they wipe out.

“Focus on what? What am I supposed to get him to do?”

Luc cracks a wide smile and throws a glance over his shoulder. “Well, I'm guessing that Matt would strike me with lightning if I said something like, make him speak in tongues, so how about just making him say something nice to his buddies.” He lifts the hand that's not wrapped around my sister and points. “That one in the orange shirt seems particularly nasty. See what you can do with him.”

She shifts away from Luc and leans with her elbows on her knees, her brow creasing with concentration.

I watch the one in the orange shirt. He does a loop around the half-pipe, then slides down the rail and does a kick turn in front of a smaller kid who is struggling to stay on his board. Orange Shirt Kid looks for a second like he's going to move out of the way. But the next second, he tears past and shoulders the smaller guy off his board. The kid hits the ground on his butt, and Orange Shirt Kid grins, holding his hand up for a knuckle bump as he passes a third boy.

Frannie leans back with her palm on her forehead and groans. “I suck so bad at this.”

Luc moves to loop his arm over her shoulders again, but Frannie pushes him away. “I think I'm having a moral dilemma,” she says, her forehead still in her hand.

He laughs out loud and she shoves him.

“Thanks for the support, Luc.”

“Sorry,” he says as his laughter dies. “So, tell me about this dilemma.”

“I don't think it's right to mess with people's heads.”

He looks at her for a long minute without responding. Finally, he blows out a sigh and leans toward her. “When I was a demon,” he starts, his voice low and strained, as if it's painful to remember, “I couldn't really make people do anything they didn't want to. I could ‘mess with their heads,' as you so eloquently put it, but I couldn't make them do anything out of character. I think your Sway might be a lot like that.”

“I still don't think it's right.” She leans into the back of the bench. “I'm not gonna use it on my family, or on anyone who's not doing something really wrong…or bad…or something.”

“That's your prerogative, I suppose,” Luc says. He rubs his temple. “And probably what Gabriel meant when he said they just want you to do what's right.”

This time, when the demon draws her closer, she leans into him. “I…,” she starts, but trails off.

“What?”

She pulls herself straight and looks Luc in the eye. “This sounds really stupid, but I've always felt like I was meant for something. When I thought I wanted to be some kind of diplomat, it was 'cause I'd always felt like I could make a difference. But this whole Sway thing…I'm afraid that whatever I'm meant for is bigger than I can handle.” She leans back into his side. “I'm scared,” she says, her voice suddenly small, vulnerable.

The demon sighs and leans his cheek into her hair.

But after just a minute, she shifts away and pulls her buzzing phone out of her pocket. She looks at the screen. “Taylor and Riley are ready to go.”

Frannie

By the time we pull up to the Gallagher house, the party is in full swing. Groups of marauding teenagers stream from the cars parked along the woods at the side of the road toward the music in the backyard, whooping and hollering.

Luc and I cross the street to where Riley is parked. Taylor primps her spiky pink and yellow hair, then slides out of the backseat of Riley's car and elbows me. “We need to branch out—maybe crash a party up in Marblehead. I'm sick of this crowd.”

Riley skirts around the car to where we're standing. “You're paying for the gas to get there,” she says as Trevor sweeps her long brown locks back and hooks an arm over her shoulders.

“Whatever,” Taylor responds. Her fair skin flushes as she presses her tongue into the ring through the corner of her lip. She shoots a glare at her brother and spins, storming up the road toward the party. Riley shrugs and Trevor smiles at her, all tanned dimples, as they follow Taylor across the street.

Luc twines his fingers into mine. “There's a project for your Sway,” he says with a tip of his head toward my friends' retreating backs.

I shove him. “Yeah, right. We're talking about Taylor. Do you enjoy watching me fail?”

“I enjoy watching you do just about everything.” He grasps my hand again and we follow Taylor into the milling crowd.

Delanie's band, Roadkill, is set up behind the house, next to the porch. The music grows louder as we get closer. I pull Luc through the masses to where Taylor, Riley, and Trevor have stopped near the bonfire.

“I'll get us something to drink,” Luc says. He squeezes my hand, then makes his way to the other side of the yard, where ice chests are lined up next to the house. I catch myself staring as he goes. My belly flutters and I feel a slow smile creep across my face. God, he's perfect.

“Reefer's on fire,” Trevor says in my ear, pulling me from my musing.

My heart leaps into my throat and my head jerks automatically to look at the bonfire, half-expecting to see a flailing Reefer engulfed in flame.

Trevor rolls his blue eyes and points toward the house. “Over there,” he laughs, “with the guitar.”

I wince as I turn to where they're set up. Even if my ex-boyfriend is useless everywhere else, behind his guitar, he's a genius. And, I have to admit, they sound pretty good. Delanie jumps up and down, her straight black hair swinging wildly behind her, belting out a perfect Avril Lavigne. She's in torn jeans, a leather vest, and heavy black eyeliner. She looks totally different from when she's sporting her Ricco's T-shirt and ponytail at work. Anybody who didn't know would guess she was closer to twenty-five than fifteen.

“Delanie sounds great,” Trevor adds; then his eyes flit to me. “But…,” he stammers, “they were much better when you were singing for them.”

I roll my eyes. “If you say so.”

When the song ends, Reefer pulls his guitar off and slips his arm around Delanie.

“It looks like he's over you,” Trevor says, jabbing me with an elbow.

“Good,” I say. It seems like another lifetime when we were together, even though it really wasn't that long ago.

I glance back at the band and realize that I don't know them all. The bass player is a tall, built, black-haired kid whom I'm sure I've never seen before. I nudge Trevor. “Who's the bass guy?”

Trevor squints across the yard at the small group. “Don't know,” he finally says.

“But I'm gonna find out,” Taylor says from behind me. I start to turn, but her hand is already on my arm and she's yanking me toward the band.

When we get to the group, Delanie grins. “Where's Maggie?”

I shrug. “Dad wouldn't let her come.”

Taylor shoulders up to her, a lascivious glint in her charcoal eyes. “Who's the hot guy?” she says under her breath.

Delanie throws a glance over her shoulder toward the rest of the band.

Reefer takes the glance as an invitation to join us. He slides in next to Delanie and pushes his golden brown dreads away from his soft brown eyes with the back of his hand. “Hey, Frannie,” he says, draping his arm over Delanie's shoulders. I wince at the guilty pang and hope Delanie's with him because she wants to be, not 'cause I sorta threw them together.

“Hey, Reef. How's it going?”

He nuzzles into Delanie's neck. “Great.”

I bite back the laugh before it escapes. He's not a bad guy—mostly a geek of the
Guitar Hero
variety, and I sorta almost loved him—but why he'd think I'd be jealous, I'll never understand. I'm the one who broke up with him.

When he's finally done making his point—which is something along the lines of
see what you could have had
—he looks up at me. “So, you miss this?”

I crack a wide smile, not sure if he means the music or him. “No.” True on both counts.

He looks wounded for a second before recovering. “Well, you leaving the band was the best thing that coulda happened. Delanie's voice is unique—one of a kind.” Implying that mine isn't. Which is true. “We've got a major label asking for a demo.”

“Holy shit! That's great!”

Taylor elbows me hard in the ribs, making me catch my breath.

“Jesus, Tay, I'm getting to it.” I rub my side and glance past Reefer at the guys. “Who's your bass guy?”

“Marc. He's new.” Reefer turns and raises a hand. The new guy lifts his gaze from the guitar he was tuning and looks up at me with the hint of a smile, as if he knew we were talking about him. He straightens up and his eyes slide over me. Then he nods and goes back to tuning his guitar.

Reefer jerks his head in the new guy's direction as he turns back to me. “He's the one who hooked us up with the demo. Says the guy owed him a favor.”

Even though I'm sure I've never laid eyes on this guy before, there's something eerily familiar about him. I catch myself staring and drop my gaze when he looks up from his guitar again. He lifts an eyebrow at me, quirking half a smile. I turn back to Reefer and Delanie as heat creeps up my neck.

Delanie's eyes light up. She reaches up and gives my shoulder a gentle jab as a smile breaks across her face. “Hey! You should sing something.”

Reefer's jaw drops. “I don't think—”

“Not gonna happen,” I say, backing away.

Delanie grabs my hand in both of hers, pulling me past the stacked speakers. “Sure it is. What do you want to do?”

I tug my arm back. “Really, Delanie. You don't want to ruin your rep by having me butcher some song up here. Especially if you've got labels scouting you.”

Reefer scans the crowd warily. “She's right.”

“Do it, Fee!” Riley hollers. I look to see her standing next to Taylor. Trevor grins at me over her shoulder.

But just at that instant, I feel a surge of static electricity so intense that all my hair stands on end. I can almost feel it crackle over my skin.

Matt.

Matt

I stay invisible and hang back from Frannie's group, skirting the woods and taking in my surroundings. Everywhere I look, couples are draped all over each other in various stages of seduction. All pretty innocent, really—no souls in danger at the moment. But as I scan the crowd, Lili's face pops into my head out of nowhere. It's happened a lot over the last two days, since I first saw her, and every time I think of her, an electric zing shoots through me. The same zing I felt when she passed through me in her apartment. I've seen her only twice. She doesn't even know I exist. But there's something about her that makes her hard to forget.

I settle into the trunk of an old maple tree on the edge of the yard and watch. And every time I see a couple touch each other, or kiss, I can't help wondering what it would be like to be with Lili that way—to touch her like that. I close my eyes and let myself imagine it, how her skin would feel. How she'd smell. Taste. I feel myself shudder and crack the back of my head sharply off the tree.

Focus.

I open my eyes. Frannie's talking to the girl in the band, and Luc's at the keg. He hands a beer to a blonde who's doing her best to corner him against the porch rail. She smiles her glistening red lips at him and digs in her purse, pulling out a slip of pink paper. I watch him slide it into his pocket before he grabs another cup and starts to fill it.

Figures my sister would fall for a demonic chick magnet. Heartbreak waiting to happen. Fine by me. The sooner she sees what he really is, the sooner she'll dump him. Maybe I can arrange for her to find that paper….

I scan the yard again, my eyes slipping past groups of people talking and laughing, and on the outskirts of the yard, bodies pressed together in the shadows of the trees.

And Lili's there again, in my head. I try to push her out, but she won't leave. So I let myself go with the fantasy. I feel her pressing herself into me, driving me to want her in ways I shouldn't. But in my fantasy, I can have her. I fold her into my arms, and when she tips her face up to mine, I kiss her. I run my hands over the curves of her body, my senses prickling at her increasing heat as she devours me with her own hands. I feel the intensity of my need for her roll through me—a dizzying wave of despair.

The buzz in my sixth sense feels like being electrocuted. Instantly, I realize the tingling in my fantasy wasn't just from Lili's hands. The demon buzz had been building for a while.

I lost my focus.

I don't even stop to sense where it's coming from—or admonish myself for my lapse. I'm across the yard in a flash, wrapping Frannie in a field.

She stumbles back from her group with a gasp. “I gotta go,” she says to her friends, and turns to look for Luc, who's making his way over with two full beer cups.

“Your boyfriend's crew is here,” I whisper in Frannie's ear.

“Where?” she says, her eyes wide and darting.

“I don't know, exactly, but there's more than one. Go.” I give her a little shove, but she's already moving.

She catches up to Luc. “Matt says we have to go,” she murmurs, her eyes darting around. Luc drops the beer and grabs her hand. We walk quickly back to the car, and just as we reach the road, I see three pairs of red eyes peering out from the darkness of the woods. The immense redheaded demon from Ricco's steps out from the shadows and watches us pass. Though he doesn't make a move to stop us, a sharp, electric current crackles through me.

Frannie's in a defensive crouch, ready to strike out, but Luc grabs her hand and pulls her toward the car at a run.

The demon flashes me a menacing grin. Even though I'm invisible, he knows I'm here—just as I'd have known he was here if I were paying attention. Two others, shorter but just as stocky, step out of the shadows as I back toward Luc's car.

What the Hell is going on?
Did he come after Frannie?

I glance to Frannie and Luc as they dive into his car. I stare down the group of demons for a second longer, then phase into the backseat of the Shelby.

Luc looks Hellbent, knuckles white on the steering wheel, as he weaves around the potholes.

“You're not going to outrun them,” I say, sinking into the backseat. My eyes shift to Frannie. “Are you okay?” I ask.

“I'm fine.”

“Did they do anything to you?”

“No. Just what you saw.”

“It's my fault.” Luc's voice is faint, almost a whisper.

“Luc, stop.” Frannie lays her hand on his shoulder, her face all concern.

Luc continues to stare straight out the windshield, his face tight, jaw clenched. “I don't think it's safe for you to be around me.”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

His eyes slide to the top of her head, where she's resting her cheek on his shoulder, and he blows out a sigh before turning his attention back to the road. He still looks determined, both hands tight on the steering wheel, mouth set in a hard line. But in that brief glance, I saw it.

The answer.

I watched his eyes shift from tortured to resolved. Maybe he's not beyond doing the right thing after all. If Luc believed he was putting Frannie in danger, I think he'd leave.

With that realization, I gain a little respect for the demon. As a matter of fact, if he weren't a demon, I might even be able to tolerate him being with my sister.

But he
is
a demon.

So I know what I have to do.

Frannie

Luc is parked where he always is: under the ginormous maple tree near the fence across the street. I can just barely make out the front fender of the Shelby, shining through the flutter of the leaves in the moonlight. But I've been staring at it for hours, since Luc dropped me off, imagining being out there with him.

I lift my chin off my arms where they're propped on the windowsill and rub the crimp out of my aching neck. I grab my cell phone from the nightstand, meaning to call Luc, but I stare at it in my hand for a long minute before speed-dialing Gabe instead.

It doesn't even ring before the automated voice picks up, telling me what I already knew. I'm not gonna be able to reach Gabe by phone. It's disconnected.

I think about calling to him with my mind—sending him a message that I need his help. Would he come?

I groan internally and pull myself off the bed. Gabe left for a reason. I could sit here and convince myself we need him to come back, but it's really just me. It's stupid and unfair for me to call him back here just because I miss him.

I sigh and pull jeans on under the baggy T-shirt I sleep in. Cracking open the door, I peek out into the quiet, dark hall. The hinges whine as I push the door slowly open, and I make a mental note to oil them. As I tiptoe down the stairs, I make more mental notes. I knew about the squeaky stair at the bottom, but there are others that protest more quietly under my weight.