The_Demons_Wife_ARC (21 page)

“Tell me you
didn’t slip again,” she said.

“Honest. I had
nothing to do with it.”

“Hand to God?”

He winced when
she said the name, but then he fixed his gaze on her and said, “Yes. Hand
to…God.” It took effort to get that last word out, and she was proud of him.

“So how’d it
go in there?” Samael asked, nodding toward the building.

“Fine…until
the train blew up,” Claire said. She took a deep breath and took in a lungful
of the smoky, chemical odor billowing into the sky. It made her throat burn. “It
went about as well as you could expect.”

It was
Samael’s turn now to take her by the chin and force her to look at him.

“You are an
amazing woman,” he said, and he leaned forward and kissed her full on the
mouth. His twin-tipped tongue slid out like tiny snakes that worked their way
between her lips and teeth. She was upset about everything that was going on,
but she melted into his embrace and let him kiss her long and hard.

As they
kissed, the sound of approaching sirens got louder, and the first fire truck
came screaming onto the scene. She and Samael stopped kissing and, like
everyone else who had come to see what was going on, stood and watched as the
fire fighters started to knock down the flames. They worked hard to make sure
the nearby trees and fields didn’t catch fire from the sparks that roared into
the sky.

The fire was,
indeed, spectacular, the flames mesmerizing; but as she watched, Claire
couldn’t help but think how convenient this explosion and fire had been. They
had occurred at the exact instant she had begun to feel sorry for Marty and was
considering taking back what she had said. She might have offered to work a
two-week notice or maybe even said she regretted quitting.

Even though he
had sworn he hadn’t, she had to wonder if Samael had caused the train wreck
simply to distract her and everyone else so she wouldn’t back down. It was
certainly of a piece with his previous behavior. She loved and trusted Samael,
but still…

That’s the
thing about Evil,
she thought.
You start mistrusting everything and everyone.

~ * ~

“I have to get
clear on one thing, all right?” Claire said.

Samael was
driving as they crossed the South Portland Bridge into Portland. The snow had
stopped, and the sides of the road were covered with a glazed coating of white
that was quickly melting as the sun burned through the clouds. Casco Bay was
gray, the wind-ruffled water looking like beaten metal.

“What’s that?”
Samael asked casually without taking his eyes off the road ahead.

“You’re
telling me the truth, right?…About not starting that accident or starting that
fire?”

“I already
told you. I didn’t start…or even cause it.”

Claire saw the
difference and appreciated that he would point it out.

“Yeah, but
still—it strikes me that…and I don’t mean to sound critical or anything, but it
seems it might be…you know, that you might find it kinda tough to give up your
old ways just like that.”

She snapped
her fingers on the last word and saw him flinch…just a little.

He glanced at
her and then focused on the road, correcting his steering when it began to
drift.

“The road’s
getting slick,” he said, but it sounded to Claire more like he was trying to
avoid the topic.

“Samael…We
have to be honest with each other…all the time.”

“I know. I
never said we didn’t…or weren’t.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“So…is that
what you’re feeling?”

“What do you
mean?”

Is he being
obtuse on purpose?

“Is it tough
giving up Evil?”

“Well,” Samael
sniffed with laughter and gripped the steering wheel tightly as they slowed for
the traffic light up ahead, “when you say it like that, it sounds like you’re
trivializing it. Like quitting smoking or something.”

“I don’t mean
to. Honest.”

“I didn’t say
you were. I said it sounds like it.”

Jesus, why so
defensive?
Claire thought, but she wasn’t going to call him on it…not now, anyway. Let him
concentrate on his driving.

“We’re not
arguing,” he said, but as he spoke, the muscles in his jaw kept flexing and
unflexing like he was chewing a particularly tough piece of meat. He was
clearly agitated about something.

“I know we’re
not, but I know how you like to stir things up…cause a little mayhem—”

“Not this
time!”

He shouted
this time, but it was more than a shout. It struck her like a firecracker going
off close to her head.  Her ears were ringing like Chinese gongs as she looked
at him and saw the fiery glow in his gold-flecked eyes.

“What did you
just do?” she asked, holding her hands to her ears. She wasn’t sure she’d be
able to hear him when he answered.

Samael drove
straight through the intersection of Congress Street, running the red light.

“Do what?”

“When you
shouted just then.” Claire wiggled both of her forefingers in her ears and then
tilted her head and hit her temple as if she had water in her ears. “Your voice
just now…It did something…weird.”

“Oh, that.
Yeah.”

Samael smiled
easily at her, but only for a second or two. His mouth tightened, and he drove
with more concentration than seemed necessary. There wasn’t much traffic
downtown.

“What do you
mean, that?”

“The Voice,”
Samael said simply.

“It’s a thing
you do? A…a trick or something?”

“Not a trick.
More of a technique. It’s a way I can get people to do something I want them to
do.”

“A control
thing, then,” Claire said as chills rippled up the back of her neck.

“You might say
that. It’s helpful when you…you know, do what I do.”

Claire didn’t
want to know any of the details, but his use of the present tense struck her,
and she couldn’t let it pass.

“What you used
to do what you did, you mean. Right? You don’t do it anymore, right?”

He shot her
another quick glance, and he certainly looked sincere when he said, “Yes…Of
course.” He slid his right hand from the steering wheel and cupped it over
Claire’s thigh, giving her leg a gentle but firm squeeze. “I’m surprised by how
you reacted to it.”

“What do you
mean?”

“It’s
just…usually people—humans—have a much stronger reaction to it. It has the
power to pretty much eliminate any human resistance.”

“Well maybe
I’m tougher than the rest,” Claire said, quoting from one of her favorite
Springsteen songs.

“That’s one of
the many reasons I love you so much.” Samael gave her a sidelong glance as
though he expected to see something she wasn’t aware of.

“Don’t you
ever use that Voice thingie on me ever again. Understand?”

Looking
thoroughly chastised, Samael nodded and said, “I promise,” without a hint of
any secondary meaning in his voice or expression.

They drove
past Deering Oaks and took a right turn onto Route 295, heading north. The snow
flurry had already stopped, and the Back Bay shimmered blue and bright white
now in the slanting afternoon sunlight. Claire thought it a miracle, how the
day changed so fast from gloomy and snowing to sunny and bright.

“So…what do
you want to do with the rest of the day?” Samael asked as he sped up the road,
sticking to 295 instead of veering off onto Route One to his house in Falmouth.

“Actually, I’m
kinda hungry,” Claire said.

“Again?”

“I didn’t eat
much for lunch, remember? I was so worried about dealing with Marty.”

“Oh, right,”
Samael said. The steering wheel played loosely in his hands, and he was smiling
as he stared ahead at the open road. “You’ll have to tell me more about how
that went. Then, maybe, we should talk about when you’re going to introduce me
to your parents.”

“My parents?”

Claire was
dumbfounded. A cold knot twisted like a snake in the pit of her stomach.

“Yeah,” Samael
said, smiling as he drove. “I’ve dealt with them a little bit before in the
past, but we’ve never been formally introduced.”

“You what?”

“Don’t worry…I
never did anything to either one of them. Not that I didn’t try.”

“I can’t
believe you—”

That was all
Claire could say, but then Samael laughed out loud and said, “I never met them.
I’m just teasing you.”

Claire glared
at him and said, “You’d better be,” but even so, she didn’t like the way that
sounded.

Chapter

10

“The Pond”

It didn’t take long for Claire
to get used to not getting up early to get ready for work, and while it was
relatively satisfying—if not outright enjoyable—to tell Marty to shove it up
his ass, it was quite a different story when she told Sally she was moving out
of the apartment.

“Are you
fucking kidding me?” was her response when Claire told her a few days after she
had quit Montressor Chemicals. They were in Claire’s bedroom, and Claire was
filling a box with her books. Every time she ripped off a piece of packing tape
from the roll to seal a box, the sound set her teeth on edge.

Or maybe
something else was galling her.

“You can’t be fucking
serious.” Sally was pacing back and forth at the foot of Claire’s bed.

“For fuck’s
sake, you don’t even know this fucking guy! For all you fucking know, he could
be, like, a…a fucking mass murderer or something.”

“Or
something,” Claire muttered to herself, smiling at how Sally would shit her
pants if she knew the truth.

Claire could
see, of course, that Sally was equally upset about how all this would impact
her financially along with the hassle of finding another roommate. She felt
guilty for letting Sally down on such short notice, but, hey—it was her life,
and the future was wide open.

“What about
next month’s fucking rent? I don’t have the—the fucking time to get a new
roommate. And I sure as shit am not very fucking keen about advertising on fucking
Craigslist. Jesus!”

“Relax,”
Claire said. “It’ll be all right.”

“For you,
maybe.”

It was a
selfish thought, Claire knew, but it irked her that Sally couldn’t express even
the tiniest bit of happiness for her. Of course, when she thought about it—that
she was moving in with a man she had met less than two weeks ago—it didn’t make
a lick of sense, but she knew she was doing the right thing.

“Well I think
you’re insane!” Sally said.

Ignoring the
snarkiness, Claire sighed and, smiling, shook her head and went back to packing
up her books. There were a few—especially the science fiction and fantasy Howie
Brandenburg had given her when they were dating—that she would just as soon
leave behind. She had tried to read them, and she pretended to like them with
Howie, but other than a few books by Michael Swanwick, she didn’t think they
were even worth burying in a landfill.

“I’m in love,
Sal,” she said. “Don’t you get that? I really am.”

“You may think
you are, but is he?”

“Is he what?”

“In love…with
you? Or are you just another toy?”

“Cut it out.
We love each other.”

“Guys like
that are just looking for the next toy. He’ll buy you a flashy ring and promise
you the world, but you wait and see. He’ll kick you to the curb when he’s
through with you.”

“Nope. This is
really real, Sally. It’s funny how you don’t know until it comes along.”

“Aww, Jesus.
Now you’re going all cheesy on me.”

Sally huffed
as she sat down on the edge of the bed, bouncing the box of books Claire was
packing.

“Come on,
girl,” Sally said. “Think what he’s doing.”

“What’s he
doing?”

“He’s using
you, is what he’s doing. And you don’t even see it. He’s gonna hurt you. Mark
my words.”

Claire wanted
to yell at her to stop but found it not worth the energy.

“You don’t
think a guy who looks that good and has the money he has doesn’t have a
goddamned harem?”

“Maybe he
did…in the past…but this is different.”

“How do you
know he’s not a mass murderer or a criminal or something?”

The sour smirk
on Sally’s face was almost enough to set Claire off, but she fought back the
sudden and powerful urge to tell her roommate exactly what she thought of her
and her sniveling jealousy.

God, why am I
letting this get to me?
She wondered. There’s no need to be spiteful or
hurtful with a friend.

She wondered
briefly if Samael was having a bad influence on her, but she dismissed it and
turned back to what she was doing, concentrating on filling up the box of books
and winnowing out the ones she didn’t want to keep.

As for Samael
possibly being a mass murderer…she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when she
thought about how Sally would react if she had any idea what he really did.

Of course, she
doubted Sally would believe her, anyway.

“You can keep
any of my stuff you want—the furniture and stuff,” Claire said, hoping this
would mollify her roomie.

“You mean the
couch…and the TV?”

Claire thought
about the TV, but only for a moment. It had been a gift from her folks a couple
of Christmases ago, and she had a strong sentimental attachment to it. Hell,
it’s was just a stupid TV. She rarely watched TV as it was, preferring,
instead, to read in the evenings when she wasn’t going out. But her parents
weren’t exactly rich, and it had been a generous gift. She knew her father had
been joking when he said they were giving it to her so he’d have a nice TV to
watch football and baseball on when they came down south to visit.

“Sure. Why
not? I don’t need it.”

Sally looked
at her skeptically.

“It’s a whole
new life for me, Sal. I wish you could be happy for me.”

“I am…I am,
but—”

She paused and
looked at Claire for a long time.

“But what?”

Claire didn’t
like this feeling that Sally was envious of her. Envy was a bad emotion, and
she tried to avoid it whenever possible. She surely didn’t want Sally to think
she was rubbing it in her face, leaving her in the lurch like this. Sally had,
after all, also expressed some interest in Samael that night they met, no
matter how much she denied it now. Maybe she wished she had hooked up with him
then…if that man—that asshole, Ron LaPierre—hadn’t tried to rape her behind the
restaurant.

It was a good
thing Samael had seen what was going on and reacted.

He probably
saved her life.

Claire
chuckled to herself, thinking,
maybe he saved my life so I could save his
soul.

“What’s so
funny?” Sally asked. Claire didn’t miss the defensiveness in her voice.

“Nothing…I
just…”

She fell
quiet.

“Just what?”
Sally asked, pressing.

“No. Nothing.”

She hoped that
would be the end of it, but Sally obviously wasn’t going to let it drop. Claire
hoped they weren’t going to start arguing again. Thankfully, a few seconds
later, Sally made an excuse about having to be somewhere and left the
apartment.

Just as well
, Claire
thought. A twinge of sadness almost overwhelmed her when she thought about how
she and Sally used to be such good friends and how far they had drifted apart.

Used to be…but
that was long ago and far away.

Here she was,
opening the door to a brand-new life, and it was sad that her friend couldn’t
be happy for her.

She glanced at
her wristwatch. It was almost three o’clock. Samael had said he would send some
people over to her place tomorrow to load up her things and bring them to his
house, and here she was, feeling sorry for herself because of Sally.

“Her loss,” she
whispered.

She still had
all her clothes, her tchotchkes, and some pictures and posters to pack. She
jumped when the apartment door slammed shut as Sally left. Claire thought about
taking the goddamned TV anyway, just for spite. Besides, whether she needed it
or not, her parents had given it to her, so she had every right to take it; but
in the end, she decided to leave it. It was the least she could do for her
ex-best friend.

~ * ~

The next
morning, the phone rang…early. Claire startled awake. Her first thought was
that it was Marty, calling from work about one of the assignments she’d left
behind on her desk. Maybe he was going to ask her—beg her to reconsider. She
felt a twinge of guilt for dumping everything on him without notice, but then
her next clearest thought was: Screw him!

“H’lo?” she
said, squinting to see the caller ID. It registered “Private Number.” She
wished she’d checked before she answered, but then—

“Good morning,
sweetheart.”

It was Samael.

What the?

“You ready for
a road trip?”

Claire made a
piglike grunting sound and wiped her face as she tried to focus. The alarm
clock by her bedside read 6:45.

“Road trip?
What road trip?” The fog took its time dissipating. “It’s too early. I was
enjoying my—”

“To visit your
parents.”

“My parents?”

“Yeah.”

“Did we talk
about this?”

“Not really,”
Samael said. His voice sounded hollow over the phone. “I thought we could
surprise them…and you.”

“Oh, did you
now.” Claire rubbed her face, wiping away the sleep crust. “My parents don’t
really enjoy surprises.”

“I’ll bet
they’d like to see you, though. Wouldn’t they?”

Claire wasn’t
sure how to respond to that, but the real question was—did she want to see
them?

Today?

“I’m not
sure,” she said. “’Sides, shouldn’t I be here when the movers come?”

“Not necessary.
You’d just be under their feet, anyway,” Samael said. Even though she was
more—but still not fully—awake, she still heard a funny note in Samael’s voice.

“So come on,”
he said. “Get showered and dressed. I’ll be by to pick you up in—say half an hour?”

“I can’t—”

“Sure you
can.”

Claire was
still trying to clear her mind. She was starting to think it might be a good
thing to surprise her folks like this. It would save her the anticipation of a
planned meeting…and it might be fun.

“Give me
forty-five. I need my coffee,” she said, gazing at her ring and chuckling,
thinking about how her folks, especially her mother, would react when they saw
it…not to mention her handsome—and rich—fiancé.

“All rightie,
then,” Samael said. “I’ll be there at seven thirty.”

“Yeah,” Claire
said, still wondering if she could pull it together that fast. She was used to
hurrying out the door to get to work. Now that she didn’t need to do that…would
never need to do that, she wanted to take her time…luxuriate a little.

“Love you,”
she said.

Samael
muttered something unintelligible and hung up.

Weird, she
thought as she swung her legs out from under the bedcovers.  Samael was usually
so full of sweet nothings on the phone. She decided the signal must have
dropped and never gave it a second thought.

Later, she
would wish she had, but for now, she trudged from her bedroom to the kitchen to
make coffee, vaguely thinking that this was the last morning she would wake up
in her apartment.

Starting
today—right now—was a whole new life for her.

~ * ~

The drive
north on Interstate 95 to Houlton was—as always—achingly boring.

Pine
trees…pine trees…and—oh yeah, more pine trees.

Every time
Claire drove it, she vowed it was for the last time, but as long as her folks
were still alive, she knew she’d be making the trip at least two or three times
a year. For the first time in memory, though, the time went by fast. Too fast.
She had brought her iPod along, and they played music nonstop. Claire played
some of her favorites: The Dodos, Beach House, Raul Malo, and—her guilty
pleasure—the oldie band, INXS; while Samael’s favorites, not surprisingly, ran
more to 60s and 70s hard rock and heavy-metal bands like Black Sabbath, AC/DC,
and Alice Cooper. This struck Claire as amusing because she didn’t think Samael
would fall into such a cliché.

The music was
incidental, though—a soundtrack to the day as she and Samael talked about
anything and everything. In the first flush of “getting to know you,” Claire
revealed things about herself to Samael that she had never admitted before to
anyone.

Claire told
him that in grammar school she had been a “paste eater” and been tormented for
it. She couldn’t tell if Samael’s comment that “paste tastes good” was meant
seriously or ironically, but she let it slide. After all, Annie Murchin ate her
own boogers, even though she thought nobody knew it. Claire also confessed
other, darker secrets—like how she had “experimented” with a brief lesbian
fling in college—and a few times in college…and after…when she shoplifted
things, mostly food and toiletries she couldn’t afford at the time.