The_Demons_Wife_ARC (33 page)

The fuck it
will!
Claire thought but couldn’t say.

She knew that
the being outside—whoever or whatever it was—could read her every thought. She
felt exposed…naked…and vulnerable as numbing cold filled her chest and stomach.
At first—for only a few seconds—it was reassuring…proof that she was still
alive, and her blood was still flowing.

But within the
span of a few heartbeats, the cold intensified until it felt as though she were
frozen solid inside.

“Come…to…me…now,”
the voice said. Every word was punctuated by a crackling hiss like a nest of
snakes writhing inside her head. Claire’s teeth were rattling like someone
shaking dice in their hand.

Claire shook
her head, resisting with every ounce of energy she had, but the glass sagged
further inward, closer…closer. The claws skittered and squealed on the window
like someone raking chalk across a chalkboard.

“Your…soul…is…already…mine,”
the voice said.

Claire drew on
her last reserves of strength, opened her mouth, and screamed, “Never!”

The blue face
loomed closer, almost touching her but still separated from her by the glass.
Normal dimensions of space seemed no longer to make any sense. The face—the
being—the blue-faced demon—looked like it was already inside the house. It had
nothing to do but snatch her up and drag her off into the night.

As the face in
the window pressed against the flexible glass, its features gradually shifted.
Whereas first she had seen a horrible demon, she now saw—

No!

—Samael!

He was
reflected in the glass, his expression grim and unmoving as he came closer to
her.

The he reached
out and grabbed her, his hands clamping down hard on her shoulders from
behind…hard enough to make her wince and cry out.

“It’s all
right,” Samael said calmly.

At least it
sounds like Samael’s voice.

Claire
wondered how his voice could be coming from behind her when he was clearly
standing in front of her, his hands reaching through the window to grab her.

The pressure
of his fingers pressing into both of her shoulders was so strong she was sure
his fingers would leave bruises on her skin.

A force as
powerful as a hurricane wind suddenly yanked her backwards. She was sure her
soul was being ripped out of her, but a sudden rush of cool, refreshing air
wrapped around her, bringing her back.

She blinked
her eyes and discovered that she was sprawled on her back on the couch.

The figure in
the living room window withdrew slowly, and after a while, the glass resumed
its normal, flat shape.

Claire was
breathing hard, her breath burning her throat and lungs.

When she
looked up, she was surprised to see Samael standing over her. He was smiling
grimly as he looked down at her.

“I told you.
The house is protected,” he said softly, “but it’s not a good idea to test its
limits…or our luck.”

Claire gaped
at him in disbelief. Her eyes shifted from Samael to the pitch-black night
outside.

The blue-faced
demon figure was gone. The clawed hands had withdrawn, dissolved into the
depths of the night.

“What
just…Where were you? Why didn’t you come when I called?”

“I came as
fast as I could once I knew there was trouble,” Samael said. He sat down beside
her on the couch. The weight of his body pressing down the cushions was reassuring.

Reality!

Claire
couldn’t help but wonder when she would trust reality again.

What she had
just seen and been through defied explanation.

“What was
that?” she asked, her voice tight and small.

“You saw the
Hell Mouth.”

“The Hell
Mouth,” she echoed.

Samael nodded.

“It’s
difficult to understand, but—put simply, you don’t really go to Hell. You…it
swallows you.”

“How did
it...” she started to say but then fell silent. The sense of relief flooding
through her was too intense. She had to absorb it and try to process what she
had seen. She wondered briefly if she could ever trust this reality after what
she had just witnessed, but when she slid over and pressed her face against
Samael’s shoulder, inhaling his scent, she knew she could.

“That was a close
one,” Samael said simply, patting her back. “They’re stronger…and more
determined than I thought.”

“Do you know
who they are?” Claire asked, her voice muffled in the comfort of Samael’s
shirt.

“I know one of
them. Yes,” Samael replied.

When he didn’t
offer more, Claire wanted to demand that he tell her everything, but she
realized it might be for the better this way. If she knew the full extent of
the dangers they faced—

Like the Hell
Mouth.

—it might be
too much to handle.

She
decided—for now, anyway—to let the mystery be.

“We’re safe,
right? You’re sure of it?”

“To be honest,
after what just happened, I…I’m not sure.”

Claire pulled
away from Samael and stared at him, her eyes wide.

Samael said
calmly, “They’ve arrayed some powerful forces against me.”

“Against us,”
Claire said softly to let him know he wasn’t alone in this.

“You’re
right,” he said, squeezing her hand tightly. “Us.”

He sighed,
looking so sad and careworn it all but broke Claire’s heart.

“But you have
to remember,” he said, “they’re not after you. They want me. They can’t do you
any harm, really, except to try to terrify you.”

“Huh! They’re
doing a pretty good job of it so far,” she said with a humorless laugh.

“Just keep in
mind, they’re using you to get to me. At least they’re trying to.” He took a
deep breath and exhaled. “But like I said, Michael has created a strong defense
here. I’m positive it’ll hold.”

“Do you have
any idea where Michael is now? Have you heard from him? ”

Claire
couldn’t miss the worry in his eyes when he shook his head, no.

“Don’t worry,”
he said. “I’m sure he’s all right.”

How can anyone
harm an angel?
Claire wondered, amazed to be thinking in such terms and accepting it so
readily.

“Nothing out
there can get inside just like nothing inside can get out. The barrier’s
strong, and it will stay that way until Michael lifts it.”

“And if
something does go wrong?”

“I swear to
God”—and here he flinched a little—“Nothing will harm you as long as I exist.”

She stared
into Samael’s eyes, comforted by the determination she saw, and remembered why
she fell in love with him in the first place. She slipped her arms around his
neck and drew him so close their noses were touching.

“I love you,
you damned fool,” she said in a low, husky voice. “And I will do whatever it
takes to save you.”

“Yes,” he
said, “but are you willing to sell your soul to redeem mine?” Samael pulled
back and looked at her, his eyebrows raised to devilish points.

Claire
regarded him with a long, steady look before saying, “Samael. I’m your wife. I
love you. I gave you my heart, but I—” She choked before she said the words:
“But I will never give you or anyone else my soul. It belongs to me.”

“I know that.”

A long, dense
silence stretched between them, broken only by the gritty sound of icy pellets
slashing against the windows.

Finally,
Samael smiled at her and said softly, “Correct answer.”

And then their
mouths came together in a passionate kiss that made the rest of the world melt
away.

~ * ~

It was almost
midnight, and Claire and Samael were sitting side by side on one of the
couches, their arms wrapped around each other. They hadn’t been talking much.

“Look at it
snow,” she said, gazing contentedly at the white streaks shooting past the living
room window. The light from inside the house illuminated them for one brief
shining moment, and then they were gone.

Like a mortal
life to him
,
Claire thought.

But more
snowflakes followed. It was snowing much harder now. Although she hadn’t had
time to consider checking the weather forecast, Claire guessed there would be
several inches of new snow—if not lots more—on the ground come morning.

Samael’s
expression didn’t vary as he looked from her to the window. She wondered if,
since snow and cold were the exact opposite of what he had known for so long
and probably thrived on, the thought of snow and ice and cold bothered or even
unnerved him.

But then
again, the Hell Mouth had been blue, and it had filled the living room—and
her—with a bone-snapping chill.

“Great night
for a romantic walk in the snow, huh?” she said.

Samael sniffed
and looked at her, shaking his head.

“Considering
the circumstances,” he said, “I’d say that’s probably not the best idea.”

Leaning
forward, she pressed her face against his chest, reveling in the simple joy of
listening to his steady heartbeat—

Yes…demons do
have hearts.

—and letting
her head rise and fall with each breath he took.

“I mean—this
is going to end, right? And we’ll be able to live like normal people, right?”

Samael was
stroking her red hair as he looked at her and nodded.

“Absolutely,”
he said, and she knew that either he was telling the truth or was absolutely
determined to make it so.

“And what do
we do in the meantime?”

“We wait here
where it’s safe.”

Her arms
tightened around him, squeezing.

“For richer or
poorer,” she whispered, her face pressed against his chest.

“In sickness
and in health,” Samael added.

That made a
smile twitch the corners of her mouth, but she knew—to the depths of her
being—that this…this was where she belonged.

Still, that
didn’t assuage the fear and nervousness and exhaustion.

“We should go
to bed,” she said.

“I think I’ll
stay up a bit more and…see what happens.”

The note of
resignation in his voice bothered her, but she knew there was little—if
anything—she could do.

And she was
exhausted.

“Is it all
right if I go to bed, then?”

Without saying
a word, his gaze fixed on the living room window, Samael nodded.

Claire turned
to go, but she hesitated at the door. It felt odd…uncomfortable to leave him
alone like this.  She felt a strong wave of pity for him and what he obviously
had to face for…however long. She also felt a surge of admiration…and
gratitude. He wouldn’t be in this mess if he hadn’t fallen in love with her.
Nobody had ever loved her enough to risk death, much less eternal
redemption…and she had never loved anyone the way she loved Samael.

“Samael?”

He looked over
at her.

“We’ll be all
right,” he said softly. Then he smiled and nodded, his expression gentle. “It
may be tough going for a while, but—yeah. I have no doubt we’re gonna be all
right.”

With that,
Claire turned and walked down the long hallway to the staircase leading up to
the second floor. Even in the hallway, she could hear a soft tearing sound as the
wind wrapped its arms around the house. She had a momentary image of the house
being lifted off its foundation and flying away into the night like Dorothy’s
house in
The Wizard of Oz
.

But there’d be
a hell of a lot more than the Wicked Witch of the West and Munchkins waiting at
the end of this ride.

She was
half-amused and half-scared by the thought.

Sliding her
hand along the polished mahogany handrail, she climbed the stairs slowly. With
each step up, her feet felt heavier. She wondered if the strain of the
situation was tiring her so much, or if—somehow—the demons or dark forces
ranged against Samael were wearing her down. She believed Samael when he said
she wasn’t the target, but that didn’t mean she was safe. They could—and
would—use her to get at him.

Isn’t that how
evil operates?

Find the
weakness and vulnerabilities, and exploit them
.

“So…what are
my weaknesses?” she asked herself out loud as she scuffed up the stairs.

The sound of
her voice reverberated oddly in the wide stairwell, and she had the impression
someone else had spoken simultaneously with her. Wide-eyed, she turned and
looked down the sweeping stairway, but there was no one…or nothing…in sight.

Still…that
didn’t mean she was safe, even here…