Wicked Demons 2 (3 page)

He mulled over her question for a brief
moment. "No. It is our way of life. We run, we chase, we kill. You
withdraw into your mind."

"Because it's usually a place of solitude.
Because it's where I figure out my next move. It's my Oval Office,
and you're trespassing in it."

Confused as to what he had done to ignite
such hostility, he cautiously stood, keeping his distance. "What is
an 'Oval Office'?"

"Aaaahhh!" she yelled at him. "Aaaahhh, times
infinity!"

He simply stared at her, unwavering,
unblinking. Silent.

Pointing to the master bath, she shook her
head. "How can we fit so right in there, and be so discordant out
here? Our lives are so incompatible." She began to lose her steam
as he approached her. "You don't even understand the basic
hierarchy of government structure," she muttered.

"I do not," he admitted. "There is much I do
not understand."

"Then how is this supposed to work?" she
demanded.

"With time and patience."

Exhaling a long-held breath, she couldn't
help but point out, "That is such a non-demon thing to say."

"I can learn. Because it is not my first
nature does not mean my nature is void of it."

"And...this is your first visit to town. And
it's unfair of me to heap all of these demands and worries on
you."

Toryn shook his head. "No, it is human of
you, and I am held captive even more so by this side of you than
your demon half. I would like to learn from you."

She closed her eyes and nodded. "Go to sleep,
now. I think we both know we haven't seen the last of the bewitched
men."

"Mmm," he returned. Andi was definitely sure
now that this was his answer anytime he agreed, or when something
was acceptable.

He rubbed his cheek against hers languidly
before laying back down in the pile of comforters beside the
bed.

It wasn't long before Andi was downstairs in
the kitchen, watching steam rise from the ceramic mug in her hand.
The aroma of mint and honey filled the air. She sipped her hot tea,
her pale pink robe tied securely at her waist.

How is this supposed to work?
she
thought to herself. Was it fair to pretend that a demon could adopt
the attributes of a man? Yes, there was something extra in Toryn,
something that called to her, reminding her that he wasn't one
hundred percent Hell spawn. That he was somehow hurting because of
it. The real question was, could the small percentage of "man"
outweigh the countless parts "demon"? This question replayed in her
mind like the lyrics to a bad song.

"Damned if I know," Andi scoffed to herself,
taking a large gulp of the mint tea.

The house seemed exceptionally still. Almost
too still after so many months of unrest. It added an extra layer
of anxiety to Andi's ever-growing apprehension.

"Fuck this."

Setting the mug in the sink, she crossed the
floor to the laundry room and pulled a pair of jeans and a thin
turquoise blouse from the dryer. They were still warm as she slid
them on. Pairing them with black boots and a thin jacket, Andi
snuck out the back door, not forgetting to reset the alarm system
first.

Walking resolutely through the cool night air
with little purpose or any idea of where she was going, Andi
eventually found herself in front of the same church she had been
so graciously invited into earlier. It was closed now, of course.
And though it gave the appearance of being empty, she somehow
guessed that it was never off duty for very long.

Sighing from the weight of heavy thoughts,
Andi turned the corner and almost ran into a colossal iron gate.
From behind it sprang leafy bushes and carefully landscaped
walkways. It was too beautiful under the moonlight to pass by. The
thought did cross her mind that maybe she would be denied by some
power above because, after all, this special oasis was an extension
of the church. And Andi had not yet proven or disproved her ability
to cross the threshold of a holy place. All she knew, thus far, was
that she had never tried. Before thinking about it further -and the
pending consequences if she were refused- Andi pushed the gate
open, feeling the hefty giant protest against her palms.

A tickle enveloped her stomach. She ignored
it and continued creeping through the church garden, exploring the
tight twists and turns. There were so many different types of
foliage, and each had a space etched out just for it. The tiny
world teemed with a celebration of life.

Reaching a modest stone birdbath, Andi found
herself relieved that she hadn't imploded or burnt to a crisp by a
rogue lightning bolt. Nothing had happened. In fact, she had a
moment of silent pride.

The tension drained from her muscles.

"It must be a relief to know that God has not
turned His back on you."

Andi's breath hiccupped. She jumped backwards
from the stranger. Under the moon's light she was able to gather
that it was the fair-haired priest.

"What are you doing here?" she quizzed.

"Praying."

"I don't know many priests who make it a
point to lurk in the dark to pray."

He rested against a nearby bench. Though his
action could have easily been that of an older gentleman, he was
clearly no older than forty. If that, even. And the way his lips
curled upward in the corners of his mouth added a softness to his
overall appearance, making Andi second guess her age assessment of
the tall priest.

"It is during the darkest hours that the most
people are in need of prayer."

"That's meant to be figurative, not
literal."

He smiled. "So it is."

Andi drew her words out, almost daring the
stranger to admit his lie, as she asked, "Don't you have parents or
family to miss you when you're vanished, praying in the
garden?"

"It appears not, I suppose." Reassessing the
woman standing in front of him, he asked, "Why is it so hard to
believe me? All you have to do is trust."

She openly scoffed. "Right. Let's blame shift
this awkward run-in on my inability to ignore 'stranger danger'.
That is such a predatory tool."

Scrunching his features, he dared ask, "Are
you calling me a tool or my tactics?"

"Ah-ha! You admit to having tactics. For
what? To kill me and bury me beneath the holy topiaries. To kidnap
me?" Taking a moment to inhale, her eyes squinted. "Are you working
with
them
?"

This man seemed to be gaining a whole lot of
humor from Andi's situation. He never broke a sweat or acted in any
way other than the holy man he claimed to be.

"Well," he began, "If you are referring to
the Holy Trinity, then yes. I have devoted my life to the word of
God, and I will always spread His love."

Shrugging, she noted, "That sure sounded like
a priest thing to say."

Something in his demeanor shifted. The
carefree, honest-as-an-open-book man withdrew into a more curious,
pensive man.

"How many priests
do
you know?" he
asked.

"Well...none."

His brow furrowed. "That is a shame. I
presumed from our encounter earlier this evening, and as well as
from the last five minutes, that you have no memory of me."

Andi used the little strength she could
muster to keep her jaw shut, saving her dignity.

"Please," he begged, noting her strained
steps backward, "Don't leave."

She held up her hand to quiet him. "Let me
guess. I'm in danger and only you can help, right?" There was no
attempt to cloak her distrust. It coated her words like venom. "And
I should just trust you because you only have my best interest in
mind. Is that it?"

The priest shook his head and remained quiet
for a moment, choosing his words wisely.

"Yes, you are in danger." He took a moment to
close his eyes, praying perhaps, before looking into Andi's eyes.
"I wish I had answers. I wish I could help more." Moving closer, he
held out his hand to her and said, "I only have this."

Before Andi could pull away, the priest
wrapped his fingers around her forearm and she felt the most
peculiar sensation. She could almost envision ice shards forming
beneath her skin, traveling through the meat and nerves that made
her, pushing their edges against her veins. The hair on her arms
stood straight, and the biting chill to her bones forced her body
temperature to drop. And as the sensation intensified, it recalled
a memory.

Andi was rushing to a door. Thick snow yanked
at her legs with a weight so great, as if she were being pulled
right through it into the arms of Hell. Her heart was beating
faster than she could ever remember. Her hands felt weak, her knees
shaking. The remains of a long-sleeve black shirt hung over her
torso, torn and misshapen, drooping past the waist of her
ill-fitted pants. It was far too cold for what little she wore, but
that was not the cause of her violent shivers.

She stumbled over the doorway in the darkness
and a hand reached out to steady her. Looking up through her wild
mane, a glimmer of light revealed the priest's sandy hair.

"One more," she heard herself begging, bare
feet scooting closer to the sanctity of dryness and warmth.

He shook his head. "One more may be the death
of you."

Grabbing the material at his shoulders, she
imparted, "I can stop with one more!" Her voice bordered on one
long distressing snarl. "I can stop everything with one more."
There was a lilt of mania in her tone that scared the young
priest.

Wrapping his hands around her thin wrists, he
felt the strength coursing through them. "And if you die now, who
will stop it? And if you live..." his throat tightened, "who will
stop you? I cannot. I refuse." The priest let go, holding her
cheeks protectively between his palms. "No, live today. I will come
to you when you need the last gift."

"What if I am already dead by then?"

He shook his head. "What if it kills you
today?"

"I cannot live like this. I know my purpose.
Give me the gift so I may complete my task."

Andi began pushing through the young priest.
Committing his feet to a wide stance, he hunkered lower and,
shifting his weight, pushed into her with every bit of force he
could conjure.

"Let me in," she begged through clenched
teeth. "I need the last gift while the other is still in my
veins."

"Please," he pleaded with the same amount of
heart to back it. "Please stop."

Her strength was beginning to overtake his.
Suddenly, he felt his weight shift, and his leg gave under the
pressure. They tumbled to the floor inside. Though, just as Andi
rose to her knees, the priest kicked out. His soles made contact
with her chest in a sickly thud. In an instant, she was thrust
backwards, through the threshold. Once more, she was claimed by the
frozen realm.

Fighting back tears of panic, she searched
his eyes. "Please help me," she whispered.

Standing to his feet, he recited, "'Behold, I
am sending you out as sheep in the midst of wolves, so be wise as
serpents and innocent as doves.' Go now. I will be near when you
need me most. Seek me out and I shall appear from the shadows."

Clearing the thick wooden doorway, she turned
away just as he slammed the door. In the quiet of night, the snowy,
alien landscape adopted an ethereal glow. A frightful ghost
beckoning death.

And she was alone, the powerful gift
eating her from the inside out
.

Andi's eyes flew open, finding the priest
staring back.

"Who-" she began to ask before her words
died. Her jaw felt as if it were floating. In fact, her arms, she
swore, were suspended. But a quick glance proved her wrong. Once
the priest removed his hand from her arm, the weight returned to
her limbs and Andi could feel something call out her fire from
within and fuse with it, creating both the sense of burning from
the inside out as well as freezing.

"What. Is. Happening?" Her words were
slurred.

"This is the last gift. I have no more. Do
not seek me out again."

"News flash: I wasn't looking for you."

"Are you sure of that?" Bowing his head, he
whispered, "This is your last chance."

Recollecting the vision, Andi stepped back,
horrified and overwhelmed. An amber streak wound around her arm, up
to her neck. It almost appeared crystalized, though it moved with
fluid ease beneath her skin as if it had always been a part of her
making. An ancient river waiting for the flood.

Trying to rub the alien marking from her arm,
she yelled, "You have no right!"

A slight yelp escaped her throat as the
burning and freezing warred under her skin.

"You asked for this. You began this process.
If you are too weak to fight the addiction, it was all for
nothing."

"But I..." Tears welled in her eyes but never
fell. "I don't know why I'm supposed to be doing this. I don't
remember." Staring at the imposing wall of the cathedral, she
mumbled, "I don't even know who to trust."

"I think you do. Pray to Him before you
leave."

Doubling over and grabbing her stomach, Andi
vomited onto a topiary. Though throwing up usually made her feel
better under most circumstances, this time was much different. It
only fueled the sick feeling stirring in her bones like a nasty
witch's brew. A scathing frost that couldn't escape her flesh and
blood.

"And what if I don't feel like praying?" She
stood defiantly only to find herself alone. The priest had
vanished.

I have to get home
, she told
herself.

The thought proved to be easier than the
task, however. The walk would have been more pleasant without the
mass amount of vomiting, or the peculiar rise of euphoria that had
claimed her by the time she found herself crawling up her front
steps. Overall, it was like drinking poison and a gallon of vodka
and then trying to win a dance-off.