A Good Demon Is Hard to Find Page 6
The room tilted around Erin. She reached out to a nearby chair to steady herself. “I didn’t think it was important! And how did you know, anyway?”
Raya put her hands on her hips. “How long have you been hanging out with supernatural creatures?”
“Supernatural? He’s just Andy. And answer the question—how did you even know he was anything out of the ordinary?”
“Sit down.” Raya steered Erin into one of the library chairs and sat across from her. “What I’m about to tell you does not leave this room. Capisce?”
“What? Okay, fine, just tell me.”
Raya gave her a long look before continuing. “Erin, I’m a witch.”
“You’re a witch?” Erin’s voice rose in volume and pitch as she spoke.
“Keep your voice down. And, yes, I am,” said Raya. “This isn’t something I want shared on the six o’clock news, all right?”
“How can you be a witch? You’re a librarian.”
Raya rolled her eyes. “You think witches go around wearing pointy hats? Can you imagine what would happen if I went public with my unusual religious beliefs? I’d be fired so fast my head would spin.”
Erin’s newest friend was a demon. Her oldest work friend was a secret witch.
Erin’s grip on reality was threatening to slip.
“But why did you zap Andy?”
“I didn’t ‘zap’ him—I banished him. And it was for your own safety!”
“He was perfectly safe!” said Erin.
“You knew he was a demon?”
“Yes, I knew!”
“You knew he was a demon and you were hanging around with him?”
“He was helping me.”
Raya scoffed and made a dismissive gesture. “Since when do demons help people?”
“This one did. He made me dinner, he helped me move my classroom, he stayed with me during my bad dreams—”
“Hold up. Your dreams? You let a demon into your dreams? Are you insane?”
“I’m not—”
“Your dreams, Erin! You let him into your mind!”
“It’s not like that—”
“Look, I know you’re having a hard time, but—”
“You don’t understand,” said Erin. “He’s very sweet.”
“Sure, until he corrupts you and tarnishes your soul.”
“He’s the only person who’s been nice to me since the divorce.”
“News flash, Erin: he’s not a person. And isn’t that exactly how a demon would take advantage of you? When you’re vulnerable? Needy?”
“I’m not needy,” said Erin.
“Sure you are. You just got a divorce, for God’s sake. You’re allowed to be needy. Vulnerable. Whatever. Just not with a demon!”
“I’ll be careful.” said Erin. “I promise. Just bring him back. Please?”
Raya sighed. “I can’t bring your demon back.”
“What do you mean, you can’t? You’re the one who blasted him in the first place!”
“Yeah, it’s not like a two-way street. I don’t specialize in conjuring demons. I just know how to get rid of ‘em.”
“But—he’s gone? Just like that?” Erin felt sick.
Raya looked down. “I’m sorry.”
Erin’s mind raced. “Maybe if I cursed Mark again—”
“You cursed your ex-husband? Is that how this started?”
“It was an accident. The next thing you know, there’s some odd guy in a red bow tie in my kitchen, asking me how I like my coffee and exactly what kind of revenge I want to take on Mark.”
Raya gave her an appraising look. “Has anything like this ever happened to you before?”
“Never,” said Erin.
“No funny dreams? No seeing things other people can’t see?”
“No, why?”
“What was your demon’s name, again?”
“Andy.”
“That’s not a very demonic name.”
“It’s short for Andromalius.”
“Interesting,” said Raya. She got up and moved the picnic basket to the table, then flipped open the lid.
“Can you please try to bring him back? He really was helping me.”
Raya looked up from the basket and eyed Erin. “Did you have some kind of thing for this demon?”
“No! I mean, he was really kind to me, and he went shopping with me and fixed dinner for me and came up with these elaborate charts of things he could do to torment Mark … ” Erin trailed off as the memories rushed back. “Are you sure cursing Mark again wouldn’t work?”
“I doubt it. Sounds like it was a freak accident in the first place.” Raya paused and retrieved a stack of sandwiches from inside of the basket. “Although you probably should be careful with what you say in the future. You might have some kind of latent ability. Anyway, what would you do if you did get your demon back? Were you really going to go through with some elaborate revenge plot?”
“I don’t know,” said Erin. “I didn’t think he’d be gone so soon.”
“Here, eat something.” Raya held out a package of sandwiches to Erin.
“You think—I have some kind of ability? What ability?” Erin reached out to take the proffered sandwiches.
“Honestly, I have no idea. Don’t try anything stupid, okay? Like taking matters into your own hands?” She pointed a bottle of soda at Erin.
“How would I even do that?” said Erin.
“By trying to conjure him up by yourself. God knows what you could end up with.”
“What could I end up with?” asked Erin.
Raya gave her a dark look. “You don’t want to know.”
Determination welled up within Erin, accompanied by an impulse to do something Raya would never expect. As soon as Raya looked down and bit into one of Andy’s sandwiches, Erin darted forward and snatched the wand right out of Raya’s hair.
11
“What the—” Raya dropped her sandwich and jumped to her feet, knocking the basket over. “Give me that.”
Erin backed away. “I’m getting my demon back and you’re not going to stop me.”
“You’re messing with things you don’t understand, Erin. Put the wand down.”
“You’re not giving me any choice! You won’t help me!” Erin continued backing away from Raya, heading toward the exit.
“For God’s sake, stop being a damned fool!” Raya stalked across the library, fury in her eyes.
Erin turned to run to the door, but made it only a few feet before Raya tackled her and sent her crashing into the thin industrial carpet over the concrete floor. The impact knocked the breath out of Erin.
With a strength she didn’t know she had, Erin pushed Raya away and sprang to her feet with the wand in her hand, then ran out the door. She had no plan but to keep running until she got to her car in the parking lot. As she looked over her shoulder to see if Raya was following her, she slammed into someone rounding the corner in front of her.
“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry,” Erin blurted. She had only an impression of a cobalt blue power suit and black leather pumps before it dawned on her who she’d run into. “So sorry—Mrs. Claiborne.”
Mrs. Claiborne, the school principal and Erin’s boss, was the worst possible person she could have run into at that moment.
“Erin,” said Mrs. Claiborne in a cool tone that somehow conveyed both greeting and chastisement.
Erin realized she still clutched the wand in her hand. She put it behind her back. “Are you okay, Mrs. Claiborne? I’m so sorry I ran into you.”
Mrs. Claiborne brushed at her suit. “I’m all in one piece. Where were you going in such a hurry?”
In her peripheral vision, Erin saw Raya emerge from the library.
“Oh, I—uh—forgot something in my ca
r. For my new classroom. So I ran out to get it,” said Erin, trying to wrap up the conversation quickly.
It was too late. Raya sauntered up to Erin and Mrs. Claiborne.
“Raya,” said Mrs. Claiborne.
“Hey, Mrs. C,” said Raya. “How’s your summer going?”
“Fine, thank you. And yours?”
Raya casually dropped her arm around Erin’s shoulders. “Absolutely great. In fact, my friend Erin and I”—she paused to aim a grin at Erin—“were just finishing up our lunch when—”
“Yes!” interrupted Erin. “When I had to go get something from the car.”
“Yes,” Raya drawled. “She had to get something from the car. And—look at that—Erin, did you find my lost hair stick?” She reached behind Erin and pulled the wand from Erin’s unresisting hand, tucking it securely into her own pocket. “Thank you so much. I’ve been looking for it everywhere.”
Erin could do nothing but smile even as she wanted to scream in frustration.
“Well, we should get back to it. Have a nice summer, Mrs. C,” said Raya. Keeping her arm around Erin, she steered her back to the library, closed the door, and locked it.
Embarrassment mingled with Erin’s despair. She faced Raya. “I’m sorry I grabbed your wand,” she said. “I don’t know what got into me.”
“Demonic possession?”
“No, that was all me,” said Erin ruefully.
“Sit down,” said Raya. “Stop being crazy. I have more questions to ask you.”
Erin, heavy with misery, sank into a chair.
“Did this demon have some kind of control over you?”
“I—” Erin swallowed and considered her next words. “No. I don’t think so. He—it was more like he did what I wanted.”
“He was helping you.”
“With a lot of things.” She didn’t elaborate the point because she didn’t trust herself not to start crying on the spot. “Why?”
“Okay. I’m going to overlook the fact that you nearly got me in big trouble with the boss—”
Erin wanted to disappear on the spot. Instead, she briefly covered her face with her hands. “I’m so sorry. I panicked.”
Raya waved away the apology. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about Mr. New Hot Friend. He is pretty hot, by the way.”
Erin couldn’t help but smile, just a little.
Raya continued. “You seem to have some kind of—I don’t know—something. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to call him up in the first place. Maybe we can figure this out. If we work together.”
Erin sat forward in her chair. “Can we try to call him up now?”
“What, now? You think it’s a good idea to do that in the middle of my library?” said Raya, helping herself to more goodies from the basket.
“It’s not?” said Erin.
“You mean besides the whole getting-fired-for-witchcraft-at-work thing? No way.” She bit into a sandwich. “We’ll go to my house later.”
12
Erin sped home with the empty picnic basket in the backseat and Raya’s rather unusual shopping list tucked into her purse. As she drove down her street, she spotted a car in her driveway.
It was her mother, of course. Never content with a phone call, Joyce would turn up on her doorstep at any hour of the day.
Erin parked the car and got out. “Hi, Mom,” she said as her mother exited her large sedan.
“Were you at school, darling? Did you move your classroom all by yourself?”
White lies were often easier than the unvarnished truth. “Yup,” said Erin, unlocking the front door and letting her mother precede her into the house.
As she stepped inside, Erin’s stomach dropped. She’d forgotten Andy’s handiwork. “Mom, can you let Nancy out?” She stepped between her mother and the living room.
“Sure,” said Joyce. She headed for the kitchen.
Erin exhaled and ran to the living room, frantically pulling down poster after poster, each one with more dire revenge ideas than the last. She wrestled the pile of posters into the hall closet and slammed the door.
“Is that you, Erin? Do you need help?” called her mother.
“Just putting something away, Mom.” Erin went to the kitchen, dropped her purse on the table, and found her mother peering in the refrigerator. Again.
“This is much better. You have actual food in here. What is this?” Joyce picked up the container of leftovers.
“Just some rice and beans with greens.”
“You’ll have to give me the recipe,” said her mother, closing the refrigerator.
“Absolutely,” said Erin. “I’ll do that.” Would her mother still want the recipe if she knew its demonic origin? Best not to find out. “Oh, look, here comes Nancy Drew.” She slid open the patio door to allow the dog to enter, then gave Nancy a dog treat.
“She’ll get fat if you keep feeding her treats, Erin.”
“She’s fine, Mom,” said Erin, squatting to pat Nancy.
“What’s this?” said Joyce. She plucked out a piece of paper that was sticking out of Erin’s purse.
“Nothing.” Erin stood up quickly and attempted to grab the paper.
Joyce blocked her and deftly put on her reading glasses. “Let’s see. Candles, matchsticks.”
“Mom—”
“Hold your horses. I’m not done.” She continued reading the list. “Cinnamon sticks. Sandalwood. Garlic. Rose petals, ginger, and kosher salt. Cayenne pepper and licorice? What on earth?”
“It’s a recipe,” said Erin, who used her mother’s temporary confusion to snatch the paper back.
“A recipe for what?”
Erin thought fast. “Bath stuff.”
“With garlic and cayenne pepper?” Her mother made a face.
“I mean, some of it’s bath stuff. The rest is for cooking.”
“Right … ” Joyce looked Erin up and down. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t get testy,” said her mother.
“I’m not testy,” said Erin. “I’m fine.”
Joyce snorted and walked into the living room.
Erin followed her. “Why don’t you believe me?”
Her mother sat down on the couch and draped her arm over the back. “I—” She made a funny face and shifted her arm to feel down the back of the couch. She pulled a large poster up from behind the couch where it had fallen.
Erin’s eyes widened as the poster titled “THINGS TO HIDE THAT WILL EVENTUALLY STINK” emerged.
Joyce read the poster aloud with increasing disbelief in her voice. “Tuna fish in the curtain rods, blue cheese in the couch cushions, eggs in the car, shrimp in the toilet tank, ground beef under the doormat? Erin, what is this?” She gestured at the poster.
“I was just brainstorming for a game.”
Her mother peered at the poster. “But this isn’t your handwriting.”
Erin opened her mouth but nothing came out.
“Did you have a friend over?” Joyce gasped and put her hand to her chest. “A man friend?”
“Mom!”
“Are you dating? Did he—” Joyce’s eyes opened wide as the realization hit her. “Did he make the food in the refrigerator?”
“Why would you say that?”
“Well, it’s not like you’re much of a cook.”
“Thanks a lot.”
Joyce settled back on the couch. “So, tell me everything!”
“There’s nothing to tell. Sorry to disappoint you, Mom, but no, I’m not seeing, dating, or cooking with any man.” Andy was a demon, she reasoned, and didn’t count.
Joyce let out a long sigh. “Is old Mark holding you back, honey?”
“Mom! First you’re telling me to get back together with him, next you’re call
ing him ‘Old Mark’ and grilling me about my new man-friend. Make up your mind.”
“I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy.”
“Maybe you should find some new friends.”
“I had lunch with my work friend, Raya, today.” Erin left out the part about magic wands and demon-banishing.
“See? That’s lovely.”
Erin didn’t correct her. “In fact, she’s the one who made that poster.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“I didn’t want you to think she was crazy, or something.”
“Instead you wanted me to think you were crazy?”
Erin shrugged, unable to come up with an improvement on her spontaneous fabrication.
“I’m sure she’s very nice. Why don’t you invite her to church some time?”
Erin’s polite smile nearly slipped. “I think she already has a church.” A church with pentagrams instead of crosses, perhaps, but a religious institution all the same.
“Oh, well.”
After a pause, Erin spoke. “Did you come here for any particular reason, Mom?”
“Yes. Yes, I did. I came to talk to you about something. Are you comfortable?”
Anxiety prickled over Erin. “Yes, I’m comfortable. Why? You act like I need to be sitting down for this.”
“Genevieve has moved in with Mark.”
“Already?”
Her mother nodded. “I can’t condone it, but young people today … ” She shrugged. “What can you do? Anyway, I thought you should hear it from me first.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“I’m glad I heard it from you, and not some gossipmonger.” This elided the fact that her mother was an inveterate gossipmonger.
“I know you were working so hard to remodel Mark’s house when all that went down. Those granite countertops—”
“I’m just glad my little old house hadn’t sold yet. At least I had someplace to go,” said Erin with false cheer.
“This is a nice little house,” said her mother, in the way that a parent says something just to make you feel better.
“Granite countertops aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” said Erin.