Page 20 of The Devil and His Ghost

He glanced my way while dividing the pizza slices. “No shit. That means it’s your big eighteen. Humans think that’s a big deal, right?”

I picked at the back of the couch. “Don’t demons?”

He grinned. “We live forever and don’t age, Ghost. Not only that, but we’re created by the Prince of Darkness, not born. Birthdays don’t even cross our minds.”

The news fascinated me, and my gaze traced Xander where he stood. “So then how old are you?”

He paused and tilted his head as he considered the question. “Not a clue, honestly. I’ve been alive for centuries. But I pose as someone in their late twenties. Twenty-six is typically the age I give humans if they ask for one.”

“Wow,” I said slowly. “You’re old.”

He crossed the room with our food in hand and stopped by the couch where I leaned over it to hand me mine. “Shut up.”

“I guess Friday doesn’t matter then. I didn’t realize birthdays were like that for you.”

“We aren’t talking about my birthday. It’s yours.” He pursed his lips and studied me. “I guess eighteen is a big deal for a human like you. No, especially for one like you who hasn’t gotten to celebrate previous ones like a normal person. Should we go out to celebrate on Friday?”

I beamed up at him. “Can we? I’d really like that.”

“Sure,” he answered as he sat beside me once more. “I’m always down to do something fun. Figure out what you want to do, and we will.”

I knew this was already a milestone birthday, but it was even more so for me. My first birthday of freedom. My first day of being a legal adult. My first birthday with … Well, I wasn’t sure what the two of us were. Boss and employee? Pet and owner?

“What do people typically do for an eighteenth birthday?” I asked him, pulling all of the pepperoni off my pizza to put onto his plate.

He ate those as I handed them over and mulled over my question. “Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t know that. Humans do all the things they couldn’t do before. Buy cigarettes, go to a club, get a tattoo, go—”

“That!” I chirped, leaning closer to him. “I want to get a tattoo!”

“Okay. I’ll have an acquaintance make you an ID, and I’ll take you to get a tattoo.”

I couldn’t stop smiling. Even as the horror movie began, a happy buzz filled my body. I’d always loved the art with which people adorned their bodies. Xander had some tattoos that I’d caught little glimpses of, and every time I saw the hint of one, I longed to have my own.

I used to dread my birthday, because I didn’t feel like my life was something to celebrate. I was a “crazy” person that others looked down on or wanted to pawn off on someone else. My birth mother gave me up the minute she could, and my adoptive parents threw me away to doctors who could “help my particular needs.” What was there to be happy about on the day I came into a world that didn’t want me and only promised misery?

But for the first time, I actually couldn’t wait for the day to arrive.

Chapter 10

Xander

(7 Years Ago)

KENDYLL AND I WALKED INTO the tattoo parlor on Friday morning. She was even more smiley than usual, and she couldn’t stop bouncing on her feet or fidgeting with her hands in pure excitement. Her long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore ripped black jeans, a purple tanktop, and a black jacket.

“Are you nervous yet?” I asked with a teasing smirk.

She stared at me with wide, gleeful eyes. “I’m so excited! I hope it looks good.”

She hugged the paper containing the tattoo design she wanted to her chest. She still hadn’t shown me what design she’d picked from online, apparently wanting it to be a surprise.

“Kendyll?” the tattoo artist greeted when we reached the counter.

“Yes,” she answered happily.

The artist grinned. “Tattoo for the eighteenth birthday, right? Fuck, yeah. Let’s get you checked in, papers signed, and we’ll get started.”

With the formalities quickly taken care of, including the artist taking her design to sketch out his stencil, he called her back. She shot to her feet to follow him, but not before grabbing my hand and pulling me along. “Come on!”