Page 23 of Whispers From The Dark

The child begs her to turn around, whining for her to look at him, asking her what happened, and she does none of that. Silently, she moves, robotic almost, as if she already had a mental checklist of things she’d take with her, and only when she zips the overstuffed bag closed does she turn around.

There are no tears until the child runs at her, squeezing her around the legs.

That’s when she breaks.

And that’s when I realize Satanus was wrong.

There is no wrath within this woman, only pain.

9

PETRA

“You should have been crueler,” Asmodeus says, and I snort. It’s been over a week now that I’ve shared my mind with a demon, and I hesitate to say I’ve gotten used to it. And yet.

While Az seems to have seethed over the conversation with my neighbor, I forgot about the altercation a while ago, and now I’m just focused on getting out of the cold and into the bar. I don’t give a shit what she thinks. If she wants to give me a piece of her mind about how poorly I supposedly treat my mother, then so be it.

“Of what mind do you speak? Certainly none resides within that fiddling fopdoodle of a flesh sack.”

I can’t stop the laugh that escapes me. “Fopdoodle? Flesh sack? You need to calm down.”

“I am calm,” he retorts, in a tone that is decidedly not calm. And my notice of his agitation makes him growl inside my mind. I don’t have time for that. I don’t have time for what it makes me think about. I don’t have time to relive that first night he slipped into my mind, when he made a few sounds that were quite similar as he watched me…helped me…

“Pleasure yourself, love? What a grand idea, to distract me with thoughts of your wanton body quivering with need.”

“Who says that? Quivering with need?” I respond, and before he can derail us toward a topic that will not help me with the task at hand, I circle back and try to end both conversations. “Just get over it. Betty is the only person my mom talks to besides Aunt Kathy. And while she might be a total bitch, she distracts the bigger bitch. Plus, she’s sweet to Jack. I don’t give a shit if Mom told her I stole money from her. I know she’s wrong, and deep down, Betty probably knows it too. She’s like seventy years old, and I’m not trying to fight a senior citizen.”

After a beat of scarce silence within my mind, I can’t contain an accompanying cackle when I blurt, “Oh my god, you’re a senior citizen. I’m fighting with a senior citizen right now!”

He doesn’t appreciate my joke. I look around while he sulks. The Crossroads bar is different in a lot of ways, all these years later. Still feels like a hole in the wall, but now there’s a literal hole in the wall, connecting the dive with Sanguivita, the only real competition to Last Drop. But that feels generous. This place caters to clientele who are a little more rough around the edges. And I can imagine, if Asmodeus owns it, there’s a lot fewer rules.

A harried woman in her forties comes hurrying out of a darkened hallway, carrying a rack of clean glasses, and I blink in surprise. Though it’s the same woman I saw all those years ago in the bathroom of this bar, she holds herself quite differently now. Asmodeus made her sexy and mysterious. A confident woman I certainly hadn’t forgotten.

This woman is unremarkable.

“Hi, you gotta go. Sorry, I must not have locked the door behind me. The bar isn’t open for another hour.”

“That’s—are you⁠—”

She tilts her head in confusion just as Az takes over my body. I knew this was coming, knew what I’d agreed to, but it’s unnerving. I am but a puppet as he moves me, and he launches forward with long strides before kissing the woman on either cheek.

“Melody, darling, this girl is a new hire for Sanguivita. I made a mess of things and got her fired from Last Drop, and⁠—”

“No shit?” Melody switches gears with ease, posture shifting. I hate that I had to resort to using his connections, but I can’t make money anywhere else like I did at Last Drop. Except maybe here. “I bet Dmitri had a stroke. Fucker.”

She’s comfortable with him. Fear doesn’t grip her despite coming face to face with a demon I know has once possessed her.

I wonder if they had a similar…friendship.

“No, angel, not similar at all,” Asmodeus says flippantly, and he somehow subdues the blush climbing up my chest and face. Melody doesn’t appear confused by this at all, likely used to this charming, chatty jerk carrying on internal conversations with his host aloud. “She thinks I’m charming,” he says, giving Melody a smile so large it hurts the corners of my mouth.

I’d like to walk into traffic and kill us both.

“So, you didn’t think about where you worked before making a deal with a demon, did you, honey?” Melody says, looking at me despite knowing Az is controlling things. He gives a small smile of confirmation. “You’re a dick,” she says, and I don’t know how she swaps back and forth so seamlessly. I can’t imagine a day I’ll get used to this. But it will be worth it. It has to be.

I wonder if Melody got whatever she bargained for in the end.

“Your testimonial, Melody?” My voice rings out as she moves behind the bar and stocks it with clean glasses.