Page 41 of Whispers From The Dark

Rude Ass Rudy is calling. One of the last people I want to talk to, but I’m hoping this asshole lawyer has some good news for me, so I go ahead and answer.

“The prosecutor isn’t pressing charges, sweetheart.”

My eye twitches. The first and only time I met with him in person, he complimented my boots but then started asking me a lot of weird questions about my feet. He wanted to know if I wore socks in my boots or if I painted my toenails or if I’d ever consider wearing toe rings. Fucking pervert. He’d also wanted to meet at a restaurant to discuss our plan of action, and he tried to order for me. It was weird. He is weird. But even though I don’t like him, he’s doing his job. Why this guy is Asmodeus’s chosen lawyer is beyond me. It was probably a deal that went awry. He seems like the kind of person who would deal with a demon.

Then again, so am I. Morally, I suppose we’re on even footing.

“Okay. So does that mean it’s over with?”

“They formally dismissed the charges, so yes. You’re good to go, baby doll.”

My mouth turns down in disgust. “Anything else?”

“I’m filing the paperwork with the probate judge, but you have emergency guardianship over Jack in the meantime.”

“That’s great. Thank you, Rudy. Is…is there a charge this time?” I ask, not liking the answer either way.

“Nope. Already paid for.”

“Right. Well, thank you. Is there anything else you need from me?” I regret the phrasing instantly, but Rudy doesn’t make it weird for once.

“Not at the moment, but I’ll let you know. Probate normally takes a few months, but with Asmodeus involved, I doubt it will take so long. It was a lot easier after the father signed over his rights. How’d you make that happen, anyway?”

“I didn’t. I thought you handled that,” I say, wondering if Asmodeus expedited that process as well. Despite everything, he’s ensuring I’m taken care of. I wonder if it’s guilt over killing my mom or if he truly cares for me. Probably some mix of the two, if I’m honest with myself.

“I’ll take credit, darlin’, but it wasn’t me,” Rudy says, and I have the ick again.

“Alright. Well, just keep me posted. Thanks.”

I hang up quickly, and as a strong gust of wind nearly knocks me down, I pick up my pace. The office is a few blocks away from our actual apartment, and as I never get packages, let alone heavy ones, I hadn’t realized just how inconvenient this was.

I’m walking up the steps to the building when I hear the tiniest, most pitiful meow. I look down, just as a little tuxedo cat jumps onto the stairs beside me. Its ear has been clipped, so it’s probably a neighborhood stray that’s been fixed. I’ve never seen it before, but it’s certainly happy to see me. It weaves between my legs, rubbing against my shins.

“Hello, baby. It’s so cold, isn’t it?”

I have nothing to give the creature, and this box isn’t getting any lighter, but I reach down and scritch behind its ears, anyway. The baby tilts its head into my palm, and my heart nearly melts. Glancing around, I double check for any of my shitty neighbors and make an impulsive—and probably stupid—decision. But what are they gonna do? Evict me?

“Come on,” I say, unlocking and opening the door into the lobby, and the cat bounds inside before sprinting up the stairs. “Whoa, hang on,” I call out as I readjust the giant box in my arms.

There’s a strange shadow that moves at the bottom of the stairwell, and for a brief moment, I think it’s Az. But I move, and the shadow moves with me. It’s not him, and somehow I’m both relieved and sad all at once.

We haven’t spoken since I asked him to leave the hospital room, and I don’t intend to. Even if part of me is begging to do just that.

I miss him, but I can’t let him turn my life upside down ever again. Jack needs more from me. And maybe it scares me a bit that I’m not even angry with Az for what he did. In fact, I’ve rationalized that he was trying to save me from the guilt, which makes him all the more dangerous. I understand why he did it, can reason it out logically. I even have empathy for him and how he must feel. Insanely, I could picture a future with the demon, even still.

It’s beyond sanity.

When I get to my apartment, I see the door is already open.

“Jack?” I call out, knowing there’s no way he’s up this early over Christmas break. “Fuck.”

With the sagging landing, our door isn’t exactly level, so sometimes it doesn’t latch all the way. But still, I’m nervous as I set down the box of my mother’s ashes in the stairwell and head inside. There’s no one in the living room or kitchen, and I grab a knife from the drawer as I head toward the bathroom. I’ve been on edge ever since Asmodeus left me, and I’ve found the door open more than a few times before, but still. After a cautious—some would say paranoid—stroll through the house, I find no one in the bathroom. I peek into Jack’s room, and he stretches out, ripping a loud fart that I’m surprised doesn’t wake him.

Weirdly, it calms me down. I’m just being paranoid, I realize.

The last room to check is my mom’s, but I’ve been avoiding going in there like the plague. I soldier on, almost anticipating her ghost. The door was left ajar, and I haven’t touched it since. I open it a bit more, and that’s when I spot the intruder.

The tuxedo cat has made himself—or herself, I suppose, though this kind of audacity screams him—at home, curled up in the center of her bed. He’s licking his paw and rubbing his face in a way that he has to know is adorable.