Page 42 of Whispers From The Dark

“Whatever,” I mumble, before retrieving my mother’s ashes. When I slam the box down on the kitchen counter, I can’t help but laugh, thinking of Jack and the unboxing videos he likes to watch. But my laughter dissipates as I think about how we’re going to have to move before school is over.

For a second, I think of asking Asmodeus for help. I lie down on the futon, wondering if it’s worth it. Enlisting the help of the demon once more, just to make sure Jack gets to finish the school year with his friends in our neighborhood.

I don’t even realize I’m daydreaming of Asmodeus and his winged form, starting to drift off into a nap, until the tuxedo cat climbs upon me, curling up on the center of my chest.

16

ASMODEUS

“Need you on this, boss,” Melody says from the other side of my locked office door. I startle, my body dissipating into the dark cloud of my essence. It might be my first true experience with the human concept of embarrassment. I shouldn’t be ashamed to be spending more time in my corporeal form, embracing who I am and such, but I’ve only been doing it since her, and it seems pathetic.

I’ve never yearned before, and I find I have little taste for it. If I’d thought caring for her was a weakness, this deep longing that I cannot shake is debilitating.

“What is it this time? Where’s Rolf?” I ask Melody before slipping through the door in a cloud of smoke.

“He’s off today, Asmodeus. It’s Monday. And I’m not dealing with this asshole. It’s like the fourth time today. I don’t know what’s gotten into everybody,” she says, and I sigh before veering toward the kitchen.

I know exactly what has gotten into everyone.

Satanus.

He’s throwing a tantrum, sending those under his influence to harass me. It’s nothing more than a nuisance, but it’s getting old. I hesitate to involve Lucifer, as he’s already annoyed with me, but somebody is going to end up dead on my premises, and that will unleash a whole host of problems for me.

Sam pulls a burger off the grill and places it on a bun as I take over his body. He shakes his head just as I take control, and I plate up the meal and toss it onto the order counter.

“Need to borrow you for a minute, kid,” I say internally, and then out loud, “Melody, cover for me.”

“You got it,” she says, coming through the swinging door to grab the next order off the ticket rail.

“A little more warning would be nice,” Sam grumbles.

I take off the apron he’s wearing, pleased to find a plain, black t-shirt beneath it. Half the time Sam is wearing a shirt with some ridiculous saying on it, and if I’m walking the floor to influence rude patrons into proper behavior, I need to be intimidating. Thankfully, Sam has height, toned muscles, and a handsome face. He usually does the trick no matter who the rabble-rouser is.

“Where are they?” I ask Melody on my way out.

“At the well, working Danny’s fucking nerves, I’m sure. He’s bothering all the women who come up to order.”

“Of course he is.”

When I make my way down the hall, I veer towards the Crossroads bar top. Sanguivita isn’t open yet, so the garage doors connecting the two bars are closed for another hour. Normally, we’d open Sanguivita later, but the New Year’s crowd likes to start the party early. The Crossroads has a rougher clientele. We have a few regulars who are pretty harmless, but there’s been a lot of new blood the last week, and they’re all assholes. I’m certain it’s my brother’s doing.

I spot him from across the room. He’s probably in his early thirties, wearing a backwards baseball cap, with the aura that comes from one of those powder energy supplements purchased at a gas station.

“Bro, he totally does. What’s that shit called? Crater or something? I heard that shit makes your balls shrink.”

“Be quiet, Sam.”

There are a few girls in their early twenties, and I’m surprised they’re even here at this time of day.

“Pre-gaming before Sanguivita, boss. Duh. You jack the prices up over there, so they come here first where it’s cheaper.”

“I said, be quiet.”

I make eye contact with my bartender, just to be sure, and he nods at the man.

“Alright, sir. You need to leave,” I say, coming up behind the man and turning his seat.

“God, finally,” the girl standing at the well says, and her friend snorts with laughter. She’s short with dark hair, and obviously it makes me think of Petra. “I can’t hear about his podcast for one more minute.”