Sins of the Demon (Kara Gillian 4)

“Yes,” she said, dashing my brief hopes. “And it would only need a heartbeat or two of contact.” Her lips twitched. “You do not care for the fifth-level demons?”

“They creep me the fuck out,” I confessed, adding a shudder for emphasis.

She laughed, a crystalline sound. “You are not the first summoner to say so.”

“There’s a reason for that,” I said sourly. “Do we have any bacon in the house?”

“Second drawer in the fridge,” she replied as she stroked her fingers through the cat’s fur.

I stood and headed inside, shedding the cuff and pulling my cell phone out as soon as I was through the door. While I walked to the kitchen I typed a text to Jill, then retrieved the bacon from the fridge, kicked the door closed, and walked back down the hallway to the basement door.

Yes, you really do need to summon this demon, I told myself firmly as I hesitated. I didn’t really like summoning during the day, but the use of the storage diagram made it easier. Muttering something nasty, I set the package of bacon down, stripped off my clothes, retrieved the bacon, then headed down the stairs to get garbed up for the summoning. The sooner I got this over with, the sooner I could dismiss it.

Chapter 16

I’d just finished changing back into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt when Jill entered the front door. She flashed a smile at me, then stopped dead at the sight of the demon waiting patiently in the living room.

“Good, you brought the stuff,” I said, moving forward to take the bag from her hand. “I appreciate it.”

“Sure thing,” she replied unsteadily. She swallowed, frowned. “Is, um, this the demon…â???” She wrenched her gaze over to me, and I couldn’t tell if the pleading in her eyes wanted me to say yes or no.

Exhaling, I nodded. I totally understood her reaction. Nyssor looked almost exactly like human children. This particular one looked like a little boy, perhaps four years old, and utterly beautiful, with flaxen curls and an angelic face. The “almost” part came in when you looked at their eyes, which were a little too large and had sideways-slit pupils. And the features were a little too perfect. They definitely fell into that “uncanny valley” territory. Creepy.

I crouched by the demon and pulled clothing out of the bag. “Jill, this is Votevha. He’s a nyssor—a fifth-level demon. Votevha, this is Jill. She is my friend.”

The demon’s eyes shifted to Jill. “Friend,” he repeated in a high treble. It bared its teeth in a vulpine smile full of hundreds of sharp teeth.

Jill paled. “Jesus,” she muttered, but she managed to pull together a smile of her own. “So nice to meet you.”

“I have clothing for you,” I told the demon. “Do you require assistance?”

He shook his head and took the pants and shirt from me, examined them briefly, then slipped them on easily. He gave me a questioning look. “Good?” he said.

“Good,” I said with a nod. “There are shoes, too.”

He pulled them on while I straightened and turned to Jill. “Did you bring the booster seat?”

“Yeah, borrowed it from my next door neighbor. Told her I was babysitting for a friend.” She gave a mock shudder. “I hope she doesn’t think I’m available to babysit her little darlings.” She paused, looked at the demon with a slight frown pulling at her lips. “Does, um, he really need one?”

“Nope,” I said, “but if by some chance I get stopped, I don’t want to get a ticket for not having my demon properly secured.”

Part of my text to Jill had been to ask her to bring her personal car instead of her crime scene van. Since I didn’t have an overly large demon to tote around, I figured it was better if we went with something a little less obvious. In theory we could have used my departmental vehicle, but since I was on administrative leave, I didn’t want to be seen driving it around too much, just in case someone remembered that, technically, I should have been asked to turn my keys in for the duration of my leave. And I didn’t currently have a personal vehicle. About a year and a half ago, the engine of the ancient Honda Civic I’d been driving since college had finally gone into a spectacular meltdown after two hundred and forty thousand miles. Buying another car—even a crummy used one—had been beyond my budget and relegated into the category of “things I really should do one of these days.”

Luckily Jill had a nearly new Nissan X-Terra. It took a few minutes to figure out how to belt the demon into the booster seat, and then we were on our way.

Jill glanced over at me after we were both in the car, and gave me a wink. “Look at us being all domestic and mom-like and shit.”

I let out a snort of laughter. “Take a picture. This is the closest I’m likely to get.”

The drive into town was uneventful, though I discovered that Votevha had a preference for National Public Radio. We parked about a block down the street from the coffee shop and walked, the demon trotting along between us. I couldn’t help but be amazed at how much he resembled a human child—not just in looks, but in demeanor as well. He paused to tug on a fluttering piece of tinsel, darted forward to peer at a bug crawling along the sidewalk, pointed and laughed at a battered snowman decoration.

Apparently he looked convincingly child-like to others as well. A middle-aged woman dressed in a full-length leather coat and a fur hat paused in her cell phone conversation as we approached. She frowned as her gaze came to rest on the demon.

“That child needs a coat!” she informed us with an imperious sniff as we passed her.

I gritted my teeth and kept going. “Pushy bitch,” I muttered. I’d even asked the demon if he was cold. What, I was supposed to make him wear a coat he would be uncomfortable in?

“Maybe Votevha can go smile at her,” Jill said, eyes glinting wickedly.