Page 26 of Demons & Damnation

Chapter 12

Sam had exhausted her feet and her bank card after hours of shopping. Coming home with three new pairs of shoes and four new dresses made her aching feet more than worth it. Pulling up to a stop outside her house, it took only one glance to know that her parents and Dylan were both out.

Their six bedroomed old red bricked farmhouse sat in the middle of six acres, surrounded by a small wood. The dark wooden window frames were something her and Dylan both disliked, but their parents loved. Of course, as their parents paid the bills, they had the final say.

All the windows were covered by curtains and the landing light along with the kitchen light had been left on—the signal to each other that the house was empty. Whoever arrived home first would open the living room curtains and switch on the living room lamp—the signal that someone was in, and everything was ok.

If, by some chance, someone broke into the house and switched on different lights, or opened different sets of curtains, whoever arrived home would know something was up. It had never been an issue but being prepared, especially living in the middle of nowhere in a large house, could never be a bad thing.

Just as Sam unlocked their red front door, the sound of tyres crunching on gravel stopped her from pushing the door open. Looking back over her shoulder, Sam saw Dylan speeding up the driveway, as per usual, in his gorgeous to die for black C63 AMG Mercedes. Sam knew nothing about cars but the grumble coming from that engine combined with its looks made her want to date the next old guy who owned one.

Satisfied the only threat was her annoying brother, Sam kicked the front door with her left foot as she picked up her bags of goodies. Dylan skidded to a stop on the drive, showering gravel everywhere but on his immaculate car. Sam rolled her eyes and sighed. That guy could fall into a heap of shit and still come out smelling of roses.

“How much of sugar daddy’s money have you spent today?” Dylan asked, hopping out of his car and striding up behind his little sister.

Sam marched into the kitchen, dropping her bags onto the oak topped kitchen island. “I earned that money, thank you very much, so it’s my money.”

Dylan headed over to the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice. He snorted at his sister. “Sure. Earned it by sucking dick.”

Sam whirled around and faced her brother with her hands on her hips, anger flashing through her green eyes. “I don’t care for your insinuation.”

Dylan finished drinking the orange juice, putting the empty box back in the fridge with all but a dribble left in the bottom. “I couldn’t care less what you think to be quite frank. The fact is you fuck old guys, and they give you money.”

Sam ignored his remark, which was nothing other than him wanting to pick a fight. Instead, she stared at the fridge door as it closed shut, then looked at her brother. “Because you couldn’t have finished that last little bit and put it in the bin, could you?”

Dylan gave her a mischievous grin. “Nope. Because then it wouldn’t annoy you, would it?”

As Dylan walked across the kitchen, the yellow lighting from the spotlights in the ceiling caught his left cheek, highlighting a red imprint across it.

Sam raised an eyebrow and cleared her throat. “Uh-hum.”

Dylan stopped. “What?”

“What is that?” she asked, pointing her index finger at his cheek.

Dylan shrugged his shoulders. “I was falling asleep driving so I slapped myself to stay awake.”

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