Page 12 of My Blind Date is a Demon

“I believe you humans call me a demon.”

I gasp and wrap my arms around Bella again. A demon? In my house? Here? In Mystic Cove? How is this possible?

“Fine, I’ll just call you Damon. Who sent you?” Beverly asks. She seems entirely unsurprised that a demon is in my house.

“I do not know,” he says, looking at me with smoldering eyes. For a moment, I think it is the sexiest look I’ve ever seen. But on the other, it looks as though he is starving. Ravenous. Like he is going to devour me.

“Why were you sent? What was your purpose?”

“To possess Tamzin Jones,” he says plainly.

“Why?” I ask.

“I do not know,” he says. “I don’t ask. I only go where I am bidden.”

“By whom?” Beverly asks.

“The Dark Lord, obviously,” he says.

“So, you are nothing but a lacky, a minion,” Beverly says, clearly growing annoyed.

“Do not trifle with me, mortal,” Damon says. “You clearly do not know the powers you are dealing with.”

“Well, that might be true to an extent,” Beverly says. “I don’t know who sent you here or why, other than to mess with Tamzin, but that doesn’t mean I can’t send you back to where you came from.”

“Go ahead,” he says. “Witches stronger than you—and certainly stronger than this child—have tried.”

“So, wait, what is going on?” I ask. “You were sent to possess me, but we stopped you. So, why are you still here?”

Damon’s cocksure expression falters for a moment. “I’m not entirely sure.”

“He was sent to possess you,” Beverly says to me. “But he’s trapped in the cookie jar instead.”

“Is he…possessing the cookie jar?” I ask. It’s such a ludicrous question, I can’t help but sputter a laugh. Soon, Beverly and Bella join me. Only in a place like Mystic Cove would such a question be considered reasonable. Damon crosses his arms, clearly annoyed. But he doesn’t correct us. In fact, I think it’s what actually happened to him. I almost feel sorry for him.

“I don’t think it’s quite that simple,” Beverly says. “But I’ll need to do more research on Bella’s spell to figure out what exactly we should do.

“Come, Damon, back in the cookie jar.”

“I’ll walk. Thanks,” he says.

“Fine,” she says, putting the lid in her pocket. “But you ride in the back.”

She starts to walk toward the door, but I feel a sudden terror. And sadness. And longing. I can’t let her take my cookie jar!

“Wait! No, you can’t take it.” I reach for the jar, but she pulls it out of reach.”

“I’ll give it back once it’s been…exorcised.”

“O…kay,” I say, not understanding why I spoke out in the first place. I love the cookie jar, yes. It has sentimental value. But I know Beverly isn’t stealing it from me. Of course she can take it.

“No!” I cry out, reaching for it again. “No, you can’t take it.”

Beverly holds her hand out, blocking me from taking the jar. “Now, hold on.” She looks at Damon, who is smirking at me, then to Bella. She mumbles something to herself, then she lets out a resigned sigh. “This is your jar, isn’t it?” she asks me.

“Yes. I bought it a few years ago at Disney World.”

“Well, this is certainly a new problem,” she says, handing me the jar and lid. I cradle them lovingly, like a baby.

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