Page 27 of Cookbooks and Demons

“See, this is why you are so confusing,” Helena said, pulling out one of her dining room chairs so she could sit down. “You’re a demon—I get that. Your job is to try to rob me of soul, life energy, and whatever the third thing you said was so you can improve your own situation. I get that. But then you keep trying to save me from all this, even though it is completely against your best interests, and as a demon, you seem to be insisting that a ‘demon’ would never do sucha thing.”

He paused for a moment, then pointed out, “Unless that was part of my scheme to get you to actually trust me, by making a big show of trying to save you and then definitely skin you for all you’re worth.”

God, she hoped he was being metaphorical. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“No,” he turned and started a slower version of his pacing. “But that is also what I would say, right? You can’t trust me. You shouldn’t trust me. I’ma demon.”

“Like I said, you don’t make a whole lotof sense.”

“You know, I could say the same thing about you,” he shot back. “Look, if you knew a tenth of the horrible things I’ve done as a human, never mind as a demon, you would not be this kind to me.”

Helena scrunched up her nose at that. “Why would the things you’ve done have any bearing on how I choose to treat you?”

Rafferty’s mouth dropped open at that question. “What are you? A freaking saint?”

Sighing, Helena shook her head. “I’m just trying to help you, and you’re making it really difficult.”

“You can’t help me. No one can,” Rafferty snarked and pulled out a dining chair for himself to sit down upon. He let his gaze drift over the myriad of dishes, then picked something off of one of the plates, a piece of pie crust on what looked like a kind of pot pie and put it in his mouth.

Curious, Helena asked, “What does it taste like?”

“Ashes,” hemuttered.

“And that’s everything you eat? Ashes and dirt?”

He shook his head. “Just ashes. Dirt actually tastes like something and not all ofit bad.”

She lifted her hand to him.

He eyed it suspiciously. “Don’t. Don’tdo that.”

“Why not? You can taste it if you do,”she said.

His lips thinned again. She waggled her fingers at him, temptingly. “Come on. You know you want to,” she pushed with a wicked gleam inher eye.

Finally, he grasped her hand, his larger fingers lacing between hers, and they both picked up a fork from the small pile of silverware he’d stuck amongst the dishes. As soon as the bite hit her mouth, Helena squealed. And then spit.

“Oh my God! That is so awful!” she declared, her horror amplified because of her expectation that it was going to taste good.

“Oh yes,” Rafferty said, chuckling as he chewed. “That is some nasty shit.” He cut another bite and stuck it into his mouth. “Oh that is perfectly awful.”

“Then why are you still eating it?” Helena cried, releasing his hand to go to her kitchen to get somethingto drink.

“Because it’s not ashes,” he said, laughing, and stuck the forkin again.

“Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to have some more of that French Toastsandwich.”

“I think I added too much of something, but I can’t put my finger on what yet. Definitely not enough salt,”he added.

Helena shook her head unable to suppress a smile as she ducked her head into the fridge to grab a cold can of bubble water. As she turned, she spotted her cat, Pooka, whom she hadn’t really seen in days. The little thing was crouched down on the ground, staring while her tail flicked slowly back and forth, her yellow-greeneyes wide.

“Hey Pooka, what’s wrong?” Helena asked. Then, just on the edge of her hearing, Helena thought she heard whispers. Shutting the fridge and cracking the can, she looked all around, trying to pinpoint what it was she heard. Taking a step back, the circle burst to life beneath her feet. The black lines reappeared and began to emit a stinging smoke. Helena got a big whiff of it into her lungs and immediately started to cough. The whispering became louder and painfully insistent, making her wince as she dropped her nearly full can of water so she could press both hands against her ears. It didn’t help though. The whispers still got through, drowning out all other sounds.

Rafferty burst through the door as Pooka yowled past, running away for all she was worth, and stopped just on the outside edge of the circle. It affected him too as he flickered back to his demonic self. The closeness of him to the circle was like adding lighter fluid to an already burning flame. Helena couldn’t stand any more. The world around them felt like it had tilted and just wouldn’t right itself. Losing her balance, she fell over. Curling down onto her side, she tried to close eyes against what was happening, but nothing she did stopped it. The whispers grew louder.

“I pay the debt!” Rafferty barked.

Instantly, the whispering and pain stopped. Everything was impossibly quiet after all that noise. The pain was gone, and Helena could lift her head again. She felt exhausted, like she had been drinking all night. The circle still burned in the tile, but it had stopped smoking, leaving only a bad taste in the back of her throat.

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