Page 95 of Obsession

“Metratron has the personality of a wet blanket, just FYI,” I interject. “Oh, and does anyone know what’s with the jar of eyeballs on his desk?”

“Maybe his viewing portal to the earthly realm?” Damion muses.

“I can see that,” I say, and Damion groans.

Gabe clears his throat again. “Do you need a cough drop?” I ask.

“Gabe, you go ahead and tell us the news. Y’all, quit giving him a hard time.”

“The keeper of the balls has spoken. Go right ahead, Cupid,” Damion says.

“Azrael is going to be pissed we started the meeting without him. But go right ahead, it’s your funeral,” I warn.

“I’m billing for all this time you children have wasted,” Gabe announces. “So as I was saying, Metratron answered the question. No human had ever trapped a demon in an ancient incantation bowl. Most of the so-called magus priests from that time period who were inscribing these bowls were frauds with no real magical knowledge or power.”

“Great, so we have the one case of a successful incantation bowl in all of ancient Babylon,” I say glumly. A bag of gummy bears appears in Damion’s hand and he pops a few in his mouth. “I really wish you wouldn’t eat Abracas summoning candy in here.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize my mistake. “Not a wish! Wish rescinded!”

We’re all talking, trying to figure out what to do next. I’m about to suggest we just admit defeat and return the thing to Zazel, when out of the corner of my eye I spot Elvis jump up on the table and knock over the bowl.

“No!” I scream, but it’s too late. The bowl’s already fallen to the floor and shattered into tiny pieces.

A black tendril of smoke emerges and vanishes. Elvis’s eyes flash red and a sardonic voice says, “Finally. I was wondering how long it would take the Mystery Gang to figure out that to break the spell, simply break the bowl.”

We stand there in stunned silence. You could hear a pin drop. “Elvis has left the building,” I say.

Epilogue

Exorcising Phenex from Elvis turned out to be surprisingly easy. Gabe and Damion drew a reverse demon trap and abracadabra, Phenex shifted into his human form, banished from Elvis’s kingdom. Okay, so the word “abracadabra” was not actually involved this time. Although I will say that I wasn’t completely off the mark with the whole Phoenix bird theory. Phenex’s sigil looks an awful lot like a child’s rudimentary drawing of a bird engulfed in flames.

Zazel was thrilled when he heard the news. He told us to bill him for our time and that he would throw in a little something extra for a job well done.

So now, I’ve called due what’s mine, and Damion and I are enjoying a much deserved romantic weekend. We’re in New Orleans following Grandma’s itinerary. We’ve been to Jackson Square, toured the voodoo museum—not my favorite—and have just eaten dinner at Brennan’s.

We’re back at the Hotel Monteleone sipping a cocktail at the Carousel Bar. I smile, locking eyes with Damion as I provocatively lick the sugar off the rim of my glass.

“Mmmm, I love this dream you sent me,” he says, sending a blast of tingly heat to my breasts. He then ever so slowly moves that heat down my body, stopping between my legs. I look down to see my nipples are hard, and I have to squeeze my thighs together.

“You’re going off script,” I say breathlessly.

“It’s my dream,” he says, giving me a wicked smile as he continues to set my nerve endings on fire. I try my best to stifle a moan; we’re secluded in the corner, but the bar is anything but empty.

“Damion, you know I can’t be quiet, and there are other people in here.” Suddenly, the lights dim, and the soft background music is now playing at a louder volume. I shouldn’t encourage this demon, but I can’t help it. I laugh.

Our bartender appears and presents me with a martini glass filled with vanilla ice cream.

“Thank you, but I didn’t order—”

“Thank you,” Damion cuts me off, handing the guy some cash and what looks to be a sizable tip. “That will be all.”

Damion waits until the bartender is gone and then turns to me with glowing eyes. “I’m calling due what’s mine,” he says in a demonic voice that sends a thrill throughout my body. A scroll appears on the table. I look to see, yep, that’s my signature on the bottom line. Deals with devils.

He moves over to sit next to me and casually drapes his arm over my shoulder. His delicious scent envelops me, and I’m embarrassed my core’s already beginning to clench.

I lock eyes with him as I pick up the spoon and take a bite. As the cold ice cream touches my tongue, his warm phantom touch enters me. Gyrating my hips, I can’t help but moan. And then my panties disappear. There, now that those are out of the way. He sends a pulsating feeling to just the right spot while moving his phantom touch back and forth inside me.

“Damion,” I plead.

“Shhhh,” he whispers and then gently bites my earlobe. “If you’ll refer back to our agreement, this show is for my eyes and ears only.” He increases my body temperature, and it feels like every one of my nerve endings has gone crazy. Or maybe it’s me that’s gone crazy. It’s far too late for that survivors of demonic possession support group.

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