Page 66 of Obsession

“What’s your hang-up with demons?” I ask.

“You mean besides the fact they’re all damned, evil creatures?” I figure the conversation is over, but he finally says, “I was involved once, a long time ago, with a human healer.”

“Involved how?” I ask. His look lets me know involved involved, and I try to process this revelation. Angelic enforcer, hard-ass Chris with a human lover? I would say I could never envision it, but then I think back to the amazing kiss I’m pretending never happened, and well, yeah.

“She was tempted by the dark arts and a demon killed her,” he says, an emotion flickering in his eyes for a split second, but then it’s gone. “A demon is seductive until he shows his true colors, and by that point, it’s too late.”

“Not every demon is like that,” I argue.

“Aren’t they? Or have they just not shown you their true colors yet? Tell me this—if your Cambion truly cared for you, why was he so easily swayed?”

“That’s not fair. You felt the darkness in Bettina’s house. She’s a powerful witch. I wasn’t affected because I took magical precautions, but it never occurred to me Damion might also be a target.”

Chris’s words weigh heavily on me after he leaves. Why was Damion so easily swayed? Because deep down he’s a tiger after all?

I shake away the insecurity as I step inside the shop and call Brenda, letting her know I have the spell remnants. She thinks it’s best to wait until a waning moon, so we make plans to meet tomorrow evening.

Walking upstairs, I take a seat at the kitchen table. Something catches my eye under the chair next to me. Bending down, I find a beautiful white feather. This must have fallen when Chris was playing with me about the puzzle. And the fact that Chris was playing with me is in and of itself weird. Chris doesn’t play, unless it’s maybe guitar in some kind of broody band. Dang it, I should’ve added that to my list of guesses as to what he does in his down time.

Carrying the feather by its quill to my room, I flip on my lamp and take a seat on my bed. Running it lightly down my left arm, I have to stifle a moan. I gasp when I spot a tiny fleck of bluish-silver dust on my skin.

Chapter 27

Driving thirty miles outside Memphis, I reach a small, abandoned church. Parking next to Brenda’s car, I walk around to the back of the decrepit structure to find her near a small graveyard, setting up items in the dirt.

An owl screeches, and I jump like a scared cat. Trying to settle my nerves, I take a deep breath as Brenda hands me a knife. “Carve your name and your demon’s name on these candles.” I do as instructed and hand her back the knife. “Anoint these candles with this uncrossing oil.” Again, I do as I’m told as she lights the candles.

She hands me a black doll with a few short strands of blond hair sewn on the top of its head. I gave her the hair from Damion’s brush he left in my bathroom. The moral of that story is don’t leave your brush at a witch’s house.

“Visualize the hex the witch placed on you. Feel the pain of the breakup.” Not a problem, as feeling the pain isn’t difficult. “And now throw three handfuls of dirt onto your demon,” she gestures to the doll. “Do so as you visualize the hex broken.” I scoop my hand into the dirt and throw it on “Damion.” I then visualize Damion hugging me and telling me that he’s sorry, that he didn’t mean it, and that he loves me.

Brenda begins to chant, placing the soggy paper wads with our names from the broken spell jar on top of the doll. We light it on fire with both our candle flames. Watching it burn until the fire goes out, I dig a small hole and bury the charred doll at the edge of the graveyard, envisioning the death of the hex.

Returning home, I quietly enter the apartment, trying not to wake anyone, as it’s almost two in the morning. I close my door and flip on the light, having to stifle a scream. Damion’s sitting at the foot of my bed. Holding Chris’s feather.

“I called and texted, but you didn’t answer your phone,” he says. Honestly, I can’t tell if the ritual worked, based on his guarded expression.

“I was driving, so my phone’s set to do not disturb,” I say cautiously.

“What’s this?” Damion asks as he holds up the feather.

“A feather.”

“I know it’s a feather. It looks like an angel’s feather. Where did it come from?” he asks, floating it over to my nightstand.

“Chris dropped it.”

“In your bedroom?” he demands with glowing eyes.

“No, in the kitchen,” I say, crossing my arms, my hackles rising.

“So Choirboy leaves you a little sex toy present in the kitchen. Why was he here?”

“Chris and I have become friends. He teleported me home the other night when Azrael had to leave. And he took me to Bettina’s to get the spell remnants. The spell you said didn’t exist!” I shout the last part, losing my cool.

“Oh sure, he’s such a good Samaritan. Has nothing to do with the fact that he wants you!” he shouts back.

“Even if that is true, what does it matter what he wants? What I want is you. Last time I checked, you didn’t return the feeling.” I grab my phone and read his texts. “‘You’re crazy, stop contacting me.’ Or how about, ‘I don’t want to be with you.’ And my all-time personal favorite, ‘I want to see other people. You don’t do it for me anymore…how much clearer can I make it!’”

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