Kit. Is. A. Demon. I knock myself on the head a few times, trying to drill in that fact. Ademon.Like, the least evil demon probably in all of creation, but a demon, nonetheless. And he’s young, for a demon. He’s young and perhaps that’s why he still has so much of his humanity intact. Perhaps that’s why he is the way he is with me. I’m sure any ounce of humanity, any semblance of a conscience, will wither with time, slowly exposing the true, soulless nature that resides inside him. It’s there. Iknowit is. I can see it, I cansenseit, in the little things. The disregard for who or how he possesses people, the destruction of that ghost he painted for me, the casualness with which he commits petty crimes, the refusal to let me go.
I have to remember that. He is holding me hostage in my own body and mind for no reason other than he feels like it. He is keeping me here because…he needs a body? No. No, I’m sure that is part of the reason, but that doesn’t seem to be the entire reason. There are better, stronger bodies he could take hold of.
He’s holding on to me because he’s lonely. Simple and obvious as that. Kit the demon is lonely, and for whatever reason, he has taken a liking to me. No matter what I do, nothing turns him off me. I mean, I literally almost died, and he still came back.
“Those thoughts are getting heavy,” he says, bringing me back to him.
I gulp. “Can you hear them?”
“No, but I can feel them. Sense the way they’re swirling around your mind. Anything else you want to talk about?”
I twirl a strand of hair around my finger. There are a lot of things I want to talk about—like how I got my hand to move again. I wasn’t even trying specifically, I just reallywantedto do it, so I did. I don’t yet know how this will help me. Unless…
When we were at the old mill, Kit said that if I got control of my entire body, I could boot him out. I’m not sure how effective that will be in keeping him out, but it could be worth a shot.
“You,” I finally answer. “What’s your favorite way to wreak havoc?”
He snorts. “I think I’ve shown you all my favorites. Nothing too hardcore. Hot wiring cars is fun.”
“Is that a demon-specific skill, or were you pulling that one out in your human life?”
He answers truthfully, “I taught myself how to for the hell of it when I was nineteen on my grandad’s car over a summer I spent with him. He lived about an hour away and it was getting hard for him to live on his own, but he was refusing to moveinto assisted living. I understand why—he didn’t want to lose his sense of independence.”
“How un-foreign a feeling,” I comment dryly.
Kit huffs in agreement. “Yeah. Sorry. But he couldn’t do much and wasn’t willing to let me cart him around town very often, so I was bored as hell.”
“Thus, the hot wiring.”
“Exactly.”
“So, I’m assuming your grandad is…?”
“Dead?” Kit finishes for me. “Yeah. He passed the fall after that summer. I’m incredibly glad I got to spend that time with him, boring or not.”
“I’m glad you got that, too.”
“Can I askyoua question?”
“Shoot.”
“I understand the paranormal investigating, but how did you shift from paralegal to bookstore? Why not another paralegal job? Blanc & Hartman was the worst. Or, I mean, it seemed that way, but what about another office job?”
“I figured anything in corporate America would be too soul-sucking for my very tired soul,” I answer quietly. “Not that retail isn’t soul-sucking in itself, but the bookstore is peaceful. My boss is great. I like my coworkers. And the schedule allows for time to work on my channel, my socials, editing, and the actual investigating.”
“Makes sense.” He shifts on the couch. “What did your dad do for a living?”
I narrow my eyes. “Weird pivot for someone who doesn’talready know the answer to that. He was a lawyer.”
He chuckles lightly. “Okay, fine. I did know that. I don’t dig on purpose, I swear. It just happens. Why didn’t you want to become a lawyer? Why a paralegal—assuming that choice was made as a way to be close to him?”
“Stop psychoanalyzing me,” I scold. “Law school was too daunting. I wasn’t the best student, because I had a hard time paying attention in class. And I’m a horrible test taker, so passing the bar seemed impossible. I would have hated it, anyway.” My eyes close. “You’re right about my reasoning, of course. But I found there are other and better ways to be close to him, like carrying his lighter around or drinking his favorite beer, even though I find it disgusting.”
“You’re doing what you love now,” he observes. “I hope you can keep doing it.”
“Me, too.” I adjust myself in the bed so I can snuggle down under my sheets. “Hey, Kit?”
“Yeah, babe?”
