I smirked.
Then the man receded into the darkness, and Steve and I stumbled off into the night.
Chapter
Nineteen
Steve’s car was where I’d left it, thank God. I managed to stuff him into the back seat with only minimal additional blood loss. He was going to have one hell of a detailing bill, but that wasn’t my problem.
The ride home passed in a blur. By the time we got to the duplex, Steve was waking up again and full-on delirious. He wasn’t in any apparent pain, though, so I took advantage of his spurt of energy to get him into the house and onto the couch. Thirty seconds after I covered him with my grandmother’s afghan, he was out cold again.
I stared down at him for a long moment, bouncing on my toes. After all the action at the club and the ride home, I wasn’t the least bit tired. I was buzzing, on edge, riding high on the night’s events. I felt glorious, actually—filled with power for what felt like the first time in mylife.
Without a specific focus, I drifted into the kitchen, which made my smile tease into a grin. I’d confronted my demon in this room, calling it out, straight up yelling at it. Then I’d gone out and rescued Deadbeat Steve over its objections. And I’d exorcised another demon in the process.
All by yourself?
My grin deepened. “Ahhh, there you are,” I said to my muddy reflection in the refrigerator door. “I wondered where you’d snuck off to.”
I did a little shimmy, hips swishing. “And yeah, I did it pretty muchallby myself. You certainly didn’t seem to like that hot guy that ol’ Pith?—”
Don’t say his name.
A stab of fear jolted through me, cutting me off, and I blinked with surprise. “Why?” I asked, genuinely curious. Had Mordechai ever repeated the name of the demons he exorcised, once he sent them on their way? I didn’t think so, but…maybe?
Either way, my own personal demon didn’t seem willing to enlighten me on this point of protocol. Whatever.
Tired of the fridge view, I turned toward my reflection in the microwave, tilting my head coyly, still surfing on adrenaline. I squinted, but couldn’t see much, and Iwantedto see myself, to see the new and improved nightclub-demon-exorcising badass version of me. I wanted to know if I looked as hot as I felt.
I snorted even as I headed toward the stairs. I’d never thought of myself as hot—hell, I never thought of myself as anything, most of the time. Not pretty or ugly, sexy or stiff, fun or boring. I’d seriously never considered the idea of “me” at all, outside of a worker, daughter, roommate, student, assistant to an exorcist, and probably definitely a freak.
Why was that?
Uneasiness quivered inside me, and I pounced on the reaction, batting it around like a cat with a ball of yarn. “Is it because of you?” I wondered aloud as I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, not even bothering to keep my voice low. Steve was beyond dead to the world right now. “Did you do that to me?”
I mean, it made sense. Of course it made sense. What self-respecting demon wanted its host to have actual self-identifying thoughts?
And then there was its reaction to Max—and especially to the random mafia-looking guy I’d just met at Descent. Met andhelped, though I’d hurt him too. Hurt him a lot, now that I thought about it. Oh well.
But he was definitely a smokin’ hot male, and my demon hadn’t loved that.
My demon also didn’t so much as hiss at this assessment, so I knew I was on to something. I bounded up the stairs, faster than I ever had, my mind buzzing with new connections.
I’d never dated in high school or after—never wanted to date. I’d had a few opportunities, especially at UIC, but though I’d lost my virginity at sixteen and screwed around a few times after that, sex had never really registered on my radar as a desire or focus. There’d always been something else to deal with, something else to do. How crazy was it that I’d never so much asthoughtof a guy in any real way until now? Maybe not crazy at all.
Sex was power, everyone always said.
How much power?
At the top of the stairs, still moving fast, I didn’t head for my bedroom with its bare white walls. Instead, I opened the door into the bigger room right next to the staircase, the one my mother had slept in, and then, on very rare occasions and only right at the beginning, Steve.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, then flipped on the light. The soft glow illuminated light-blue painted walls, a clean white comforter-covered bed, a white-painted chest of drawers, and threadbare but vacuumed carpet. I’d at least tried to make the room decent for Steve, for all that he never liked it. I didn’t like it, either. I sure as hell never slept in here. But tonight, it had something I needed,
Mirrors. Over the dresser and lining the closet walls, positioned so you could practically see yourself coming and going. I never used them; I never wanted to look.
Tonight, though…I wanted to look ateverything.
Delia.
