Demon Cant Help It

CHAPTER 12

Jo had to admit this felt like her longest day of her life. She'd managed to complete her grant proposal and found a grant that would provide computers to nonprofits.

She should have felt good about that, especially since racing thoughts and exhaustion had made the already tedious task of technical writing all the more challenging.

But she'd managed to keep thoughts of Maksim at bay. She'd even managed to convince herself that his odd behavior this morning was good. A reminder that she had no business being interested in him. Her reasoning had mostly worked. Sort of.

Either way, she'd gotten some work done and now all she could think about was getting some dinner and heading to bed; with any luck, she'd get a good night's sleep.

The center was quiet as she hit save on the computer, then searched her desk drawer for a disk. She shook her head as she fumbled with the small square storage device. No one used floppy disks anymore.

She was so pleased she found that grant for computers. Then they could offer some basic computer courses in the evening. And the preschoolers could even get familiar with using a mouse and how to use the icons. This was an computerized world, and it would do the kids good to have a little experience with them. Maybe she could even have some tutoring for high school kids, too. Computers would help all the way around.

Jo was still considering how she could offer tutoring at the center when her contemplation was interrupted by a sound in the hallway.

She paused, her finger on the eject button of the computer. She listened. No one should be here. On Thursday nights she had no adult or seniors' events scheduled, due to lack of help.

Again she heard the noise. The shuffle of feet, or more a pattering like small bare feet on the worn linoleum. Goose-bumps dotted her arms and a chill skittered down her spine. Fear rose in her throat, strangling her.

You're hearing things, she told herself. No one was here. Cherise had locked the doors when she left. She was just imagining it.

Then she heard the same sound, this time closer to her door. As if someone was creeping closer.

"Hello?" she called, shifting her chair so she could see around her computer and out the door. The glimpse of hallway from the half-closed door was dingy gray, the sunlight waning but not quite gone. Her call was met by silence.

She shivered, icy cold seeming to fill her room. Her small office, which was usually stuffy, suddenly felt like a meat locker. She released a slow, scared breath, and moisture misted the freezing air.

She leaned a little further over her desk, trying to see if she would make out any shadows, some kind of movement.

And what if she did?

Glancing around, she reached for a ballpoint pen, holding it tightly. Not much of a weapon, but better than nothing.

What if what she was hearing wasn't a person? What if it wasn't flesh and blood. What if…

She didn't let her thoughts finish.

"Hello?" she cried again, determined to prove to herself her fear was unfounded. If anyone was there, it was someone with a good explanation

"Is anyone there?"

This time her question was met with a distinct response. The slap of feet on the floor, heading away from her office.

She forced herself to rise and go around her desk. Pen poised in front of her, she peeked out into the hallway. The corridor was empty, nothing but scuffed linoleum, fingerprint-smudged off-white walls, and fading light.

Jo stood there, trying to understand, trying to explain away what she heard. But after a few moments, she gave up. She just wanted out of here.

Hurrying back into the office, she shut down her computer, grabbed her purse, and turned off the lights. Looking neither left nor right, she went to the front door and twisted the lock open. She stepped outside, the warm evening air instantly calming her.

She rummaged through her purse, looking for her keys.

Just your imagination, she told herself. Nothing but exhaustion and overworking. And probably hunger, too.

She laughed slightly, the sound a little panic-stricken. Her thoughts sounded like Ebenezer Scrooge's in A Christmas Carol, right before seeing his deceased business partner, Jacob Marley. The noises back there had to be caused by a blob of mustard. Or an old potato.

She was really losing it.

She finally found her keys and secured the door. Just as she was pulling the key from the lock, she caught movement through the window. Someone or something was in there.

The hallway was dark, darker now because she was in the light. But she knew what she saw. Dark hair and rainbow stripes.

A startled sound escaped her and she turned and ran.

Maksim had been waiting outside the St. Ann Community Center for hours, telling himself that the endeavor was a stupid one. He was hot. He was bored. His butt hurt from sitting on the concrete stoop he'd been using as a bench. He was feeling more than a little foolish.

And he was hungry.

None of these problems led to a friendly or reasonable demon. And an unhappy, irrational demon was usually bad news.

But some of his discontent and crankiness vanished as soon as he saw Jo leaving the center. He stood, about to follow her, because in all his time of sitting there, waiting, he still hadn't formulated a decent plan of what to do when he finally saw her.

He only knew he needed to see that she was okay. All morning she'd remained in her office, but he hadn't been able to get how tired and frazzled she looked out of his mind. He also regretted being so curt about her looks—all because he was worried about hurting her feelings. How had he become such a schmuck?

Just as he would have moved out of his waiting area, Jo spun away from him and started down the crumbling sidewalk in a mad dash.

Still unsure of what he intended to do, he took off after her, staying several feet behind her, unsure whether his «coincidental» appearance would help or just upset her more.

When she'd gone two blocks to the corner of Esplanade and Royal, she slowed her pace. Her movements, however, continued to appear agitated. She ran a hand through her hair. She glanced over her shoulder, but didn't seem to notice him.

Without further thought, just knowing that he had to see what had her so distressed, he yelled out to her.

"Jo! Jo, wait."

She turned, her eyes wild with fear. Then she saw who was calling to her, and she did turn and run. But not away from him, toward him.

"Maksim! Oh, Maksim."

He wasn't sure if should see her reaction as some sort of victory, because she was clearly distraught and desperate to see anyone she knew, but he did.

He immediately pulled her against his chest. Her breathing was ragged, shallow. She clung to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

"Jo, what's wrong? What happened?"

She didn't speak for a moment, she just clutched him as if she was afraid that if she let go he'd disappear. He held her, keeping her firmly against him. Reassuring her.

"Jo? What's going on?" he asked again when he thought she wasn't going to answer him.

Finally she broke her stranglehold, but only enough so she could look up at him. Her skin was pale, drained of all color to an almost grayish tone. Purple circles stood out under her eyes. She looked awful.

And Maksim felt…scared. Not of what she was scared of, but for her.

"I'm so glad it's you," she said, which wasn't the response he'd expected. Even after the violent hug.

"What happened, Jo?"

Jo pulled in several breaths, clearly trying to calm and gather herself.

"I was just leaving work," she finally said, not answering his question in the least. She looked over his shoulder as if she expected to see someone behind him.

He glanced, too. No one was there.

"Jo?" He waved a hand in front of her face to regain her attention—although he wasn't really sure he ever had it. "What happened?" Repeat, repeat and maybe he'd get an answer.

She blinked up at him, her expression dazed, fear lingering. "I…" She shook her head as if she could keep her train of thought. She glanced over his shoulder again in the direction of the center.

Finally she met his eyes again. "I'm fine."

She was lying, still evading the truth but he didn't call her on it.

Instead, he checked his wristwatch, pretending that he had no idea what time it was because he hadn't been sitting around all afternoon waiting for her. Also pretending like she didn't just run down the street like the hounds of hell were after her.

"Wow, you stayed late tonight," he said, keeping his voice normal and calm, deciding that would do the most toward helping her at the moment. "Did you get the grant proposal done?"

Jo's posture relaxed a little, and Maksim could tell he'd done the right thing to stick to safe, ordinary topics. She wasn't ready to discuss what had her looking like she'd seen a ghost.

"I did finish," she said. "Two actually."

"Wow. That's great," he said, then paused. What were other innocuous subjects he could bring up?

"It seemed to take forever," she added, taking some of the burden off him. "But I will get it in just in time. And with any luck, we'll see some new computers, too."

"Well, that will be good. The center really needs them." Okay, this conversation couldn't sound any more mechanical. But he could see it was helping her.

"Where were you headed?" she asked.

"I was headed to get something to eat." Given that Maksim wasn't acting the least bit like the clever, devious, manipulative demon he was, he was pretty pleased with that response. "Want to join me?"

He was already planning the best way to coax her, when she said, "Sure. I could eat."

He blinked, surprised. Then he grinned. "Excellent."

Jo may have convinced herself that she was better off without Maksim, but that didn't matter now. She'd never been happier to see a person in her whole life. She didn't even feel embarrassed for jumping into his arms.

She glanced back up the sidewalk toward the community center. But she couldn't be alone. She was terrified. And no matter how illogical it was, or how dangerous in its own right, Maksim made her feel safe. And right now, she refused to contemplate that. She just needed his presence to steady her.

He held out a hand, inviting her to start walking, then he fell into step beside her.

"So you just happened to be walking by the center now?" she asked, finding it a rather strange coincidence, but then it wasn't terribly strange compared to what had been happening to her of late.

"I don't live far from here," he answered, and she had no reason to doubt that. "And I'm heading to the Quarter."

"Really? Where is your place?"

"On Ursulines." He realized his explanation made no sense.

So did Jo. "So you walked back to Esplanade only to head back into the Quarter?"

"I had an errand to do." He didn't volunteer more than that, and Jo got the feeling asking him anything more wouldn't get any answers. And what did it matter anyway? She was just infinitely glad she wasn't alone.

"Where were you headed?" he asked casually, and she wondered if he really didn't notice that she was running like a madwoman away from the center.

"Home," she said automatically, then bit the inside of her lip. She could have said anything that would have made less sense than that, and she almost groaned with relief when all he said was, "See, you were taking the roundabout route, just like me."

He smiled at her, and she got the feeling that he knew she was lying, but he wasn't going to question her about it. And she appreciated that. How was she supposed to tell anyone that she thought she was seeing her dead sister?

They walked silently for several moments until Maksim stopped in front of a restaurant, Laforesterie.

Jo hesitated. The historical building with its large windows, gas lights, and flower-decorated balcony looked very posh, and very expensive.

"I don't think I'm dressed for this place," she said, gesturing to her wrinkled skirt.

Maksim glanced down at his own black T-shirt and jeans, which he was still wearing from this morning. Probably dirt stains on his ass from the concrete stoop. "You look great. Besides, my clothes are very likely covered in paste and fruit juice and other viscous liquids that are best not contemplated."

Jo raised an eyebrow. "Like you couldn't make paste look good." She blushed as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

What was she saying?

Maksim studied her, feeling assured for the first time in a long time. So she thought he looked good in paste. Not the best compliment he'd ever received, but he'd take it. It was the first time she'd said definitively that she found him attractive.

He moved forward to open the door for her, ushering her in.

She thanked him with a small smile, and he marveled at the way that slight curve of her lips made his spirits soar. Of course, every sign of her growing more comfortable with him brought him closer to getting the sex he wanted.

And he could keep telling himself that was all that mattered.

Jean-Pierre, the maître d', came forward as they entered, straightening his bow tie. He bowed to Maksim.

"Good evening, Mr. Kostova. Your usual table?"

"Yes, thank you, Jean-Pierre." Maksim placed his hand on Jo's lower back as he escorted her into the restaurant, and was very pleased when she didn't move away from the touch.

All good signs.

Jean-Pierre led them straight through the main dining room with its dusky blue walls, crystal chandeliers, and heavy, gold brocade curtains adorning the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The smaller, more private room off the main room was decorated in burgundy and gold with more extravagant chandeliers and velvet.

"Here we are," Jean-Pierre said, waiting at the side of the table as Jo took a seat. Maksim pushed her chair in. Then he took the chair across from her, the table in a small alcove that made it private and quiet enough to talk easily.

"Enjoy," the maître d' said, handing first Jo, then Maksim a menu.

Jo looked around, then fidgeted with her shirt, tugging at the button front.

"You look lovely," Maksim assured her, his voice low and full of sincerity. He told himself that was just part of his usual shtick, his way of getting what he wanted. Manipulation—as natural to him as breathing. And that was the only reason why he was thrilled by the rosy blush that colored her cheeks. Certainly not because that frightening paleness had disappeared.

Jo busied herself with her menu. He did the same, not wanting to push too hard. This was a game of moving forward, then retreating. Giving the one you wanted the chance to become comfortable with the situation—the inevitable situation.

Of course, he didn't know which one of them he was trying to let get comfortable.

"So you eat here often?" she asked, still scanning the fare.

He looked up from the menu. "Yes."

"I have to admit, this is a little out of my price range."

"Well, tonight is my treat. I don't like eating alone. And I do all too often." Maksim wondered why he'd admitted that. He'd like to think it was because he was angling for her sympathy. Sympathy that would again lead to her trust, then more intimacy. But he wasn't really sure why it had popped out of his mouth.

"I find that hard to believe." There was no sympathy in her voice. She thought he was fishing. "I'm sure there are plenty of ladies who would love to join you."

"But you're not really one of them, are you?" This time he was angling. For an admission. And the answer was more important than he wanted to admit.

"Tonight, I am," she said, and he thought there was much more to that answer than she was admitting.

What had she been running from?

"But I can't let you pay," she added. "I already owe you for a lunch."

"No, you don't."

Jo gave him a reprimanding look that she'd seen her use on the children at the center when they weren't listening.

"I'm paying. So just enjoy it. Or else I will think you are rude." He raised an eyebrow, daring her to challenge him.

She held his gaze for a few more moments, then relented. "Okay. But you have to let me pay you back."

He raised an eyebrow and grinned slowly, suggestively.

"With a lunch," she added firmly, but then smiled, too. For the first time, she seemed to let go of whatever happened back at the center.

"Lunch on me?" she said, waiting for him to agree.

The image of a buffet set up on her bare body flashed in his mind. His body reacted instantly. Mmm, his two favorite things. Food and a naked woman.

He looked across the table. Especially this woman. Her hair had been pulled back in a haphazard knot, tendrils framing her face. Pink still colored her high cheekbones and her dark eyes watched him in return. Her seashell-pink lips parted just slightly.

"I'm a great cook," she blurted, clearly uncomfortable with his attention. Then she blushed again, as if she knew that was a leading comment.

And he didn't miss the chance to take the lead. "Well, that's how you can pay me back. I don't often get a home-cooked meal."

Jo didn't answer, and Maksim wondered if that was because she didn't want to cook for him and didn't know how to tell him so. Or if she did want to, and wasn't pleased with that desire.

"So where is home?" she asked, obviously trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground. "I realized I've never asked, and I haven't been able to pinpoint your accent."

"I'm from Russia, a little village called???????????." His limited Russian sounded fluent since it was his pat response, and because the accent in the eighth circle of Hell was remarkably similar to that of Russia. Which was just a coincidence, not a commentary on Russia and its inhabitants.

"I've never heard of it," Jo said. "Although, I must admit, I'm not that familiar with Russian towns."

Maksim shrugged. "It is very small. I wouldn't expect you to have heard of it." Plus it was fictional place literally meaning, "eighth circle."

"Is your family still there?"

"No, my family is a bunch of vagabonds."

"Really. How many are there in your family?"

"I come from a very large family. But the ones I'm close to are my father, who, while I don't see him much, plays a big role in who I am. I occasionally see my twin brothers, Pasha and Andrey. And I was…am very close to my half-sister, Ellina."

Maksim's phrasing about his sister instantly caught Jo's notice, tugging at her. "You said was? Did something happen to your sister?"

Maksim waited to answer as the waiter in crisp white and black came to the table to take drink orders. Jo stuck with just ice water, while Maksim ordered wine.

When the waiter left, Maksim continued, "My sister disappeared about six months ago. I don't believe she's dead. I don't want to believe that—but all leads have gone nowhere. It's like she just vanished."

Jo's heart went out to him, understanding the quiet despair in his voice better than most. But along with her sympathy was the apprehension she'd been feeling, seeing, for the past two days.

"Have the police offered you any suggestions? Are they still looking?"

Maksim's lips thinned, making his beautiful features appear grim even a little harsh. "They haven't been any help."

"So what are you doing now?"

He shook his head. "Following any lead I can find. Waiting."

Jo nodded, understanding that feeling, too. Waiting, and waiting. Before she realized what she was going to say, it was out. "I had a sister, too. She died when she was ten. I was thirteen."

Maksim met her eyes, his own darkening to a verdant green. "I'm sorry. That must have been hard."

"It was."

The waiter reappeared with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He placed one in front of each of them, then turned to Maksim and uncorked the bottle. The waiter made a big show of pouring the red wine for Maksim's approval.

Maksim nearly grabbed the wineglass from his hand, his impatience not hidden. He took a sip.

"Fine."

The waiter filled his glass, then turned to Jo. "For you?"

Jo held up a hand. "No, thank you."

The waiter set the bottle on the table and hurried away, finally sense—from Maksim stern glare, no doubt—when he wasn't wanted.

"How did your sister die?" Maksim asked, finally getting to continue this conversation.

Jo hesitated, momentarily wishing for the waiter to return. "She drowned."

Maksim shook his head. "That must have been awful."

"It was. It was really awful." And all those horrible feelings were back in full force. The strange hallucinations, last night's dream, they had brought all that terror and all the pain of the event right back to the foreground. And she'd spent a lifetime trying to forget, trying to stay ahead of her memories.

"Were you there?"

Jo knew Maksim was just asking out of concern, but she heard censure that wasn't there. Not from him. But she still heard it, felt it. Just as she did every time she thought about Kara. Every time someone mentioned her. She had been there. She should have saved Kara.

"Yes." That was all she could manage.

"That must have been frightening and traumatic."

Jo nodded. It still was. The events of her childhood were never far from her—and closer than ever of late.

"Yes, I always blamed myself for her death. For not saving her."

"But how could you? You were just a kid yourself."

Jo nodded, having heard and told herself that very thing dozens and dozens of times.

"It's just…" She couldn't believe she was even thinking about going there. She'd never told anyone what she'd nearly admitted to this man. Why? Maybe because he'd lost a sister and understood helplessness. Or maybe because of the strange events of the past few days.

Maybe because she was just cracking up.

"It's just what?"

Jo started to shake her head, to keep her secret where she always had. Close to her chest. Unknown by anyone else. Even Maggie and Erika didn't know. But then the words just blurted out as if she couldn't contain them any longer. Her guilt, her shame, her confusion had finally, after all these years, boiled over.

"I knew she was going to die."