Demon Cant Help It

CHAPTER 27

"You look so good," Maggie said, as Jo set a cup of tea in front of her.

"I feel better than I have in months," Jo admitted, knowing for the first time she looked like the fabled glowing pregnant woman. "It's amazing what some rest will do for a person."

"Oh, I think it's a bit more than that," Erika said with a smile.

Jo grinned, unable to temper her joy. "Oh, I think you could be right."

She knew Erika and Maggie were in part talking about her pregnancy, which she'd finally told them about days ago and didn't seem to shock them too much. Jo must not have been hiding it terribly well. But most of Erika's comment alluded to Maksim.

Her two best friends had been over every night since the fall, and very time they visited, Maksim was there. He'd make himself scarce so the friends could talk, but Jo knew Maggie and Erika were impressed with how solicitous he was to her.

"I didn't think Maksim had it in him to be so caring. It's really not in their nature," Erika said, then snapped her mouth closed.

"In their nature?" Jo sat down, frowning at her friend, puzzled.

Erika glanced at Maggie, who laughed and said, "You know, good-looking men. They are usually so self-involved."

Jo laughed. "That is true enough. And believe me, I originally thought that was totally true about Maksim, but I couldn't have been more wrong. He's been going to the center to help out. He's been taking care of me—even though I really don't need it. He's been wonderful."

"You are so smitten," Maggie said, smiling fondly, enjoying Jo's behavior.

"I am," Jo admitted.

"I've never heard you say that about anyone," Erika said with genuine surprise.

"That's because I've never felt this way." Jo sighed, then took a sip of her tea.

"Not even the baby's father?" Maggie asked, her voice sad. Jo reached over and patted her friend's hand. Maggie was always the sentimental one.

"No. Not even him, although I thought I did, or could. It's funny how things happen. Maksim came along right when I didn't trust or even particularly like men and showed me I could feel real love."

Maggie sighed, too. "It is funny how that works. Ren did exactly the same thing for me."

"And we all know Vittorio is my dark-eyed prince."

Jo laughed, surprised at her giddiness. But she just felt happy these days.

"Speaking of which, I need to go," Maggie said. "The band goes on in about half an hour."

Erika nodded. "And I need to work on my sculpture."

Jo hated to see her friends leave, but in truth, she had plans for this evening, too.

Maggie took a sip of her tea—the first, and last of the cup—then stood. Erika rose, too.

"Where is Maksim tonight?" Maggie asked.

"He's at his place. We have a date tonight."

"Oow," Erika said, wiggling her eyebrows. "I'm jealous."

Jo laughed. "Yeah, you two both married real thoughtless, unromantic men."

They laughed, too.

"Yeah," Erika said, "I can't complain."

"No complaining here." Maggie grinned.

Jo said her good-byes and then immediately headed to her bedroom. She opened her closet, rummaging through her clothes, trying to find something that would still fit. It was as if the baby now knew she was accepted and loved, she'd started to make her presence more obvious. Just a little belly, but enough to make Jo's usual clothes fit oddly.

And then there was the enlarging breast issue, which she rather liked. Mainly because Maksim liked them.

With that thought, she remembered a sundress she'd bought last summer, which she'd never worn because it required a pretty impressive padded bra to fit right, which she knew when she bought it, but still did.

She found the dress toward the back of the rack, pulling it out and inspecting it. The style and floral pattern in oranges and greens and browns were very retro. Very fun. And the Empire waist should be perfect to accommodate the slight baby bump.

Ha, and who says you should never impulse shop?

Humming, excited for the evening, and feeling good in general, she headed to the bathroom. Maksim said he had reservation for nine. He wouldn't say where—that was a surprise—but she did have the time, and because of Erika and Maggie's visit, she was running a little behind. Not bad, but she was going to have to get moving. She didn't want to be late.

She hung the dress on the door, then turned to the tub. Once the shower was running, she went the medicine cabinet over her sink to grab a razor. As she was closing the cabinet, a movement caught her eye in the mirror. She paused, her heart skipping at the sight. Slowly she spun around, facing the open bathroom door.

There was nothing there. No movement, no sound. She stayed still for a moment, but nothing out of the ordinary happened.

It must have been the dress hanging that caught her eye. Just to make herself feel better, she moved the dress to the back of the door and closed herself in. She nearly twisted the lock, but stopped herself. She had no reason to be nervous.

Things had been fine for days. No sightings of dead sisters, ghost cat ladies. Nothing. Of course, she hadn't been over to Erika's since the last weird sighting, but she'd convinced herself that it really was stress and lack of sleep getting to her. That and the overwhelming tension of keeping her pregnancy a secret. Her subconscious was just wreaking havoc on her.

She returned to the shower and tested the water. Nice and warm. She undressed, tossing the clothes carelessly onto the floor. She groaned when she stepped into the warm spray, amazed that some of her muscles still ached from the fall. Luck really had been with her that night. Things could have so easily been worse.

Then she heard a sound. She paused, her fingers resting on the slippery bar of soap. She listened again, then picked up the soap. She still listened as she rubbed a lather between her hands. All she could hear was the hum of her air-conditioner. That old thing was enough to wake the dead when it kicked on.

"Perhaps not the best analogy," she said, then started to hum again and washing her limbs.

Where would they go tonight? Maksim had said to wear a dress. Of course that could just be for his own benefit. This made her wonder what he'd wear. The man had great taste in clothes, she had to admit.

Setting down the soap, she picked up the bottle of shampoo sitting on the corner of the tub. Squeezing a dollop in her hand, she set the bottle back. As rubbed her hands together, she again got the impression of a movement in her peripheral vision, this time through the opaque shower curtain. A definite image of something moving downward, quickly.

With the shampoo still on her hands, she caught the curtain with the tips of her least soapy fingers and pulled back the edge to look out into the bathroom.

Her dress lay in a crumpled pile on the tile floor. She smiled, telling herself she knew she was being silly for even looking. And for holding her breath, which she hadn't realized she'd been doing until she laughed.

She debated getting out and hanging it again, but decided against it. Her hands were slick with shampoo, she was nearly done with her shower. Just a quick shampoo and leg shave and she'd be finished.

Plus that dress wasn't likely to wrinkle. Hallelujah for poly-cotton blends.

She scrubbed her hair, then stepped totally under the spray, letting the suds and water run down her body. While under the rush of the shower, she again heard something. This time whatever it was sounded much closer than before, but it could just be the distortion from the water in her ears.

She finished rinsing quickly and looked back toward the curtain. This time she saw something on the other side of the curtain. A shape she was certain hadn't been there before.

Her heart skipped, thumping up into her throat. She tried to breath in slowly, but her breathe couldn't seem to get through her tightened throat.

It had to be the shadow of something she hadn't noticed earlier. It had to be. But she wasn't sure. Then the shadow seemed to shift.

"Maksim?" she said, her voice barely reaching above a whisper.

The thing didn't respond, but it did move, seeming to get closer to the curtain.

"Hello?" Jo said, hating the panic she was hearing fill her voice. There was an explanation. There was.

The form moved again, and this time she could see it was short. Shorter than herself, and she could make out some colors.

Colors. Dread swelled in her, and she backed away from the curtain, her back making contact with the cold tiles walls.

Slowly the curtain moved toward her, pushing in toward her.

"Maksim," she managed to say again, although even weaker than before.

The thing on the other side of the curtain advanced still, and Jo could see a repeating pattern, the colors muted and blurred because of the opacity of the plastic, but she could see them as much as she didn't want to see, to know who it was.

Then the curtain pushed in even farther, and Jo saw a hand, a small hand reaching for her, only the flimsy shower curtain keeping the hand from touching her.

Jo screamed.

Maksim tried to tell himself that any self-respecting demon did not go to these lengths, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He juggled an enormous bouquet of flowers, flowers of all kinds, roses, tulips, gerbera daisies—lots of those because Jo had made the offhanded comment one night in bed that she loved them—asters, and who knew what else. He also carried a bottle of sparkling cider, and a stuffed giraffe. That last item was more for the baby than Jo, but he knew she'd like it, too.

Damn, he was so whipped, but again, he just didn't care. He loved being with Jo. She was funny and sexy and did things that just made him smile. And that was good.

Bitter could only be entertaining for so long.

He shifted all the items into one arm as he fumbled with Jo's key. He considered just materializing inside her apartment, but thought better of the idea. After all, what if she was in the kitchen? Materializing. Yeah, that was hard to explain.

For just a moment, his spirits dampened. There was a lot about him that would be hard to explain, but he wasn't thinking about that tonight. Tonight, he was a pussy-whipped demon with a hot date.

He finally got the key in the lock, not easy with several sprigs of greenery and a gerbera daisy poking him in the face. He opened the door and dropped the items on the table.

"Jo?" he called, then realized he could hear the shower running.

He frowned. He'd told her to ready by nine, and he was fifteen minutes late. Jo was a punctual person, and she was excited about the evening. He'd expected to see her waiting in the living room, demanding to know where they were going.

Ah, well. Something must have come up and delayed her. And this was good for him; he could get the flowers in water and open the sparkling cider.

He went to her cupboards and got down two wineglasses, then he searched the other cupboards, finally finding a plastic iced-tea pitcher with colorful sun umbrellas and sunglasses all over the sides.

Not his first choice, but it would do.

He turned on the water, then walked back to the kitchen table to get the flowers. He found a knife in one of the drawers and cut away the plastic sleeve keeping the giant bouquet together.

Reaching for the pitcher, he noticed he'd turned on the hot water rather than the cold. He started to switch the faucet the other direction, when he realized the water was ice cold.

Frowning, he flipped the handle in the other direction. He waited, then tested the water again. It was freezing, too.

Could she really be in the shower still? He walked down the hall. Yes, the shower was definitely running, and instantly alarm filled him.

He knocked. "Jo?"

No sound greeted him.

He knocked again. "Jo? Are you in there?"

This time he thought he heard a sound, but the faint sound didn't ease his feeling of dread. He checked the knob; it turned easily in his hand.

He stepped in the room, finding the air inside freezing. Jo wasn't outside the bathtub getting ready. So he strode over and whipped the curtain back.

Jo huddled in the far end of the tub, her legs pulled up to her chin, her eyes wide, staring, terrified.

"Jo!" He reached into the tub, bodily lifting her out. She seemed to snap out of her horrified trance as soon as she was secure in his arms, her body pressed full to his chest.

"Maksim," she said her voice panicked, reedy. "It's you. Oh God, it's you."

"Yes, I'm here. What's wrong?"

She didn't answer. She just buried her head into his chest, clinging to him like a frightened child.

He balanced her against him as he snagged a towel from the rack. He held her away from him long enough to wrap her frozen, wet body in the soft terrycloth, then he scooped her up.

Heading to the bedroom, he asked her again, "Jo, what happened? Are you okay? Is it the baby?"

She shook her head, her wet hair brushing his chin. "The baby is fine."

Relief filled him, even though he hadn't believed that was the issue. She didn't seem in pain—she was clearly terrified of something.

Setting her down on the bed, he pulled the comforter up to cover her. Still she shivered.

"What happened?" he asked again, sitting beside her, taking one of her hands in his. Her fingers felt like icicles against his palm.

She breathed in slowly through her nose. Then she met his eyes, fear and dread and worry all vivid in their dark depths.

"I just saw my sister. My dead sister."