Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

" I 'm so sorry I'm late," I say to Jane, the woman I'm supposed to be designing a website for.

"It's no problem," Jane kindly says on my computer screen. Since I work from home, my clients are all over the world and we usually meet on Zoom.

"My daughter left her violin in my trunk, so I had to run it over to her. Of course, I only remembered when I was already on my way home to this meeting."

Jane laughs. "That's how it always is. I actually have a kid home sick today. But he's asleep right now." She looks over the top of her glasses at me. "And it looks like you have a guest."

I look over my shoulder and about jump out of my skin. Damon is standing right behind me. "Get out of here," I hiss at him.

"Why? Can't I meet your friend?"

"She's not my friend; it's a business meeting," I try to whisper but obviously fail.

"Oh. Okay," Jane says, sounding dejected. Did she think we were friends? I mean, we are friendly, and she sent Bella a Christmas gift this past year, and I've told her all about my struggles since my husband died, and—Oh, crap. I made a friend and I didn't even know it.

"Sorry, sorry, Jane." I try to push Damon out of the room, but he is solid as a rock. "I didn't mean that. I just have a very unwelcome houseguest."

"Hi, Jane," Damon says, bending over where she can see him in the camera.

"Oh! Well, hello, there," Jane says, giving Damon a finger wave. "Well, if you are unwelcome at Tamzin's house, you can always come to mine."

"No, Jane. Believe me, you don't want that." I tug on Damon's arm, trying to get him away from the computer.

"I just might take you up on that offer, Jane," Damon says. Jane giggles like a schoolgirl.

I slap Damon's arm a few times. He stands up and chuckles. "What?" he asks innocently.

"Get out of here!" I say again. "I'm trying to work."

"Fine," he says with a sigh. "Very nice to meet you, Jane. I can't wait until next time."

"Same here, Damon. And I love the horns."

I hear him giggling—cackling?—as he leaves the room and closes the door behind him. But I know he won't go far.

"Wowzah, Tamzin," Jane says. "Who is that guy? He's hot!"

"Hot as the bowels of hell," I mutter to myself.

"What was that?" she asks.

"Nothing," I say, clearing my throat and trying to get into a professional frame of mind. "I just have those mockups we talked about last time."

"Wait, no, seriously! Do you finally have a boyfriend? Girl, it's about time!"

I sigh. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Is he like a cousin or something? Because if he's off limits for you, can you give him my number?"

I feel a sudden flash of heat in my cheeks. Obviously, I don't want to send a demon after my friend. But…is that all? Am I feeling protective of Jane…or of Damon?

"You live in Wyoming," I say.

"Hey, long-distance relationships are a thing. And for a man like that, I might just pack up my life and check out your sleepy little town after all. But what were the horns about? Did I call in the middle of a little role-playing session?" She wiggles her eyebrows at me.

I shake my head and laugh, wanting to end this painful conversation. "Umm…no. He's just super immature. Anyway, I'm pulling up the mockups now…"

I take my headphones off and bang my head on my desk. Jane kept wanting to talk about Damon. The meeting went twice as long as it should have because I kept having to drag her back to the topic at hand. I mean, I guess I could be grateful. I'll have to charge her for two hours instead of one. But still, I have a million other things to do—and that was before a demon entered my life.

"How did it go?"

I yelp at the sound of Damon's voice right next to me. "What the… I didn't hear you come in."

"What can I say? I'm stealthy."

"Yeah, okay. What did you do to Jane?"

"I didn't do anything to her."

"Yeah, right. What, did you put a spell on her or something?"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"She wouldn't stop talking about you."

"Oh, well, I can't help that. It comes with the territory." He stretches and flexes his arms. Even through his suit, it is clear that he has a fantastic body.

I feel a flutter in the pit of my stomach. A feeling I haven't had in a very, very long time. I mean, I've noticed handsome men since my husband's death, but the thought of actually getting close to another man usually makes me… Oh, there it is. The nauseous feeling. The fear. The regret. The guilt.

"You are really annoying, you know that?" I walk past him out of my office.

He drops his arms and looks a little crestfallen. "I'm only playing with you, Tamzin."

"Oh, really?"

"Come on, we are stuck together for the foreseeable future. We should make the most of it, don't you think?"

"Depends on what you mean by that."

"At least, you know, come to some sort of a truce."

I cross my arms and look up at him. His face seems frozen into a smirk. Or is it a smolder? I try to suppress my own smile, but I can't. I guess he can't help it. But then, he's a demon. Can't he choose his own appearance? Is this how he operates? He gets my guard down and then… I don't know. Attacks, or whatever? He might not be able to possess me, but that doesn't mean he can't torture me and make my life a living hell. Look what he just did with Jane. Sure, Jane found him charming and thought it was funny, but what if that meeting had been with one of my larger, more serious clients?

"A truce with a demon?" I ask, pushing my smile away. "Did you forget why you are here? To torture me?"

"Look, Tamzin—"

"No," I interrupt. "You look. I don't trust you. I don't like you. I don't want you in my life. I just want to figure out how to get rid of you so I can get my normal life back." I turn and start to walk away.

"Because your normal life was so great," he mutters.

"How dare you," I say, turning back to him. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know enough to know what a miserable old shrew you are," he says. "And that has nothing to do with my abilities as a demon. It's written on your face."

His words cut, and I know it's because they are true. I am miserable. I don't think I'm old or a shrew, at least, I didn't use to be. I used to be happy. I used to have fun. My husband's death aged me a hundred years I feel like sometimes. Maybe that's why my best friend is a three-hundred-year-old ghost.

"Hey, if you don't like my face, don't look at it," I tell him. "Just get back in your cookie jar and stay there until I figure out what to do with you."

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? For all your problems to just disappear."

"Umm, yeah. Yeah, I would."

"Well, the world doesn't work like that, Tamzin. If you want your life to change, if you want it to get better, the only person who can do that is you."

"I know ," I say, breathing hard, seething. "You think I don't want to change?"

"No, I don't," he says. "I think you like being miserable because it's familiar. It's what you know. And it's weirdly comforting."

I stomp up to him, my finger at his chest. "You're weirdly comforting!"

Both of us blink in surprise at my words. I didn't mean to say that. I don't know why I did. I was grasping for a comeback of some kind, I guess.

"I mean…" I tug on my shirt to make sure it is straight and point at him again. Will someone please let me end this argument with some amount of dignity? "You know what I mean."

He can't hold back his laugh. "Actually, I have no idea what you mean."

"Yeah, well…neither do I," I admit, exhaling and almost literally feeling the wind go out of my sails. His laughter is infectious and after a minute of laughing, I forget what we were even arguing about.

"This is so weird," I finally say. "Have you ever had to live with humans before? Not, like, possessing them, but more like roommates?"

Damon shakes his head. "Not like this. I mean, when I'm not possessing them or torturing souls in Hell, I have spent a lot of time observing them. It makes you a better torturer if you know your subject well."

I stop laughing and have to gulp. "Okay, well, that's a terrifying thought. So, Hell is real?"

"Don't worry, you have to be, like, really, really bad to get sent there. And it's not always forever. I think the only residents there right now are Hitler and a few serial killers."

"Umm… Thanks for the comfort?"

"Hey, that's something you can do," he says. "Whenever you think you are a bad mom, just remember, you aren't bad enough to go to Hell."

"Thanks." I give him a light punch to the arm. "You really are weirdly comforting."

"Thanks…I think," he says. "So, what now?"

I check my watch. "That meeting took much too long. I have to go get Bella from school in like half an hour. Not enough time to go see Beckett at the police station."

"Just have to take her with us, then."

The way Damon says "us" makes my heart thump hard in my chest. It's been a long time since I've been in an "us" situation with a man. I haven't even been on a date since Mark died. I've never gotten through the "just talking" phase with a guy. And I get it. I mean, it's not like I've recovered from the death of my husband. I have way too much emotional baggage to actually date someone new. Even just for fun. For companionship. I'm not too proud to admit that it's because I'm afraid. I'm afraid to fall in love again. Afraid that they, too, might die. And worse—that it might be my fault. Some of my friends have suggested dating a vampire. But just because they are immortal doesn't mean they are invincible. They can still be killed, even accidentally. What if they are building a porch swing and trip and fall onto a sharp plank? Bam! Right in the chest. And it would be my fault for asking him to build the porch swing in the first place because, let's face it, no man is going to build a porch swing without a woman asking him to do it.

"Tamzin?" Damon snaps his fingers in front of my face to bring me back.

"Huh?" I ask him.

"You drifted off. What are you thinking about?"

"Umm… Nothing. Porch swings." I walk past him down the stairs and gather up my stuff to pick up Bella from school.

"But, you don't have a porch swing," Damon says, following me.

"I know," I say. "That's the problem."

"You want a porch swing?"

"Oh my God, Damon! Will you stop talking about porch swings?"

"Okay, okay. Sorry you brought it up."