Page 8 of Beneath My Skin

“Why do I feel like you want me to apologize for something?” I wanted to know.

Her frown deepened and I could tell she didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. Odd, considering that snide byplay was one of her specialties. “We haven’t had a chance to get you anything yet. I’m sorry. I was planning to go shopping this weekend. Luke!” she snapped out. “Come say hello to your cousin.”

“It’s fine,” I insisted. “I’m not going to stay long. And don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m going to burst into flames at any moment and start flinging curses around. After all this time, you should know. I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

Once a skeptic, always a skeptic. Her unique ability to cause her niece discomfort was something miraculous to behold. “I know you won’t. It’s just…well, it’s weird, Mariella. It’s weird and it’s evil.”

“I’m not weird. And I’m not evil. I think it’s horrible you’d even suggest it.”

Lynn pushed her hair out of her face. It didn’t move. “I didn’t suggest anything. Do you want to sit down and have a little something to eat?”

“No, I’d rather not. It was stupid to come. I’ll stop by for a little bit on Christmas. Here.” I shoved the plastic bags at her, only then remembering I hadn’t bothered to take any of the price tags off. Oops. At least she wouldn’t be surprised.

“You’re leaving already?” She couldn’t disguise the hint of pleasure in her voice.

I jerked my boots back onto my feet. “Yeah, it’s fine. The snow.” It wouldn’t be the first time I used the weather as an excuse. “I just wanted to pop in and give you those. See you in a couple of weeks.”

“Mariella—”

I rushed out the door before I had to endure another second of forced conversation where we both knew we hardly tolerated the other. Why did I continue to put myself through this? I wondered.

**

One week later, I started awake from a nightmare, my throat dry and my heart beating like it was trying to make a break for it. It happened sometimes. Part and parcel of having a demon sharing your soul.

Or whatever it was she did.

I had nightmares every night, actually, although some were worse than others. I couldn’t tell if it was my mind conjuring horrible things or if I was somehow seeing her memories of Hell. I preferred the former. I think.

I sat up in bed and put my hand to my chest, trying to get my lungs to quit working overtime. I had a few techniques I used to keep calm, after learning over the years what worked and what didn’t. Deep breathing helped. Prayers not so much.

The sun peeked through the curtains and fell in cold rays on the carpet. Morning already. Whatever terrible images I’d had in my head were already fading. At least I didn’t remember anything horrible.

Glancing down at my arm, I saw no new writing. Only the old scars still fading from yesterday’s memos. It was another normal day in my life.

Except today, I had business. Dax’s check had bounced. Not only bounced but when I called the bank to inquire about the funds, they had no good news to tell me. Nothing specific, mind you, only that the money wasn’t there. For a week. A full week of fighting to get the funds to fix my car and finding the brick wall in front of me unyielding.

Not to mention the phone number on the card, which came up with the same message every time I dialed. Mailbox full. Mailbox full? What kind of man didn’t answer his phone? Or clear out his voicemail?

The kind that didn’t want to be found.

I had to hike up my big girl pants and follow through. There was an address on the card for an office complex fifteen minutes away in downtown Bridgeport. With the sky sunny and the snow melted from the ground, I was clear for takeoff. Which meant Dax was going to have to buckle in for the tongue lashing of a lifetime. It would be the sort of outwardly aggressive expression I needed to clear some of the worry from my shoulders and stress from my mind.

I had no doubt Cer would agree.

“I’m going to do this,” I told her. I hoped she was listening. “I’m not going to let a suave and debonair creep get away with plucking my feelings like a harp and giving me a bad check. I might not be intimidating, but you’ll back me up if things get hairy. Right? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

No answer. Typical.

I wasn’t interested in breakfast and opted for an early start. The car sped down the road with little resistance thanks to my miracle bumper fix. Duct tape. It kept the damaged parts in place long enough to get me from A to B without a shower of sparks following me.

While driving, I thought about Lynn. I thought about my dead-end job developing and implementing creative marketing strategies for an online company out of New York. Maybe it was time to move to a different state. After I turned eighteen, I’d stayed within a two-block radius of my aunt and rented a crappy one-bedroom apartment within walking distance. Partly because I thought it was better to be close if she needed me. Partly for financial reasons. I wasn’t made of money, and I was forced to work from home unless I wanted to risk someone spotting the scars on my arm.

My thoughts continued to run wild on the drive. At least the office complex was relatively easy to find. I worked on those deep breathing exercises and pulled into an open space, then double checked the numbers. Checked them again for good measure. Yes, I was in the right spot. Then I noticed the fine print at the bottom of the card. Just below the zip code.

---