Page 3 of Midnight with the Devil

When her father died, the blow would crush her mother. They were soul mates. Diana had grown up in a house filled with life and laughter, songs sung in the sun, and dancing in the moonlight. Her parents had a peaceful life, but now life seemed determined to claw back some of the perfection it had given away too freely.

Tears welled up in Diana’s eyes as she stepped into the hallway of the oncology wing at Saint Francis Hospital outside Chicago.

Just breathe,she reminded herself. She wiped her eyes, smearing the tears across her cheeks. She been raised Catholic, but her faith had never been that strong, not until her father fell ill. Now she prayed like the world was ending, because for her, part of it was.

“You okay?” A nurse came over and gently touched her shoulder in the nice way people do to strangers in pain.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Just a bad day for my dad.” The words “he’s dying” couldn’t come out. She didn’t want—and frankly couldn’t handle—anyone’s pity right now.

The woman nodded in immediate understanding. “Everyone has those bad days here, but they’re usually followed by good ones. Hang in there, sweetie.” The nurse’s brown eyes were tender as she smiled.

“Thanks.” Diana tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and glanced around, wishing she could get outside fast, but the hospital was a labyrinth of wings, elevator bays, and nurses’ stations.

“Why don’t you take a break in the chapel?” The nurse’s suggestion sounded good.

Diana thanked her again and walked toward the end of the hall. She reached it and glanced at the door with a little plaque that said “Healing Chapel.” As she entered, she held her breath, but the chapel was empty. A stained-glass window of Saint Francis of Assisi standing in the woods surrounded by animals was at the back of the chapel. She’d come here often these last few weeks, and while she was a lapsed Catholic, she knew enough of the saints to know Assisi. He’d become a quiet comfort to her.

The pews gleamed with a splash of colorful light pouring in from the stained glass. Diana walked to the first row and sat down, then closed her eyes as more tears trailed down her cheeks. Two years ago all that had mattered in her life was college. She would be a senior at the University of Chicago this fall, majoring in architecture. When her dad fell ill, her mother had done her best to hide it from her.

Part of Diana was angry that her dad was ill, angry that he was putting her and her mother through hell. And she was angry that she wouldn’t be able to fix her mother’s broken heart. She was angry most of all at herself for not being able to do a damn thing to help him. Anger felt good, and it made her feel strong, even if only for a short time.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there before she realized she wasn’t alone. The fine hair at the back of her neck rose as she had that eerie sensation of unseen eyes gazing upon her. Some ancient instinct warned her that she was in the presence of a predator.

Turning slowly, she looked over her shoulder, near the dimly lit entry. She saw a figure that was wreathed in shadows. For a second, she couldn’t breathe. It was as if every nightmare she’d ever had about shapes in the dark, choking, suffocating, and endless nothingness buried in layers of smoke were all there in that doorway. Then she blinked and the shadows vanished.

Instead, a man stood framed in the doorway. His black suit and red silk tie were strangely intense for a hospital setting. She was so used to seeing people in casual, comfortable clothes while they spent long hours at the bedside of a loved one. He held himself in a confident, dominant manner that made her shiver. Gazing upward, she gulped when she realized he was staring at her with the same intensity. The instant their eyes locked, her breath rushed out of her and all the thoughts in her head rattled around. Those eyes—fathomless twin pools of deadly intent that she couldn’t understand—caused fear to sink its claws into her as every basic animal instinct in her shrieked to run. She blinked and the strange, frightening spell was somewhat broken, and she was able to take in the rest of his face.

He was frighteningly attractive, like a model from a fashion magazine. He had dark hair, not quite black, and his eyes were just as dark. She could see no hint of warmth there. His features were perfect, a straight nose, chiseled jaw, and full lips that a girl could get lost in daydreams about kissing. There was an edge of danger about him, something that warned her deep down to be careful, to not run, because she was prey and he was a predator. As silly as the thought was, she sensed it was true on some level. She had to be careful.

Yet Diana couldn’t help but wonder about this man and who he might be. He was fascinating to look at. She had dated her fair share of guys, but this man…he made the whole world fall away. He was completely absorbing in a way she couldn’t explain.

Silence stretched between them. She wanted to wipe away the tears drying on her cheeks, but she couldn’t move, frozen by both fear and enchantment.

“I hope I didn’t disturb your prayers.”

She shivered at his low, silken voice. That voice could tempt a woman to think of her darkest fantasies. Fantasies she fought every day to ignore, yet she couldn’t stop her body’s reaction. She pulled her control together and forced herself to finally move. She had to get out of this room. Her instincts still screamed at her to get the hell out of there.

“Er…no, I was just leaving.” She stood and exited the pew.

He took a step closer, sliding his hands into the pockets of his black pants. The light from the windows moved over him in the strangest way, as though he was bending the light to move away from him, leaving him more in shadow.

Was that even possible? Diana glanced around, very aware that she was alone with this man, and the cold, emotionless faces of the occupants of the stained-glass windows weren’t there to help her.

“Visiting someone?”

“My…dad.” Just saying it dispelled the fear and desire that this man created inside her. She wiped at her eyes, making sure he couldn’t see any fresh tears.

“I’m sorry.” He took another step closer, his gaze sliding from her to the stained-glass window behind her. He stared at Saint Francis with an odd, knowing smile as if he were intimately familiar with the saint, which of course wasn’t possible.

“Thank you.” She grappled for something polite to say. “Are you visiting someone here too?” She studied his profile and the way the light from the stained glass fractured over his features in dozens of colors.

His lips curled in a ghost of a grin. “Not exactly.”

“Are you a doctor?” If he wasn’t there visiting, he had to be there for some reason, right?

He suddenly chuckled as if at some private joke. “Do I look like I save lives?”

“I…I’m sorry, I just assumed.” She started for the door again, disturbed and way too interested in the man.

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