Page 30 of Devil in the Details

Well, at least this time, she’d be there to offer moral support. When it came to fighting demons, she couldn’t do much except fling holy water and hope for the best, but it was still better than nothing.

She’d make sure to bring one of her larger purses so she could fit plenty of the little vials in there…and hope that security wouldn’t inspect her bag too closely.

“Of course,” she echoed, and paused. It was getting around the time when she would have started scrounging in the fridge to see what she could put together for dinner, but she kind of doubted that Caleb would be satisfied with a salad and some cold chicken, especially after everything he’d just been through.

And if he didn’t want to stay, that was fine, too. But as his friend, she should make the offer.

“Want to get some takeout?” she asked, and he smiled.

“Absolutely.”

Delia had offered to drive him home, but Caleb told her that wouldn’t be necessary, that he’d just call another taxi. Sure, he could have teleported, and yet he liked the idea of acting like a regular guy and not using his powers to get around. The decision to take a cab seemed to resonate with his vow not to use any demonic abilities in the poker tournament.

But it had been good to spend those couple of hours with her, to sit down with their Chinese takeout and talk about the possibility of selling his old house quickly, or discuss a couple of listings she’d seen pop up on the MLS that might be candidates for flipping. Everything relentlessly normal, as if she understood that he didn’t want to dwell on what had happened earlier tonight, the way his shiny new toy had betrayed him out of the blue.

If it was even the car’s fault at all. The more he pondered the problem, the more he realized there must have been some kind of tampering involved, whether demonic or just good old-fashioned human mayhem.

But the taxi got him home without incident, and when he went inside the house, Caleb couldn’t see any evidence that anyone had tried to come by and mess with the place. It was peaceful and quiet, the air faintly scented with vanilla, thanks to the plug-in fragrance vaporizer near the front door.

Delia’s idea, obviously. She’d told him she always liked to smell something friendly when she first walked into a house, and he had to admit that it helped relax him a bit.

They’d opened another bottle of wine with dinner, since neither of them had to worry about driving. Because of that, Caleb didn’t bother to pour himself a glass of brandy the way he might otherwise have, but instead went straight out to the backyard so he could get some fresh air to clear his head.

The pool glowed blue-green in the darkness, and the strategically placed landscape lights kept the yard from being too moody and mysterious. To the east, a nearly full moon rose above Frenchman Mountain, warm yellow and somehow friendly, making him feel a little less alone.

Come to think of it, he didn’t feel alone at all. Not when he’d just come from Delia’s house, where she’d welcomed him in and offered a sympathetic ear — and some much-needed wine.

After all, that was what friends did for each other, wasn’t it?

He supposed so. Oh, sure, he’d had friends back in Greencastle…not just the other quarter demons, but people he’d gone to high school and college with…and yet for some reason, none of them had felt as reliable as Delia did. Caleb couldn’t even say exactly why, but he somehow knew deep down that even if he showed up in the middle of the night after suffering one crisis or another, she’d still let him in and offer whatever help she could.

More precious than rubies?

In his mind, absolutely.

He went back inside and made sure the big bifold glass door was shut firmly behind him. No, there hadn’t been any sign that someone had tried to tamper with the house in his absence, but he hadn’t noticed that anyone had messed with the Porsche, either.

Well, not until he’d tried to drive it, anyway.

The faint sense of well-being he’d experienced after going outside evaporated immediately, replaced by a growing feeling of outrage. Bad enough that he could have been seriously injured — that innocent drivers could have been hurt — but to have his brand-new car messed with?

That annoyed the crap out of him.

Unfortunately, unless he was able to pin down the culprit, there wasn’t much he could do about the situation. One part of him hoped it had just been a fluke, a one-in-a-million mechanical failure, but he didn’t think so.

When demons were in the mix, it was almost always smarter to pin the blame on them.

So, okay. If demons were involved, just what were they trying to accomplish? Revenge for discovering that “Robert Hendricks” hadn’t been a man at all and then banishing the demon who’d taken over his body?

Maybe. In general, demons didn’t like mortals meddling with their schemes and would retaliate whenever possible.

Still, they’d had the greater part of two months to go after him. Why now? Simply because he’d made himself visible by participating in the Desert Paradise poker tournament?

He supposed that explanation made as much sense as anything else. Still, they were going to discover soon enough that they should have kept their ugly hands to themselves.

That brandy was sure sounding tempting right about now.

But no, he wouldn’t indulge himself. His demon blood might have given him a better tolerance for alcohol than any regular human being, and yet, he couldn’t see the wisdom in tying one on right now, not when he had no idea when the next attack might occur.

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