Almost Demon (The Sigil Cycle) Page 11

  “It is?”

  “Yes. The manifestation of these marks is completely dependent on the skill of the practitioner. The better you are at creating sigils, the more intricate your tattoos will be.”

  I looked down at the marks and felt like I was seeing them for the very first time. Ambriel’s had been a few lines and circles when I had made the sigil but on my arm it was surrounded by a series of creeping vines with tear-shaped leaves and flourishes. Ashtaroth’s pentagram was now engulfed in flames that almost looked real.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you’re very special, Gemma. You can harness the powers of these beings through the marks on your body. You don’t need to cast circles and waste time with pen and paper. Their power is now yours.”

  “But I thought you can’t draw power without summoning the being attached?”

  “Can’t or shouldn’t? And I have a feeling that someone as powerful as you are doesn’t need to bother with ritual. It’s merely a formality at this point. Both beings have already conversed with you. They are the ones who left you their marks. You are free to use the power as you see fit.”

  Sam stood up from behind his throne of an office chair and walked along the walls of artifacts. He stopped in front of a small display case containing a beautiful bust of a woman, her hair wrapped in curls, crowning her head. He unclasped the pendant she wore, walked over to me and placed it around my neck.

  “This is a talisman. Legend tells us it can magnify certain powers. My gift to you.”

  I looked down at the necklace. The delicate chain was an antique shade of gold and the stone was a roughly hewn rose- colored gem.

  “I can’t accept this. It’s too much.” I tried to hand back the ancient piece of jewelry.

  “Relax, little one. This is me betting on the right horse.”

  “Sorry?”

  Sam handed the necklace to Ian, who stood behind me and fastened it around my neck. Warmth coursed through my veins as the stone settled in the dip of my collarbone.

  “Things are getting a bit out of control topside, wouldn’t you say? I have a feeling you’ll be the one to set things right. This trinket is my investment in you.”

  He leaned against the desk, exuding a confidence that was contagious.

  “I guess I should say thank you,” I answered, happy to oblige him if it meant I was going to have an advantage against the Dybbuk.

  “It’s my pleasure. And if you are ever in need of assistance, my door is always open.”

  “So what is it exactly you want me to do?” I asked, fidgeting in my seat, awkward at the realization that I was wheeling and dealing with an obviously loaded businessman in my gym clothes.

  “Just keep doing what you do. And if I find something else that might be of any help to you, I’ll let you know. Unfortunately, I can’t leave this place so you’ll have to make the trip down again.”

  “That’s no biggie. I can’t find music like this for at least a hundred miles from where I live.”

  “Good. Then it’s a deal.”

  “Yeah.”

  We shook on it and I was thankful to see that I was walking away from this deal without any new bodywork.

  I guess he’s no demon. Or angel.

  “You two go have some more fun.”

  Thrilled to get back to the dance floor, we said our goodbyes to Sam, I was happy to have met him. He was more than forthcoming about his intentions and it gave me a bit of peace to know I had some potential help if I needed it. But for some reason, as I spread my arms in the air reaching for the music around me, I couldn’t stop worrying about what Thom would have to say about all of this.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It felt like we had been hours down in the Drifts but when my house came into view, it was still light out. I checked my watch. It was only five o clock. Too late to make it back to meet with Thom.

  “I guess I’ll leave you here,” Ian said, walking me to the door.

  “Do you think Sam’s right?” I asked. “About me being able to end all this craziness?”

  “That’s why I took you to him, Gemma. I know you don’t realize this. Maybe one day you will. But you are stronger than you think.” He placed the pad of his thumb on his lips and then on mine. “I should go.”

  “You think you could walk me in? I know I sound a bit chicken but I’m pretty sure my dad is going to freak.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  I turned the key and walked inside to the aroma of roast chicken and rosemary.

  “Hi, pumpkin. I’m happy to see your home on time.” He was already out of his work clothes and wearing jeans and a pullover beneath a French maid printed novelty apron. “Ian, looks like you’re to thank for my daughter’s punctuality. Care to join us for dinner?”

  I looked from my dad to Ian and then back again. I could find no trace of the ghost that had inhabited his body. He was almost the same dad from B.A. - Before the Accident.

  “I’d love to, Dr. Pope.” Ian took my hand and squeezed as we made our way further in, stopping at the breakfast bar.

  “It’ll be another twenty minutes.” My dad continued chopping vegetables. “You two go on outside. I think we could manage a meal al fresco with today’s weather.”

  I leaned over the counter, pretending to get a closer look at the peppers when, in actuality, I was looking for evidence of the lurking spirit.

  Nada.

  Ian grabbed the stack of plates and silverware and we headed outside where the table had already been covered in a yellow floral oilskin cloth.

  “He doesn’t seem too bad, your dad.”

  “You missed out on all the good parts.”

  “Well, I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

  I started to set the table as Ian got comfortable in one of the chairs. When I was finished, I took a seat next to Ghosty on his favorite lounger and the three of us sat in comfortable silence.

  “Do you have any idea who it might be?” Ian voice broke through the air, the timbre a bit deeper than usual. He was watching me, waiting for an answer, with sensuous eyes and the arrogant smirk I was now always associating with him.

  “Nope. I was able to communicate with it a bit.” I perked up, wanting to tell him but remembered that I needed to keep most of the magic hush hush because of Thom. “Not like it was able to reply but it definitely understands everything I say.”

  “That’s pretty cool.” He smiled. “You should try again now that you have the necklace.” I fingered the jewel at my neck and watched as he ran his strong hands first along his thighs, then across the arms of his chair. Mesmerized by his movements, I couldn’t help but imagine myself beneath him, continuing the seductive dance that we were carefully tiptoeing our way around.

  “Dinner’s ready.” My dad chimed in, balancing the casserole dish atop the salad bowl.

  We took our places at the table and I began serving out portions of crisp lettuce while my father sliced up the bird.

  “White or dark meat, Ian?”

  “White, please.”

  “Just like Gem here,” my dad said, elbowing me, and my face flushed.

  I felt a bit out of place. Like someone was going to walk up to me from behind the bushes and tell me that I had just been pranked.

  Smile at the camera, Gem.

  I watched the knife in my father’s hand as it carved out thin pieces of chicken and kept my fingers crossed that he wouldn’t start aiming the sharp blade at me. There was nothing in his demeanor that was off in any way.

  That was the problem. Would I see it coming when he pulled a Miss Halle and went beserko?

  “So, Ian, where are you from?”

  “I’m an army brat so I’ve moved around a lot. I’ve been staying with my uncle to finish up high school. My parents are packing up for Germany.”

  Interesting. I continued to eat my food, not wanting to ruin whatever this was that was going on.

  “What are your plans for college?”

 
“I’ve been thinking about NYU. They have a good study abroad program.”

  “Maybe you could convince Gemma to start getting on with those essays.”

  “Dad. I told you, I’ll figure it out.”

  “There aren’t any colleges within walking distance,” my dad said, his tone more playful than it had been in the past.

  “It’s not a big deal,” I said, taking out my fury on the last bits of food on my plate.

  “Shotgun,” I called, letting go of Mimi’s arm and hustling into the front passenger seat.

  “Relax, little sis. I got it covered.”

  “Didn’t look like you got anything, yammering away with Jenny,” I said, snapping the seatbelt into place.

  “It was a stalling tactic,” he said, smiling as he put the key in the ignition. The quiet engine of the hybrid didn’t roar to life, which was always a letdown to me.

  “At least put on some good music, Brian,” Jenny said. “I can’t listen to two hours of classic rock.”

  “Too bad,” he replied, cranking up the volume. The melodic plucking of the guitar echoed the depressing lyrics in an instrumental version of “Hotel California.” The rest of us groaned.

  “Okay. I have a great idea. We have a sing off. Whoever knows the most lyrics, wins.” Classic Mimi. The peacemaker.

  After Brian’s rendition of “Baba O’Riley,” where the three of us girls could only chime in for the Teenage Wasteland part, Jenny surprised us all with her singing of “Rapture.” She even knew Debby Harry’s rap verbatim.

  “What is so important on your phone?” I asked Brian. “Could you please take a break from the endless checking of your messages?”

  “I got it, one sec.” He was scrolling through his texts while the other hand was on the steering wheel. The telltale ringtone he used for Allison had gone off.

  “Dum, duh, dum, dum,” Jenny sang.

  “No kidding. I’m dead meat. We’re supposed to be going out in an hour. I wonder if I could break up with her in between now and then.”

  “You’re such an ass sometimes, Brian,” I said. I leaned my head against the window and watched the other cars whizz past. The summer was already starting out hot. Many of the leaves were turning brown from drought and the earth looked parched.

  Brian’s phone buzzed again and I peeked at him from the corner of my eye. “Would you just pull over already? Your conversations are longer than War and Peace,” I said.

  “Let me just check what she said. Then the phone is all yours. You can hold on to it for the rest of the ride.”

  He reached over to pull the phone out of the small recess in the console.

  “Brian!” Mimi yelled.

  I looked up at the windshield, screamed, and braced my hands against the dashboard. The intimidating grill of a semi was accelerating in our direction.

  Brian jerked the wheel to the left, attempting to avoid the collision but the truck, careening down the wrong side of the highway, was going too fast. With a loud crunch, it hammered into the side of the car. The screech of tires and twisting of metal was almost as loud as our screams. Then came the loud drone of horns honking. The impact took my breath away. I watched as the metal guardrail came into view and then the ravine below. In panic, I turned to Brian, whose bloodied face was limp against the airbag. The car tilted on its side, vacillating on the edge. For a moment, I had hope. I begged God not tip us over. But then all that was left was free fall.

  “I could help you do some research, Gem,” Ian offered.

  “Sure,” I said, pushing aside the potatoes that hadn’t crisped up the way I liked them.

  Beggars can’t be choosers. Not like I ever got anything that wasn’t out of a bag or box lately. Or a can.

  “See, Gem. We’ll figure things out,” my dad said.

  The rest of the meal was filled with small talk. I made up some story about the book club while Ian impressed my dad with his football stats.

  After an hour, Ian was ready to leave.

  “I promised to run some errands for my uncle,” Ian said, as he helped bring the dishes to the kitchen.

  “I’m glad you stayed,” my dad said, filling the sink with hot sudsy water.

  “Yeah, me too,” I said, walking Ian to the door.

  “You sure you’ll be alright,” he said in a hushed voice.

  “I think so. Whatever is going on with him seems to have passed. At least for now. Anyway, where else would I go? It’s not like I can leave.”

  As we stepped outside, I noticed how tall Ian was and how he filled up the space around me.

  “Call me if you need me,” he said, lowering his face to mine.

  With his jacket open, I was able to place a tentative hand on his chest. I felt his heart beat beneath and the hard planes of his muscles. I looked up, drinking in his deep blue eyes and meeting him halfway for the kiss. His lips were warm, smooth and soft on mine. I felt his arms encircle me and I leaned in, taking him in deeper, opening up that bit of my heart that I had been keeping shut since Brian died. We clumsily side stepped until my back was up against the hard brick, his body pressing against mine. He trailed kisses along my neck as he held my hands in place at my side, sending shivers down my spine. With my eyes closed, I pulled my hands away from him and reached for his face.

  The slight stubble scraped against my palms and I brought him back to my lips. I ran one hand through his hair and inhaled his scent, crisp and clean like the pine that watched us in the distance. He grabbed me by the waist and as he eased one hand under my shirt, my eyes flew open.

  “I should get back in. My dad will wonder what’s taking so long,” I said, panting from a mixture of lust and sudden shyness.

  “Like he doesn’t know,” he said, nipping at my ear.

  “Really. I don’t need him going all Jekyll and Hyde on me. I’ll sleep better.”

  “Alright.” He groaned, easing away from me. “But I intend to pick up where we left off.” With an impish smile, he waved and was gone.

  The next morning, as I stared at my body in the hazy light of the morning, I tried to find any evidence of the injuries I had sustained only months before. The angry, raised, red lines of thick skin were still gone.

  I pointed my foot to the side and checked my leg from all angles.

  I guess it’s gone.

  With the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas morning, I opened my closet and pulled on a navy silk dress with billowy sleeves, stand-up collar and decorative pearl buttons. The ruffled hem ended mid-thigh and I twirled in front of the mirror with glee before lacing up my boots.

  When I walked into the kitchen, my father was already seated, eating his breakfast. The place next to him was already set with a plate of scrambled eggs and toast waiting.

  “Morning, Gem. Not going for your run?”

  “Not today,” I said, pouring myself a mug of coffee and settling down to enjoy my meal. “Thanks for cooking, Dad.”

  “My pleasure, pumpkin.” He leaned away from his newspaper and placed a kiss on my forehead.

  Maybe he’s coming around. Maybe he needed to lose it a bit before putting himself back together.

  He looked down at my leg. “What happened to your leg?”

  “It’s great, isn’t it? Looks like it was never sliced open.” When I saw the confusion on his face, I added, “I’ve been using this new cream for scars.”

  “Wow. Maybe Moab is in the wrong sector. We should be making beauty creams.”

  “Dad, trying to cure diabetes is way more important,” I said, shoveling the eggs in my mouth to quiet the growling in my stomach, and get my dad off topic.

  “I’ve got to get in early today,” he said, wiping his mouth on a napkin. “Can you take care of the dishes before you leave?”

  “Sure thing. You cook, I’ll clean.” I smiled.

  “You think you can manage to get home again on time?”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. Charlotte is having a bunch of girls over for a sleepover. It’s her birth
day tomorrow.”

  “That’s fine. Make sure you call me when you get to her house if I’m not here. I’ll try to get home before you leave.” He stood up and kissed me again before going.

  Alone in the house, I took the opportunity to do a bit of snooping. I rinsed the dishes and loaded the washer before scurrying down the hallway to my father’s room. Everything was in order.

  Clean and tidy. Normal. A little too normal?

  I sat on the peach silk comforter of his king-sized bed and opened the drawer of his side table. The room always gave me a strange feeling. He hadn’t changed much in the room since Mom left and insisted that she was going to come back some day. I leafed through the stack of papers and couldn’t find anything significant. Most of them looked like reports he had brought home with the Moab Labs’ letterhead. There was a stack of old photos, mostly of Brian and me as children.

  On the bottom, I found a faded yearbook picture of my mother. People always said we looked so much alike. Her hair stood two inches above her head, teased into its own orbit, and dangling from her ears were large pearl cluster clip-ons, which now had a home at the bottom of my jewelry box.

  I stared at the picture, waiting for some kind of answers. Instead, all I was left with was more questions as I caught sight of the same necklace that now lay tucked beneath the fabric of my dress.

  Having some newfound confidence, I was intent on making things right with Charlotte. I found her chatting with Morgan and Emma at the lockers, already dressed in their uniforms, as the squad usually did on practice days. Standing tall, I headed straight for them.

  “Hey Charlotte. Morgan,” I said, ignoring the buzzing I was feeling at my wrist. “I’m really sorry about how I acted yesterday. And I’m saying this to both of you. I don’t want to be stuck in that place where all I have is myself.”

  “Oh Gemma,” Charlotte started, “I’m so happy. You’re really starting to look like you again.” We joined in a quick embrace.

  “Does that mean you’re back on the team?” Morgan hesitated a bit.

  “If you’ll have me?” I looked at the two of them.