Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Delia didn’t quite let out a gasp when a grim-faced Caleb led Aaron Sanchez, of all people, into the living room, but she was shocked nonetheless.
A little over five weeks had passed since the calamitous poker tournament at the Desert Paradise casino, but Aaron looked as if he’d aged five years.
His dark eyes were hollow and haunted, and she guessed that he must have lost at least fifteen pounds or maybe more, his once-athletic build now downright gaunt.
It sure appeared as if he hadn’t survived his demon possession quite as well as Caleb had claimed.
Aaron’s gaze caught the half-drunk bottle of champagne in its silver cooling sleeve, the big live-edge black walnut charcuterie board with its complement of fancy cheese and crackers and fruit. “I’ve interrupted something,” he said.
Rather than offer a demurral, Caleb only replied, “Sort of, but it’s okay. Why don’t you sit down?”
Looking relieved that he wouldn’t have to remain standing any longer, Aaron slumped into one of the club chairs that faced the couch.
“Do you want some champagne?” Delia asked, then wondered if maybe that had been a mistake.
For one thing, she wasn’t sure if anyone who looked like the man in front of her should be drinking, and second of all, the Cristal wasn’t really hers to offer.
Maybe Caleb would just shrug off the expense, but still, that bottle had to have cost him at least three or four hundred bucks, depending on where he’d bought it, and he might not have liked her offering it as if the champagne was a cheapie he’d bought at the local grocery store.
But Aaron immediately shuddered and said, “No…no alcohol. Some water, maybe?”
Caleb had remained standing, so he said, “I’ll go get it. Just take it easy.”
He hurried into the kitchen, leaving Delia to sit there and try not to look too awkward. “But maybe some food?” she ventured. What in the world had happened to the guy? Knowing she sounded just like her mother, she added, “You look like you could use something to eat.”
Aaron’s gaze moved to the assortment of cheese and crackers and fruit on the coffee table. “Maybe.”
Despite how noncommittal he’d sounded, he did actually sit up straighter, get a napkin, and then put some Irish white cheddar on a cracker. Just as he popped the morsel in his mouth, Caleb reappeared with a glass of water.
“Here you go.”
Because Aaron’s mouth was full, he couldn’t do much more than nod. However, he reached for the glass as soon as he was done chewing and washed everything down with a big swallow.
“Thanks,” he said. “That helps.”
Caleb sat back down on the couch but leaned forward, his gaze frankly curious. “No offense, man,” he said, “but you’re not looking so great. Everything okay?”
Aaron made a hoarse sound that Delia guessed was supposed to be a laugh. He seemed to realize how bad it had sounded, because he quickly gulped down some more water.
“No,” he said after he set his glass of water on the table in front of him — not bothering with a coaster, Delia noticed, but she figured they could ignore that oversight, considering how out of it he seemed.
Besides, the coffee table had a glass top, so the worst damage a drink could do would be to leave a ring behind.
“Things have basically gone to shit,” Aaron went on. For a second, his gaze slid to the partially drunk flute of champagne in front of Delia, and she wondered if he was regretting the way he’d refused a glass a few moments earlier.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and she knew she genuinely was. Just because she hadn’t shared a single speck of chemistry with the guy didn’t mean she wanted him to suffer. “What happened?”
He pushed a hand through his hair, which was in desperate need of cutting. And since he’d always been so put together, obviously wanting to present a professional appearance when he met with clients or hosted an open house, the contrast with the way he looked now was even more jarring.
“Everything’s wrong,” he replied, then looked over at Caleb. “I sort of remember being at the semifinals of that poker tournament where you were playing, but everything after that…well, until about four days later…is a total blank.”
One of Caleb’s eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, which seemed to signal that this information, while interesting, hadn’t surprised him very much. Was that a byproduct of being possessed by a demon? That your memory would be completely erased?
In a way, Delia believed that might be a blessing. She didn’t think she’d want to recall anything of a time when her body wasn’t her own, when some horrible supernatural being was basically making her its puppet.
“What happened after those four days?” Caleb asked.
“I woke up in my condo,” Aaron replied. “I was lying on the couch, fully dressed. I think they might have been the clothes I wore to the tournament finals, but since I don’t remember anything about that day, I can’t say for sure. All I do know is that I felt like I had the mother of all hangovers.”
Not too surprising, if he’d been blacked out for days.
Maybe this wasn’t about demons at all. Maybe he’d just gone on a massive bender.
After all, she had no idea about his relationship with alcohol.
Yes, he’d had two beers when they met for drinks at the bar at the Hard Rock, and that wasn’t exactly what you could call excessive drinking, but he could have been putting on a public face for her when, in actuality, he hit the hard stuff on a regular basis.
Then again, he’d just looked as if the mere thought of drinking champagne was enough to make him sick, which wasn’t the kind of behavior you’d usually see in someone desperate for some hair of the dog.
“It might be good that you don’t really remember,” Caleb remarked, although it seemed clear he wasn’t going to elaborate, not when it appeared that Aaron didn’t recall anything about his possession or the demons who’d done their best to hijack the Desert Paradise poker tournament for their own purposes. “What happened after that?”
“I slept for a couple more days.” He paused there, looking shamefaced.
“And then I woke up to a message that I’d missed a bunch of appointments and Keller Williams was letting me go.
That’s the real estate agency where I worked,” he added, obviously for Caleb’s benefit, since Delia knew very well which agency Aaron worked for.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, and his shoulders hunched.
“Whatever. I deserved it. I mean, I was out of it, but I should have been able to muster enough energy to call in sick.”
Delia wasn’t so sure about that. Although she’d be the first to admit that she was far from an expert on such things, it sure sounded to her as if Aaron Sanchez had suffered some major psychic blowback from his possession, and that his mind had shut down for a bit to help him recover.
Also, right then she heard the briefest whisper of his thoughts in her mind, just enough to catch a few words.
I fucked up. I really fucked up.
Everything about those two brief sentences resonated with contrition and despair.
She might have been very new to this latest facet of her talent, the one she originally had thought helped her communicate with ghosts and nothing else, but she refused to believe what she’d heard was anything but genuine.
“They still should have given you a second chance,” she said gently. “You were ill. But you’re a good agent. I’m sure you’ll find another agency that will take you.”
Aaron only shook his head. “I’m done with Las Vegas.”
His tone was flat, and Delia sent a quick, sideways look at Caleb, who only shrugged ever so slightly.
“I don’t know — ” she began, but Aaron immediately interrupted her.
“Well, I know. Losing my job was bad enough, but then I had my condo pulled out from under me, too.”
Once again, Delia darted a glance at Caleb.
The situation with Aaron’s condo had been sketchy from the start, since they both knew Aegis Holdings owned the property.
They’d thought maybe the condo had been a bribe to get Aaron to cooperate with the demons running the company, although she still hadn’t caught the smallest hint that he’d had any idea what they were really up to.
“What happened with your condo?” Caleb asked.
Aaron picked up his glass of water and gulped some of it down. Not looking directly at either one of them, he said, “It was a rental. I guess the owners were in default and I didn’t even know about it…not until I woke up to an eviction notice yesterday.”
Ouch. It was a sad story that happened all too often, although most of the time, the bank took back its properties because the owners had stopped making their mortgage payments due to insolvency or simple negligence, rather than having their entire organization collapse and its employees either depossessed or sent back to Hell.
Still, she was a little surprised that Aegis hadn’t paid cash for the place and instead obviously had some sort of mortgage on the condo.
Had they really been that leveraged?
“I’m so sorry,” Delia said, even as she wondered what Aaron really needed from her and Caleb. He might have gotten fired, but he was still a real estate agent and could have gathered his resources to find himself another place.
She also hadn’t missed how he’d carefully avoided any mention of his connection to Aegis Holdings, although she wasn’t sure whether that was because he actually was trying to hide something or because he’d blacked out so severely following the incident at the Desert Paradise casino that he didn’t even remember the way Aegis had been bankrolling him.
Allegedly, she reminded herself. All she and Caleb had had to go on was a bunch of suspicions and some somewhat sketchy information that her private detective friend Prudence had dug up.
There still might have been an entirely logical reason for the way Aaron had suddenly paid off his student loans and bought a brand-new BMW.