Chapter 37
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
“I’m telling you, this is the place!” Claire said excitedly, her blonde hair swinging in a perfect ponytail as she twirled in a tight circle. “I’ve been eyeing it for weeks now, and it’s absolutely perfect.”
“It’s not perfect. It’s way too high-end.” A month had passed since the Graham estate, and most of my wounds had healed. The shoulder still pulled when I lifted my arms overhead, and my hands—well. My hands were worse. Thick, shiny tissue that looked like I’d grabbed a hot skillet and held on.
Claire said they looked badass. I thought they looked like what they were: proof I’d touched something I shouldn’t have been able to touch and survived it anyway. Despite what Rabbi Ethan thought, the scars looked like they may not ever fade.
I frowned as I took in the soft-toned desk, the neutral walls, the buttercream guest chairs and empty bookcase. Light filtered in through the tall window that looked out onto a dappled asphalt parking lot with crisp lines and well-tended cars. “Seriously, how much does this even cost a month?”
“Girl. You’ve got to meet the market where they are.
If someone wants an exorcist and they don’t want a priest or a rabbi, trust me, they have more than enough money to spend.
They’ll want to feel like you’re worth it.
” Claire moved over to the window, clearly cataloguing the makes and models of the vehicles, like I had.
“I told Max about this place, and he didn’t even blink.
He gave us the first six months’ rent and said he wanted in as a silent partner as soon as you could draw up an agreement.
And if you didn’t want him to be a silent partner, you could consider it a pre-payment for whenever he’s ready to have you see his sister. ”
She blushed. “He wanted to be here today, but he’s visiting Carol Ann again. He’s gone twice already.” She smiled, a little shy. “We’ve been…talking some. It’s new, but it’s good.”
I grinned at her. “That’s great, Claire. Really. Keep me posted—I mean, as much as you want.”
Her blush deepened. “Yeah, well, he may be contacting us officially anyway. He’s pretty sure Rabbi Ethan’s going to bail on him.”
“Are you serious? He said that?” I made a face. “He has to know I’d help Carol Ann for free.”
“Of course you would.” She pointed at me. “He knew you would say that, and that’s why he was comfortable with this advance. Isn’t this place amazing? It’s got totally the right vibe.”
I shook my head as I looked around, but like with most things, Claire wasn’t wrong.
The office was on the second floor of a pocket neighborhood filled with 1920s-era mansions, about half of which had been converted into office space.
This particular building was perched on a small hill, offering a short, steep incline for drivers that led to secluded parking in the back lot.
According to Claire, it was “absolutely perfect for anyone who didn’t want people to know that they were, you know, going to see an exorcist.” The rest of the building was given over to therapy practices and even a yoga studio on the first floor.
The place positively vibrated with healthy feminine power.
“Well, it’s definitely pretty,” I agreed, staring at the woven white rug under the desk and guest chairs.
With any luck, I wouldn’t get any bleeders in here.
I lifted my hand to hold the Hamsa hand amulet between my index finger and thumb.
I was ready to wear it now—hell, I rarely took it off.
“But how is anybody going to find me? It’s not like I’m going to hang a shingle that says Exorcisms-R-Us. ”
She grinned, a little conspiratorially. “Well, I don’t think you’re going to have to do much, if any, advertising. You said Mordechai’s clients came to him by word of mouth, right? So we do that. Steve, Max, and I all know people who know people, especially Steve.”
I blinked at her. “He does?”
“Yes!” More bouncing. “You know he games, right? Well, gamers know lots of people in all the shadowy places. You’d be shocked at what kind of communities exist online, dedicated to paranormal stuff. And they all have members who live in Chicago. It’s a big city!”
“I don’t think that’s the best—”
“And I don’t think you need to worry about it,” Claire said firmly. “You need to worry about setting up your computer, putting together a business plan, and getting really big, old books in here that look creepy, but not too creepy, you know what I mean?”
That made me smile a bit as I thought about Mordechai’s office. I wondered if Rabbi Ethan would be sending me any of Mordechai’s old books. If he was starting to waffle on helping Max with his sister, I kind of doubted it.
“I do know what you mean,” I told Claire, and she burbled on, practically dancing on her toes as we came out of the back office and into the well-appointed sitting room.
“So, your office is yours to decorate however you’d like, but the building’s owners requested that your receiving room conforms to a particular aesthetic—this aesthetic, in other words.
” She pointed around to the existing furniture out here, which included a comfortable-looking, cream-colored sofa, another white rug, taupe-painted walls, more hardwood floors, and serene-looking electric sconces that glowed with a soft light.
“They think it keeps the entire building grounded, and it’s pretty, right? ”
I waved that off. “It’s fine. No one who comes here is going to want to hang out on this couch for very long, so I shouldn’t mess it up.”
“Exactly!” She beamed. “Okay. I’ll let you stay here and soak up the vibe while I go grab us some coffee and bring up the electronics.”
I stared at her as she swung out of the open door and clicked down the hallway. “What electronics?” I demanded.
“You’ll love them!” She called back down the hallway, but I let the words slide past the carved doorway and down to the somatic healing practitioner in office 216.
I should probably look into who my new neighbors were.
Someone would probably be up for therapy appointments with the new exorcist in 212.
I turned around slowly, soaking in the vibe, as Claire had directed.
It was a good space, I decided, and if Max had prepaid for six months, it was, at least a place for me to hang out between shifts at the deli, if nothing else.
I found I didn’t much feel like sleeping in the house anymore, at least not in my own bedroom.
In the weeks since I’d returned from Max’s house, I’d painted the walls a soft rose, bought new comforters and sheets, and abandoned the room entirely for the first floor, taking over the couch.
Steve had taken one look at my new bedding situation and hit the computer, and the next day a futon had arrived, which miraculously had fit alongside the far wall of the living room.
It wasn’t a long-term solution, but it worked for right now.
Right now was about as far ahead as I could think.
I was about to venture back into my office to try out the chair when a voice from the hallway startled me.
“Delia Thompson?” The words slid in and over my shoulders, practically tugging me around, and I whirled half expecting to see a mass of shadows ripping toward me, pain and darkness and rage—
Instead, I looked up and up higher still, as a tall, well-dressed man stepped through the doorway, his dark eyes sweeping the room with the same curious assessment I had given the place.
For a half second, I thought it was the man from Descent, whose name I had forgotten but whose long, lean, incredibly hot body still showed up in my dreams on occasion, haunting my memories.
This guy could’ve been his twin: dark eyes, dark hair, Eastern European cheekbones, all coiled strength beneath a suit straight out of Chicago’s high-rises.
He was money and he was power, and he had no business in my office, I was pretty sure.
“Um, yes?” I managed.
“Your associate, Claire Bickwell, said I could find you here. We spoke downstairs.” His voice was smooth, dark, and smelled like whiskey-steeped chocolate. It also continued to tug at me, urging me to step closer.
I stepped back. Firmly. “I hope she also told you that we’ve just moved in today. I’m not going to be able to help anyone for a while.”
“Oh, you misunderstand.” He tilted his head, his smile deepening into a satisfied smirk. “I’m not here for your help, I’m here to help you.”
“Well, thank you, but we’re still getting started here.” I gestured to the room with its standard-issue furniture. “I’m nowhere near ready to hire.”
He smiled. “Then how fortunate that I am already bound to you.”
I jolted back, channeling a visceral survival instinct, but the man moved swiftly, reaching me practically without taking a stride and grabbing my wrist before I could clutch the amulet around my neck.
His fingers were cool and firm, his grip precise but not bruising—a command wrapped in velvet.
And I knew him—knew him! Even as he stared at me, his own dark brown eyes flared red for the barest a second to prove his point. Though of course, that was impossible.
“Hello again, Delia,” he murmured, each syllable a dark and deliberate claim.
I stiffened in his grasp, swallowing hard. “Bullshit,” I finally managed. “Palemerious is gone. I evicted you.”
“You did. And that name is gone, certainly.” His thumb stroked once along the inside of my wrist, a slow, deliberate drag that sent a shiver racing up my arm.
“But when you released me in a house full of shedim, you gave me the power to absorb their skills. And when you summoned me, I returned. Summons are very powerful, you know. Especially from someone like you.”
“I didn’t summon you.”
“You cried out for aid during your final strike against the Grahams. Anyone who would help, you said. Anyone who would come.” His smile twisted, as sharp as his words. “The Almighty had other concerns that night. I didn’t.”