Chapter 3
Eric grabbed his cane and stood up, and on the other side of the room, Stuart did the same. Eddie didn’t stand, but he reached for the handle on the side of his recliner and tilted all the way back even while he snagged the remote with his other hand.
All in all, the living room was suddenly full of the vibe of finished business, and that was fine with me.
I wanted to call Laura. I wanted to think about toddler presents and pre-school guest lists for my little boy, sound asleep in his room despite the family drama.
I wanted to inventory the freezer and the pantry and figure out if we had anything to eat in the house.
I wanted to unpack and do laundry. And I’m ninety percent sure there had never been a time in my life where laundry was actually at the top of my wish list. But I’d just returned from a non-vacationy vacation in Rome, and I confess I was craving a little normalcy.
Or, at least, what passed for normal in most families.
But then Eric spoke, and I slammed headfirst back into reality. “We should talk about training Allie,” he said, as I reeled under the force of those words, so heavy with practical, horrible reality. “Kate, I don’t suppose you could make a pot of coffee?”
I wanted to protest simply on principle—about training, not about coffee, even though that would be fair since he knew perfectly well how to operate the coffeemaker—but he was right.
Even before we’d learned about Allie’s demonic essence, Father Corletti suggested we formally train her.
He’d even raised the possibility of her moving to Rome in order to live in the Forza dorms as I had.
At first, the idea had thrilled Allie no end, but after learning about her demonic heritage, she’d stopped begging.
I hated the fact that my daughter had to deal with that burden, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that the mommy in me melted a bit when she tearfully told me she just wanted to be at home and train with me.
The words had been a relief. She’s only fifteen, after all. And while I knew that when she turned eighteen she could make the decision to go on her own, for at least three more years, I could still keep her close. I could make sure she was ready.
Honestly, I didn’t trust anyone else to do it.
I nodded, then started for the kitchen. Because Eric was right. There was a lot to figure out, and coffee was on the agenda.
Stuart’s voice pulled me back. “I think this is a conversation that can wait until tomorrow.”
I turned, frowning, and saw that Eric’s expression matched my own.
“She needs to train,” Eric said. “And if Kate and I are going to do that, we need to start working out the details.”
I cocked my head. Until now, Eric hadn’t specifically said he was going to be part of her training. I’d expected it, actually, but he’d kept quiet during the back and forth at the Vatican. Now, I couldn’t help but wonder what he had in mind.
Not long ago, he’d come close to killing both me and Allie when he’d lost himself to a powerful demon.
After, he’d packed up and moved to Los Angeles.
If he thought that I was going to do some split training schedule where Allie worked with me here during the week and him in LA on the weekends, then we really did have some serious talking to do.
“I’m thinking I can use Cutter’s studio,” I said, both because it was true and because I wanted to make it clear right off the bat that ultimately I was calling the shots. “After school and then longer weekend sessions there.”
“That’s workable,” Eric began, “but—”
“Tomorrow,” Stuart repeated, in the kind of voice that reminded me he was not only an attorney but had once planned on running for public office.
His focus was entirely on Eric. “You can come by after Mass, David.” He emphasized the name, reminding everyone—as if we could forget—that my first husband, Eric Crowe, had died years ago.
He might be alive again, but it was in the body of high school chemistry teacher David Long.
And David had no claim over me or my family.
A muscle in Eric’s jaw twitched, and I stiffened. The demon may have been expelled from him, but all that meant was that he wouldn’t fly into a murderous rage or try to raise hell here on earth. Even without the demonic influence, the man had a temper.
Right then, though, he was holding it in, and all I could think about was long fuses and apocalyptic explosions.
“Whatever the devil you’re doing,” Eddie put in as he ramped up the volume on a Friends rerun, “do it in the kitchen. You’re screwing with my morning routine.”
Eric kept his focus on Stuart. “Fair enough,” Eric finally said. “I have things to take care of today, anyway.” He shifted to look at me, his expression softening. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I watched him go out the front door, then jerked my head toward the kitchen before turning on my heel and heading that way, hoping that Stuart was following.
Since I wanted both caffeine and something to occupy my hands, I started to scoop the coffee into the basket. “I thought you two had reached a detente,” I said, once I’d poured the water into machine. “So why are you shutting him down?”
“Detente, yes. Best friends, no.” He leaned back against the counter, looking both casual and completely in control. “He doesn’t live here, Kate.”
“Of course he doesn’t,” I said, starting to realize some of what was driving his reaction. Eric had followed us in his car from the airport to the house. There’d been no discussion, no invitation. It had simply been a given since, after all, there were demony things to talk about.
But I was Stuart’s wife, not Eric’s. Not anymore.
And after already having traversed a rather rocky marital road on which Eric had been one of many stumbling blocks, I could understand that Stuart would want our home to simply be our home for at least one day.
A day to decompress. To hang out. To just be a family.
“I get it,” I said with a gentle smile. I pulled two coffee cups down and started to fill them even though the coffee maker had barely started brewing.
“Eddie’s commandeered the living room TV, but we could spend the afternoon in the bedroom watching something.
Or not watching something,” I added with a suggestive lilt.
“Timmy’s still zonked from the time change, and Allie will be gone for a least a couple of hours. ”
“Not a bad idea,” he said in the kind of voice that made clear he was only being polite. “But I really need to take care of a few business things.”
I blinked, then slowly closed my mouth once I realized it was hanging open. “You’re leaving? Right now?”
“It’s past ten. I need to go see Bernie before noon.”
“Then why the hell did you send Eric off? We need to figure this out. I need to know what—”
“Didn’t you tell me you needed to dive in with planning Timmy’s birthday party? We have two kids, Kate.”
I tightened my jaw, the tension in my face reminding me of what I’d just seen in Eric’s.
Stuart was right—I needed to get the invitations out or we’d have more kids saying no than saying yes.
We’d stayed in Italy longer than we’d planned, and as a result there was only a week between the invitations going out and the actual party.
And while I might not be a social butterfly, my little boy was not going to be the kid who was outside the pre-school neighborhood loop.
But that didn’t mean I needed my husband holding my hand and micromanaging playdates and parties.
I opened my mouth to say exactly that, but then shut it tight again as reality smacked me hard against the face.
This wasn’t about Timmy. It wasn’t even about Allie.
This was about me and Eric and Stuart and jealousy. A jealousy that I thought had been resolved—or at the very least swept under the rug—when Eric had left town, and Stuart had come home to me.
But things had changed once more. Yes, Eric now lived over an hour away in LA, but he was involved again.
I wasn’t going to keep him out of Allie’s life, not now.
Not since he was free of the demon. Not since he was the only person alive who had the slightest sense of what was going on inside of her.
Stuart knew that, of course. And I couldn’t blame him for wanting to clearly set the family boundaries. But I also knew damn well that no matter how hard he tried, the lines were going to get blurry.
The thought made my gut twist.
I’d lost Stuart already—not once, but twice.
The first time because I’d kept my demon-hunting life secret, and that decision not to trust him—to fool myself into believing that I was somehow protecting him and our marriage—was on me.
But the second time … well, that was on him, and it stemmed from fear, pure and simple.
Fear of what I am, not to mention the danger that surrounds me.
But he’d come back, choosing to face that danger in order to keep our family together.
His leaving had felt like a betrayal, but his return had been a miracle.
He’d seen first hand the destructive power of hell, and he’d watched as his wife—who could barely manage clean laundry and clean dishes on the same weekday—sent one of the most powerful demons in the universe all the way back to hell.
He understood the danger he was walking back into, and yet he’d still chosen our family. And that had meant the world to me.
When he’d traveled with us to Rome, he’d promised me that he was back to stay, and in that ancient city, I’d fully regained the trust that had soured when he’d walked away.
But now that we’re back in San Diablo—now that he’s drawing boundaries and playing testosterone games with Eric—I can’t help but wonder if Stuart doesn’t really understand just how messy this is going to get.
And that scares me almost as much as the demon lurking inside my daughter.
I was surrounded.