Chapter 6 #2
From his recliner, Eddie let out a long-suffering sigh. “I stepped in as your alimentatore, but that don’t mean I do your thinking for you, girlie. You know how it works. Don’t pretend like you don’t. Because you’re right, she’s not dead, not what we consider dead, anyway.”
“Right,” I said, tacitly admitting I did know this, even if I didn’t understand the science—or theology—behind it.
“When a demon is expelled from a body, they go back to the ether,” I recited, feeling like I was nine again and presenting to Father Corletti.
“The only way to kill a demon is to kill them in their true form—their true, nasty, monstrous form that manifests in this world. That takes them out completely.”
“You cutting corners in your explanation there, girl?”
I made a face. The way it works—simplistically speaking—is that a demon expelled from a human body goes back to the ether. If killed in its true form, however, it’s sucked back into a completely different dimension.
The ether is an accessible dimension. Not easily, but it’s possible for human souls to get diverted there even though the heavenly dimension is a much better place.
That’s what happened to Eric’s soul after he was killed in San Francisco.
He was floating formless out there, surrounded by throngs of equally formless demons.
The thought still made me shiver.
And, of course, there’s a hell dimension. That’s where demons hang if they just want to live their little demon lives in their own demonic neighborhood. The ether is like a way station. Demons leave hell and go there if they’re planning on coming here.
Regular demons tend to hang out in hell or the ether, and when they die, that’s where they return.
High Demons have more power, but that also means it’s harder for them to manifest in our world, even inside a human body. They just radiate too much demon-ness, and burn through the body quickly.
When they’re killed in a human form, they’re weakened. Instead of the ether, they return straight to the hell dimension to regain their strength. Which is a good thing, because it keeps them out of commission for a while. Usually years and years in earth time.
But once you kill a demon in its true form, it goes someplace else entirely.
Call it Uber-Hell, though I’m sure the Church has another name for it.
It’s another dimension altogether from which there’s no escape.
At least, not as far as I know. A truly dead demon is the brass ring for a Demon Hunter, because it means that’s one beastie that really isn’t coming back.
I’ve taken a few High Demons out in my time—more than the average Hunter, that’s for sure. In fact, I’d sent one to Uber-Hell right before the trip to Rome—Lilith’s consort, Odayne. He’d burst out of Eric in his true form, and I’d nailed his demony little ass.
Lilith, though … well, I wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to her. She’d created Odayne, and that meant they were connected. When Odayne died, she had, too.
But had I sent her back to Uber-Hell, there to be trapped forever? Or had she merely gone back to the regular hell dimension to regroup?
I didn’t know. I couldn’t know. But if she hadn’t followed her lover into that deepest, darkest hell, that meant that Lilith—one of the most ancient and powerful of all demons—was off somewhere licking her wounds and regrouping.
Not the happiest of thoughts, but so long as she’s not on earth, I can live with that.
“Exactly” Eddie said, after I told him all of that. “You two kicked her mighty ass to the curb, and more power to you. And if she’s injured, it’ll take a while to heal in human years. Bitch probably won’t make it back until Allie’s got grandkids.”
“I hope so,” I said. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean there aren’t more demons coming out of the woodwork.”
”Eh.” His shoulders rose and fell in a Gallic gesture. “There’s always demons coming out of the woodwork.”
“True. But there were three tonight,” I added, getting back to my original point. “Three.”
“You think that means they’re up to something? Phhhbt. I think it means that there are more demons because you weren’t here reading the papers, chasing down the dead bodies that aren’t really dead. Not you or your snooky-wookums.”
I cocked my head to the side and stared him down. “Eddie…”
“Just calling them like I’m seeing them.”
The fact is, he was probably right. Allie said the same thing. I hugged the pillow tighter. “I’m just worried,” I said. “She may be fifteen, but she’s still my baby.”
His shoulders sagged, and for a moment he looked ten years older. Finally, he nodded slowly, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “I never had kids you know.”
“I know.”
“But I do think of you as a daughter. Or at least a granddaughter. And you know how I feel about Allie.”
My smile reached all the way to my toes. “I know. Us, too.” And then, because between the two of us, we could only handle so much sappiness, I added, ”What about Stuart and Eric?”
He snorted. “Guess I’m more like a father than anyone could have anticipated, because as far as I’m concerned neither one of them is good enough for you.”
“Eddie,” I said with a hint of warning in my voice. But at the same time, I couldn’t hide my grin.
“But…” he continued, holding up a finger, “they’re both good men. And they both love you. You figure out a way to keep those two from killing each other, and I think all three of you will end up doing just fine.”
“Yeah? Wow, who knew?”
“What?”
“You have a sweet side.”
He made a deep grunting, guttural sound. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anybody that.”
I laughed. “I never had a dad.”
“I know.”
“Never had a grandfather, either.”
I saw the hint of a smile touch his lips. “You did. A father, too. You just didn’t know either of them. Your father’s dead, we know that. But as for your grandpa … well he could be alive for all you know.”
Considering my age, I doubted it. But technically it was possible. And it really was a nice thought. “Maybe.” I shot him a mischievous grin. “For that matter, maybe it’s you.”
He chuckled. “Stranger things have happened. Between the two of us, we’ve probably seen most of those stranger things.”
“True enough.”
“What about Eliza?” he asked.
I shook my head, having lost the thread. “Eliza?”
“She’s family ain’t she? She must know what your grandparent situation is.”
He had a point. “She doesn’t have any living relatives, though. But you’re right. She might have the information. I’ll ask her. But she wouldn’t know about my paternal line.”
“Well, as far as I’m concerned, you’ve got a good family. Good tight family. Who cares about blood?” His eyes met mine. “Blood’s always causing trouble.”
He was right about that. I pushed the pillow away, shaking off my doubts and fears and worries. “It doesn’t matter anyway. My family tree is doing just fine.”
I pushed off the couch then went over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
He rubbed the spot brusquely. “Ah, now you’re going to go and get all sappy.”
“It happens.”
“Harumph.” His eyes narrowed as he stared me down. “Just no crying. Can’t stand the crying.”
I laughed. “Fair enough. Want to watch something mindless on television before I go put together dinner? Or we could do a short movie. G-rated,” I added with a nod toward the kitchen, where the decibel level was rapidly increasing.
“Not a bad idea, but I got me a date.” He lifted his wrist and tapped the crystal of the watch we brought him from Italy along with the stiletto. “Time for me to go get ready. You going to be okay alone, girly-girl?”
“Don’t worry about me,” I said as I heard a clatter and the shrill sound of a toddler’s cry. I know how to take care of myself.”
“Yeah,” Eddie said as I sprinted to the kitchen. “You definitely do.”
“No, no, no!” I screeched, my eyes bugged out horror as I stood stock still, completely stymied with absolutely no idea how to deal with this … this … hell.
Seriously, I was looking down into the vast pit of hell in all its slimy, writhing grossness. It had touched me—infected me—and the pure horror of it all had festered a murderous rage inside of me. A rage so intense that I whipped out my phone and hit the speed dial for Allie.
“Hey, Mom! We’re fine. All quiet. No need to check in.”
“Do. You. Have. Any. Idea. What. You. Did?”
The silence hung heavy on the other end of the line for a full count of five. I know, because Timmy was on the floor beside me, counting the writhing little critters as they wriggled on the concrete.
“Um, no?”
“Maggots, Allie. The outside pantry is teeming with maggots!”
“Ew!”
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, that about sums it up. I opened the doors to get one of the cases of green beans and a bazillion of the creatures practically leaped out at me.”
A slight exaggeration, as only a few had squirmed off the shelf. But it had seemed like a bazillion at the time. As far as I was concerned, one maggot was one too many.
As a rule, I’m not squeamish. I’ll put up with all sorts of things.
I’ve shoved my finger through eyes to expel demons.
I’ve changed the dirtiest of diapers. I’ve scraped dishes that my teenager forgot about in her bedroom for over three weeks, not to mention half-finished fast food milkshakes that had solidified into some sort of concrete-like substance.
I’ve even tackled a bathtub ring so intense I actually considered a full bathroom remodel because it would be an easier job.
But I do not—not—deal well with bugs. Especially bugs of the slimy, wriggling variety.
“Um,” Allie began. “Was it that roast?”
I tilted my head, both annoyed and a little bit proud. Annoyed that she so clearly knew the source of the problem. Proud that she confessed.
“I would say yes, but I’d have to guess since I’m not going to get close enough to be sure. How is it that you’re so certain?”
“I, um, might have gotten distracted unpacking the groceries you got for Eddie.”
We’d gone shopping before leaving for Rome. Stuff for the freezer and dry goods for the pantry. One call from a boy—because I’m certain it was a boy—and her mind turned to mush, and a roast ended up defrosting in the pantry. For almost a month.
Seriously, we might just have to sell the house.
“Tomorrow,” I said. “You’re cleaning tomorrow.”
“I know, I know. I will. I’m sorry! But, um, will you help me?”
“Not in a million years.”
“But—”
“Maggots, Allie. I really and truly do not do maggots.”
“Fine. Can I ask Mindy? Or Daddy?”
“You can hire a cleaning service with your allowance money for all I care. I just want to be able to get the Odyssey out of the garage without the floor squishing under my shoes.”
“Ewww. Mom. Gross.”
“That, my darling daughter, is my point.”
“Can I go now? Aunt Laura made pasta.”
Bile rose in my throat at the very thought, but I managed to keep it together. “Sure, go on. But tomorrow, you clean.”
“Love you, Mom. And I’m sorry.”
I melted at the unprompted affection. “Love you, too, baby. Have fun.”
“Will do. Kiss Timmy for me.”
And just like that, I melted a little bit more.