“But of course,” he said. “Do we have a deal?” He reached his hand across the table.
She took his hand. It was warmer than she expected, almost but not quite hot to the touch. “It’s a deal.”
3
“Is that what you’re wearing?” Andy asked.
Erin, fresh out of a shower and facing the mirror examining herself in a navy tea-length dress, looked over her shoulder at him. “What do you mean by that?”
“You should make him regret he left you. Show a little leg or something.”
“You may not be familiar with the concept, demon, but I’m going to church. You know, a house of God?”
“Why would God have a problem with your leg?”
“As far as I know, God doesn’t have a problem with my leg.”
“Then why not show it off?” Andy extended one trouser-clad leg in a way that was clearly intended to be enticing.
“Why does a demon sound like my mother?” Erin muttered.
“Does your mother want you to show some leg?”
“No! I mean, sort of. At first, she wanted me to give up on the divorce and get back together with Mark.”
Andy approached her from behind as she faced the mirror. He peered at her in the reflection. “Do you want to get back together with him?” His expressive eyes widened.
“Of course not. He’s a dog.” Erin smoothed the front of the dress. “Sorry, Nancy. No offense,” she added in an aside to the dog, who had returned to her spot at the foot of the bed.
“Well, then.” Andy patted her shoulders in a comradely way. “What shall we do first? We discussed boils and itching, but an audience opens up all sorts of exciting possibilities.” He whipped out his notebook and flipped through the pages.
Erin laughed. “You think you’re going to church with me? You can’t even set foot in there.”
Andy smirked. “I am a Great Earl of Hell and the Discoverer of Wickedness. You’d be surprised where I can go.”
“Oh, what, anywhere with wickedness?” Erin raised her eyebrows.
Andy bowed. “Naturellement.” He turned to Erin’s closet and rummaged enthusiastically, flinging clothing across the bed.
“Wouldn’t people see you?”
“Only if I wanted them to.” He waggled a little black dress in her direction. “Can I interest you in this chic number?”
Erin shook her head. “There’s nothing you can do there, anyway.”
“Fine.” Andy pouted. “Can we at least do your hair?”
Erin looked at him like he’d sprouted an extra head instead of a set of wings. “A demonic hairstyle?”
“Don’t knock it till you try it. Sit down.”
Erin lowered herself into the chair facing the vanity mirror.
Andy reached into another pocket and retrieved a handful of silver hairpins. “Hold still.”
Erin felt his warm fingers slide up from the top of her neck deep into the hair on the back of her head. He gripped and twisted in one smooth movement, gathering stray locks with his free hand and pinning them artfully into the twist.
It all happened so quickly that Erin barely had time to register the goose bumps that rose on her arms. She couldn’t, however, avoid the sight of her reddened cheeks in the mirror, especially when his warm hands brushed past them to arrange a loose tendril or two.
“There,” said Andy. “That’s better.”
“Thanks,” said Erin, and tore her gaze away from the mirror to stare at the surface of the vanity instead. “What will you do while I’m gone?”
“Talk to Nancy. Stretch my wings. Come up with plans to torture your ex-husband.”
Erin smiled ruefully. “Maybe I should have fixed him breakfast more often.”
“How often did he fix you breakfast?” said Andy.
Erin searched her memory and came up with nothing.
In her silence, Andy got his answer. “You’re well rid of him. More coffee before you go?”
Erin parked in the lot adjacent to the church and took several calming breaths before opening the car door. She picked up her Bible—with a slim romance novel tucked inside—and joined the trickle of parishioners making their way into the building.
If she was lucky, she could avoid her mother until the last possible second.
She threaded her way through the lobby, past the ushers, into the sanctuary, and down the aisle flanked by sturdy wooden pews. She took a seat in the back, next to the aisle, far from the front rows preferred by her mother—and, of course, Mark.
“Darling! What are you doing here? Come sit up front,” said her mother, who swept up from behind and seized her arm.
Since diving under the pews wasn’t an option, Erin freed herself and spoke in a quiet but firm tone. “Not now, mother. Don’t make a scene.”
“Nonsense. Who’s making a scene? Can’t I sit with my only daughter?”
“Sit here, then.”
“And miss Pastor Patrick? You know I can’t see that far.”
“You can watch him on the video projection screen, Mom.”
“Fine,” her mother huffed and plopped down next to Erin. “You win. Oh look, there’s Mark and Genevieve!”
“Quiet!” Erin gritted out. She pretended not to watch them make their way down to the front.
“She looks a little chubby,” her mother observed.
“Mother, can you not?”
“I’m just saying.”
The service began with music, followed by prayer. Erin wondered if God would forgive her for speaking in anger.
And for accidentally conjuring a demon.
And for letting said demon do her hair.
Perhaps, she decided, she should save up all her sins and ask forgiveness for all of them at once, when this was all over.
She paid less attention than she should during the sermon, which was on the subject of “Fresh Starts,” because she was too busy trying to watch Mark and Genevieve without it looking like she was watching them. The video projection screen helped a lot, since the camera frequently panned over the front rows.
When the sermon concluded, the ushers stood to prepare to hand out the offering plates after the next hymn.
She glanced at the ushers on her side of the sanctuary—and froze.