Stacia Kane - Demon Inside

Not that she remembered most of it. She’d been possessed by the Accuser at the time, and had blocked the entire experience out of her memory until she’d been forced to confront it all in order to defeat him for good.

A child ran out into the street in front of her. Megan slammed on the brakes. Her coffee spilled all over her jeans.

“Damn it! Ow!” She set the cup down on the seat next to her, wishing for once she was as finicky as Tera, who always accepted napkins no matter where she was.

Megan glared at the child, a boy of about eight, totally anonymous in his red coat and cap. He stuck out his tongue. Brat.

“Michael!” Oh great. The last thing Megan needed now was the kid’s mother. She hadn’t even come close to hitting him, for fuck’s sake, but something about the look of the heavyset woman scurrying toward her and the smug expression on the boy’s face told her that wouldn’t matter.

She was right. The woman marched over and raised an imperious fist to start tapping on the window. Megan took a grim pleasure in rolling it down before she could.

“You need to watch where you’re going! You almost hit my son!”

“Perhaps your son should watch where he’s going,” Megan said pleasantly. “Instead of just darting out into the street.”

“How dare you! You—Megan Chase!”

Oh, shit. Just as recognition hit the plump, high-blooded face of the woman, it hit Megan. Cassie Bryant, from Megan’s gym class senior year.

There was no point recalling the specifics of Cassie’s cruelty toward Megan. She hadn’t been unique in it.

“Yes. Hi, Cassie.” Megan forced a smile. “Look, if your son is okay, I’m just going to—”

“He’s fine,” Cassie said dismissively. She hadn’t even glanced at her son since her beady eyes had fixed on Megan. “What are you doing back in town? It’s so good to see you! We heard about you, you know, on the radio and everything…”

Ah, so that explained it. “Right. Yes. I really should be—”

“You know, we should go out one night! For a drink. I remember where you live, I could come over and get you.”

“I’m…well, my father died, so I don’t really think—”

“Oh no!” Cassie’s hands, heavy with cheap gold, clasped over her mouth. “Oh, Megan, I sure am sorry to hear that. When is the funeral?”

“Wednesday. I’m sorry, Cassie, but I really have to go.”

“Of course, of course. I’ll tell you what. I’ll call you later, over at your parents’—your mom’s—house, okay? I think you need a night out with the girls to cheer you up. I’m still friends with all of them, you know, me and Amy and Jen, we all still live in town. We could all go out? Sound good?”

It sounded as appealing as an appendectomy with no anesthetic. “If I have time, sure. Sounds fun.”

She gave Michael, sulking by the side of the road, a half smile and drove away. Great. The last thing she wanted or needed was for her meager fame outside the town to haunt her even more than her infamy inside it already did.

“Megan.” Her mother stood in the doorway, her blonde hair tucked into a smooth chignon, her black dress gliding over a figure still slim. No late-life weight gain for Diane Chase. For a minute time seemed to shift. Megan was acutely aware of the splotch of cold coffee staining her jeans.

“Come in.”

No hugs, no watery smiles. Megan hadn’t really expected them.

“I see you’re alone.”

“Yes.” What did the woman expect, that Megan would be bringing a dozen friends? Of course she was alone.

At least until tomorrow. Brian and Tera were driving out together in the morning to attend the funeral with her.

Greyson…didn’t know. She hadn’t called him back. Her pride hadn’t allowed it. They’d had a fight, maybe a stupid fight, maybe not—as her temper cooled she’d started to see his anger as the more logical of the two, which didn’t excuse it—but she wasn’t going to emotionally blackmail him into cutting his trip short to be with her. If he even could. Or would.

It wasn’t like she was heartbroken. Saddened, sure. But her father had never been much more than a cipher to her, and they hadn’t spoken since she’d left for college.

She could get through this alone. She didn’t need a crutch. No matter how much she wanted hi—it.

“Take your shoes off, please. The carpet.”

Megan blinked. Her mother nodded toward a rack by the door. “Shoes off, Megan.”

For a minute she thought about running. Turning around, leaving the house, picking up her bag, and just going home.

Instead she just bent and unzipped her boots, placing them neatly on the rack.

“I’ve made coffee,” Diane said. She still had not touched Megan or looked her directly in the eyes. “In the kitchen.”

They trooped past a living room almost unchanged since the day Megan left for what she thought would be the last time. The furniture sitting placidly in the overheated air looked new, but was the same style and color it had been before. The family portraits still hung in the same places on the walls, although Megan noticed the ones with her in them had been moved farther down and some were missing altogether. No surprise there.

“Why am I here, Mother?”

“Sit down.”

Megan glanced at the chairs. Their hard wooden seats and straight backs promised physical discomfort as well as the mental unease of being here to begin with. Why were they even in here? They’d never had meals in the kitchen or even coffee. The kitchen was for unacceptable guests, for contractors giving estimates or—

Answered her own question there, hadn’t she?

She sat. And waited. If there was one thing she was good at, it was waiting for the other person to speak first.

Her mother placed a cup in front of her, along with a little china boat of cream and a matching bowl of sugar cubes. Megan shook her head.

The coffee, damn it, was delicious. Diane always had been a good cook; it was one of the few things aside from her looks Megan had inherited.

“Apparently your father made a new will a few weeks ago,” Diane said, shifting in her seat. “He—”

“How did he die?”

“Don’t interrupt me, please. Our attorney has the new will and he informed me that we all have to be at the reading. That’s why you’re here. Plus I thought perhaps you would like to pay your respects to the man who supported you throughout your childhood. He deserves your quiet and unobtrusive presence.”

“What happens if I don’t go? To the reading of the will, I mean.”

Her mother sniffed and took a dainty sip from her cup. “I didn’t ask. I assumed that when I explained the situation to you, you would of course do the right thing and help your family avoid any inconvenience.”

Megan’s legs tensed, ready to get up and leave. She didn’t want to be here, didn’t want anything to do with any of this.

But she stayed. Because if she didn’t this would follow her home. Because she had a good reputation as a psychological counselor and news of a huge rift in her family would shed a bad light on that at a time when her radio show was her only income.

“Fine,” she managed. “How did he die?”

“Heart attack.” Her mother leaned back in her chair and smoothed her skirt. “He’d had several before.”

Megan didn’t bother to ask why no one had called her then, and it didn’t matter anyway because a rattling sound from the living room indicated someone was walking into the house.

Diane’s face lit up. She pushed herself out of her seat and practically floated from the room. “David!”

“Mom! Mom, are you okay?”

Megan turned in her seat and peeked out from around the open doorway of the kitchen to see her older brother, his fair head bent as he embraced their mother, who sobbed theatrically and clung to him.