Jenna Black: Speak of the Devil

There was another whimper, and Abraham’s mystery host glanced into the room behind the open door. She apparently liked what she saw, because she smiled as she turned back to me.

“Come on in,” she said. “See what I have planned for this evening’s entertainment. Move slowly, though. Sudden moves will have severe consequences. And stay where I can see you.”

My hands itching for the Taser, I started to walk toward her. She backed up as I approached, keeping a substantial distance between us while making sure neither one of us lost sight of the other. Sweat trickled down the small of my back, though I wasn’t particularly hot.

You want to take over now, Lugh? I asked.

Not yet. I want to leave you in control as long as possible. Maybe that will make you less sick in the aftermath .

I wasn’t holding my breath on that one, but since I preferred being in control anyway, I didn’t argue.

Slowly, I crept forward as Abraham backed up, until I was finally able to see what awaited me in the room beyond. I’m not sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t what I got.

Another woman I didn’t know lay on the floor at the opposite end of the room. Pixie-cut blond hair framed a heart-shaped face, which was streaked with runny mascara. She was the source of all the little whimpers, though she barely seemed to be conscious. I could see no obvious wounds, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t seriously hurt.

“Who is that?” I asked Abraham.

“That is Jessica Miles. You know, Jordan Maguire’s ex?”

I nodded to indicate that I recognized the name. “What is she doing here? And what’s wrong with her?”

I wasn’t entirely surprised that he ignored my questions. “Tell me, have you figured out why I’m unhappy with you yet?” He frowned theatrically. “You have figured out that I’m a demon, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “That part’s pretty clear. And you’re pissed at me because Jordan Maguire didn’t burn.”

He nodded. Or should I say “she”? It was rather confusing. I decided since demons usually adopt their hosts’ names that I would think of my enemy as “she” for the time being.

“Very good. I had no idea whether you were smart enough to put the pieces together or not. How nice not to have to draw you a picture.”

I tried taking a cautious step closer, but her eyes narrowed, and her finger flexed on the trigger. I froze, and she smiled.

“To make a long story short,” she said, “Jessica here helped me frame my good friend Jordan for hitting her. She’s a wicked, wicked person. A murderer. And a stone-cold bitch.”

“None of that clarifies why she’s here.”

“Patience, patience. You’ve fucked up everything I’ve tried to do, and if I want to take my own sweet time explaining how the game will end, then it’s my prerogative.” She looked at me expectantly.

If she thought I’d argue, she had another think coming. I knew crazy when I saw it, and it was staring me right in the face. Reasoning with a crazy person seemed like more effort than it was worth. I made a zipping-my-mouth gesture and waited.

Her lips tugged downward in an almost petulant expression. Jessica took that moment to issue another whimper. She made what appeared to be a feeble attempt to get up, but she collapsed almost immediately.

Abraham smiled. “To answer your question about what’s wrong with our dear friend Jessica, she’s drugged to the gills. Frankly, I’m surprised she’s conscious. I thought I’d have to wake her up for the grand finale.”

What the hell was this psycho up to now?

Abraham moved a little closer to Jessica, and the light of the candle glinted off something on the floor. A kitchen knife. Not one of those big-ass chef’s knifes, but not a tiny little paring knife, either. I’m no expert in the kitchen, but I decided this was probably a utility knife.

Abraham put the candle down on the floor. It was a fat pillar type, so it didn’t need any kind of holder. The gun didn’t waver in its aim.

“I’ve wiped it clean of prints,” Abraham said, then stood and kicked the knife across the floor toward me. Her smile became even more vicious. “Pick it up!”

The knife came to a stop against the wall, a little bit to my left. Unfortunately, I was beginning to see where this was leading, and I didn’t like it one bit.

I swallowed hard, though I made no move toward the knife. “You failed to frame me for the last two murders, but this time …” I couldn’t finish my own sentence.

Abraham laughed, having a jolly old time contemplating murder and mayhem. “This time, it won’t be a frame. This time, you’ll be guilty as hell. Now pick up the fucking knife.”

Any ideas? I asked Lugh.

Maybe it was just my imagination, but his voice in my head sounded tense and strained. Do as she says. As long as she’s got that gun on us, we can’t afford not to. Maybe once she thinks we’re doing what she wants, she’ll relax her guard a bit and give me an opportunity .

Too many maybes! But, as he said, we had no choice but to obey as long as she had that gun pointed at my head.

Moving slowly, in case she had an itchy trigger finger, I retrieved the knife. It looked lethally sharp.

While I bent over to pick up the knife, Abraham knelt by Jessica’s feet and grabbed her ankle. Her aim didn’t waver the whole time.

“When I tell you to,” she said, “you’re going to very, very slowly come closer. I’ll want you to come kneel by her head.” She shook Jessica’s ankle, hard. “Come on, honey, stay awake for this. You don’t want to sleep through your own gruesome murder, now do you?”

Jessica sobbed and made a feeble attempt to free her ankle from Abraham’s grip. Abraham continued to smile up at me, savoring every moment.

“That knife I gave you is a little short for the job,” Abraham continued. “It’ll take quite a few stabs before she finally gives up the ghost.” She held up Jessica’s ankle. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t go anywhere, but she’ll probably find she has some fight left in her when you start stabbing her. It’ll be a shame if she gets your skin cells under her fingernails.” Her laugh was maniacal. Almost over the top, really. Nothing like being trapped in a dark room with a B-movie horror psycho holding a gun to your head.

“Come on over,” Abraham invited when the laughter died. “Slowly.”

I swallowed hard and stayed put. “What if I refuse?” I asked, just to make sure I fully understood the situation.

Another psycho-cackle. “Then we all go our separate ways, and every person on that list I gave you dies.”

“You won’t just shoot me in the head?”

She snorted. “Way too quick and easy.”

“So you don’t actually need that gun.” Hey, a girl can hope, right?

“It’s to discourage you from trying anything heroic,” Abraham explained.

It was my turn to snort, though it probably sounded pretty forced and phony. “Like you’re in any danger from me!”

“I like to be cautious. For all I know, you have another Taser on you. And don’t get any funny ideas about sacrificing yourself by forcing me to shoot. If I have to kill you, then you’ll have cheated me of my revenge yet again, and I’ll be forced to take it out on your loved ones. I have nothing else to live for, after all. Now get your ass over here and get to work.”

I swallowed hard and shook my head. “What did Maguire’s demon do to you that’s worth all this mayhem?”

“You’re stalling, and I have no patience for it. Move!”

I started edging forward, my mind working frantically. Lugh, I don’t know what to do!

Just keep following her orders .