Demon Cursed Page 3

  When I worked late, Torr would sit out on the fire escape and keep an eye on Noel and Micah. He never revealed himself to them. We’d argued about it more than a few times. I thought Noel and Micah would accept Torr, especially once I explained that he’d actually been a part of our lives for almost two years now. He even slept on the couch sometimes, unbeknownst to either of them.

  But Torr didn’t want to risk it. And I understood that. He worried that the kids would make me choose between them and him. And although I would never let myself choose, I could see why he wouldn’t want to risk that. We were his family, Noel, Micah, and I, even if two members of that family didn’t even know he existed.

  I gave him a smile. “Well, I appreciate it. Did you get some breakfast?”

  “I did. I had some apples. Did you guys get the ones I left for you?”

  “We did. Thanks.”

  “Do you think you’ll be late today?”

  The bridge was only ten feet away now. I stopped to lean down and tie my boot, dropping my voice to barely above a whisper now. “Shouldn’t be. Last night Mrs. Uriel drank a lot. She’ll be hung over for most of the day. To be honest, I’d be surprised if she gets out of bed before noon, and that’ll only be for a quick bite to eat before she returns to bed.”

  “Good. I’ll walk the kids home from school and wait for you.”

  Torr didn’t wait for a response, as a group was coming up behind us. He simply walked back the way we came, skirting around the people hurrying toward the bridge. A wave of pity fell over me. I hated that he had to stay hidden. In the time I’d known him, I’d seen no evidence of aggression or violence. Other than how he looked, I’m not sure how he could even be classified as a demon. Every time I tried to talk to him about where he came from and why he was so different from the other demons, though, he made himself invisible to me as well. It didn’t take long for me to realize that that was one topic that was off-limits.

  Standing up, I adjusted my bag and rearranged my uniform to remove any wrinkles before I stepped into the line. There were only ten people ahead of me. Two guards in the gray uniforms of Sterling Peak security stood at the front of the line at the bridge entrance. I groaned silently when I saw that Claude was on-duty. The guy made my skin crawl.

  I didn’t recognize the other guy. He must be new.

  A job with Sterling Peak security was the dream job for anyone living down in Blue Forks: three square meals a day and an actual livable wage. Those who got tapped for the job were usually some distant cousin of a Sterling Peak's resident. Most of the guards were allowed to move into the lower levels of Sterling Peak after a year, and they wasted no time doing exactly that.

  And most liked to lord that status over those who still had to commute.

  I counted the people ahead, trying to figure out who I would end up with and let out a sigh of relief that it looked like I’d speak with the new guy. Anyone had to be better than Claude.

  Then a guy three people up couldn’t find his identification card. It took so long that instead of getting the new guy, I found myself face-to-face with Claude.

  Claude was a little shorter than me, standing at maybe 5′6″. He had a nearly perfectly round head and a rotund body that had only gotten larger in the last few months. Apparently he was putting all of his money into food. He smiled as I stepped in front of him. His gaze shifted from my face, down my entire body, and then back again. Anger rolled over me as quickly as his eyes did. “Identification.”

  I pulled my ID out of my back pocket and handed it over. Claude made a big show of looking at my face, back at the ID, and then back at my face again. “So how are you doing this morning, Addison?”

  “Fine.”

  He leaned forward. I struggled not to lean back from the stench of his breath.

  “You know, my offer still stands. I have a sweet little pad not far from here on the good side of the bridge. I’d be more than willing to make some room for you in exchange for some favors.” His eyes drifted over me again.

  “Can I have my ID back?”

  Claude grinned, holding it even farther away. “I don’t know. I’m not sure this is legit. I might need to take you in for extra searching.”

  “Claude!”

  Claude winced, his shoulders practically touching his ears. He turned slowly as a woman marched across the bridge toward him. Sheila Castiel was in charge of Sterling Peak security. And by some absolute miracle, she was not a jerk like most of her staff.

  The tall, muscular woman stopped next to Claude, glaring down at him, her hands on her hips, her dark hair pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail. “Why are you holding up Miss Baker?”

  Claude fumbled with my ID and quickly handed it back. “I’m not. I’m not. I was just making conversation.”

  She glared at him. “Do we pay you to make conversation?”

  “Uh, no,” he mumbled.

  “That’s right. We pay you to keep Sterling Peak secure and to keep the lines moving quickly. Now which is more important: making conversation or doing your job?”

  “Um, the second one?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, the second one. Now go down and join the river patrol. They’re missing a guy and need some extra help. Perhaps it will help remind you of how lucky you are to have this position.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am.”

  Claude hurried off, shooting me a glare before disappearing down the path along the side of the bridge.

  It would be one seriously smelly day for Claude. River patrol involved searching the riverbanks for any demon attack victims, and being it was the end of the month, cleaning out the nets that were used to catch the debris that floated down from Blue Forks.

  Sheila rolled her eyes. “I really don’t know why we have to keep that one around.” She rolled her shoulders as if shaking off the encounter. Then she smiled at me. “How’s it going today, Addie?”

  “Good. How’s Marjorie?”

  Sheila’s face lit up at the mention of her younger sister. Marjorie had some learning deficits, and she struggled sometimes with understanding the rules. One night when I had been coming home late, I caught sight of her walking off the bridge into Blue Forks. I didn’t know she was Sheila’s sister. I just knew that she shouldn’t be out by herself. There was something so childlike about Marjorie, even though we were probably about the same age.

  I followed her to where a man was meeting up with her. And that was when the demons attacked. Sheila had been out looking for Marjorie and arrived as I was standing between Marjorie and the last one. I’d already taken down the other one. The man had run off. Sheila jumped into the fight without hesitation, and together the two of us dispatched the remaining one. She called the security patrol to escort me home that night. I’d ridden in a car, which as far as I knew, was the first time I’d been in one.

  She’d never forgotten that I’d helped her out. Occasionally she’d be waiting for me after work with some fresh baked bread or some clothes for the kids. And somewhere along the way, we’d become friends.

  Sheila smiled. “She’s great. She started painting. She’s actually really good.”

  “That’s wonderful. I’d love to see her painting some time.”

  Sheila tilted her head. “Tell you what, why don’t you bring Noel and Micah over this weekend for dinner? You can stay over. There’s going to be fireworks. I’m sure the kids would love it.”

  “Thanks. Actually, that sounds great.”

  Sheila smiled as she stepped out of the way so I could pass. “See you Saturday.”

  “See you then.”

  I took off across the bridge. The bridge itself was something out of a fairy tale with its stone arches and the sun shining on the water below. I loved walking across it. It felt freeing.

  But today I couldn’t take the time to appreciate the bridge. I was running late. I broke into a jog, hurried across the bridge, and then up the hill. The Uriels were one of the wealthier families, and as a result, th
eir home was third from the top. Walking to work was a workout every morning. Running to work was extreme exercise. But today there was no choice.

  I sprinted up the hill, bypassing some other workers. I pulled into the Uriels’ driveway just five minutes before nine.

  Their drive was cobblestoned, so I had to slow down or risk twisting an ankle. The home was four stories high, with giant columns all along the front, which were reminiscent of a Greek temple. The gold cherubim fountain in front of the house though was more like something from old Las Vegas, at least according to the pictures I’d seen.

  I quickly made my way to the side door. Before I could knock, George, who with his shaggy gray hair, eyebrows, and mustache bore an uncanny resemblance to an English sheepdog, had the door open. “You better hurry.”

  I squeezed past him. “I know, I know.”

  I ducked into the first bathroom and quickly stripped off my jeans and tank top. I splashed cold water on my skin and toweled off. Then I threw on my uniform. I grabbed the ridiculous ballet flats out of my bag and slipped them on my feet. Mrs. Uriel didn’t like to hear anybody walking around her house. She insisted we all wear these ridiculous shoes that gave zero support while standing on them all day.

  But like many other things that involved the welfare of her servants, that was not Mrs. Uriel’s concern.

  I grabbed my brush and looked in the mirror as I pulled my hair tightly back, making sure there wasn’t a single hair out of place. The uniform was the exact same blue as my eyes. I pulled out one of the fresh aprons that hung in the closet and wrapped it around my waist and then placed a small little cap on my head.

  Made with a really delicate material that was also durable, the uniform was surprisingly comfortable. Sad to say, it was by far the highest quality outfit in my entire wardrobe.

  I stashed my backpack in the closet and then hurried into the kitchen with a quick glance at the clock. 8:58.

  “Cutting it close,” Beth Myers, the Uriels’ cook, said as she pushed the already-made-up tray toward me. I was supposed to put the tray together. But Beth no doubt knew I’d been here late and would run in at the last minute.

  Beth had been with the Uriels since she was a teenager, and she’d been in the kitchen now for close to fifty years. She knew where all the Uriels’ dirty secrets were buried, so unlike the rest of the staff, they were very courteous to her. Beth, in turn, used her sway to help make life a little easier for everyone else.

  “Thanks, Beth. You’re a lifesaver.” I grabbed the tray and hustled down the hall. Carefully balancing the tray and trying not to slosh any of the tea, I climbed to the second floor. At the landing, I stopped for a moment to readjust the plate that had slid a little toward me. Luckily, none of the tea had spilled. I knocked on the double master doors at nine o’clock on the dot.

  “Come in,” came the muffled reply from the other side of the door.

  Once again carefully balancing the tray with one hand, I turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open with my foot. Mrs. Uriel was still in bed.

  I walked over to the side table and placed the tray silently upon it. Mrs. Uriel groaned from her position face down in bed. She shoved her thin pale-brown hair back. Large black circles of mascara rimmed them. A quick glance at the white pillowcase showed where the lipstick, blush, and eye makeup had rubbed off during the night. “What time is it?”

  “Nine o’clock.”

  “It’s too early.” She shoved herself up. The straps of her white silk negligee slipped down her shoulders.

  I averted my eyes. I wasn’t exactly a prude with the human body, but Mrs. Uriel thought nothing of parading around with little to nothing on. She wasn’t showing off. She just really didn’t think of her staff as people.

  She shoved her straps back up and sat against the pillows. “My tea. Quickly.”

  I uncovered the tray and poured some into her cup. The scent of ginger and lemon wafted up. It was Beth’s hangover remedy. With Mrs. Uriel, she’d had enough practice to fine-tune the recipe.

  I handed her the cup. Without a word, she took it and drank down its contents practically in one gulp. She shoved the cup back at me. “Come back at twelve.”

  She flopped back down, rolling over and giving me her back. I placed the cup back on the tray. As silently as I could manage, I picked it up and walked back out the door. Once again balancing the tray with one hand, I closed the door behind me and then leaned against it, taking a breath. Okay. My work day had officially begun.

  Chapter 5

  I spent the next few hours tidying up after the party last night. According to Nigel—who was the head butler, Beth’s brother, and the house’s most notorious gossip—the party broke up around six a.m. Mrs. Uriel had gone to bed a few hours earlier, but her children had kept the partying going. A few guests had taken up residence in the rooms on the fourth floor.

  After I helped Nigel and Ingrid, the other maid, with the second and third floor, Ingrid disappeared down the stairs to help Beth in the kitchen. Nigel turned to me, watching me down his hawk-like nose. “I’m afraid you’re on your own for the fourth floor. A group of Hunter’s friends stayed over last night, so try to be quiet and ignore any rooms where the door’s closed.” He paused. “Or open and occupied.”

  I sighed, looking up the stairs. “How long’s Hunter staying?”

  Nigel looked around, lowering his voice. “Hopefully only a few days. He scared off another kitchen worker yesterday.”

  “Who?”

  “Hilda’s girl.”

  My mouth gaped. “She’s only fifteen!”

  Anger slashed across Nigel’s face. “I know.”

  My own anger simmered just below the surface. I wasn’t a fan of Estelle Uriel, but I’d take her any day over her entitled, arrogant, lecherous son. He’d assaulted me one night when he was too far into his cups, and I broke his arm. Luckily, he thought he’d fallen down the stairs while he was drunk.

  Noel had wanted me to report him, but there was no point. No one would do anything about the creep. There was, however, an excellent chance I’d get in trouble for breaking his arm.

  Although, I have to say, he’d made certain to keep his distance from me since then. Maybe he remembered part of it. Hunter liked to give the impression he was a tough guy. Being beat up by the house staff wouldn’t exactly help that reputation.

  Nigel leaned toward me, dropping his voice after glancing around to make sure no one could overhear him. “The Seven met here last night.”

  The Seven were the leaders of the Seraph Force. And although they were called the Seven, they currently only numbered six. Major General Rolf Remiel had left two weeks ago to help set up another academy on the east coast.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Really?”

  The Seraph Force was the security force in Sterling Peak. They were viewed with a hallowed air. And I had to admit, they looked intimidating. All strong, tall, muscular, male and female alike. They were all descendants of the archangels and looked it. Sheila ran basic security, but the Seraph Force trained to fend off demons. And I knew that Hunter wanted more than anything to be one of them.

  Nigel nodded. “The meeting was supposed to happen at Donovan Gabriel’s, but Katie came down with a stomach bug.” Katie was the Gabriel’s chef. “The doctor said it might be contagious, and so it was moved at the last minute. Being we were already set up for a party here, it seemed as good a place as any.”

  “Oh, it was a Council meeting last night.”

  Nigel nodded. “Yup.”

  The Council of Light was the ruling body of Sterling Peak. Six members were all from prestigious families, and the seventh member was the leader of the Seraph Force, who was also from a distinguished family.

  The Uriels were very wealthy, but as descendants of Uriel, they couldn’t compete with the Rafael, Gabriel, or Michael families. But they were always trying to get their foot in the door. I grunted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the Uriel’s drugged Katie to get the meeting mov
ed here.”

  Nigel narrowed his eyes. “Me either. Well, time to get lunch ready. God forbid even in their hungover states they miss out on a meal.” Nigel patted me on the shoulder and headed down the stairs.

  I watched him go, noticing he’d been moving a lot slower these last few weeks. I didn’t want to think of how the Uriels would treat him when they noticed. I’d need to try to see if I could cover some of his duties to lighten his load a little.

  I grabbed the basket that Ingrid had emptied before heading up the stairs, my mind cataloguing Nigel’s duties, trying to see where I could help. A splash of bright blue caught my eye. I grabbed the piece of silk from the top of the bannister. It was a lovely bra, trimmed in lace. Rolling my eyes, I tossed it in the basket. Hunter’s parties got pretty wild. Like Mrs. Uriel, Hunter’s guests didn’t seem to mind public displays of nudity.

  And it looked like this party had devolved, just like all his other ones. So far I had found six pairs of underwear, four bras, a handful of shirts, and two pairs of pants. Apparently people just left here naked last night. There weren’t enough rooms to accommodate that many.

  Or they were all in one room, sleeping off the giant orgy. With Hunter, it could go either way.

  The study at the top of the stairs was unoccupied, but the remnants of the party had spilled in here as well. I grabbed the empty glasses and dirty plates, noting the fresh wine stains on the rug. I’d need to bring up the cleaning supplies later.

  Most of the other doors were closed. I didn’t try them to see if there were people inside. Tomorrow I’d do a massive cleaning. Today I just needed to get the obvious stuff. I reached the end of the hall. Someone had left a glass tilted on its side. The contents had dribbled onto the rug. Great. I placed the basket on the table by the wall. Leaning a hand against the guest room door, I swung my arm down to grab it, balancing on one leg.

  The door swung open.

  With a cry, I fell to my side. Two powerful arms caught me before I could hit the ground.

  Oh crap.

  Mrs. Uriel hated when we interacted with guests, even if the interaction was unintentional. She wanted us to be seen and not heard. She worried our actions would be construed as us throwing ourselves at the feet of one of them.