Now Playing On The Jukebox In Hell Part 22

"But..."

"And if you won't go back, I will. By myself."

"That's not fair," I argued. "You know I won't let you go in there alone."

"Never said it was fair."

I glared at her for a couple of minutes, trying to break her resolve. She refused to break. Finally, I threw up my hands. "All right. Five minutes. In and out. Deal?"

"Deal. Thank you. You can win the next one."

"The next two," I countered. "And you buy dinner tonight."

Uncle Edgar's big black Caddy was parked half on the lawn and half in the street this time. The sight of it did nothing to improve my mood.

"Aunt Kitty's here," I told Ca.s.sie.

She patted my shoulder. "She can't live forever."

"I'm not up to taking the long view right now. I just want to get through the next few minutes without tearing someone's face off."

"Why would you want to do that?" she asked, in an insultingly reasonable tone.

"I don't know," I said irritably. "It was the first thing that came to mind. But it would probably hurt. And a person would be in trouble without a face, right?"

"All right, all right, calm down. I was just asking."

"I am calm!"

Ca.s.sie bit her lip to keep from laughing and tried to look sympathetic.

"I know what you're thinking," I growled. "I don't even have to ask Jim Bob the psychic chicken. For your information, I don't need Prozac."

"Devvy, honey, precious, I really wasn't thinking that."

I wasn't convinced. "You weren't?"

"Of course not."

Her expression said I was thinking Lithium instead, but she didn't actually say it, so what could I do? Nothing. I just went on into the house, determined to get it over with fast, no longer determined not to take faces.

I could hear them in the dining room. They were still talking about it -- had been, in all probability, since we'd left. It sounded as though they didn't approve, but it would be unfair to judge on so little eavesdropping. So I just walked into their midst without a word.

It took a few seconds for anyone to notice. Amy was first; she let out a little scream and threw her napkin in the air. As the others realized what was going on, a whole constellation of reactions went around the table. My favorite was Aunt Kitty's. She'd frozen with the winegla.s.s not all the way to her lips, so wine was trickling out of the gla.s.s and down her cleavage. That would do it for that dress.

"I came to say goodbye," I told them. "I'm not sure yet whether I came to say I'm sorry, too."

"You have your nerve, showing up here like nothing happened," Mom snapped.

Ca.s.sie moved a couple of steps back, out of the direct line of fire, but she put a comforting hand on the small of my back.

"I do have nerve," I admitted. "It comes on one of the chromosomes in this family. My guess is that it would be from your side, Mom, but if Dad wants to make a case for his..."

Connor snickered, and Ryan looked a little less hostile. But Dad frowned. "This isn't a good time, Devlin. Your mother's a little upset. Maybe you should come back tomorrow."

"There won't be a tomorrow. We're going back to Greenville tonight."

"Why?" Ryan chirped. "Are there innocent Christmas trees there you have to murder?"

Amy and Jen, flanking him at the table, elbowed him hard on each side. Very nice. That would take him out of play for a while.

"We're going back tonight," I repeated, "so I wanted to come by and thank you for the hospitality. Such as it was."

Mom looked daggers at me in absolute silence. But Aunt Kitty was muttering. To be annoying, I cupped a hand to my ear. "Excuse me, auntie dearest? Didn't catch that."

"I said, 'Good riddance,' that's what I said," she barked. "Tearing up your mother's house like an animal. And sleeping with that...that..."

Only Ca.s.sie's sudden grip on my sweater kept me from de-facing her then and there. "Woman. That woman. I'm aware of her gender. What's your problem with her, anyway? It was her idea to come over here and apologize. Not mine. And you were about to call her something I'd have to hurt you for, weren't you?"

She just stared at us, at a loss for words for once.

"My Aunt Kitty is a nut case," I told Ca.s.sie. "You already knew that, but sometimes it's nice to have these things confirmed. Do you know what she and Uncle Edgar do every Christmas Eve?"

Mom said my name in a menacing way. I ignored her.

"They open their presents on Christmas Eve. That's barbaric all by itself. But do you know what they do right after they open presents?"

"This is awesome," Connor told Jen cheerfully.

I ignored him too. "Right after they open presents, they take their tree down. On Christmas Eve. And you know what the worst part is?" For dramatic effect, I paused. No one interrupted. "The worst part is, it's not even a real tree. It's one of those aluminum things. You can't put tinsel on an aluminum tree, now, can you? No. That would be stupid. But guess what? They do it anyway. And you know what else?"

Amy was starting to recover her wits a bit. She looked around the room nervously before she spoke. "Um, Dev, I really don't think..."

"Then don't think. In this family, you'll live longer." Perplexed by the interruption, I turned to Ca.s.sie. "Where was I?"

"You were about to tell me what else," she said, enjoying the spectacle. "Aluminum tree, tinsel..."

"Oh. Right. I forgot the revolving spotlight. It turns the tree different colors. If you half-close your eyes, you think you're in a disco in h.e.l.l." Evilly, I smiled at Aunt Kitty. "Go on, Ca.s.s. Ask me what's on top of the tree."

Ca.s.sie released her grip and slipped her hand inside the back of my sweater. "What's on top of the tree?"

"An angel kitten."

She burst into startled laughter.

"G.o.d, I'd forgotten about that," Connor said thoughtfully. "The angel kitten. That's a bad one, all right."

I glanced at Aunt Kitty, who was too poleaxed by now to respond, and then at Mom, who was ditto. But Uncle Edgar might have been on the moon, for all the attention he was paying. I suspected he secretly agreed with me.

"So let's not get into an etiquette smackdown," I said. "I shouldn't have wrecked the living room with the tree. But you shouldn't have driven me crazy. Agreed?"

There was complete silence for at least a minute -- a very long time for silence, especially among people who never shut up.

Then Dad pushed his chair back, crossed the room, and extended his hand to Ca.s.sie. "It was a pleasure meeting you," he told her sincerely. "I hope we'll see you again."

Ca.s.sie shot a bewildered glance at me. "Thank you. I hope so too."

He nodded. They shook and let go. When they did, Dad put his hand on my shoulder. "Devlin, take care of yourself. Come see us again soon."

Aw, dammit, this was going to ruin my exit. Reluctantly, I gave him a hug. "Merry Christmas, Dad."

It wasn't his fault he married into a family of monsters, after all. But next Christmas, I was going to buy him a spine.

There was one last thing I wanted to do in Hawthorne: make snow angels in the park. It was a tradition. And it wouldn't hurt to do one traditional thing.

The park was full of kids trying out their new Christmas sleds and snow discs, so we skirted the hills and went to a flat area by the merry-go-round.

"I haven't done this in years," she mused.

"You'll love it. It's just like you remember."

"I hope not. I got snow in some really bad places the last time."

After a second's debate, I decided that I didn't need to know. "C'mon. Over here."

We jumped as far as we could into a patch of snow that didn't have footprints on it. Then we dropped back into it and made the angels.

"They look great," she said, inspecting them. "People are going to think real angels..." Then something caught her eye. "Devvy?"

"Angel?"

To my annoyance, she didn't hear that. "What did you do when you made yours?"

"The same thing everyone does. Why?"

She pointed. I leaned farther forward. There in the snow where I'd made my angel were the clear, distinctive outlines of horns and a long pointed tail.

"Monica!" I shouted.

When the demon didn't show after a few seconds, Ca.s.sie slipped her arm around me. "I guess you're just a devil. But you're my devil."

"Very funny," I said, trying not to look flattered.

(c) 2000, K. Simpson To Part 19 The Devil's Workshop (c) 2000, M.C. Sak Disclaimers, Credits, & E-Mail: See Part 1.

CHAPTER 19.

December 26 *

One more Christmas was over. That much more blood was under the bridge now, and I was tired. It had been a very long couple of months. Maybe I could rest now, just for a while.

That was the plan. But Leonard Nimoy foiled it the first morning back. And then a fish finished me off.

"This is your fault for giving them that tape," I informed Ca.s.sie while we threw some clothes on. "Your fault for buying it in the first place."

"It is not. Besides, I thought you liked 'Star Trek.'"

On the front porch, "If I Had a Hammer" got even louder. Gritting my teeth, I willed myself not to hear it. "This isn't 'Star Trek.' This is Golden Throats. And this isn't the first time they've done this to me."

She stopped misb.u.t.toning her sweater long enough to give me a very crabby look. "Well, now they're doing it to me, too. Satisfied?"

"No."

We regarded each other in hostile silence. It was nothing personal; we knew we still liked each other. But it was very, very early in the morning to be awake, let alone to be awake while Mr. Spock was singing. And that part was her fault.

"I'll go let them in," I said. "If they don't have a fantastic reason for being here, you clean up the mess. You'll need a big mop."

"Sweet-talker," she groused.

Perversely, that made me feel better. I went downstairs; rummaged in the toolbox; and threw the front door open, ready for anything. Or at least for Heather, Chip, and Troy.

"Off," I told Troy.

He turned off the boom box.

"Tape."

Uncertain, he looked to the others for advice. Heather shrugged. He ejected the tape and handed it over.

"Now you do have a hammer," I told them, bringing it out from behind my back.

They backed off, which was the first smart thing they'd done that day. Carefully, I positioned the ca.s.sette on the porch railing.