Part 7 (1/2)
Monica glared at her.
Vanessa shrugged. ”She's right. It's my nature.”
My demon made a few poisonous comments in a language I didn't understand. But she took the curse off, and Howard Abner rematerialized, still clutching the crucifix. It was clear from his expression that he had no idea what had just happened.
”Go now,” I advised him. ”People are enjoying themselves somewhere. Somebody's got to stop them.”
He stood there for a few seconds, blinking. Then he shook his head and walked away, salt pouring out of his coat pockets, leaving a trail. How would I explain that?
Easy. I would not. That decided, I got up off the floor and held out a hand to Ca.s.sie. ”Let's go. We're late.”
Vanessa hopped off the desk. ”Right behind you. How do I look?”
”You can't go,” Ca.s.sie told her.
”I don't see why not. You need all the help you can get with this account. Since you're not sleeping with clients anymore...” Delicately, she paused. ”You aren't sleeping with clients anymore, are you?”
Ca.s.sie sputtered in outrage.
”How would it be if we had just one normal day around here?” I asked the demons. ”What if Ca.s.sie and I go to work, and you two take the day off and do something fun?”
”This is fun,” Vanessa said.
In all the excitement, I'd almost forgotten that my head was killing me. The reprieve was over now. ”Fine. Just let us get this meeting over, and then you can burn the place down, for all I care. We're leaving right after this and going back to bed. Right, Ca.s.s?”
”To sleep,” Ca.s.sie amended.
”Of course to sleep.” Insulted, I threw the door open and started down the hall toward the conference room where we were meeting the dog-food people. About halfway there, I heard a bad omen: barking. Even worse, it sounded like a small dog in a large mood. A Pekingese, maybe, or a toy poodle.
Sometimes, you didn't even need demons to have a bad day.
For all my good intentions, I never got around to going home after the meeting. Kurt was feeling better, so he picked a fight with Heather, which wound up involving two departments and almost escalated into an international incident. I never did find out what it was about, but all I really wanted was for it to stop. So I started a rumor that Jenner was on his way in.
The rumor worked, of course. It was like a T-s.h.i.+rt I'd seen once: JESUS IS COMING. LOOK BUSY. But Sanchez came down later to shoot ping-pong b.a.l.l.s at me for it; half the agency had run straight to her office, trying to cover themselves. Her aim, I noticed, was improving.
At least Ca.s.sie was safe. She'd left not long after the dog-food crowd did, and I hoped she was tucked into bed. Only a crazy person would be at work with this kind of hangover. Besides, it was snowing again. The only sensible thing to do that night was go home and stay home.
I went Christmas shopping instead.
There was no good reason to go shopping in person; I had a perfectly good Internet connection. But Christmas was different. Maybe it was the thrill of battle, or the plastic holly and Muzak, but it just wasn't Christmas until I hit the malls.
Also, I had no idea what to get Ca.s.sie, and something might suggest itself if I looked around. All I knew for sure was that I wasn't going anywhere near a jewelry store.
An hour and three jewelry stores later, I gave up and went home.
To my surprise, Ca.s.sie's BMW was in the driveway. I found her curled up on the greatroom couch under the couch throw, sound asleep, with a fire burning down in the fireplace and an empty box of G.o.diva chocolates on the coffee table.
Bemused, I sat on the arm of the couch by her feet and just watched her. It was the strangest feeling, but it was just about the nicest thing I'd ever come home to. Living together was still a terrible, terrible idea, but...
Well, we could talk about it sometime. No time soon, but eventually. If this lasted, which it might not. It probably wouldn't, so there was no reason to think about any kind of future. Was there?
Ca.s.sie's eyes fluttered open just then, and I promptly forgot the question. ”Hi,” I said.
She smiled slightly. ”Hi yourself. What time is it?”
”Almost 7.”
”G.o.d. I was just going to take a nap.” Annoyed with herself, she pulled off the couch throw and sat up, rubbing her eyes. ”Sorry. I didn't mean to do that.”
”Don't worry about it. Feel better now?”
”Lots better. Thanks.”
”Didn't do anything.”
We let that conversation die of its own inanity and just looked at each other. That weird feeling started tugging at me again. This was crazy. I'd known her six years. How could a few weeks of knowing her in a different way make this much difference?
”I was going to offer to make dinner,” Ca.s.sie said abruptly. ”Kind of to make up for last night. Interested?”
”There's not much to work with. I haven't been to the grocery lately.”
”That's why I said 'I was.' All you've got in your refrigerator is Tabasco sauce and coffee.”
”I have Tabasco sauce?” I asked, genuinely surprised.
She laughed and scooted down the couch to whack me. ”The plan from Column B is to order in.”
Actually, the plan that was forming in my mind was from a very different column, so I bent down and kissed her.
”Not that I'm complaining,” she murmured, ”but shouldn't you call your mother before we get...sidetracked?”
”Called her from the mall on the cell phone. That way, I could honestly say I couldn't hear her.”
Ca.s.sie had leaned in again but pulled back at that. ”What were you doing at the mall?”
”Christmas shopping.” I pulled her back.
This time, she waited longer to follow up. ”For who?”
”Whom,” I corrected.