Free The Demon in Me by Michelle Rowen

that’s actually what they call their insanely pointy genitalia.”
    That was an image she’d prefer to lose as soon as possible. “And all demons look like you?”
    “Tall, dark, and handsome?” There was humor in his voice as he said it.
    “I meant not small, purple, angry, or particularly pointy.”
    “Demons… have varying appearances.”
    Her mouth went dry just thinking about it. “That’s vague.”
    “It is, isn’t it?” He was silent for a moment. “Now, unless you’d like to call Malcolm and his mom back…”
    “I’ll pass.”
    “Then I’m going to rest. I’m tired and my energy is very low right now.”
    “That’s what happened when you lost form at sunset? You rested? I couldn’t hear you for a while.” Which is when she’d had the chance to consult the Yellow Pages and make the exorcism appointment.
    “When I’m very weakened, I sink down to a deeper level of consciousness. To communicate with you like this I need a lot of energy to stay at the surface.”
    Eden twisted a finger nervously through her long hair. “Did you hear what that woman said about me not being completely human?”
    “I did.”
    “What do you think she meant by that?” She leaned over to pick up a file folder that had fallen to the floor earlier. Then she spun her Rolodex to find the number of the door repairman.
    “I’m not sure. I’ve never possessed a female before, so you do feel… different to me—even aside from your physical body. And I’m able to draw energy from you in order to take form as well as talk to you, unlike my relationships with any of my other hosts. Yet I don’t sense anything overtly Otherworldly about you.”
    “She was probably just talking about my psychic ability.” She thought back to working at Psychic Connexions. “I do shuffle a mean deck of tarot cards, I’ll have you know.”
    “That must be it. Do psychic abilities run in your family?”
    Eden thought about her mother. Other than an addiction to gambling, drinking, emotionally neglecting her daughter, and working her way through a long line of hairy men, she didn’t recall anything unusual. Maybe her father had been psychic. She remembered one brief visit from him when she was a very little girl—a man with a big warm smile and hair the bright red color Eden’s would be if she didn’t make regular trips to the salon to keep it the darker auburn she preferred. But nothing like Ouija boards or crystal balls rang out in her memory.
    “I don’t think so. But I haven’t exactly been all that close to my family over the years.”
    “Think about it. But I’m going now. I’ll be back.”
    “Darrak,” she began.
    “Yeah?”
    “What’s your real name?”
    There was a long moment of silence and then a tired sigh. “I understand your fear and misgivings about what is going on, Eden. And I also understand why you called the exorcists. But if I ever tell you my true name, that would give you a great deal of power over me, so it’s something I must keep hidden from those who might do me harm.”
    The pleasant tone had gone out of his voice and was replaced with something much icier. He was pissed about what had nearly happened. She’d nearly destroyed him—it wasn’t simply a matter of forgive and forget.
    If someone had done the same thing to her, she’d have the same reaction. Darrak hadn’t harmed her, and yet she’d tried to hurt him out of fear and confusion.
    “I understand,” she said softly.
    “I’ll return soon.”
    “Take your time.”
    With a soft chuckle, his presence faded away.
    After making a quick call to the twenty-four-hour repair service to come and fix the door, she sat in the office in silence waiting for them to arrive. She hadn’t even begun to work on the data input Andy wanted her to do, but she didn’t give a rat’s ass about that. She was exhausted. And she wanted to go home and fall into a big glass of red wine. Maybe when she woke up tomorrow morning she’d realize this