Free Victoria's Demon Lover by Alia Bess Page A

The beautiful collar was in
her panty drawer.  She sighed.  She was not crazy.  That was why he sent it. 
The little finches and sparrows hopped in her trees and bounced on the grass,
picking up seeds that had dropped from the feeder.  Their simple pleasure in
sun and seed made her feel happy.  She stretched out her legs and leaned back,
taking a deep breath of the springtime air.  He might be finished with her. 
Perhaps the murder of Cestius was all he wanted.
         This didn’t make sense,
though.  He was a demon.  He could have killed Cestius any time he wanted to. 
She remembered Michael Brand from Legal and her brief burst of happiness
faded.  No.  That was not it.  Any why kill Cestius anyway?  He said it was
because the Roman had raped her.  She shook her head. She had no memory of a
rape.  Then she sat up quickly.
         The demon had called her
‘Maggs’.
         A creepy feeling prickled the
back of her neck.
         She remembered this feeling. 
It was just like high school, waking up and getting dressed, waiting for the
bus and then realizing you had a test that morning and had never studied for
it.  She shuddered.  It was that feeling that made her study every night when
she was in college.  She hated that feeling.  She felt it now.
         “Damn,” she said and all the
little sparrows flew up and into the neighbor’s trees.   “Where are you?” she
called.  She didn’t expect him to respond.
         Her phone buzzed and she
looked at it.  Her sister, Sharon.  She let it go to voicemail.  “I wish I had
your number,” she murmured to the demon.  “I’d call you right now.”
         She prepared the downstairs
bedroom for Sharon and the library for the two boys.  All the books had to be
carried up the stairs and pushed into the bookcases she had moved to her
bedroom.  This was unpleasant.  Books are heavy.  After all, they are made from
trees.  Victoria grimaced on the landing and put a hand on the small of her
back.
         She looked down at the books
in the box she carried.  Mostly histories.  I might be having a psychotic
break , she comforted herself.  I’ve read so much, surely these ideas are
just running amok in my head.
         Lonely people read. 
Victoria remembered her mother telling her that.  She sighed and made the last
of the stairs.  She plunked the box on her bed and sat beside it.  It had been
a week since his last visit.  He had been gone weeks before.  She glanced at
her window.  Didn’t she want him to stay away?  Isn’t that why she let Sharon
in?  Something felt different now.
         She stood and lugged the box
to the shelves, making sure the Roman history went to the left of the medieval
history.  She stopped.  Why call her Maggs in Roman times?  Why not
Livia or Antonia?  And what was his name?  She put another book on the
shelf.  She liked Jack, the blacksmith.  Maggie called him ‘Jack’ to tease
him.  His name was John, of course.  He hated the French and Jack was just a
variant of Jacques.  How did I know that? Victoria rubbed her eyes.  She
set the book down and wandered into her shower and turned on the hot water. 
She took off her clothes and stood in it until the steam covered the glass and
fogged the stall.  Her hair slicked down her back and her face was hot with the
water but she did not feel clean.
         She soaped herself and rinsed,
then did it again.  And a third time.
         “Maggie,” she heard him call
her.  She put her hand on the tap and stopped the water so she could listen.
         “Yes?” she whispered.  If it
were him, he would hear her no matter how softly she spoke.
         “Help me.”
         She pushed the sliding door
open hard and leaped naked from the shower into her bedroom.  Empty.  She
dripped on her carpet as chill bumps raised on her arms.  “Where are you?” she
called.  Then louder, “Who are you?”
     
     
    The day