Free Personal Demons by Lisa Desrochers Page A

‘get lost’ is confusing him?”
    “The making-out-in-the-closet part.” He grins and nudges my shoulder.
    I cringe. “Everybody makes mistakes. Help me out?”
    “I’ll think about it.” He shoots me a sidelong glance. “Does Reefer even have a shot at getting back with you?”
    I smile despite myself. “Tragically, no.”
    “Figured. He’s still crazy in love with you, you know.”
    And that’s the problem. He thinks he loves me. I shrug. “He’ll wake up one day and realize he was temporarily insane.”
    “You’re busting hearts all over the place,” he says with a smile and a wave over his shoulder as he turns to cross the street toward Riley’s.
    I dig my hands deep into my pockets against the chill that’screeping into the night air and watch my feet shuffle down the sidewalk toward the corner, smiling to myself. Maybe Riley’s finally found The One. Too bad she won’t live long enough to enjoy it, ’cause Taylor’s gonna kill them both.
    As I meander down the dimly lit street, I think about why it was Luc’s name I blurted under pressure. Gabe is gorgeous for sure, and just thinking about him makes me tingle in places I’ll never admit to. He’s every girl’s dream . . . God knows he’s been in plenty of mine. He’s also clearly the safer choice, ’cause Luc seems more like he could be every girl’s nightmare. Aside from that body—my dreams about which embarrass even me—and that face, there’s his dark energy. It scares the hell out of me but also speaks to me like some shadowy siren song that holds me and won’t let me go. A girl could lose control with him—which I don’t do. Ever.
    So maybe that’s why I jump when I turn the corner and see the black Shelby Cobra parked across the street and a few doors up from my house. I drift down the street and cross over, wanting to keep walking—to reach that Mustang and take a look inside.
    It can’t be him, I tell myself. What would he be doing here? I’m obsessed. This is bad. And probably the reason that, when I’m sane, I date guys like Tony Riggins and his graphing calculator. It’s hard to obsess over a graphing calculator.
    But it’s easy to obsess over an insanely gorgeous guy with mysterious eyes. Which is why I’m standing in the middle of my front yard staring at that car. I shake my head, breathe deep, and cut a swath through the damp grass to my front door. But I hesitate there.
    I force myself to open the door and slip inside before I do something really stupid.
LUC
    Taylor. Taylor’s here—not Gabriel. Satan save me, I’m getting paranoid.
    Focus, Luc.
    I shake my head to clear it and start to reach for the key. But suddenly, before I can turn it, I’m being yanked through space in a dizzying rush. I swallow back the bile rising with the dread from the pit of my stomach and close my eyes against the vertigo. There are only two in the infernal realm who could summon me like this.
    Let it be Beherit.
    But when my feet land hard on smooth stone and I open my eyes, my panic kicks up a notch. It’s not my boss, as I’d hoped. I’m in the castle Pandemonium. In front of me is King Lucifer’s intricately carved black obsidian throne, perched high on its dais in the middle of the cavernous, domed room.
    It’s empty.
    I look around for any sign of Him, but the multitude of floating candles reflecting off the smooth, black obsidian walls reveal no one. I’m alone. I stand perfectly still and let the strong smell of brimstone calm me. But when I hear His low whispered hiss in my ear, I jump anyway.
    “You’ve found her.” It’s not a question.
    Reflexively, I turn to look behind me. Not there. But then Ifeel Him—His stare. I turn to face Him as He hovers high above me, near the domed ceiling. I’m careful not to look directly at Him, but I can see His immense black bat’s wings beating in slow rhythm as He lowers Himself to the ground. I drop to my knee, head bowed.
    The polished obsidian floor reflects