Carpe Demon: Adventures of a Demon Hunting Soccer Mom

Chapter Three

Instinct and long-ignored training took hold, my muscles springing into action. I twisted at the waist, planning to kick back and ram my heel into the demon’s gut.

I didn’t make it.

At the same moment that my foot left the floor, common sense flooded my brain, and I jerked to a stop. Too late. My sudden shift in direction threw off my equilibrium, and I landed with a plunk on my rump, the ceramic tile cool through the thin material of my dress.

Stuart cried out my name, but it was Judge Larson who bent down and extended a hand. I stared at him, blinking, mentally reminding myself that I had demons on the brain and not everyone who desperately needed a Certs was Satan’s henchman.

“Mrs. Connor? Are you okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” Wary, I took his hand, encouraged when he didn’t immediately yank me to my feet and try to rip off my head. That had to be a good sign, right?

With Judge Larson holding my hand and Stuart gripping my elbow, the men helped me to my feet. “I’m so sorry,” I mumbled, my cheeks on fire. “I must have slipped on something. I’m terribly embarrassed.”

“Please,” the judge said. “Don’t be.”

By this time, Clark and Elizabeth had come in from the living room to see what all the commotion was about, and two more guests were coming up the walkway. How lovely. The entire gang was there to witness my mortification.

I tugged my hand free from Larson and focused on my husband. “I’m okay. Really.”

The worry I saw on Stuart’s face appeased my fear that my acrobatics had made a farce of the evening. “You’re sure? Is your ankle sprained?”

“It’s fine,” I said again.

It wasn’t fine, of course. It wasn’t fine at all. For all I knew, I was about to serve my famous rigatoni (famous because it’s the only dish I do well) to a demon. And right at the moment, I had no way to confirm Larson’s humanity.

I cast a sidelong glance Larson’s way as Stuart led us all toward the living room. I’d figure it out, though. He couldn’t keep his identity from me forever.

And if Larson turned out to be a demon, then there really would be hell to pay.

“More Brie?” I held the tray in front of Larson, leaning forward like some little flirt showing off cleavage. If he wasn’t a demon, he probably thought I was hitting on him. Stuart, bless his heart, probably assumed I was having a psychotic episode.

But I was determined to get another whiff of the man’s breath. At the moment it was all I had to go on.

“No, thank you,” he said as I inhaled through my nose. No use. He’d already helped himself to quite a bit of the Brie, and now the pungent cheese odor masked whatever other stench might linger on his breath.Frustrated, I slid the Brie back onto the table and took my seat next to Stuart. He and Judge Robertson, one of the late arrivals, were deep in a scintillating discussion of California’s three-strikes law.

“So, what do you think of three strikes?” I asked Judge Larson. “I’m all for it,” I went on, “except for those truly evil creatures that just deserve to be taken out, no matter what the cost.” I could see that I’d caught Stuart’s attention, and he was looking at me with some surprise. His platform was tough on crime, but not that tough.

“Vigilante justice?’ Larson asked.

“In certain circumstances, yes.”

“Kate ...” Stuart’s voice held a What are you doing? tone.