Chapter 25
Working another busy shift helped continue that illusion of normalcy. However, my anxiety spiked when I headed home at 6:00. I still didn't feel good going home. But I needed to get over it. I couldn't continue living in fear. I couldn't just avoid or ignore my new reality anymore.
Especially when that reality knocked on my door.
Clad in pajamas, I had been settled into the couch for about two hours now. That's where I was, watching a crime show, when someone knocked on the front door. My heart flipped; I sat up at a pathetically fast rate. My eyes darted to the clock. It was 9:30, I wasn't expecting anyone, so what the fuck? Who was it?
I forced myself to get a grip. Jesus, I needed to stop being so paranoid. I highly doubted a demon would be civil enough to knock. So, I had two solid guesses: it was probably either Peter or Jamie.
Four louder and more impatient knocks echoed in the air. Well, that narrowed my two guesses down to one. Sure enough, when I peeked out the bay window, Peter was facing the door. Wonderful. What better way to end my day than with this jackass, right?
Then, four louder and impatient knocks echoed in the air. Well, that narrowed down my two guesses. Sure enough, when I peeked out the bay window, Peter was facing the door. Stepping back, I was halfway to the door... when he obnoxiously knocked again. Because apparently, I wasn't answering fast enough!
Trust me, I wasn't taking my sweet time, but I wanted to now! Call me a bitch, but if he wanted to piss me off, two could play that game. I turned around, sat back down, and listened to his patience growing thinner. I couldn't help but smirk at the increase of volume and frequency of the knocking too.
"Josephine," he finally warned through the door. "Don't think I won't break this down."
Ugh, I knew he wasn't bluffing. Heading to the door, I opened it and said in an overly apologetic voice, "I'm so sorry, I didn't hear you knocking."
His blonde hair was arched and styled to the side, with a few thick locks escaping to brush the end of his crinkled brow. He just glared at me. Though it wasn't raining, I could see his boots were muddy – which he tracked in. Yes, he just walked right inside and past me. Which was not the first time!
"When did I ever say you could come in as you please and track mud all over my house?" I exclaimed.
"You didn't say I couldn't," he mumbled, but he did kick his boots off.
"What do you want? My sister will be home in like 45 minutes." Rolling my eyes, I turned to close the door. Then, I froze in surprise.
A man stood there, observing us in amusement. "Hello," he smiled.
He looked like an average guy in his 40s, wearing an orange graphic tee and jeans. His brown hair was short, eyes both cunning and caring. He had a slender frame, with boxy shoulders making him seem naturally tense. The man also wore rectangular-framed glasses that complimented his rounder facial structure. Where in the world did he even come from? And why the fuck was he here?
Noting my caution, Peter spoke in a gentle tone I didn't expect. "You don't have anything to worry about. This is a good friend of mine." He glanced to the man. "Come on in."
I stared daggers at Peter. He just waltzes in and then invites a stranger to do the same?! This asshole was lucky we weren't alone (and lucky his friend was so nice), otherwise I would have flipped my shit! Then again, could you really take a raging bitch seriously if she's wearing pajamas scattered with smiley faces? Probably not.
After he thoughtfully placed his shoes on the rug, he gave me a humble smile. "I know this must be scary and weird to you, but I'm here to help. I'm Hayes. It's very nice to meet you," he said, offering his hand.
"Oh, it's... it's nice to meet you too," I said, eyeing his hand in hesitation. "I don't, um, want to be rude—"
"He won't read you or do anything. He can't anyway. He's human," Peter clarified.
Relieved, I shook his hand. "Sorry. My name's Josephine."
"I won't hold up your night for long." From the leather satchel at his side, he lifted the flap and pulled out a small book. "Would you mind showing me up to your bedroom? It's good to start there."
I was already so caught off guard by this visit, but this made my mind stall. Was I supposed to know or understand what was going on? Was Peter pimping me out? Blinking, I couldn't say anything, and looked to him for an explanation.
"What's wrong? Show him your room," Peter said.
"Why? What is this about? You can't expect me to go along with whatever's happening if I don't know anything."
"You didn't tell her?" Hayes asked with humor.
"It's an exhausting process talking to her about anything," Peter explained.
"Fucking excuse me?" I demanded.
Peter sighed. "Hayes is here to place a protection spell on your house. It will basically stop demons from entering. It will also help block your aura too, so they will have a harder time sensing you. Only while you're inside your house though."
I couldn't get past his first sentence. "Spell? Like a magic spell?"
"Christ," Peter mumbled, turning to him. "I don't mean to waste your time. She's new to everything. You can go upstairs and get started."
"Last I checked, this is my house," I said evenly.
"Last I checked, you no longer felt safe in your house. This spell offers security and will change that. So, let the good man do his work."
I narrowed my eyes. "I'm not sure how things work in angel-land, but dropping in without warning, without an explanation first, at night, before my sister gets home – and to preform magic – isn't fucking okay."
I was not objecting to this idea. Having that extra reassurance of safety was amazing, but his approach was out of line. Hayes even appeared to agree. He eyed Peter in surprise, as if he wasn't used to seeing him this irritated and tense.
Despite being flustered, angry, and caught off guard... I gave into them for two reasons. First, it was logical. Peter was a pain in the deepest part of my ass, but having a guarantee I would be safe at home was damn nice. Second, this was... well, honestly a thoughtful gesture at its core. At the movie theatre, Peter learned just how scared I was to go home. Now, he was here with a solution. It might ease some of the burden of his job, but I had a feeling he was doing this more for my state of mind.
So, with that, Hayes headed upstairs to work his magic (literally too I guess). It's not like I asked for details about this magic. I had enough questions that were happily on a waiting list. Besides, I started to get skeptical of the whole idea anyway.
While we waited in the kitchen, my glare continuously bounced from Peter to the stove clock. "This seems too far-fetched. You're telling me this guy is going to create a demon-shield... by casting a spell? That's all it will take to keep them out?"
"Yes."
"It just seems too physical, you know? Muttering a spell will make it physically impossible for a demon to enter my home?"
"Do you need to feel my wings again to realize impossible things are possible?"
Honestly, I would not at all mind feeling his wings again. It still blew my mind. I still thought often about him having actual wings. You couldn't get any more of a reality-check than physically touching the proof.
"I guess you have a point," I grumbled. "Why didn't you give me a heads up about this?"
"Being interrogated by you isn't fun for me," he said flatly.
"I don't think anything is fun for you. This couldn't have waited until tomorrow?"
"No. Andy Hayes is one of the best casters in the business, so he's a busy man."
I rolled my eyes. "For all I know, he's riffling through my fucking underwear right now."
The minutes seemed to crawl, but eventually Hayes came back downstairs. I didn't understand the process of this spell, but it required focus, being alone, and going into every room of the house. Meaning once he started on the main level, Peter and I headed upstairs to wait in my room. Yes, talk about awkward.
I became conscious of my pictures, my décor, my messy clutter, and the loose clothes on my floor. Fuck, why did I have to have stuffed animals? Sitting on my bed, I nonchalantly swiped Bart (my stuffed elephant), and his two friends to the floor and out of sight before he could notice.
Peter already looked bored after closing the door and leaning back against it. "Want to do a count? Make sure all your underwear is in check?"
"If any are missing, he could just make the evidence disappear," I said dramatically.
"I hope he doesn't take too long," he said to the floor.
"Same here," I snapped, shifting further up the bed to cross my legs. "Because if Liz comes home to find you in my bedroom and a fucking wizard downstairs, I'm dead meat."
He gave me a pointed look. "You're dead meat if you aren't properly protected." Pausing, he relaxed and hooked his thumbs on the belt of his slacks. "Don't get me wrong. This is more for your mental wellbeing than anything; we can protect you without this. But it is a good extra security measure."
I watched him quietly. I was surprised he admitted it was a favor for me, even though he downplayed it. "Believe it or not, I'm grateful for everything you've done and are doing for me. But because you're a dick all the time, my pissed-off-ness covers it up."
"Your pissed-off-ness, huh?"
"Yeah, you trigger it very easily," I chuckled, swallowing. "But seriously. Thank you."
He paused, as if trying to calculate the curve-ball of sincerity I tossed. "It's no big deal."
It was though. This was another example of how he was a contradiction. He didn't like me, was always tight on time, didn't seemingly care – yet, he has been persistent about me living my life, having fun, and not being scared. So much so that he had someone come into my home and make sure I'm safe in it. He went out of his way to do that, even though it wasn't necessary in his eyes since he is able to protect me anyway.
"If you say so," I said lightly. "I just want you to know it means a lot. Even if you went about it in a dumb way."
Eyes continuously on the floor, he didn't say anything or respond. His expression remained blank... except for the smallest twitch on his lips. That smile lasted a second and was gone the next. He checked his watch and sighed. I couldn't help but notice he was doing that a lot since Hayes left us alone. Man, he really could not wait to leave and be away from me, could he?
I dropped my gaze. I wanted to fill the silence. Not just because it was an automatic reflex to the awkwardness, but the air between us was tense and charged. I wondered if he could feel it too. Thankfully, he broke the stillness first though.
"You a big fan of Canada?"
"What?" I asked. That's when I noticed he was looking at the framed collage on my wall. I made it a couple years ago. It was cluttered with different places and sights I printed off the internet. Some were specific places like Mount Fiji and the Redwood Forest. Some were generic pictures of wilderness, oceans, and different regions. Different regions like this one in Oregon (which I can proudly check off my list) – as well as the one he mentioned. Canada.
"Those pictures on top – the coastlines and trees – that's in Canada," he clarified.
I was caught off guard. Those images specifically were not labeled and could have been from anywhere. I knew they were of Canada. How did he? "Yeah, I've always wanted to go there. I love nature, getting away from people, and it has a lot of that. Plus, I've always wanted to see a moose – and there are plenty up there apparently," I chuckled excitedly, glancing to eye up the pictures. The one was an aerial view of a lake with trees around it; the pictures of a coastline weren't distinct either. "I'm surprised you're able to tell that's in Canada."
He nodded. His gaze thoughtfully scoured over my dinky collage. For some reason, it really caught his attention. "Do you know where exactly that's located in Canada?"
"I just looked up random pictures and threw them on a board," I shook my head, propping my hands against the bed as I straightened my legs. "Sounds like you know though. You must've been there before if you recognize generic pictures of nature."
Peter studied me. For a long moment. He was lost in thought, but forced himself to move on. "Yeah, I've been there, been all over. Anyway, are all of these pictures places you want to see?
Those thin images on printer paper, glued messily under a cheap frame, represented a lot. It fueled my hopes, made me daydream about being there. Or rather being somewhere else. "They were like little fantasies for me," I nodded.
"Are they still fantasies?"
"Yeah. Well, except for the ocean pictures. Don't know if I'll ever go back in that water."
The memory of that hand, dragging me into the depths, trying to drown me.... Ugh, it would take a lot for that to leave me. That was almost more disturbing than the other incidences. I didn't know if I'll ever feel comfortable swimming at the beach again.
"You will want to eventually," he said in a surprisingly optimistic tone. "Might have some PTSD, might shit yourself if a minnow swims by, but you will someday."
"I hope so," I chuckled. Looking back to my board, I couldn't help but think he's likely seen most of these places. "You'd make a good travel agent. You've probably traveled the world, right?"
He gave a half shrug. "I've been around the block a time or two."
"Oh, I'm sure you have," I smirked, unable to help myself. To be fair though, you try living forever and not having other areas of expertise. Call me a perv, but am I right?
Smirking, he rolled his eyes. "You're taking that out of context. If anything, you're the one that's been around the block, Miss. Certified Cock Champ."
"You think so?" I grinned. I couldn't believe he remembered that joking title.
"Yes. You probably sprint around the block and take breaks to work the corners."
I let out a loud laugh. "Hey, only when I need the money. Chasing dick is more for sport."
"Oh, I see. You're a slut, but you have a dash of class."
"That's right. Nothing says class like being certified."
He hummed a chuckle. "True."
"You know, you should start thinking about working a corner yourself."
"Should I?"
"Mhmm. You'll need the extra money to pay for my insurance," I nonchalantly shrugged.
Cocking a brow, he relaxed his shoulder against the door frame to face me directly. "Since you're paying for your insurance, you'll be the only one working the streets."
"You don't know how stubborn I am."
"Oh, I know too well how stubborn you are," he smiled brightly.
After our playful banter died, my cheeks flushed. Yes, playful banter. That's what that was. I'm the one that started it too. I suppose being around someone reserved invited me to be more outgoing and break the seriousness. I just didn't expect for him to go along with it so naturally. I also took note he was relaxed, and showed a sweet smile he didn't immediately hide. And when he did hide it, he looked quite taken aback at himself.
Yes. What an evening it has turned into, folks. Biting my lip, I forced my gaze to shift away before he caught me watching him. Where my gaze stopped though... wasn't much better.
My bright lamp illuminated the room. Including the right corner of my room. Yet, this specific corner left a mental stain. All I could think of was Famine. It was honestly annoying. Why couldn't he have ever picked a different place to appear in during those dreams? Nope, same spot each time. It ruined this portion of my room for me. My mind immediately went to him, and last night's dream.
Remembering his mysterious words... suddenly, the dots connected.
I stood up, crossing my arms. "This spell. It keeps demons out of my house. Famine is part demon, so will it keep the dreams with him away?"
Peter's eyes sharply flicked to me. "Why? You been having more dreams of that scum?"
"Jesus, it's not like I can help it. It was just one."
"One is too many."
"Anyway, he said it would be the last dream for a while thanks to you. He said you enjoy getting in his way. Was he talking about this spell? Will it keep him out too, like mentally?"
He nodded. "Another reason why it's important to have it."
My eyes widened. I wasn't sure if I was more relieved or stunned. "He knew you were coming to place this spell on my house. He called it last night. How would he know that? Unless the guy is as much of a stalker as you."
"He's even more of one," he said rigidly. "He keeps a watchful eye on me, and clearly, he keeps an eye on you too because he has nothing fucking better to do."
Disgust stayed plastered to his face. The immediate hatred that lit his face the moment I brought him up, made me study his stone face and now straight tense body.I already figured out the two of them had some kind of history. Based on Peter's bitterness towards him, I had to guess it was an ugly history.
It's not like Famine was fond of him either. I couldn't forget what he implied last night in my dream. That Peter knew better than anyone the price of a deal. So, I had a feeling whatever happened... it was more than being just 'business' rivals. It felt personal.
"Peter," I spoke softly, taking a few steps closer. "What's your beef with him?"
"He's a shallow piece of shit."
I studied his stone face. "Yeah, but..." I trailed off with a hesitating sigh. "I just get the sense that something happened.
Shoulders tense, he got mindlessly lost in my gaze. Either he didn't know what to say or he wasn't sure if he should say anything. That long pause alone proved I was right though. There was definitely beef – and it seemed like hefty beef.
A second later, he finally spoke. "A lot happened." He looked away with pursed lips.
Apparently. Enough happened to where for some reason, Famine kept an eye on him. His vague answer invited so many more questions. However, knowing how sensitive of a subject this was, I respected the finality in his tone. I felt lucky to even get those few words out of him. The look on his face... was void and blank, so numb, but that told me there was so much behind it. There was so much he buried.
Whatever it was... made him seemingly more anxious to leave. He kept checking his watch, kept shifting his weight, even paced. Not to mention, he was probably sick of dealing with me too. So, to say the least, Peter was more than happy when Hayes finished up.
He wasn't the only one relived. Liz would be home any moment. God, I wouldn't even know what to say as an excuse. Thankfully, nothing seemed different when we headed back downstairs. Nothing was out of place, no voodoo shit was hanging from the ceilings, nothing even felt different. It was hard to believe anything was different. Then again, I had to place some faith in this guy. Hayes seemed confident in his work, yet humble and genuine too. Plus, before he left, I learned the guy was also quirky, which I liked.
"Here's my business card," he said as he handed it to me. "Call me anytime."
His business card literally advertised him as a magician. Like a magician with fake flowers, a rabbit, and never-ending scarves. There was even a picture of him in a hat and cape.
"Hippie-Hayes? The magician?" I snorted with a smile. "Can I hire you for my 2nd grade birthday party?"
"Only kids 10 and up can handle me."
Then, he reached forward and 'removed' a quarter from behind my ear. Not going to lie, I liked the quarter trick... but this was making me a little nervous. Especially with this business card. After all, I'm trusting this dude to protect me with his magic abilities.
"So do you actually do fake magic and real magic? Or is this 'Hippie-Hayes' just a disguise?" I asked as casually as I could.
"Depends on the day. I'm here for every occasion – birthdays and protecting people from demons."
"He does real magic." Peter reassured me, sending him a teasing smirk. "He just doesn't have standards with it."
"Hey, doing side gigs at schools pays better than your cheap ass," Hayes defended.
"Cashing in my discount isn't me being cheap."
"Anyway," Hayes said, smiling to me. "Don't fret. No demon can cross these walls. And just remember: you're going through this because you're a gem to this world. I would love to talk more with you sometime."
"Thank you. That would be great. I have tons of questions." Like did he have a wand? A fake or real one? Could he actually make my underwear disappear?
After Hayes left, I was surprised Peter didn't happily skip through the door behind him. I even held it open for him. "Well? Aren't you ready to be away from me?"
"You have no idea." However, he was hesitant. He took the handle from me and shut the door, leaving him still here, still inside, and facing me. "Don't use this protection on your house it as an excuse to isolate yourself here. Okay?"
I cocked a brow and scoffed. "You act like you can't stand me, yet you are so concerned about me living my best life. Why?"
He let out a deep exhale. "You don't understand how much time people waste worrying, waiting, or being scared," he answered with a softness that caught me off guard.
Peter expressed with passion before just how lucky humans were to live a mortal life. To grow, age, and eventually die. Something he will never experience. It reminded me of what Jamie shared. How Peter wanted nothing more for his son than the best and fullest life for him. How he always pushed him to be happy and live. Then, hearing him say this now... it was even more clear just how much Peter admired human life.
"Because unlike you, humans have shorter lives. Right?" I asked.
"Yes. So it severely bothers me when short lives get wasted. Years get wasted because fears hold people back. People bite their tongues. They reason their way out of their own dreams and happiness. They put other things first – like you did. You finally moved here to live your life for you, and yet this happens to you. I just... want to make sure it doesn't stop you from doing what you came here for."
This was another display of the caring man he buried away. I had a feeling he was conscious of himself and how open he's been tonight. He looked away and even took a step back after he finished speaking.
But I immediately canceled it, stepping closer. Those words confused me, irritated me, and made me feel cared for all at once. "You know what bothers me? You. When I see you... I see someone wasting years of their life. I see someone letting fear hold them back. You bite your tongue around me constantly. You promote all these wonderful things for me, but don't hold yourself to it. You're a hypocrite."
"I promote those wonderful things because you don't have a lot of time. I do."
"So that gives you an excuse to be all those things you can't stand?"
"If there is anything I can't stand, it's you," he sighed, moving towards the door. "I'm leaving."
"Why did you invite me to dinner?"
Not sure what made this specific question slip out, but it finally made it to the surface out of nowhere. Learning the truth about this reality and who these new people were in my life... it answered many of my questions. Peter and Jamie offered clarity on a lot... but this one didn't feel right. Apparently, Peter invited me over to dinner to 'attempt to read me.' Yet, he already learned he couldn't at that point. He also never did try. For how weird and contradicting he was... that was the one thing that still made no sense to me.
He didn't answer for a moment. "Why did you agree?" he asked evenly.
"Because I was medically insane that day," I mumbled.
"So was I." He smiled. It was a subtle and admirable smile. "Goodnight, Josephine."
Fuck. Talk about a weird night. Peter let his guard down enough to feed my theories. He definitely was playing up that asshole vibe around me. He was more caring than he let on. He made sure I knew nothing about him. He tries to hide who he truly is from me.
Maybe that's why he can't stand being around me that long. But why hide? Why hide being a nice guy? When he did open up, why did that make him antsy?
Listen, I still don't like the guy. Let's keep that on the table. But damn, I couldn't deny he fascinated me. I couldn't deny how curious I was about all of those contradictions. I also couldn't deny the slight tingle in my chest he left me with.
There was a reason he didn't say – or rather a reason in general he bit his tongue around me. And yes, I had a feeling it was just me specifically he was that way with. Jamie and now Hayes seemed surprised by the way he spoke to me. He either just really did not like me... or he really laying on a hardcore act of not liking me.
After he left, I went into the kitchen for a glass of water. I paused after something caught my attention. Yes, he was something else indeed. Peter returned my high as fuck car insurance bill I gifted to him on the dining table. For some reason, it made me laugh instead of scowl.