He grabbed that one. Then he spotted one called, Demons: Their Abilities and Their Downfalls. That could be of use. Of course, it did bug him that his sister, half demon herself, thought it was wise to give the human world insights into the downfalls of demons. Couldn't she let them believe they were all-powerful?
Ah, well, in this case, he needed some insight into his own downfalls, which until today, he would have said he didn't have. Maybe Ellina had researched what was going on with him. Because in all of his existence, Jo was the first mortal he hadn't been able to read.
He flipped to the back of the book, running down the index. Trapping. Banishing. Cleansing a demonically possessed item.
He checked the index several times, but nothing she mentioned actually addressed the quandary within the demons themselves.
"Lot of good this will do me," he muttered, tossing the book on the floor. "I know how to banish myself back to Hell."
He thumbed through the other book with no more luck than the first. Not for the first time he wished Ellina was just here.
He paused looking through the book and glanced around the empty room.
Where are you, Ellina?
He needed her, and not just to help him with this dilemma. He was worried about her. More than worried. But so far all leads had ended up going nowhere. So he stayed here and waited.
Feeling helpless was not something a demon handled well. He hoped Ellina had at least put that fact in one of her books. Because he was feeling decidedly helpless about his sister. And about Jo.
Why would Josephine Burke, a mere mortal, have the ability to keep him out of her head? He didn't understand. And why did this particular woman keep bringing up previously unknown feelings?
Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Josephine Burke was affecting him like no one else ever had.
He suspected if he could just have her, then things would calm inside him. Clearly the oddity of not being able to read her mind wasn't curbing his desire for her.
Seduction was still his plan. In truth, he knew he was helpless to take any other course of action.
CHAPTER 8
"You do know you should go home, don't you?"
Jo looked up from reviewing the grant proposal she'd started and restarted several times. So much for her determination to concentrate on her work. She'd been staring at the same paragraph for—well, who knows how long.
"Have all the parents come to get the kids?"
Cherise nodded with an indulgent smile. "Hours ago. Now Mary is here with a few others to set up the room for Wednesday Night Bingo."
"Oh, good." Jo acted as if she wasn't unnerved by the loss of time, but she was still shaken about the event of lunchtime. She'd also completely forgotten that tonight was one of the events for the older adults.
It was only the second week the event had been implemented; one of Jo's first ideas for fund-raising and something to get the older adults back to the center. She supposed she could forgive herself for forgetting about it. If that was truly why she'd forgotten.
"You're leaving now, too, right?" Cherise said pointedly.
"You know, I think I will stay and work on this a bit longer."
Cherise grimaced and her hand went to her hip. Jo readied herself for one of Cherise's blunt lectures.
"Girl, you've looked like hell all afternoon. And you've been acting all sorts of strange."
"I know." Jo didn't bother to deny it. She had no idea how she looked, but she knew she'd been acting weird.
She'd been unable to completely dismiss or shake off that eerie feeling that had overcome her in the restroom. Even though she had mostly managed to explain away what she'd seen as a confused child who was too scared to use the restroom by herself.
With bare feet. Which were wet.
This was New Orleans—and Jo had already seen far weirder things than wet, barefoot children in a restrooms.
As much as she'd fixated on the odd event in the restroom, she'd obsessed more about her reaction to Maksim's brief touch. Her whole body had sparked to sexual life with that innocuous brush of his thumb on her lip.
And no matter how she broke it down, the reaction did not please her. She'd wanted him. Desperately.
And then add the nausea and the strange headache, and well, she was sure none of it had done wonders for her behavior. Or her appearance.
"I think you'd better get some rest," Cherise said, then held up her hands, guessing Jo would reject her suggestion. "I'm just saying."
Jo smiled, appreciating the woman's concern. "I'll head out in a few minutes. I promise. I'm just going to finish this up."
"Good," Cherise said, "because you've got the coloring of an uncooked beignet. Get some rest."
Jo wasn't sure what an uncooked beignet looked like, exactly, but she knew it wasn't good. Not in this instance.
"When was the last time you got a good book, went outside, took in a little sun, and relaxed?" Cherise asked in a motherly tone.
"I could ask the same of you," Jo said. Cherise often stayed as late as Jo, and usually was the first one here in the morning.
"Well, all the stresses of this place don't fall on me. I just handle the kids."
"No small feat."
Cherise's eyebrow indicated that she wasn't going to be one-upped away from her point. "I'm not playin' here. You need to get some rest. Real rest."
Jo nodded, quietly accepting that truth. "I will."
"Okay, I'm trusting you on that."
"Good."
Cherise shook a finger at her. "Don't stay too late."
"I won't." Jo laughed at her friend's doggedness.
Again the eyebrow shot up, stating she didn't believe Jo in the least. But then the larger woman bustled away, muttering something about "damned stubborn people" as she went.
Jo smiled, appreciating the concern. And Cherise was totally right. Unfortunately, taking on St. Ann's hadn't allowed much time for relaxation. And while she could go home and work on this in the morning—because of Maksim's help with the kids, ironically—Jo just didn't believe she'd get any quality rest.
Her mind was just too agitated. And despite the creepiness of the restroom incident, it was Maksim who kept popping into her head. So she thought it best to just keep busy.
Of course, forty-five minutes later, it was clear that work wasn't going to be the solution to calming her circling thoughts. Sighing, she saved her document, booted down her computer, and gathered her things. She didn't want to go home, but sitting here, staring at her monitor, fingers positioned over the keyboard but never moving, wasn't doing her any good.
She flicked off the lights and locked her office door. As she passed the main gathering room, gray-haired men and women sat at the tables where the children had been earlier. More tables had been set up as well. All full.
Well, at least one of her programs was going well.
The attendees had several bingo cards lined up in rows in front of them. They squinted with concentration as Mary called the numbers. Then their gnarled hands would fly over the cards with astounding speed as they punched the numbers they had with fat, round markers designed solely for the purpose of this pastime.
"Bingo!" one of the men shouted, grinning like he'd won the multimillion-dollar lotto. He waved the card over his head in victory.
Jo smiled, feeling a little better. Bingo might not seem like a major achievement to most people, but Jo saw it as a step in the right direction. The more she got people into the center, the more they would realize what a valuable resource they had—right here in their neighborhood.
Another person, a woman this time, with white, white hair and dark skin, yelled out "Bingo!" wiggling in her seat like one of the preschoolers who'd sat there earlier today.