"Good evening, Evelyri."
Her eyes snapped open, raking the dark. She recognized his voice instantly, the smooth, insinuating lilt rising softly out of the heat. He was standing just off the walk, not quite close enough that she could see him clearly.
She tried to still the shaking inside, rocking slowly to settle her fear. "You took your time," she said.
"Well, tune has never been of much concern to me." She could feel as much as see his smile. "It's too bad you can't say the same, Evelyn. You have grown quite old."
She was briefly angry, but she kept her voice calm. "Well, I don't pretend to be something I'm not, either. I'm pretty well content with being who I am. I've learned to live with myself. I doubt that you can say the same."
The demon chuckled, crossing his arms on his chest. "Oh, that's a terrible lie, Evelyn! Shame on you! You hate yourself! You hate your life!" The laugh died away. "That's why you
drink and smoke and hide out in your house, isn't it? It wasn't like that before. You should have embraced the magic in the same way I did, years ago, when you were still young and pretty and talented. You had that chance, and you gave it up. You gave me up as well. Look at what it's cost you. So, please. I think I can live with myself better than you can." He paused. "Which is what matters have to come down to, haven't they?"
She nodded. "I suppose they have."
The demon studied her. "You knew I'd come back to finish things, didn't you? You didn't think you could escape me?"
"Not for a moment. But I'm surprised you thought you needed help."
He stared at her, a hint of confusion in his bland face. "I'm afraid you've lost me."
"John Ross."
The demon snorted. "Oh, Evelyn, don't be obtuse. Ross is a creature of the Word. He's been tracking me for some time. Without much success, I might add."
Well, well, it seems I was wrong about Mr. Ross, she thought in surprise.
The demon was watching her closely. "Don't get your hopes up, dear heart. John Ross is not going to change the outcome of things. I've already seen to that."
"I expect you have," she replied quietly.
He made a point of glancing around then, a slow, casual survey of the shadows. His smile was empty and cold. "Look who's come to say good–bye to you."
She had already seen them. Feeders by the dozens, slinking out of the darkness to gather at the edges of the light, crowding forward in anticipation, eyes unblinking and expressionless, dark bodies coiled. Some had already advanced to the far ends of the porch, their heads pressed up against the railing like grotesque children in search of a treat.
She gave him a flat, hard stare. "Perhaps they've come to say good–bye to you, instead." She beckoned casually. "Step closer so I can see you better."
The demon did so, moving just out of the shadows, his arms loose, his pale, washed–out blue eyes looking almost sleepy.
"Oh, you've changed considerably," she told him. "If you think I've aged, you ought to take a close look at yourself. Is that the best you can do? Did you sell your soul for so little? How sad."
There was a long silence between them. Then the demon whispered, "This is the end of the line for you, Evelyn."
She rose to her feet and stood looking at him, feeling small and vulnerable in the presence of his strength. But she was buttressed by her anger and by her certainty that he was not half so clever as he thought. She moved slowly around to the back of her rocker and leaned on it, giving him a broad, sardonic smile.
"Why don't you come up on the porch so we can discuss it?" she said.
He smiled in return. "What are you up to, Evelyn?" He cocked his head to one side as if reflecting on the possibilities.
She waited patiently, saying nothing, and after a moment he started toward her, accepting her challenge. The feeders trailed after him, skittish with anticipation. She had not seen so many in one place in years. Not since she had played with them at night in the park as a young girl. Not since the demon and she were lovers. The memories roiled within her, a bitter stirring of emotions that turned the night's heat and darkness suffocating.
When he was almost to the steps, she reached behind her for the shotgun and brought it up in a single, smooth movement so that the long barrel was leveled directly at his chest. She flipped off the safety and placed her finger over the trigger. He was less than fifteen feet away, a clear target. He stopped instantly, genuine surprise showing on his face.
"You can't hurt me with that," he said.
"I can blow that disguise you're hiding behind to smithereens," she declared calmly. "And it will take you a while to put together another, won't it? A little extra time might be all I need and more than you can afford."
He laughed softly in response, his hands clasping before him as if in childish admiration. "Evelyn, you are astonishing! I missed it completely! How could I have been so stupid? You've lost your use of the magic, haven't you? That's why you have the shotgun! Your magic doesn't work anymore!" He grinned, excited by his discovery. "And to think I was worried mat you might prove troublesome. Tell me. What happened? Did you use it all up? No, you wouldn't have done that. You were saving it to use against me. Or against yourself. Remember how you threatened to do that when you found out what I was? That was a long time ago. Oh, I hated you so for that! I've waited patiently to make you pay for what you did to me. But there was always your magic to consider, wasn't there?" He paused. "Ah–ha! That's it! You lost it because you didn't use it! You worked so hard at hoarding it, you grew old and tired and lost it completely! That's why you haven't come after me. That's why you've waited for me to come to you. Oh, dear! Poor Evelyn!"
"Poor you," she replied, snapped the gun stock to her shoulder, and blew a hole right through his chest. The whole front of his shirt exploded in a gruesome red shower and the demon was knocked backward onto the shadow–streaked lawn.
Except that a moment later, he wasn't there at all. He simply disappeared, fading away into the ether. Then abruptly he reappeared six feet farther to the right, unharmed, standing there looking at her, laughing softly.
"Your aim was a little off." He smirked.
Feeders raced back and forth, darting toward her with lightning–quick rushes, frantic with hunger. She realized at once what had happened. It wasn't the demon she had fired at. It was an illusion he had created to fool her.
"Good–bye, Evelyn," he whispered.
His hand lifted in a casual gesture, drawing her eyes to his, and she felt a crushing force close about her chest. She wrenched her eyes away, brought up the shotgun, and fired a second time. Again, the demon's chest blew apart and he was flung away. The feeders ran in all directions, clawing their way onto the porch only to leap off again, lantern eyes wild with expectation. Evelyn was already swinging the barrel of the shotgun about, searching for him, firing both left and right of where he had been, the heavy shot ripping the air, lead pellets hammering into the fence posts at the gate and into the trunks of the old shagbarks and the graceful limbs of the spruce. Lights started to come on in the houses closest to hers.
"Damn you!" she hissed
She racked the slide a fifth time, chambering a fresh shell, swung the barrel to her right, where the feeders were massed thickest, and fired into their midst, the shotgun booming. Her arms and shoulders throbbed with weariness and pain, and her rage burned in her throat and chest like fire. One shell left. She saw him climbing over the railing at the other end of the porch, pumped the final shell into the firing chamber, swung the shotgun left, and fired down the length of the house.