Kindling the Moon (Arcadia Bell #1)(41)

“It was a Victorian-era book, and there were several copy-cat versions that followed once it gained popularity. One of those had several stories about demons. I had a rare copy of it as a child—it was my grandfather’s. I’ve told you my mother’s family was German.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right.” I finished watering the last of the hanging baskets and began winding up the hose to put it away.

“Anyway, the book was written in German, so I couldn’t read it, but the pictures were very descriptive. In one of the stories, a wicked witch gets angry at a girl who goes traipsing through her flowers on her way home from school every day. So the witch summons a demon to attack a little girl in her bed every night, biting off one finger before he disappears. On the fifth night, she only has her thumb remaining on her left hand. To stop the demon from taking it, she cuts off one of his horns and hides it in the woods. The next night, the demon doesn’t come, because he can only be summoned by the person possessing the horn.”

I turned the squeaky faucet handle to shut off the water, then sat down next to Father Carrow on the steps.

“Do you think that could be true? That my demon can’t be summoned, even if we find the name and classification, because we need the talon to complete the summoning?”

“I really don’t know, but it’s an interesting notion, don’t you think? Fairy tales sometimes contain small gems of truth, no matter how outlandish they might seem. Remember that children’s book about the Lost Colony of Roanoke that was published in the early 1900s? It said that all the colonists who disappeared were really elves who moved west along with the Indians.”

I gathered up my purse and car keys. “Pretty crazy that something as silly as a kids’ book would be so on the nose.”

“Exactly. If people only knew that it was really Earthbound demons and not elves …”

“Or that some of their next-door neighbors were really Earthbounds and not humans,” I added with a wink. “By the way, speaking of demonic neighbors, Mrs. Marsh was asking about you yesterday. Let me know and I’ll hook you guys up … I’m just sayin’.”

He patted my shoulder. “My dear, if the good Lord has helped me to resist temptation this long, I assure you that your Mrs. Marsh would not be the thing to send me over the edge.”

15

I knocked on Lon’s door at five till nine, still contemplating Father Carrow’s fairy tale; it worried me.

“Hi,” Lon said upon opening the door.

“Hello yourself. Is my date ready?”

“He’s getting his jacket. It’s supposed to get cooler tonight.”

“You’re awfully spiffed up.” Not really, but he was wearing a short-sleeved button-up shirt that wasn’t covered in stains. Nice jeans, chunky silver belt buckle. His wavy brown hair was neatly tucked behind his ears, and a couple of seconds after I noted all this, the front of his neck darkened. Then I observed that he was blocking the doorway.

When he didn’t answer, I glanced behind me toward the gravel driveway. There were two cars parked, one of them being the black truck he’d used to haul the hematite powder over to my house. The other was a small blue sports car, but I just figured it was his. I had no idea how many cars he owned. But now …

“I’m sorry,” I said, stepping back a foot. I was pretty certain I was out of his empathic range. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

“Tell her I’m coming, Dad! I can’t find my jacket.” Jupe’s voice carried like the west wind from the upstairs balcony inside the house. When Lon turned to answer him, I caught a glimpse behind him into the house. At the far end of the living room was a tall blond woman wearing a curvy, dark green sleeveless dress and heels. She was holding a wineglass and looking at a picture on the wall. Lon noticed that I’d seen her and moved to block the door again.

“Oh.” I took one more step back. Our eyes met, and I knew immediately that he knew I was trying to get out of range. I didn’t care, as long as I got there. “Gosh, Lon,” I said. “A little free time on your hands, and you’ve already got a model lined up, huh?”

“She’s not a model.” His voice was deliberately hushed, almost a whisper.

I shrugged. “Long legs, pretty face. Might as well be.”

“She’s a photography rep.”

“Regardless, I’ll try to keep Jupe out as long as I can to give you guys time to … whatever.” I tugged my purse higher up on my arm and crossed my arms over my chest as I gave him a sugary smile.

Stupid, stupid girl. There I was thinking that just maybe, possibly, he might have been showing a spark of interest on the phone the day before, but I was obviously wrong. Though I was accustomed to being the rejector, not the rejectee, I reprimanded myself for even entertaining the notion that any silly attraction I had for him might be mutual. Like Jupe had told me, Lon probably didn’t think of me that way. Too young.

“I’m not dating anyone. It’s not a date,” Lon argued in a low voice. By now, the redness in his neck had darkened and was creeping upward in splotches. Wasn’t a date, my ass.

“None of my business.” I spoke as nonchalantly as I could manage, keeping my eyes low as Jupe ducked under his father’s arm and burst through the door.

“I’m ready!” he announced gleefully. “Let’s go so we can hit the snack bar before the movie starts—come on!” He grabbed my hand to tug me across the graveled driveway.