LITMIR.BIZ

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our names and I couldn’t get rid of it without Ted’s consent. Plus, my address was the one on record, and I was being saddled with the debt.

      He looked offended. “That’s our old joint account, Lilith. I haven’t used it since the divorce.”

      “Like hell you haven’t.” I read off one of the charges. “Look at this – eleven-thousand dollars for a place called ‘Exotic Locales’? What was that for?”

      Ted’s face reddened and he looked away. “I must have used that old credit card by mistake. Give me the bill, and I’ll pay it.”

      “Exotic Locales, Ted?” I asked, goading him. “What is that? A strip club?”

      He didn’t even flinch. “No. It’s personal.” He held out his hand for the bill. “I said I’d pay it, so end of discussion.”

      Whatever he was trying to cover up had to be juicy, so I took a stab in the dark: “You’re dating a stripper, aren’t you?”

      “What? No! Lilith, what is wrong with you?” The vein above his eyebrows began to pulse.

      “What’s wrong with you?” I asked. “What are you hiding from me?”

      My demon could have helped with this, of course. All I had to do was start her up and put her to work. Within minutes, Ted would be putty in my hands and willingly tell me his secrets. It had worked before. But right then, I was too angry to bat my eyelashes and act coy. I wanted to boot Ted in the butt with a steel-toed shoe, not caress him with kid gloves.

      I must have looked scary because when Grace walked in carrying her pink duffle bag, Ted grabbed her and kept his hands on her shoulders, using her as a human shield. “Ready to go, kid?” he asked desperately.

      Reluctantly, I told my demon to back off. There was something going on with my ex. I could smell it on him like another woman’s perfume. With Grace in the room, however, I’d never find out what it was.

      Ted was halfway out the door. “Okay. I’ll have her back on Sunday night.” Then, just before leaving, he stopped in the doorway. His lips quirked like he was about to throw up. “Grace, I have a really big surprise for you. I’m taking you to France for the month of July.”

      Grace’s eyes lit up. There was no place in the world she wanted to visit more than France. But as her eyes were glowing with anticipation, mine were glowing with rage. France?! My ex-husband thought he was taking my baby to Europe? So ‘Exotic Locales’ had been a travel agency.

      As Grace hugged him tightly, Ted looked over her shoulder with an expression of triumph. I clenched my fists, seething. It was bad enough that he was entitled to an entire month with her during the summer, but to drag her out of the country? And what a cowardly trick to deliver the news in front of me knowing that I wouldn’t yell at him. Not only that, he had the entire weekend to pump her up about the trip. She’d come back to me on Sunday night with a head full of pictures of Paris and the Eiffel Tower, and I’d end up looking like the bad guy when I told her that she couldn’t go.

      It was the final stroke in our dueling match. A painful thrust delivered with such mastery and cunning that I could only stand and gape.

      Ariel had sidled back into the room, and before Ted whisked Grace away, she said, “Guess what, Ari? I’m going to France with my dad!”

      Usually, Ari was an expert at hiding her feelings, but right then I could read her like a book. She was thinking that her Uncle Ted completely ignored her, she’d never met her biological father, and her own mother wouldn’t take her to Burger King much less France.

      Ariel’s eyes narrowed. “France is disgusting, you know. They only eat frogs and snails there.” But, by that time, Grace had already left the house.

      Ariel looked up at me, her eyes flat as the backside of a mirror. She was hardening herself so that she wouldn’t dissolve into tears. I didn’t need my demon to tell me this, either, since it was exactly how I felt myself.

       Chapter Three

      To boost our spirits, I told Ariel she could pick out whatever she wanted for dinner. Ordinarily, I did all the cooking, making everything from scratch using nothing but fresh, organic produce and whole grains. I was a wonderful cook, and could teach Martha Stewart a thing or two. That night, however, I was too disheartened to fire up the grill let alone bully Ariel into eating the salad niçoise that I had been planning to make.

      “I know what I want,” Ariel said, “but we have to go to the grocery store to get it.”

      “How about pizza?” I asked. I didn’t care much for it, but my succubus had an addiction to meat-lovers’ pizza with extra bacon.

      Ariel folded her arms over her chest. “I want to go to the grocery store. You promised.”

      I groaned inwardly. I hated being out in public with Ariel when she was in a bad mood. Even when she’s in a good mood, she draws uneasy looks. It’s the severely-cut, dyed-black hair, the ghoulish makeup, and the heavy silver necklaces. Not to mention the expression that says, “I’d kill you, but you’re not worth the trouble.” These things scare people. Tommy Lefevre, my stepsister’s ex-boyfriend, once said that my niece’s appearance was a reflection of how broken she was on the inside. While I valued Tommy’s opinion above that of anyone else, there were still times when I wanted to wear a T-shirt that read: I swear this is not my kid.

      “I think the Chinese place down the road delivers,” I said.

      “You promised. And a promise is a promise.” Ariel fetched my purse from the kitchen table and offered it to me. “Besides, it’s not like I’m asking to go to France or anything.”

      She was right. She deserved something, even if it was only a trip to the grocery store. “Okay,” I said, taking my purse, “but I get to pick out my own dinner. Deal?”

      She smiled slightly. “Deal.”

      When we got to the store, Ariel moved like a guided missile while I lagged behind with the shopping cart. I was disgusted, but not surprised, by what she chose: a blue box of mac ‘n’ cheese, Banquet frozen chicken, two liters of Mountain Dew, and a package of Oreos. On the other hand, my succubus’s mouth was watering. Especially over the Mountain Dew and Oreos. I wondered which of my predecessors had gotten her addicted to those wretched foods.

      People were staring at us just as I feared they would. The skull-and-crossbones Ari had drawn on her face didn’t help. Neither did the way she loudly cracked her knuckles whenever we got close to someone. I was about to tell her to knock it off when I realized that we were being followed.

      Lagging about a dozen steps behind us was a thin boy about Ari’s age with colorless hair, and skin so pale it nearly glowed. His unblinking eyes were startlingly blue, and his gaze was fixed on Ariel. Something about him seemed vaguely familiar; although, I was certain I’d never seen him before.

      “You have an admirer,” I said.

      “Where?!” Ari whirled around, ready to strike. When she saw the boy, she relaxed. “Oh, him.”

      “You know that kid?” I’d never seen Ari make a friend much less a boyfriend. “Does he go to your school?”

      She shrugged. “I don’t think so. I just see him around sometimes.” She picked a jar of sweet pickles from the shelf and put it into the cart. “I want these, too.”

      Her nonchalance stunned me. I’d expected her to wave her arms and shout to chase the boy away. I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe my niece wasn’t a sociopath after all. “So he’s a friend of yours?”

      “Don’t get carried away,” she muttered.

      I wanted to keep pestering her with questions, but as we rounded a corner, my cart collided with another shopper’s. Both of us opened our mouths to begin swearing, but then we recognized each other. It was Casey

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