My Stepbrother Is a Demon novel · Chapter 3 of 32

Chapter 3: House Call

Augustin admits what he is, Ramona clears her first client's pest-ridden house full of Zane's journals, and her mother texts that Zane is coming to Saturday's party.

The word sat between us on the kitchen island.

Yes.

Neither of us moved.

"That's not fair," Ivo said finally. "You asked that on purpose."

"You stepped into my room on purpose."

"Go to bed, Ramona."

"Is that a night rule?"

"It's advice." He pushed off the counter and walked out barefoot. "Window shut."

I stood in the dark kitchen with my wrist buzzing and my face hot.

Then I went upstairs and checked under the bed with my flashlight.

At six a.m. Augustin was alone in the kitchen, grinding coffee.

He had an apron over his linen shirt.

"Ivo told you," he said, without turning around.

"Ivo told me you're a demon."

"I am."

He set a tiny cup of espresso in front of me.

I didn't touch it.

"How old are you?"

"Four hundred, give or take a plague."

"What did you do? Before the tomatoes."

"I wrote contracts. For a very long time. I was good at it."

He wiped the counter that didn't need wiping.

"I stopped. I made my money the slow human way after that. Shipping, then land, then patience."

"Do you love my mother?"

He looked at me then.

His eyes were dark and tired and completely steady.

"More than anything I've had in four centuries."

I didn't have the contract with him.

I believed him anyway, and that scared me more than the pests.

"She doesn't know," I said.

"No."

"You married her without telling her what you are."

"Yes." He didn't flinch. "That's mine to answer for."

"Then you tell her. By the end of summer."

"Ramona."

"She's had three husbands lie to her. You don't get to be the fourth. End of summer, or I tell her myself."

He was quiet for a long moment.

Then he nodded once.

"End of summer," he said. "Drink your coffee. It's very good coffee."

It was very good coffee.

At ten I had my first real job.

Mine.

A woman had answered the flyer I'd pinned up at the hardware store two towns over.

"Ants, maybe," she'd said on the phone. "And a smell. And the house just feels wrong."

I loaded my sprayer into the truck bed.

Ivo was sitting in my passenger seat.

"Get out."

"No."

"I didn't invite you."

"You signed a contract that says I keep the things off you." He buckled his seatbelt. "The things go where you go."

"You can't just ride along on my business."

"I can, actually. Drive."

"If you touch my radio, I'll spray you."

"Noted."

He touched the radio ten minutes later.

I didn't spray him, but only because I was driving.

The client lived in a gray split-level with dead roses out front.

She was in her forties, in yoga pants, with dark circles under her eyes.

"I haven't slept right in a year," she said at the door. "Sorry. That's not your problem."

I stepped into her living room and stopped.

The ceiling corners were full of them.

Clear jelly bodies, milky eyes, stacked.

They slid down the walls toward one bookshelf.

A whole row of Zane Huxley's gratitude journals was lined up on it, ten of them, all signed on the spine.

The pests were piled on those journals like cats on a heater.

"Huh," I said, very calmly.

"Ants?" she asked.

"Something like that. Can you give us twenty minutes outside?"

She went out to sit on her porch steps.

Ivo shut the door behind her.

"His merchandise," he said low. "They nest in it."

"Can I kill them?"

"You killed one with a shoe."

I looked at my sprayer.

Then I unscrewed the wand off the tank and held it like a bat.

"Shoulder," Ivo said. "Not wrist."

"Who asked you?"

I swung.

The first one burst across the bookshelf.

The second one came off the ceiling at my head and Ivo caught it one-handed and closed his fist.

It popped like a grape.

After that it was just work.

He took the high ones, I took the low ones.

I was faster on the stairs.

He was better at corners.

Neither of us said anything for fifteen minutes except "left" and "behind you" and once, from him, "nice."

When it was done, the living room was dripping and empty.

I bagged the journals in a contractor bag and tied it twice.

Then I actually sprayed her baseboards for ants, because she was paying for ants.

When the client came back in, she stopped in the doorway.

She took a deep breath.

"Oh," she said.

Then she sat down on her stairs and cried.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why. It just feels like somebody opened a window."

I sat down next to her.

I didn't tell her about the jelly.

I just said, "That happens sometimes."

She paid me a hundred and eighty dollars in twenties and hugged me at the truck.

"Can I give your number to my sister? And my neighbor? And everybody?"

"Yes," I said. "Please. Everybody."

I climbed into the driver's seat holding the cash.

My first job.

My money.

Ivo looked at me sideways.

"You're smiling," he said.

"No, I'm," I said, and stopped.

The line on my wrist went tight and warm.

The word "not" just wouldn't come.

"Fine," I said. "I'm smiling."

"I know. I can see you."

My phone buzzed on the dashboard.

Mom.

Baby!! Guess who just called to congratulate me on the wedding?? ZANE! He's coming to the garden party Saturday!! Isn't that sweet??

← Chapter 2 · All chapters · Chapter 4 →

Want to keep talking to characters like these? Chat with AI romance characters: AI Boyfriend · AI Girlfriend · Dark Romance · Fantasy Romance · BL (Boys’ Love) · Billionaire Boyfriend · Mafia Boyfriend · Possessive Boyfriend · Hockey Boyfriend · Older Boyfriend · K-Drama Boyfriend · Anime Boyfriend · Vampire Boyfriend · Werewolf Boyfriend · Demon Boyfriend · Fae Romance · GL (Girls’ Love) · Anime Girlfriend · Goth & Alt Girlfriend · Gamer Girlfriend · Tsundere Girlfriend · Fantasy Girlfriend