Demons of the Rich and Famous (Demon Whisperer book 1)

Demons chapter 14

Chapter 14

Once Saleisha’s bus had vanished down the street, I still didn’t want to go home. So I walked the streets, thinking about what Saleisha had just sprung on me and the implications of that.

How could she possibly know Dan was a demon? A person couldn’t tell by looking at him. As far as I knew, I was the only one that knew his true identity. Even Aspen didn’t have a clue and she’d been around him for awhile, seen what he was like.

Did she have the sight? My dad had told me there were people out there with psychic abilities. People that could portent the future and glimpse the past. Maybe Saleisha could see demons walking the streets? But if she could, she’d never let on. She’d always been friendly with Dan, downright flirtatious at times.

Next time, I’d ask her out right. In the meantime though, I had other fish to fry, like my dad.

I hated to admit it, but he was mostly right. I had completely jacked up the Habib family. I should’ve called for backup, or even let my dad come with. He would’ve known what to do right from the get go. He would’ve immediately seen the signs that the demon was playing possum and looking to jump bodies. He’d seen it before.

I was making my way down King Street to loop back around to Parliament then over to Mill and home, when I noticed an older woman across the street, dressed in an oversized coat and boots, probably homeless, struggling with her shopping cart. She was trying to maneuver it over a cement block and having no luck.

I glanced around, noticed no one else on the street, and sighed. Hiking my bag up higher on my shoulder, I jogged across the street to help her. Maybe a good deed would lessen the multitude of sins I’d already committed.

She didn’t acknowledge me as I approached.

“Here, let me help you.” I gripped the handle and lifted it.

She just grunted and continued to hold the cart tight. Maybe she thought I was planning on stealing her goods. By the looks of some of the things in her basket, I could’ve told her she didn’t have to worry about that one bit. I would’ve tossed most of it back into the garbage bin she probably dug it out of.

I hefted the cart and lifted it over the cement block. When I set it back down on the other side, I expected some kind of thank you, maybe even a smile.

What I got was a solid right hook to the face that had me dropping to my knees.

I blinked up at her, rubbing my jaw. “What the hell, lady?”

She grinned down at me, her teeth brown with age and rot. “You’re a stupid boy, Caden Butcher.”

Oh shit.

I dug into my bag and pulled out the iron cross. I held it up toward her as I scrambled to my feet.

She laughed and shook her head. “Doesn’t work on me, shit bird.”

I didn’t have time to consider that when she hit me again, this time with something solid she’d grabbed out of her cart. I bounced off the brick wall and ended up back on my knees. By the way my arm rocked with pain, I was guessing her weapon of choice was the baseball bat I’d seen in there only minutes before.

I pushed to my feet again and glared at the entity inside the homeless woman. “I’m sure we can come to some arrangement Belial.”

“I’m not Belial,” she said, her voice guttural and low, twirling the bat in her dirty hands. “But I work for him. And he has a message for you.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“He wants you to give up your role as exorcist.”

“Really? Is that all.”