DEMON SENSE (Completed)

Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

 “There’s something else,” Larson added. His tone was too ominous for my liking. I braced myself for the bad news. “While I was digging around for information on your demon, I also happened to hear a little rumor…”

My face fell. Ah, I knew what was coming.

“You never told me about your acclaimed reputation, Viktoriya. I’m quite impressed. Tell me, how did you manage to kill, not one, but two demons in a single night—I thought you didn’t know how?”

I’m not sure what emotion had plastered itself on my face, but it wiped off Larson’s smug grin. “It was an accident—a misunderstanding,” I explained. “Those rumors you heard blow the whole incident out of proportion. You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

Larson’s dark brows pulled together creating a crease between them. He casually crossed his arms over his chest, and seemed to mull over what I said. “So you’re saying it isn’t true then?”

“Of course it isn’t true,” I told him honestly, “If I knew how to kill a demon, I wouldn’t need you.”

His flinch was almost imperceptible. In fact, I might have simply imagined it. Larson’s face was suddenly void of any expression. “How would a rumor like that circulate? Certainly there must be some truth to it.” There was silence on my end. “Viktoriya, what are you not telling me?”

I threw up my hands in exasperation, “What do you want me to tell you, Larson?”

“The truth,” he said gently.

I met his eyes, and though they were sympathetic, I saw the stubbornness in them, too. He wasn’t going to let me walk away without explaining things to him.

“I—I don’t know. I’m not even sure what the truth is.”

“Why don’t you start with telling me your version of the events that led up to this ‘misunderstanding’?”  He even used air quotes. Normally, that would have made me smile, but I was too on edge at the moment to be amused.

I didn’t want to think about it, or talk about it. I wanted to keep that nightmare padlocked away in the dark recesses of my mind. But Larson was right. Deep down, I knew he might be able to shed some light on the incident, but I also knew, no matter what happened that night, I hadn’t really killed those demons. I couldn’t have—I never even laid a finger on them.

My breathing became ragged as I unwillingly met the memory of that god-awful family trip. If there was any hope for me to get through this, I had to make myself empty, numb. I did my best to distance my mind and emotions. It helped. I began speaking without thinking, letting the words fall from my lips, but not allowing myself to hear or process what I said.

“A couple months before Kat was killed, we were heading back home after a week-long family vacation at the beach.” My voice sounded as solid and cold as ice.

I refused to remember how it had been so warm and bright every day we were there, and how my parents had been so happy. I didn’t think about my mom with her shoulder length auburn hair as it glistened under the sun, wearing her Audrey Hepburn-like shades, and a contagious smile. Nor did I remember her carefree laugh after Dad had whispered something funny in her ear, and kissed her as they lay under a blue beach umbrella. And I was careful not to recall the funny tan line Kat got from her uneven application of sunblock, which resulted in one really sunburnt forearm, and the other shockingly pasty in comparison. She blamed me for distracting her, but we both knew it was really the hottie playing beach volleyball nearby who was to blame.