The_Demons_Wife_ARC by Rick Hautala Read Free Book Online

withering look and then, without another word, stormed out of the
kitchen and into the living room with a bowl of Rice Krispies in hand. Claire
didn’t feel comfortable letting it hang like this, and she was about to follow
after her, but before she moved, the buzzer sounded.
    “Oh, shit!”
    She rushed
over to the intercom and hit the TALK button.
    “Hey. You’re
kinda early.”
    “I’m right on
time.”
    His voice
sounded flat over the speaker, but Claire barely noticed because Mittens let
out a rising howl the instant Samael spoke. Then she darted from the living
room like her tail was on fire. Claire watched her go, confused, and then
glanced at the wall clock next to the stove.
    It was a
quarter to twelve.
    He was fifteen
minutes early, but she wasn’t about to dispute it.
    “I’ll be down
in a few,” she said, and then clicked off.
    She was still
wondering what had set Mittens off, but she was more intent on looking terrific
for Samael as she went to her bedroom to finish getting dressed. If he was
going to be early, she made sure she took all the time she wanted.
    She’d teach
him.
    Twenty minutes
later, she grabbed her purse and coat from the rack next to the door. Without
another word to Sally and with no sign of Mittens anywhere, she headed out the
door.
    But as she was
swinging the door shut behind her, she glanced back and saw Sally in the living
room doorway, watching her with a dark scowl. For the rest of the day, Claire
was puzzled—you might say haunted, even, by the expression on her roommate’s
face.  
     
    ~ * ~
     
    “So. I never
got to ask you at the bar…what do you do for work?”
    Claire felt a
little bit foolish asking such a basic question. She was so comfortable being
around Samael, she felt she had known him for years. She would have assumed
they were well past such “getting to know you” questions. The truth was, there
was so much about him—everything—she had yet to discover, and she thrilled at
the prospect.
    “Sales and
service,” he said, his voice a touch distant, as if the subject bored him as
much as he expected it would bore her. “Buying and selling and, maybe, a bit of
trading now and then.”
    “Really,”
Claire said, and then she fell silent and took a moment to look around.
    Dominick’s
wasn’t the kind of restaurant she and people she knew usually went to for
lunch, dinner, or anything else…not on her salary. It was a gorgeous day, after
the rain last night, and they had a window seat—one of the best tables in the
place—looking out over Portland Harbor. The water sparkled in the sunlight, and
huge, tumbling fair-weather clouds rolled over the South Portland skyline.
Lobster boats and pleasure craft dotted the water, bobbing up and down on the
gentle swells. The day had a bright, almost surreal intensity.
    Claire was
convinced it was being with Samael that made everything appear so…different.
    One thing she
did notice…something that struck her as peculiar, was the way, even with
brilliant sunlight pouring in through the window, Samael’s face appeared to be
cast in shadow and deeply lined. His eyes remained bright, darting back and
forth as he watched the activity going on around them. He looked distracted and
aloof. He reminded Claire of a caged beast, one that wasn’t at all comfortable
being confined but was a master of appearing at ease in such a situation.
    Finally, when
she became slightly annoyed by him looking around, she asked, “Are you
expecting to see someone or something?”
    Samael shifted
his intense gaze to her and, after a moment, his top teeth dimpling his lower
lip, shook his head.
    “No…Why?”
    “I dunno. Just
the way you seem to…” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and cast a wary
glance of her own around the dining room. “Distracted, I guess. You’re not
married and looking out for anyone who might know you and get word back to your
wife, are you?” She arched an eyebrow.
    “Don’t be
ridiculous. Of