"I can't believe your angel told on us. What a snitch!"
"Snitch? You're irritated that my ex-guardian angel told me that the devil had visited you. That the devil, in fact, had had a nice little conversation with you; that the devil, in fact, had enticed you?"
"Quit being so dramatic, Mom. It was nothing."
Except my guardian angel had said otherwise. My guardian angel had sensed Tammy's interest, even as she tried to resist it. I didn't have to voice this, knowing Tammy had picked up on my thoughts and memory of my conversation with Ishmael.
"Geez, Mom, if you think about it... who wouldn't want me on their side? I can read anyone's thoughts, even your angel's, even animals. Besides, your angel can't read my mind. Only your mind. He doesn't know what I was really thinking."
"And what were you really thinking?"
"That the devil was a big weirdo."
I sensed evasiveness. Pure, motherly instinct. "Were you or were you not interested in what the devil had to say, young lady?" And the fact that I was having this conversation, really, really pissed me off to no end. I needed to speak with the devil, and I needed to do so now.
"No, Mom. He's long gone now."
"He's not as far away as you think."
"The lady that he's using-"
"Possessing."
"Okay, whatever. She's busy doing other things for him right now."
"And you know this how?"
She opened her mouth to speak. But then closed it again.
"Tell me now, young lady, or so help me, you will never see the light of day again."
"Like you?"
I glanced at the alchemy ring on my hand that let me go into the sunshine and not get fried. "Never mind that. Answer me."
She bit her lower lip, and I didn't have to read her mind to know what was going on: she was deciding how much to tell me.
"It's not that, Mom."
"So what's going on then, young lady?"
"Ever since I connected with the devil-"
"You connected, why?"
"I didn't mean to. I felt him coming. Felt a sort of pulse of evil coming. I don't know. I tuned into it, to see what it was."
"Okay." I waited.
"And ever since I tuned into it, it hasn't really gone away."
"What hasn't gone away?"
"My connection," she said.
"To the devil?"
"Yes. In particular, to the woman he's using."
"And she's where?"
"In Santa Ana."
"Doing what?"
"Working as a prostitute."
"And you can see this?"
"Yes."
"I command you to stop seeing this."
"Whatever, Mom."
"I mean it."
"Fine, I will."
"Block him. Something."
She opened her mouth to speak, paused, then looked away, and I suspected she couldn't block him. Not at the moment. At least, not for as long as the woman lived.
My daughter caught my eye again, and her simple look confirmed my suspicion. The devil and she were connected, at least, for the time being.
"Baby," I said, "you have to resist him."
"I will, Mommy. I swear."
"Does he talk to you?"
"No, not really."
"What does that mean?"
"I can feel him sort of, well, sort of checking in on me."
I looked at my cute little daughter with the haunted look in her eye, knowing that few would know just how haunted it was. For the first time in a long time, I didn't know what to do to help my baby.
"It's okay, Mommy. Everything will turn out okay," she said, and held my gaze. Then she turned back to her book.
I didn't like the way she held my gaze, and I especially didn't like what I thought I saw just behind her pupil. The smallest hint of fire.
Chapter Twenty-three
All this was because Danny-that worthless piece of shit-had turned tail and hid in his own son.
Yes, I knew my daughter was reading my mind, even through her door-hell, even if I was a mile or two away. Which is exactly why the devil wanted her. How much mind reading he could do, I didn't know. He didn't appear to have access to my mind back when I'd first met him at the Jamba Juice. If not, then, of course, he needed Tammy. And like my daughter said, anyone would want to use her. Hell, how valuable would she be in the hands of the government? Spy agencies? Criminal organizations? Other immortals? All would want her, all would exploit her, all would use her up and, ultimately, destroy her. The devil, I suspected, was just one of many who might come knocking. He'd just happened to be the first. And, perhaps, the most persuasive. And, perhaps, the nastiest.