California Demon by Julie Kenner Page B

met his eyes. He held up a hand, warding off my protests in advance. “You don’t have to throw a party,” he said. “At least not for Tabitha’s sake.”
    I nodded, mildly soothed. Given the choice between throwing a cocktail party and wading barefoot through a room filled with spiders, I think I’d take the spiders. And I really don’t like bugs. “But?” I asked, because I could hear the “but” hanging in the air between us.
    “But I do need you to come to a party tomorrow. A museum benefit. Tabitha thinks I should mingle, meet other potential donors. That kind of thing.”
    “On a Sunday?”
    He shrugged. “Apparently, it’s been set up for a while now. They’re taking advantage of the museum being closed for a change of exhibits. At any rate, I just do what they tell me.” He squeezed my hand. “Come on, sweetheart. It should be fun.”
    “Sure,” I said. “No problem.”
    “You’ll have to mingle, too,” Stuart said, apparently wanting to make sure I understood what I was in for.
    “I know, sweetie. I may not be the best at this political wife thing, but I do understand it.”
    “You are the best,” he said, in a way that made me go a little weak in the knees. Then he kissed me. I moaned and leaned closer, my body reacting in all sorts of decadent ways.
    “I’d better go wake up Allie,” I said, finally pulling away. “Unless you want to get a really late start.”
     
 
“And you Aren’t sure if he was removing the book or hiding it?” Father Ben asked. We were in his office—Father Ben, Timmy, and me—gathered around the battered oak desk that dominated the small room. The book dominated the desktop, dark red and ominous.
    Timmy was on the floor, drawing pictures on old parish bulletins with a black Sharpie. I tried to pay attention, but I kept glancing down at Tim, afraid he’d end up coloring the carpet, and I’d feel obligated to have a genuine antique Oriental rug professionally cleaned.
    “Kate?” Father Ben prodded.
    “What? Oh.” I rewound the conversation in my head. “I’m pretty sure he was taking it out, but I can’t be positive.” I lunged forward. “Timmy, no. On the paper, big guy.” I sat back, and risked looking away from Tim just long enough to meet the padre’s eyes. “Either way, the book was important to him.”
    “ ‘The wheels are in motion,’ ” Father said, repeating the demon’s words that I’d relayed to him.
    “Any idea what he was talking about?” I asked.
    Father Ben nodded slowly, then sank back into his chair, motioning for me to sit as well. I did, but reluctantly. I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be good.
    “We can’t be certain, of course. Not without more research. But based upon the messages you left for Father Corletti and me, and your description of the book, we were able to do a bit of preliminary research.”
    “And?”
    “And we believe the book may be the Malevolenaumachia Demonica. ”
    “Oh,” I said, hoping I sounded duly impressed. “Wow. That’s . . . I mean, wow. ” In truth, I was impressed. Not by the whatever he’d said, since I had no clue what he was talking about. But by the fact that anyone could take my vague description and then announce that the book was something both evil-sounding and hard to pronounce. That was worthy of some serious props, as my daughter would say.
    “Do you know what the MD is?” Ben asked.
    “A doctor?” I asked, stupidly.
    “The Malevolenaumachia Demonica, ” he said, slowly and patiently.
    “Ah, um, well, sure. I mean, mostly.” I cleared my throat. “Actually, no. I don’t have a clue. What is it?”
    “You are familiar with a Grimoire?”
    “Sure,” I said. “It’s like a manual for black magic.”
    “Well, if this book is the Malevolenaumachia Demonica, it’s a hundred times worse than any potential Grimoire.”
    “Oh. Great.”
    He got up and came around his desk, leaning up against it as he faced me. “Have you ever seen Raiders of the