games?
Then Jordan frowned again.
Angela swept past the door to her apartment and disappeared from view. Seconds later she heard the brass knockerrapping against the door to Todd’s apartment. Then she heard the creak of the door opening, followed by the excited squeals of two very vapid females exchanging greetings. Now Jordan knew the identity of Todd’s female guest. Her initial instinct—the one she’d dismissed as paranoia—had been right all along.
Bridget fucking Flanagan.
That voice—so falsely sweet and lilting—was impossible to mistake. The revelation also explained the horrid music pounding out of Todd’s stereo.
It all came together for Jordan in a heartbeat. Bridget had created quite the ruckus upon getting the boot from Jordan, a disturbance which naturally brought Todd running. Jordan could too easily picture what happened next. In her mind, she saw Todd reeling at the sight of a gorgeous naked female outside his apartment. A hot blonde prettier even than the admittedly very fine Buffy Summers. In three-dimensional flesh and blood. He wouldn’t have been able to think properly, the poor bastard, and Bridget would have played him with the finesse of a master symphony musician manipulating her instrument. The bitch was likely assuaging her bruised ego by fucking with the guy’s head to an extreme degree.
The door to Todd’s apartment slammed shut.
Jordan stood there by the door for a long time. She didn’t like the idea of her sweet, geeky neighbor being used by those heartless girls. On the other hand, she didn’t much relish the idea of confronting Bridget again.
An inner voice taunted her:
You fucking coward.
Jordan’s expression hardened. “No. I’m not.”
She looked at her door. Saw her hand gripping the knob, then turning it. Her conscience told her a visit to Todd’s place to set him straight on some things was the absolute right thing to do. But then she thought of the smirk on Bridget’s face this morning when the comforter fell away from her breasts. And she thought some about the way Bridget’s body had looked stretched out in the morning sunlight.
She closed her eyes against a fresh welling of tears. “Shit.”
She sighed.
Wiped away her tears.
And went back to her bathroom to find some sleeping pills.
C HAPTER S EVENTEEN
After school let out, Kelsey hopped in his ancient Oldsmobile and headed for the Rockville Public Library, where he checked out an armful of books, most of them musty, old volumes, everything he could find on demonology and related occult subjects. Old Mrs. Cheever, the head librarian since roughly the dawn of time, clucked over his disturbing taste in literature.
Her always stern expression became even more severe than usual. “Such
filth.
” Her eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled. She looked like she’d caught a whiff of something dead and rotting. “Why on earth are you reading this trash, young man?”
Kelsey was caught off guard by her nosiness and fumbled for something to say. “Uh…I…dunno.”
Mrs. Cheever harrumphed. “What, exactly, is the allure of something like this?”
She held up a copy of a richly illustrated text entitled
Succubi: An Illustrated Journey Through the World of Sexual Demons and Possession.
The cover depicted a woman drawn in an exaggerated manner similar to the covers of old fantasy novels. Her feminine attributes were emphasized to a ridiculous degree, with wide, flaring hips, a narrow waist, and breasts like melons. She stood against a lurid landscape meant to represent some hideous layer of hell, with little demons and imps dancing in the background. Clad in a ragged animal skin loincloth and matching top, she stirred something primal within Kelsey.
He felt his face go hot with embarrassment. “I…don’t know.”
The librarian made that clucking sound in her throat again. “I suppose this kind of thing must appeal to boys your age. It’s shameful. God forbid you should enrich your minds with
Then Jordan frowned again.
Angela swept past the door to her apartment and disappeared from view. Seconds later she heard the brass knockerrapping against the door to Todd’s apartment. Then she heard the creak of the door opening, followed by the excited squeals of two very vapid females exchanging greetings. Now Jordan knew the identity of Todd’s female guest. Her initial instinct—the one she’d dismissed as paranoia—had been right all along.
Bridget fucking Flanagan.
That voice—so falsely sweet and lilting—was impossible to mistake. The revelation also explained the horrid music pounding out of Todd’s stereo.
It all came together for Jordan in a heartbeat. Bridget had created quite the ruckus upon getting the boot from Jordan, a disturbance which naturally brought Todd running. Jordan could too easily picture what happened next. In her mind, she saw Todd reeling at the sight of a gorgeous naked female outside his apartment. A hot blonde prettier even than the admittedly very fine Buffy Summers. In three-dimensional flesh and blood. He wouldn’t have been able to think properly, the poor bastard, and Bridget would have played him with the finesse of a master symphony musician manipulating her instrument. The bitch was likely assuaging her bruised ego by fucking with the guy’s head to an extreme degree.
The door to Todd’s apartment slammed shut.
Jordan stood there by the door for a long time. She didn’t like the idea of her sweet, geeky neighbor being used by those heartless girls. On the other hand, she didn’t much relish the idea of confronting Bridget again.
An inner voice taunted her:
You fucking coward.
Jordan’s expression hardened. “No. I’m not.”
She looked at her door. Saw her hand gripping the knob, then turning it. Her conscience told her a visit to Todd’s place to set him straight on some things was the absolute right thing to do. But then she thought of the smirk on Bridget’s face this morning when the comforter fell away from her breasts. And she thought some about the way Bridget’s body had looked stretched out in the morning sunlight.
She closed her eyes against a fresh welling of tears. “Shit.”
She sighed.
Wiped away her tears.
And went back to her bathroom to find some sleeping pills.
C HAPTER S EVENTEEN
After school let out, Kelsey hopped in his ancient Oldsmobile and headed for the Rockville Public Library, where he checked out an armful of books, most of them musty, old volumes, everything he could find on demonology and related occult subjects. Old Mrs. Cheever, the head librarian since roughly the dawn of time, clucked over his disturbing taste in literature.
Her always stern expression became even more severe than usual. “Such
filth.
” Her eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled. She looked like she’d caught a whiff of something dead and rotting. “Why on earth are you reading this trash, young man?”
Kelsey was caught off guard by her nosiness and fumbled for something to say. “Uh…I…dunno.”
Mrs. Cheever harrumphed. “What, exactly, is the allure of something like this?”
She held up a copy of a richly illustrated text entitled
Succubi: An Illustrated Journey Through the World of Sexual Demons and Possession.
The cover depicted a woman drawn in an exaggerated manner similar to the covers of old fantasy novels. Her feminine attributes were emphasized to a ridiculous degree, with wide, flaring hips, a narrow waist, and breasts like melons. She stood against a lurid landscape meant to represent some hideous layer of hell, with little demons and imps dancing in the background. Clad in a ragged animal skin loincloth and matching top, she stirred something primal within Kelsey.
He felt his face go hot with embarrassment. “I…don’t know.”
The librarian made that clucking sound in her throat again. “I suppose this kind of thing must appeal to boys your age. It’s shameful. God forbid you should enrich your minds with
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