Derrick
A true Witch does not seek power through the suffering of others.
Rule Number Three of the Nine Rules
*World Council of Witches*
All the color drained from Jessica’s face. It was as if the voice from behind her front door was coming from the undead.
“Who is it?” Derrick reached out to grasp her by the arm and draw her close so he could whisper in her ear. “Who’s Billy?”
“An ex.”
“Is he possessed?”
“What?” Jessica, for all her charms, seemed to have no idea that evil existed, despite the number of times he’d assured her it did, and was speaking at a normal volume which anyone standing outside the door could hear.
“Has he ever shown symptoms of demonic possession?” Derrick hissed in her ear. “Aversion to sacred things and places? Sudden ability to speak dead languages? Any festering wounds?”
“No!” She pulled her arm from his grasp and looked up at him as if he were the one who was demonic. “Of course not! Do demons actually exist?”
“Yes, of course demons exist! What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you? Angry spirits—also known as demons, or ghosts, or whatever you want to call them—are born when someone has died an unjust or particularly violent death. Your town is under attack by them, and by Thursday’s full moon, with Halloween the next day, they’ll be at full strength. They could manifest themselves in any number of ways—”
“Well, they haven’t manifested in my ex-boyfriend.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I just saw him.” She swallowed, then looked slightly guilty. “He was there today, at the high school, with Rosalie.”
Derrick was so alarmed, he reached out to grab her by the arms again, this time with both hands. “Why didn’t you tell me before? This is exactly what I was saying to you the other day about unusual activity in town. How often does he normally come over here?”
“Never, okay? But he used to come over here all the time back in high school, when we went out.” Perhaps noticing his confused expression, she explained, “This is my parents’ house. I bought it from them when they decided to move out to Santa Fe to be closer to my grandparents. I didn’t take advantage of them, though. I paid full market price—”
He couldn’t believe she was talking about her finances at a time like this. “Do I look like an accountant to you?”
“Oh my God! Really?” She twisted, trying to free herself from his grasp. “Look, trust me, Billy Walker is not in league with the forces of evil.”
“Maybe not the Billy you used to know. But now—”
Another thump struck the door. This time the man’s voice behind it sounded whiny and impatient. “Jessica, I know you’re in there. There’s a car in your driveway, and I can hear you talking.”
“Oh, God.” Jessica’s dark eyes, as she looked up at Derrick, were wide with anxiety. “I have to let him in.”
“You don’t, actually,” he said, forcing himself to remain calm. “Evil spirits cannot enter a home unless invited.”
“You don’t understand.” She’d wiggled free, and was already on her way to the door before he could stop her. “It’s Billy. He’s not evil. I’m the one who treated him horribly.”
“What?” Derrick wondered if they were in Connecticut or cloud-cuckoo-land. “I thought you said the love spell didn’t work.”
“It didn’t. But it was because he was already in love with me.”
Before this had a chance to sink in, she’d already thrown open the door. He wasn’t sure who he’d been expecting to see, but it certainly wasn’t the tall guy standing there in khaki pants, a sweater Derrick was certain his mom had picked out for him, and the worst fake tan he’d ever seen.
“Billy,” Jessica cried. “What a surprise! Come on in.”
“Hi, Jess.” Billy wiped his feet awkwardly on Jessica’s black cat welcome mat. If they lived through this encounter, Derrick was going to have to have a word with her, and not just about what she’d confessed just before opening the door. If you invited in every guy who called himself Billy (even though he was past thirty and didn’t live in the South), and wore navy blue sweaters with tiny red lobsters embroidered all over them, you were bound to let in something diabolical.
“I stopped by Enchantments first,” Billy explained, “but Becca said you weren’t there, so I took a chance that you’d be—”
Then Billy’s gaze fell on Derrick, who’d taken up a defensive position near the fireplace, where there was an antique stand holding a set of wrought-iron pokers that Derrick thought might come in handy should things take a turn.
“Oh,” Billy said, backing up so quickly, he almost hit his head on the doorframe. He was tall—taller than Derrick, and that was saying a lot. From his height and the way he carried himself, Derrick guessed he’d probably played football once upon a time. “I didn’t know you had company. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Maybe I should—”
“No, no.” Jessica’s smile was as fake as Billy’s skin tone. “You weren’t interrupting. Billy, this is—”
“Winters.” Derrick decided to use a different line of defense than the fireplace pokers. He crossed Jessica’s living room with his right hand outstretched. “Derrick Winters. I’m Jessica’s boyfriend.”
Billy looked a little stunned at the word boyfriend, but otherwise handled the news like a champ.
“Eric, is it?” Billy said, with his bright All-American Boy smile. Literally bright: his teeth were capped and almost blindingly white. He shook Derrick’s hand calmly, not trying to crush his fingers with his own even though he could have, since he had a ball player’s enormous paw. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around town before.”
“It’s Derrick, and no, you wouldn’t have.” Derrick returned to his position against the mantel. “I’m Jessica’s dirty little secret.”
Jessica let out a bark of nervous laughter and hurried to Derrick’s side. He had to hand it to her: she was managing the curveball he’d thrown with admirable aplomb. There was only the faintest pink in her cheeks.
“There’s no secret!” she cried. To his surprise, she snaked an arm around his waist. “Our relationship is just . . . new. And you haven’t seen Derrick around before because he doesn’t live here.”
“Oh, really?” Billy’s eyes were as shiny as his teeth. “Where are you from?”
“Montana,” Derrick said at the same time that Jessica said, “The city.”
Billy looked from one to the other in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“Derrick’s from Montana,” Jessica said quickly, “but he lives in the city now. That’s where we met, actually, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where we’d both gone to—”
“See the new Colombian art exhibit,” Derrick said, at the same time that Jessica said, “Check out the fashion collection.”
Jessica elbowed Derrick, but he only slipped his own arm around her. He liked the feel of her body against his. They seemed to fit together perfectly, like matching salt and pepper shakers. Now that he was certain from Billy’s demeanor that he wasn’t demonically possessed, only deeply stupid, he felt more at ease. He said, “To be honest, I think we were both just trying to get out of the heat. But instead, we found a different kind of heat.” He looked down at Jessica, whose cheeks were turning an even more interesting shade of pink, and grinned. “Didn’t we, honey?”
That’s when he leaned over and kissed her.