Demons are Forever: Confessions of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom Read Online Free Page A

criminals—tend to return to the scene.
    San Diablo’s northernmost coastline is rocky and unfriendly, and both Saint Mary’s Cathedral and the Coastal Mists Nursing Home are perched high on cliffs overlooking the rough terrain. The jagged rocks and hostile topography, however, gradually fade to the traditional sandy beach as the coastline extends south, finally opening up to wide, inviting beaches that overflow with tourists and locals during the summer months.
    That part of the coastline is dotted with parks, public beaches, and private marinas. Since the fisherman had launched his boat from the city beach near the Old Town section of San Diablo, that’s where I planned to head once everyone in the house fell asleep.
    I assumed I’d be out the door by one.
    Naturally, I assumed wrong.
    “Less than one week,” Stuart said, easing up behind me and hooking his arms around my waist. I was occupied with scrubbing a saucepan, trying to coerce a greasy, gooey mess off the bottom, since I knew our dishwasher was incapable of battling that level of sludge. Considering the press of my husband against me, though, I was fast becoming less concerned about the cleanliness of our dishes.
    “Just a few more days,” he said, “and then I formally announce. Hard to believe this time next year I could be the San Diablo County Attorney. Or not.”
    I heard the tinge of insecurity in his voice and shifted my position, grabbing a dishtowel for my wet hands so I didn’t soak the man. “Don’t even think that way,” I said, lifting my damp arms to circle his neck. “You’ve got more support than anyone.”
    “Maybe,” he said, but I saw the truth of my statement in his eyes.
    I batted him with the rag. “Don’t give me that. You’re going to win this race, and you know it. As far as everyone on the PTA is concerned, it’s a done deal. Lose now, and you’ll be screwing me out of prime committee picks. And I really don’t want to be in charge of the clean-up crew for the Spring Fling.”
    That worked, and he laughed. “Fair enough. For you, I’ll win the race.” He leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose. “And I’ll do it even though you’d probably rather I lost.”
    I immediately blurted out a denial. But at the same time, I stiffened a little. Because even though I knew how much winning the county attorney seat would mean to Stuart, at the same time I was selfish enough to want my husband back. Lately, his nights and weekends had been spent campaigning rather than cuddling. And I rather missed the latter.
    If I had him back, though, he might be more clued in to the goings-on around the house. Little things like, oh, that his wife hunts demons in her spare time.
    All in all, it would probably be for the best if Stuart won the race. If nothing else, his late nights at the office made it easier to keep my secrets.
    I turned back to the dishes, just in case he could read my expression. I pretty quickly realized, though, that deep, introspective conversations weren’t on the agenda tonight. “Timmy’s sound asleep,” he said, his lips brushing the back of my ear, the sweet sensation sending a little trill down my spine. “And Allie’s over at Mindy’s.”
    “That’s very interesting information,” I said, unable to keep the smile out of my voice.
    “We have an unopened bottle of Merlot.”
    “Also good to know.”
    “And if you scoot over, I’ll help you with the dishes.”
    “Now that’s the way to a woman’s heart,” I said, shifting to the left to make room for him.
    True to his word, he pitched in and the kitchen was quickly transformed from disaster area to presentable. It wasn’t Better Homes and Gardens, but it probably never would be.
    “It’s getting late,” I said, hoping he’d take the hint. It was already after ten; if I wanted to go patrolling tonight, I needed him sound asleep soon.
    Stuart, however, wasn’t cooperating. “It’s Saturday,” he said. “And it’s a brief calm