The Second Summoning

“We find the demon, I banish the demon, we find a private corner; isn’t that the plan? Unless you don’t want . . . Why are you pulling over? Dean?” He put the truck into neutral, stepped down the parking brake, and pulled on the hazards. Then he turned to face her, one hand braced on her headrest, the other on the dash. “I want to make love to you. I want to make love to you so badly it’s all I can think about. When I’m eating, when I’m driving, when I’m looking at you, when I’m not looking at you, when I’m talking about demons, when I’m talking about hockey, I’m still thinking about making love to you.”

“And this is what you’re thinking about when you’re talking to me?” Austin demanded, rising up into the space between them. When Dean answered in the affirmative, he sighed and dropped back down again. “Well, that’s really going to put a damper on future conversations.”

Reaching out, Dean stroked the back of his fingers over Claire’s cheek. “But I’m only thinking about making love to you because I can’t actually make love to you. If I could, I certainly wouldn’t be talking about hockey, I’d be . . .”

“Okay, that’s enough. The cat does not need to know the details.” Without taking her eyes off Dean, Claire picked Austin up and dropped him behind the seat. Then she snapped off her belt and slid forward. After a moment she sucked Dean’s lower lip away from his teeth and, when the suction finally broke, murmured into the swollen flesh, “Shall we find that demon, then?” Dean’s answer was essentially inarticulate.

Austin opted to stay out of the discussion entirely.

“Would you please stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Rubbing my car. It’s . . .”

“Turning you on?”

“. . . distracting me. I keep seeing peripheral movement, I think someone’s about to make a lane change, and it’s always you. It isn’t easy driving this car in this weather in this traffic, and I’d appreciate just a little . . . HEY! YOU WANNA STOP

VISUALIZING WORLD PEACE AND START VISUALIZING YOUR TURN

SIGNALS! . . . consideration.”

Byleth blinked, looked from Leslie/Deter to the SUV that had just drifted across three lanes of fast-moving traffic and back to Leslie/Deter again. “He didn’t hear you.”

“I know. But it makes me feel better. Helps me drive.”

“Oh.”

“It’s just a way of releasing . . . TRY LEASING A CAR YOU KNOW HOW

TO DRIVE, MORON!”

The car in question braked hard, swerved left, then right, then hit a patch of ice, turned a complete three hundred and sixty degrees and settled safely on the shoulder. A half a kilometer of brakes squealed, dozens of steering wheels were cranked, sudden moisture caused two seat warmers to short out, and then it was over.

Byleth smiled. “He heard you that time.”

Fingers white around the steering wheel, Leslie/Deter stared wide-eyed out at the surrounding traffic still moving miraculously to the east and beginning to pick up speed. “God saved us all.”

“You think?”

“He reached down His hand to keep His children safe.”

“No.” Byleth frowned and shook her head. “I’d have noticed that.”

“You can’t deny that was a miracle.”

“Hey! I can deny anything I want,” she snarled, folding her arms and slumping down in the seat.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, then Leslie/Deter sighed and squared his shoulders. “You know, you’re not as tough as you think you are.” Byleth glared at him past the lock of hair bisecting her face, her expression as much disbelief as anger. “You have no idea how tough I am.”

“You think you’re bad.”

“I am bad!”

“You think it’s cool to be all dark and dangerous.”

“Hello? Hell to Leslie!” One navy-tipped fingernail poked him hard in the shoulder. “I am dark and dangerous.”

“I know why you do it.”

“Oh, please . . .”

“It keeps people from getting close to you. Keeps you from getting hurt.”

“I don’t get hurt. I do the hurting.”

“Essentially the same thing.”

“If you think that having red hot pokers stuffed up your ass is the same as stuffing those same pokers up someone else’s ass, you’re dopier than I thought. And that’s almost scary.” Beginning to wonder why she hadn’t considered the implications of being stuck in a car with a God-pimp for three hours, Byleth unhooked her seat belt and twisted around until she faced the driver, her eyes onyx from lid to lid. “Leslie, look at me.”

“Not now, Byleth. I’m trying to keep the car on the road.”

“I said, look at me.”

“And I said, not now!” A glance in the rearview mirror showed the front grille of a transport and not much else. “Unless you really want to end this little journey upside down in the ditch.”

She thought about that for a moment, her eyes lightening. “Well, no.”

“Good.” He leaned back, downshifted, pulled into the passing lane, and, engine roaring, shifted back into overdrive. They screamed past traffic and dropped speed only when they’d cleared the clump and had moved back into the right-hand lane.

Byleth closed her mouth with a snap. “That was so kewl.” Bright spots of color appeared on pale cheeks. “Thanks.”

“Do it again!”

“Sure, next time I have to pass something.”