The Demon's Deadline (Demon's Assistant Book 1) Read Free

leaving soon. I’ll put some cash on the counter, just in case, but I just ordered groceries, so the kitchen’s stocked. Standard rules apply.”
    “No parties. No sleepovers. Keep the place reasonably clean. Do my homework. Brush my teeth.”
    Dad laughs and I feel the knot in my middle loosen a little.
    Once he’s retreated to his room again, though, I’m simply relieved he isn’t asking me to go with him. We talked about this before, when it became clear there would be a day when things started to get really bad, and he’s said he doesn’t want me to have to remember Nonna as anything but vibrant and lively. Still, I can’t help but feel the relief at being excluded from this death-watch puts me firmly in the “bad” column. Cam would insist on going and being there for his family.
     
    Dad gets into a cab and I wave as it pulls away. Then I walk three blocks to meet Melissa at her favorite cupcakery, Sparkle Sugar. It happens to be close to my apartment, which is good, because Melissa lives in West Seattle and has a car, which means it’s way easier for her to get to me than vice versa.
    Sparkle Sugar is decorated like it’s the living room of a country bed and breakfast. Every surface is covered in floral prints, including the tabletops. The exception is the glass pastry case. Even the employees wear floral print aprons. Melissa told me once that the owner sews the aprons herself.
    Melissa, in her Gothic Lolita finery, fits right in, like she’s part of the decor. She wears a homemade, sea-foam green maid’s uniform with a white, lacy apron. The dress is trimmed in white lace and accented with tiny silk flowers. The pale colors set off her dark skin. Her silky black hair is up in pigtails, tied with matching ribbons. She looks like she could star in a cool Japanese music video.
    In black leggings and an oversized purple sweater, I feel highly out of place. I contrast too much with the atmosphere. Or maybe I’ve been internalizing Mrs. Stanton’s Art Class lectures about complementary colors. I’m like the anti-pastel.
    “Hey,” I say. She already has a teacup and a cupcake in front of her. “What’d you get?”
    Melissa takes off a pair of white gloves and sets them neatly on the table. “Carrot cake.”
    “Carrots do not belong anywhere near cake,” I say, making a face.
    At the counter, I order a vanilla soy latte and a Chocolate Explosion, which has a gooey chocolate center. The girl who makes my coffee constantly smiles. I smile back and wonder why she’s so happy. Maybe it’s all the sugar. If I worked in a place like this, I would be on a constant sugar buzz.
    She hands me the cupcake on a pink plate and the coffee in a paper cup, and I join Mel. The cake is moist and delicious, as usual. It’s good enough to put up with the floral throw pillows on the window seats and the hideous yellow wallpaper. In English Class, we had to read a story about how yellow wallpaper drove a woman insane, and sitting here, I can totally see why.
    I tell Mel about my dad and Nonna, and she offers her sympathies. I ask what she’d do.
    “Are you kidding? Stay behind.” I must have given her a funny look, because she adds, “Look, I love my Nana and Papa, but when Grandma Costner was near the end, it was awful. She kept thinking I was my mom or my aunt, and then she kept asking to see Uncle Jack.” Melissa’s Uncle Jack had died very young in a robbery. “How do you keep telling someone their son is dead?” She shudders. “Death is unkind to everyone.” She bites her lip and looks down at her plate, like she regrets what she said.
    Then we sit in awkward silence while she picks at her cake. I try to think of things to say, but I can’t think of anything except Azmos, and I can’t exactly talk to her about that.
    My thoughts finally land on my mom, and I wonder if Mel’s thinking about her, too. Even now, years later, I notice people shy away from bringing her up, like mentioning her will suddenly