The Summoner. Alisha Steele

      “You look like shit.”

      “Gee, Rosie, you always know just what to say to make a girl feel special.” Alex looked up from the computer screen as Rose strode into the tiny room Alex considered her home away from home. Alex’s glance took in Rose’s floor-length floral skirt—in the most putrid shade of chartreuse—and the threadbare purple sweater—which clashed outrageously with her friend’s curly red hair—and she shook her head in fond amusement. Rose’s comment was a little like the pot and the kettle, but it wouldn’t do her any good to say so.

      She’d tried to get Rose to take some care with her appearance. After all, Rose was really quite attractive and only a few years older than Alex. She’d tried to set her up on dates—to no avail. Rose mothered everyone but was, sadly, a mother to no one. She seemed perfectly happy directing all her maternal instincts into her friends. “Plenty of time for that later,” she’d say whenever Alex tried to introduce her to a new beau. “I’m busy enough as it is without having to worry about keeping a man happy too.” But Alex saw the wistful shine in Rose’s eyes when the children ran through the house and the small, sad smile she’d tried to hide when a toddler had grinned at her from his perch atop Daddy’s shoulder while they’d waited in line at the bank, so Alex kept trying to set her friend up, no matter how many times she was rebuffed.

      Rose snorted and threaded her way through the disaster Alex called an office to deposit her burden of papers onto an already precariously balanced stack. She turned back to her boss—a title that Rose said held little meaning for her considering the pittance she was paid. But Alex knew that Rose was really here because she believed in the work, and because she had become almost like a big sister to Alex. Rose had been wooed by bigger charities for more money and more prestige. Her organizational skills were renowned in certain circles. But she seemed quite happy at Dovescot.

      Right now, however, Rose was wearing an expression of such obvious concern that Alex made an effort to wipe the exhaustion off her face and straightened the sleep-deprived slump of her shoulders. She didn’t want to worry her friend, and she knew she was doing just that; Rose’s “You look like shit,” was just her way of saying so. Alex’s effort proved too much. With a tired sigh, she leaned back in her cracked vinyl chair. Her palms came over her closed eyes to massage her aching eyeballs. She’d been staring at the grant request forms for about three hours, occasionally typing in one or two desultory words only to delete them a few seconds later. She was furious with herself that she couldn’t seem to pull it together. Her work was important. They needed the grant to keep the doors open for another year.

      “Well, you know what, babe?” Alex said. “I feel like shit.”

      “Spill.” Rose skirted her bum up on the edge of Alex’s desk, accidentally knocking a ream of paper to the floor. Both women made a grab for the paper, but neither was fast enough.

      “Just leave it!” Alex snapped. Instantly, a flush of shame heated her cheeks. “God, I’m sorry. I know I’ve been Bitch Queen of the Universe lately.”

      “Yeah, you have.” Rose crossed her arms over her ample chest. “So what’s bunched your panties?”

      Alex eyed her speculatively. How could she tell her stalwart, down-to-earth friend that she was being haunted by a demon? A gorgeous demon that mocked her from every reflective surface she came across, at that. His growling voice spoke to her from the silver sides of her toaster. His beautiful face mirrored hers in the glass of darkened windows. Hell, this morning he’d grinned at her from the newly spotless paint on her car. That’d teach her to clean anything.

      It had been going on for a little less than two weeks now. She’d covered every shiny surface in her house that she could. Too bad she couldn’t make the rest of the world as safe.

      Just then, her laptop went into hibernate mode. Because Alex had never bothered to choose a screen saver, Kasdeya’s handsome features immediately formed in the hazy, anti-glared blackness. He pursed a kiss at her. With an impatient curse, Alex slammed the laptop’s lid down. If his constant attention during the day wasn’t bad enough, he visited her dreams every night. She had no idea if it was really him infiltrating her mind or only her own fevered, erotic imaginings, but she wasn’t getting much rest either way.

      “Well? C’mon, tell old Rose,” her friend prodded.

      Alex realized she’d been just sitting there staring into space as she daydreamed about Kasdeya’s wings, hands and…other things. “I’m not getting much sleep.”

      “How come?”

      She looked past the redhead out the small dormer window and rubbed her neck in discomfort. She supposed she could tell her friend a bit of the truth, if it’d get her off her back. “I’ve been having these dreams…”

      Rose motioned with her hand in the “let’s roll this along” gesture, but Alex didn’t elaborate. She could feel her face turning hot.

      “Nightmares?” Rose finally asked.

      “Um, not exactly.”

      “Then wh—”

      Alex shifted in discomfort. Could this be more embarrassing?

      Rose’s eyes narrowed. “Ohhh!” She laughed. “That doesn’t seem so terrible.”

      “I’m not getting any sleep.”

      “Take a sleeping pill.”

      And spend more time in the dark man’s arms? Alex shook her head, even though her nipples hardened instantly at the thought. He was a demon—ultimate evil and all that. In fact, she’d Googled him and, according to more than one website, not only was he a demon, he was an upper echelon demon—some kind of big mucky-muck in Hell’s army. In the few sources she’d found, every other demon had a clearly delineated rank and position, but the only definition she’d turned up on Kasdeya was that he’d been one of God’s best guys until he’d started messing around in human affairs and been cast down. Now his job title seemed to be “The Fifth Satan.” While the website hadn’t relayed any more info than that, “The Fifth Satan” just didn’t sound very good. No, lusting after him was not cool. An unpardonable sin, for sure.

      Apparently thinking that Alex’s furious head shaking had been at her pill suggestion, Rose asked, “Why not?”

      “I, uhh… I don’t really like to use drugs.”

      Rose gave her another funny look—Alex sure was racking them up—probably because her friend was remembering the joint they’d shared at that artist’s loft a few months ago.

      “I mean pharmaceuticals,” Alex backtracked. “I don’t like to take pills or anything like that.” She smiled weakly. Lame. Really lame.

      “Oh, okay. That makes sense.” Rose slipped off the desk and retrieved the papers. “Well, listen. Don’t paint me with a hippie paintbrush, all right? But there’s this cool little shop I go to sometimes for Wiccans and the like.”

      Alex’s brows shot up into her hairline and it was Rose’s turn to look embarrassed. “I’m dabbling, what can I say?” she mumbled. “Anyway, the owner, Melynda, carries a lot of homeopathic remedies. Maybe she can help you out.”

      Alex felt hope rise for the first time in days. Yes! If a witch couldn’t help her, who could? Why hadn’t she thought of that? Hers was a supernatural problem. She should have been seeking a supernatural