Gun pointed down and cupped between my hands, I make my way down the hall to the living room, ready to point it at the first thing that moves.
“What the hell?”
There is a man sitting on my couch, watching my television and eating Froot Loops. A man in a big black hood, head and shoulders visible over the back of the couch.
“Good evening, gorgeous.” He doesn’t take his eyes off the small TV screen.
I march over to the couch, flicking my pistol’s safety on. “Arcayos, what the hell are you doing here? And how the hell did you get in?”
“Cranky this evening, Cassidy Morgan?” He gives me one heck of a stunning smile and tosses a Froot Loop up, catching it in his mouth.
He’s dressed as he always has been every time I see him. Red gi-like pants and folded-over jacket, billowing black cloak, that medallion hanging from its thick gold chain so that the circle with its odd symbol dangles between his enormous Arnold Schwarzenegger pecs. The Froot Loops fill an enormous bowl I usually use for popcorn when I want to binge. The box sits on the table, smiling Toucan Sam mocking me.
The newspaper I’d left on the table by the door last night is open on the coffee table in front of him.
“How did you get in here?” I repeat.
“I told you. Tae’agul may enter any place at any time through the Gate. I can enter anywhere through Va’halzoret’s Gate as well.”
“So there’s no way of keeping you from just popping in anytime you like?”
“No, there is.” He gives the pistol resting against my thigh barely a glance. “You may put that away. You know it’s useless against me.”
Damn him. I can’t even threaten to shoot him.
I set the pistol on the coffee table. “Get out.”
His lips twitch in the most gorgeous way. “I should have given you a way to contact me, Cassidy Morgan. Had I done so, you would not have had to rely on a vibrator for relief.”
Oh, God. He saw the vibrator. My cheeks flame. “Get out of my house.”
“No. We must talk. Besides, this film is interesting. They do a good job of making it look like this man can actually fly.”
I glance at the screen. He’s watching Superman, of all things. The movie is half over, since Supes is in the middle of saving Lois Lane from the falling helicopter.
“Tell me something, though.” Arcayos’ jaw works as he chows down on my Froot Loops. “Why does Superman wear his underwear on the outside of his pants? It completely kills the alpha hero tone he wants.”
At any other time, I’d have laughed. Funny how you don’t think of these things when you watch movies like this.
“Get. Out.”
He sits back, lounging. “What will you do to me if I don’t leave? Shoot me? Call the police?”
“Funny. Why are you here, demon spawn? And you should have at least told me you were dropping in. I thought you were an attacker.”
“Demon spawn, is it?” His eyes twinkle. “Do attackers routinely break into a woman’s apartment to eat overly sugary food and watch television?”
“I’ve heard weirder.”
It’s true, I have. Louie and Ryan once collared a killer who raided the victim’s fridge, ate a piece of cherry cheesecake, watched her TV while he waited for her to come home, and then attacked her. He even put the cheesecake back in the fridge and washed off the dishes when he was done. Louie and Ryan always take the weird ones.
Shrugging, Arcayos examines the TV remote with profound interest. He laughs at something from the movie and grabs a handful of Froot Loops, popping them in his mouth.
“Give me that.” I grab for the remote, and he easily puts it out of reach.
Apparently, he’s as obsessed with the remote control as any human male.
“And stop eating my last box of Froot Loops.” I grab the bowl and the box. Figures. The box is empty.
I freeze, looking from the box to him and back again.
Every time I touch anything anyone else has recently touched, my head is flooded with visions, but I don’t get a single image or emotion from him. That awareness of him is there, but it’s been there anytime he’s been close. It should have intensified as soon as I touched the box or the bowl, but it didn’t.
Unwilling to let on to anything unusual, I set the box and bowl down and eyeball him, trying to act casual.
“… famished. It was either eat those or