Personal Demons by Stacia Kane

done so already, don’t you think? Just get in.”
    She still didn’t feel good about it, considering she hadn’t been able to read him, but he did have a point. Twice now she’d been alone in dark places with him and he hadn’t even touched her casually.
    The wind lifted her hair from her shoulders as she crossed the parking lot. It felt good, as did the cold leather-scented interior of the car. Dante didn’t bother to open the door for her, but he did wait—barely—until she’d settled herself down and fastened her seatbelt before he stomped on the gas and roared out of the parking lot and onto the road by the main hospital building.
    â€œYou don’t have to go so fast.”
    â€œSays who?” His lips tightened.
    â€œYou don’t have to take that attitude with me, either. You didn’t have to come meet me.”
    â€œI tried to get out of it, if you’ll recall.” He turned right off the hospital grounds.
    â€œI thought you wanted to help me. To keep me safe from all those stalkers following me around? Yesterday you were my hero, today you don’t even want to talk to me. Not that I care. I just find it odd.”
    â€œI changed my mind.”
    â€œWhy did you come, then? Why not stand me up? Do you want to talk or not?”
    He sighed. “No. Well, I did, but now I don’t. You lied to me.”
    â€œI did no such—”
    â€œYou did. The other night you promised you wouldn’t accept any other offers. Then you agreed to go work for Arthur Bellingham and his little gang of deviants. Sounds like a lie to me.”
    â€œI didn’t agree to work for him. I just agreed to go to a session. One of my patients asked me to.”
    â€œDoes Bellingham know that? I bet he told them all you’d be working for him, didn’t he?”
    â€œNo, he—” She stopped. He had said that, hadn’t he? She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks. I don’t work there, I’m not going to work there. In fact, I’d be much happier if I never set foot in the place again.”
    â€œCreepy? Upsetting?”
    â€œActually, yeah, it—that’s none of your business.”
    â€œIt is. You promised me first.”
    â€œOh my god, what are you, a Klingon? So I went there. So I accepted an offer and I said I wouldn’t. So what? What are you going to do, cut out my tongue?”
    â€œUnfortunately, no. I’m not allowed.”
    â€œExcuse me?” Megan reached for the door handle as unobtrusively as she could. She could probably jump out at the next stoplight. Dante seemed to have the devil’s own luck with the lights, though—they were all turning green as soon as the car got within braking distance.
    â€œI’m not allowed to hurt you. In any way. I’d be punished if I did.”
    â€œPunished?” Her fingers tightened on the door handle.
    The headlights from cars going in the opposite direction washed over his face, casting it into light and then shadow, shadow then light. “It’s some stupid new public relations push. We aren’t allowed to physically hurt people anymore. Bad for our image, or something. Can you imagine?”
    â€œWhat are you talking about? Whose image?”
    â€œDemons.”
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œDemons.” He made another right turn. They were already in her neighborhood.
    Megan thought carefully about how to phrase her next sentence. “You’re telling me you believe you’re a demon.”
    â€œI don’t believe anything,” he said. “And I’m not one of your patients. Don’t speak to me as if I am.”
    â€œYou might want to consider getting some psychiatric help, if you think you’re a demon.”
    â€œI don’t think I am, I know I am. And you need to know it, too.”
    This should be good. “Why?”
    â€œBecause a considerable number of us are