“I won’t do it! He can’t make me!” Jessica paced across her lovely hardwood floors. Anxiety bounced off the rafters, making Jack bristle.
“Of course he can make you. He’s Satan, for crying out loud. The Deceiver, the Accuser, the Prince of the Power of the Air, Beelzebub. I could go on,” the little dog barked. “But I won’t. I’ll just tell you straight out. I’m not having my soul harvested by you cutie. Not now. Not ever.”
Jessica stalked back into her kitchen, trading her protein shake for a gin and tonic. She took a huge gulp. And added more gin.
“I’m not into the whole soul harvesting thing, Jack. That’s the reason I moved to Dallas, remember?” She set down her drink on the coffee table and flopped into the overstuffed, extra-wide chair that dominated her living room. Her three-inch stiletto heels dropped to the floor with a thud, barely missing her pet’s tail.
“Listen, Jess. They’re going to come for you, you know. He’ll send someone.”
“Like he sent you?” she retorted.
Jessica remembered the day she found a little terrier curled on her welcome mat, shivering in the cold. And like a sucker, she picked him up, brought him in, and fed him. He never left.
He was like a cat that way.
Jack’s growling snapped her attention away from the memory. “I didn’t want to do it! You know that!.”
“Right. Exactly like I don’t want to become the anti-Christ. And exactly like you didn’t become my father’s spy.”
“Um. Yeah, well, about that . . . “ Jack’s voice drifted off.
Jessica’s head whipped around with supernatural speed. Her eyes like laser-beams following the sound of the animal’s nails as it raced behind a low wall into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry! You don’t have to scorch my tail for it!” whined the creature.
That’s when Jessica noticed the smoking results of her laser stare. A pair of pencil-thin burns scored her pine floors, from the TV to the dining room.
“That’s just great. Just freakin’ great. My second new power today.” She grabbed her glass and knocked back the balance of her drink. “I’m going to need more gin.”
. . . to be continued.
(c) copyright 2008 Jennifer J. Knighton