The Demon in Me: A Living in Eden Novel - Softcover

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Ben was too busy for that dinner date after all. In fact, other than a few concerned looks cast in Eden's general direction, he mostly ignored her once the rest of the cops got there.

He asked Constable Santos to give Eden a ride home, but she had him take her to her day job instead. Fifteen minutes later she arrived at Triple-A Investigations, a small, low-end detective agency.

Why Eden currently worked there was very simple.

Her mother, may she rest in peace, loved to play poker. And drink. And neglect her only daughter whenever possible, but that was another story. Recently, she'd won half the agency in a poker game with the owner, Andy McCoy. When she died last month she'd left her share of it to Eden, along with a pair of small diamond-stud earrings.

At least the earrings had some value.

When news reached Eden that half was hers, she'd just lost her job at Psychic Connexions—which meant she was officially looking for work again. She'd gone into Triple-A hoping what was behind the glass front door had more potential than the name of the place.

What she'd found was two desks. Overflowing garbage cans. Peeling wallpaper. The stench of cigar smoke permeated the air. All of this luxury was next door to a coffee bar, also owned by Andy, called Hot Stuff.

Andy wanted to buy Eden out, which was fine with her, but he didn't have any money, which wasn't fine by her. So, despite her gut instinct to walk away from the business completely, she moved to the city, rented a small apartment, and started to work there. She didn't have a PI license and had no intention of getting one, so she instead helped out with paperwork, filing, typing, and answering the phone. She'd tried to get the smell of cigars out of the air and walls; however, Febreze could only do so much.

She waited for Andy to get enough money together to pay for her half of the agency.

It had been almost a month. She was still waiting.

In the meantime, Andy did give her reasonable biweekly paychecks to help make ends meet. He wasn't a total tightwad.

"Eden," Andy greeted her when she walked through the glass front door. "I'm glad you're back."

"Trust me, after the day I've had, I'm glad to be back."

Andy was a man who'd definitely had the potential of being attractive and charming at one time, but life and circumstances had gotten in the way to make him pinched and squinty. An FBI agent until fifteen years ago, he was pushing fifty, still solidly built, pale blond hair and eyebrows, and warm and friendly green eyes.

"How did the thing go?" he asked. "With the cop?"

Well, he did ask. "I was attacked by a serial killer who said he was possessed by a demon. I almost died. A gorgeous cop who's a dead ringer for Brad Pitt asked me out for dinner but then reneged and I'm not sure if I should call him. Do you think that would make me look like a stalker?" She sighed. "I may actually throw up at any moment. Just a warning."

His stared at her. "Are you serious about the serial killer?"

"I'm not in a good enough mood right now to joke."

"But you're all right? You're not hurt at all, are you?"

It was sweet of him to care. "I'm okay."

"That's good to hear." He pursed his lips. "Listen, I'd stick around for moral support or whatever, but I have to split. Are you staying long?"

Well, maybe he didn't care that much. "For a while. I'm trying to take my mind off what happened, actually. This place is oddly soothing, despite the décor."

"Well, if you're looking for something to do…;can you enter this all into the computer? I'd appreciate it."

Eden looked at the stack of files he had his hand on. Andy liked to handwrite everything. Eden was one of the only people in the world—she thought—who could decipher his penmanship. Typing was good mindless work and would definitely help her brain focus on something else before she went home. "Yeah, sure. No problem."

He grinned and actually patted her shoulder, placing the folders on top of her desk. "Super. You're a peach, especially after everything you've gone through. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow, okay?"

She nodded. "Sure. Have a good night."

He threw his coat over his shoulder and walked out the front door.

Eden watched him get into his leased red Porsche and drive away. The sky was turning pink and purple and orange as the sun slowly began to sink beneath the horizon.

She walked over to sit at her little desk, feeling oddly despondent about everything after her brush with death.

If she was really, 100 percent psychic, would she be able to see into her own future? What would it hold? Excitement and romance? Or more of the same?

"Place your bets," she murmured. "My money's on more of the same. Bring it on."

She'd recently made a promise to look on the bright side of things after reading The Secret. Five times. She owned the book, the audio book, and the DVD. If she believed that good things were going to happen, then they would. But the belief had to be complete. She had to clearly imagine what she wanted in life in order to make it happen.

Sure. It was possible.

I'd love more money so I could move out of my crappy apartment, she thought. That would be super.

She'd also love a great job that fulfilled her and would also help others in some way. All she knew was that she hadn't found it yet.

Finally, she'd love to find a wonderful man who loved her for who she was inside.

Believe it. Feel it. See it. Be it.

Her stomach still growled with hunger. And the universe provided an immediate solution. There was a big box of Hot Stuff donuts and pastries over on Andy's desk. There was also a pot of coffee that actually looked remotely fresh.

She picked up a Boston cream and devoured it in about five seconds, very glad there was no one there to witness it. She then grabbed an apple fritter, put it on a paper towel, and fixed her coffee—two creamers, two sugars. She tipped the mug back and swallowed a mouthful.

The warm liquid swished around in her stomach as she felt something else. A strange tingling sensation began to spread through her body and down to her arms and legs.

She put the mug down and held her palm over her stomach.

"Maybe that coffee wasn't as fresh as I thought," she said aloud.

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

The male voice made her turn around to see where it came from, but there was nobody in the office except for her.

"Hello?" she responded cautiously.

She felt a small lurch in her gut. Indigestion so quickly? Perhaps she should have had a salad. The nutrition gods were trying to tell her something.

"Who are you?" the voice spoke again.

Eden's gaze darted around the room. What was going on? Her body immediately tensed and her heart began to pound—hard. She was still feeling the effects from being grabbed by the serial killer earlier, and it was likely she'd do so for a while.

"Who are you?" she asked. "Where are you? Andy's gone for the day."

"You're a woman." Whoever this was sounded surprised by that.

"Good guess. Now you're going to...