Tara, of course, didn't look like the Devil.
Or a highly evolved dark master, for that matter. In fact, other than looking wet and cold, she looked exactly as I'd remembered her: young, fresh-faced, alert, alive. Not pale and gaunt. Not vampiric.
It's because he's not a vampire, Allison said. Not quite.
I nodded minutely as I invited Tara to have a seat. She did so at the small kitchen table. I asked if she wanted Allison to make her some coffee. Tara shook her head - and just missed the nasty look Allison shot me.
I considered how to broach the subject of her family, and decided to dive right in.
"I've heard about the family curse," I said.
Tara, who was wearing a cute pair of tight jeans and bright red rain boots lined with rabbit fur, snapped her head up. The black, vaporous thread that wound through her aura pulsated a little.
He's listening, I thought. How I knew this, I didn't know, but it seemed obvious now.
"Who told you?"
"That's not important now. What can you tell me about it?"
Her own once-vibrant aura seemed to shrink a little, a sign that she was going within, closing herself off to me. "Sam, it's really quite silly."
"From what I heard, it didn't sound silly," I said. "It sounded dangerous."
The black thread began rotating slowly through her aura now, weaving in and out.
Tara held my gaze briefly, and then looked away. I felt her fear.
"It's really not something I want to talk about," she said. "Also, I don't see what this has to do with why I hired you."
"Why are you afraid?" I asked.
She looked at me, then at the door. I reached out and took her hand. As I did so, the black, ethereal snake swelled briefly and circled even faster, weaving in and out, watching me carefully. Yes, I sensed it watching me.
"You're not leaving," I said.
"Hey, let go."
"I know about the curse, Tara," I said, squeezing her even tighter, but not so tight as to hurt her. Tight enough for her to know she wasn't going anywhere. After all, I was going to have to get through decades of fear and confusion. "I know about your great-grandfather, and I know what he brought upon your family."
She fought me briefly, but to no avail.
As I held her hand, I got psychic hit after psychic hit.
"No," she said. "It's just a silly superstition - "
"You and I both know it's not a superstition. You and I both know that something dark and angry and hungry has entered your lives. Something that will never leave."
"You're crazy, Sam - "
"You feel it in you, you feel it when it overcomes you. You feel it make you say things, do things, want things. You thought you were crazy. You thought all of you were crazy. But it's in you. You understand that now. It's in all of you. In your blood. Like a parasite. A leech. A disease."
"You're crazy, Sam."
"I'm not crazy. And neither are you."
Tears welled up in her eyes. She looked over at Allison, then back at me.
"Why are you doing this? What's the matter with you? I hired you to find answers to my grandfather's death."
"And I am," I said. "But ask yourself: Why did you hire me? Why me, out of hundreds of other private investigators?"
"I live in southern California. I...I liked your ad."
"You live in Los Angeles, nowhere near me."