Oh. That time. Well, it had been that many years, hadn't it?

Vanessa nudged Ca.s.sie. "She was kind of bad when she finally started rebelling. Kind of wussy bad, though. Not the real thing, or we wouldn't be here tonight."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ca.s.sie asked, impatient.

"Quiet," I warned. "We're in church."

Both my beloved and her demon glared at me.

"Well, we are."

They continued to glare until Vanessa leaned in to whisper to her. I didn't want to know. So I concentrated on the music, or whatever that noise was, until something settled in on my right.

Monica didn't say a word. She just handed me a stolen c.o.ke.

Nothing blew up, caught fire, or collapsed for the next half-hour or so, which let us sink into the torpor common to these occasions. Even the demons were quiet. Connor had thrown another spit wad, but Monica had deflected it, and it might not have been her fault that it hit the minister. The wad had stuck to his forehead, where you couldn't miss it if you were far enough up front; it was distracting but not distracting enough to mention.

Otherwise, the only thing that kept most of us conscious by that time was having to stand up and sing every so often. Vanessa, I noticed, sang like a squeaky gate.

Finally, Rev. Pritchard got up to deliver the sermon. What with all the delays early on, it was getting late -- almost 11, by my watch -- and children were getting restless. A few pews over, there was increasingly loud conversation about needing to get home and go to sleep now so Santa would come.

With perverse pleasure, I listened to that for a while and then checked the program to see what the sermon was about; it was easier than actually paying attention. I found the t.i.tle, frowned, and checked again. It still read: THE SERMON.

Dr. Pritchard "YES, VIRGINIA, THERE IS A BABY JESUS".

Ca.s.sie leaned on my shoulder. "Something wrong?"

I pointed at the offending text. She closed her eyes briefly and then slipped a hand into my jacket pocket for comfort. After a second, I joined her.

"That breaks one commandment or another," Monica remarked.

It probably broke several, but it still wasn't as bad as being a demon. So I ignored her. Ca.s.sie squeezed my hand in approval.

Monica narrowed her eyes to glittering red slits but said nothing. Relieved, I sat back again, lacing my fingers with Ca.s.sie's and half-listening to whatever the minister was saying. This wasn't so bad. n.o.body could see anything. Who would know?

Then I happened to glance at the choir. They were all looking at us reproachfully. So, when I checked the pulpit, was Rev. Pritchard.

Well, sue me. Mary Beth Miller had gone all the way with her boyfriend in the balcony when we were in high school, and n.o.body said anything to her.

Vanessa, looking very much as though she'd just read my mind, leaned past Ca.s.sie to smirk at Monica. My demon scowled at her and then faced the altar again.

A half-second later, the lights went out.

"G.o.ddammit," someone groaned.

Most of the house laughed in sympathy. We weren't in any danger this time, we already had candlelight, and we were getting used to the curse on this service. But Rev. Pritchard was not in a forgiving temper. "I see that we're still having problems," he announced. "I apologize again. Whoever is responsible, we will find them, and we will punish them. Now, if you'll just bear with us a few more minutes, we're almost done here, and then..."

He never finished the sentence, because then the bats came back. And that finally did it. The congregation snapped. People stampeded for the back of the sanctuary, which started to look like one of those tragic nightclub accidents. One little old lady was smacking people with her purse to clear an escape path; another was flailing them with a cane.

"Please," Rev. Pritchard said helplessly into the microphone, which was still working. "Please don't hit each other. It's Christmas Eve."

A bat swooped into his robes at that point, which finally broke him. The last anyone saw of the right rev that night was the soles of his shoes, following him through a stained-gla.s.s window. That was going to come out of the collection plate every week for a couple of years.

"That was fun," Vanessa told Monica. "It didn't work, but it was fun."

My demon huffed and puffed a bit. "What do you mean it didn't work? I trashed the service, didn't I?"

Vanessa nodded in our direction. "They're still holding hands."

What with one thing and another, I'd lost track of that fact. But yes, we were. There being no point in concealment now, I pulled both our hands out of my pocket.

"You might be a little more than you look like," Monica told Ca.s.sie, very grudgingly. "Either that or insane. Any normal woman would've dropped Devlin ages ago. Or at least when the bats came."

I bristled a little, but Ca.s.sie spoke first. "I am normal, and I'm not afraid of bats anymore. Not after that mother of hers."

Monica did her dead-level best not to laugh, but her lips twitched suspiciously.

"Come on, girlfriend," Vanessa told her. "The night's still young. Let's go debauch a priest or something. What do you say?"

She thought for a second. "All right. But I get the wishbone."

Ca.s.sie and I watched in shocked silence as she vanished in a pillar of flame.

"She's just teasing you about the wishbone," Vanessa said. Then she frowned a little. "I think. I'd better go see. Merry Christmas, baby ducks."

With that, she herself went up in flame, and it was just us. Well, us and the bats.

"What do you want to do now?" I asked.

"What do you usually do now?"

"Usually, I go home now and watch really bad movies with my brothers. But you're more fun than my brothers. A lot prettier, too."

Ca.s.sie smiled. "Thanks, sweetie, but I don't think they want to be pretty."

"No danger of that. So what now? Do you want to go back to the hotel? Drive around and look at Christmas lights? What?"

"I'm probably crazy," she said, "but let's go to the house for a little while."

"You're probably crazy," I agreed.

"Just for a few minutes. It's Christmas Eve. OK?"

"What if the snake's there?"

"Let it eat braunschweiger," she declared.

I couldn't help it; I had to kiss her for that. Let G.o.d strike me dead.

But I checked first to make sure we were really alone.

We drove around for a while before we went to the house. By that time, everyone had gone to bed except Connor and Ryan -- which had been my plan, of course.

"So," Connor said as we settled in. "What was your favorite part? The bats? Or Mrs. Zender hitting her son-in-law with her cane?"

I shrugged. "Doesn't count. She's wanted to do that for years."

"He deserves it. His eyes are too close together."

The rest of us waited for an explanation.

"That's what Mom says, anyway. She says you can't trust a man whose eyes are too close together."

Ryan c.o.c.ked his head in interest. "She does? I thought she said you can't trust a man who has tiny lips."

An image of Ca.s.sie's brother-in-law floated into my mind. Michael had tiny ones, all right.

"Well, you know what they say," Connor said happily. "Tiny lips, tiny shoes."

Ca.s.sie frowned. "That's not what they say."

"I know. I'm just being polite. They really say..."

"Stop being polite," I growled. "We have company."

Ryan coughed significantly. "I don't know about that, Dev."

"What do you mean, you don't know? None of us has many manners, but..."

"I mean," he said patiently, "I don't know that she's really company. She might be sort of family. Wouldn't you say?"

Connor almost choked on his beer. "Not now, you a.s.s."

"Well, when? It's not like..."

"I'm having a brandy," I announced, in a tone that stopped all conversation. "Ca.s.s? What can I get you?"

She said brandy would be perfect.

"n.o.body says one word till I get back," I ordered.

They promised. But I heard whispering anyway.

We stayed through about half of some G.o.dzilla movie and too much of the brandy. Connor and Ryan made some bad "Same bat-time, same bat-channel" jokes, and then we left to get a few hours' sleep. By fiat, Christmas started whenever Mom woke up, which was always too early.

Ca.s.sie was already yawning by the time we got back to the motel. There was something in my coat pocket that I'd been thinking about giving her that night, but it was late, we were both tired, and it could wait. Besides, my family was civilized; we opened presents Christmas morning, not Christmas Eve.

So I got into bed and flipped on the TV while I waited for her to come out of the bath. There was nothing on except It's a Wonderful Life -- I was starting to suspect that it was the only thing on the air anywhere -- but it was only for a few minutes.

I was almost asleep when Ca.s.sie came back, wearing her robe. Instead of getting into bed, she sat on the edge, smiling.

"What?" I asked.

"I have something for you."

"You do? Now?"

"Yes."

d.a.m.n. Well, all right; I could give her that present tonight. It would take just a couple of minutes, and then we could finally get some sleep. "Don't go anywhere."

She didn't. I climbed out of bed and fished the package out of my coat pocket.

"Who first?" I asked.

"I think probably you."

Her smile when she said that was interesting -- something I couldn't quite place. But I was tired, and I could a.n.a.lyze it tomorrow. "OK, then. Here." I handed her the present and got back into bed.

G.o.d, I hoped her sister had been right about this. If she wasn't, I was going to kill her. I was going to get on a plane first thing in the morning, take a taxi from the Kansas City airport, and kill her as dead as...

"Oh, my G.o.d," Ca.s.sie said.

I looked over, uncertain. She was staring into the box as though she didn't recognize what was in it. "It's a ring," I said helpfully.

She didn't respond. She didn't even move. Was that good, or bad?

"It's not that kind of ring," I added. "We're not doing that. And it's not like we've even been doing this that long. But Lucy said you might like...and I thought...and...well..." Suddenly, I felt about 16 years old, without the first or faintest clue. I hadn't liked that feeling then; I really didn't like it now. "C'mon, Ca.s.s, say something."

She spoke so softly that I could barely hear her. "It's beautiful."

"You sure? Because you can exchange it if you don't like it, or if it doesn't fit, or..."

"I like it."

"It's a real pearl." I was uncomfortably aware of my heart hammering. Had I really been that nervous? This was Ca.s.sie, not somebody I hadn't already been to h.e.l.l and back with. "I know you like that string of pearls you've got, and I thought about earrings to go with it, but the setting in this ring is interesting, and...well, I just thought you might like it."

"I do."

Silence.

"So are you going to try it on?"