Carpe Demon: Adventures of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom by Julie Kenner

Author:Julie Kenner
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Action & Adventure, Mothers, Humorous, Horror, Contemporary, Fiction, Fantasy, Adventure fiction, Occult fiction, General, Demonology, Occult & Supernatural, Suburban life
ISBN: 9780515142211
Publisher: Jove Books
Published: 2006-10-31T09:55:04+00:00

In the end I’m not sure if Cutter agreed because I’d nailed him, because he believed I was sincere about getting back in sparring shape, or because he thought I was a (somewhat dangerous) nut he had to humor. Honestly, I didn’t much care. I’d come to pencil in times, and I was walking away with a sparring schedule for me (nine-thirty a.m., every day until I cried uncle) and a Wednesday/Friday afternoon class for me, Allie, and Mindy.

Mission accomplished. One more item crossed off my to-do list.

Of course, I’d ended up talking with Cutter way too long. (I chalked it up to male insecurity. As we were filling out the necessary paperwork, he launched into his résumé, telling me about his military service, along with the myriad awards and accolades he’d received over the years at various martial arts tournaments. I’ll admit, the guy sounded more than qualified.)

I found the girls outside of 7-Eleven, sucking down Popsicles (“the fruit ones have like no calories”) and describing to each other in minute detail how I’d managed to get Cutter down on the mat.

“That was so stellar, Mrs. Connor,” Mindy said. “I don’t think my mom could ever do anything that cool.”

“My mom kicks butt,” Allie said.

“Allie.” I used my Shocked Mom voice, but I’ll confess to a secret thrill—my kid thought I was cool! “Okay, everyone in the van.”

As the girls and I got back in the van, the digital clock read 3:35. I confirmed that with a glance at my watch (as if somewhere I’d hidden an extra half-hour), but apparently all my various timepieces were in sync.

So much for my supermom routine. There was no way I could get the stuff for the cocktail party and get home in time to meet the glazier. Damn.

I debated my options as I pulled out onto Rialto, still not sure if I was heading to Laura’s, home, or the grocery store. I pulled out my cell phone, punched in Laura’s speed-dial number, and stopped at a red light.

Her machine kicked on and I cursed out loud. I waited through the beep. “Laura? Pick up. It’s me.”

I heard the clatter of the phone and then Laura’s breathless “Hey. Sorry. I was changing a diaper.”

“I’ve got Mindy and Allie,” I said. “But could I add one more dessert to our tally?”

I swear I could hear her smile. “What do you need?”

I explained about the glass and asked if she and Timmy could finish out their playdate at my house.

“Playdate, huh?”

I cleared my throat, and she laughed.

“Sure. No problem.”

“I owe you,” I said.

“You have no idea,” she said agreeably.

That task accomplished, I turned into a parking lot and reemerged on Rialto heading the opposite direction toward Gelson’s (the kind of high-end grocery store where after you valet park, you might actually spy a celebrity—or, more likely, the celebrity’s butler).

This is not my usual grocery store.

Once inside, I bemoaned the fact that we weren’t rolling in the dough. If an overflowing bank account meant that

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