Seven Days With A Demon

Chapter Three

MONDAY

She woke up alone.

She was not surprised or distressed. She knew Ted would have answered the alarm and made his way to work, as he always did. He was that kind of man. Obligation and responsibility were the pillars of his personality. He would always be a good provider.

But as she lay on the bed she wished it was the weekend, and she could feel the reassurance of his presence. The images of the flame and her helplessness had faded with her sleep, and all that remained was the pleasant memory of his warmth and his scent.

She got up, noticed the time, and thought of her supervisor at work.

"Sorry, Kathy," she said into her cellphone, "but I won't be in today."

Kathy Smith was a kind woman in her forties, with a halo of jet black hair around her strong, chocolate-skinned head. "Not feeling well?"

"I had an accident on Saturday," Jen replied, "bumped my head on the edge of a door."

Kathy made an appropriate noise.

"Doctor wants me to stay home for the week, give my injury a chance to heal."

"I can understand why," Kathy replied. "Well, you have a full two weeks of paid time off accumulated. I'll put you down for one week as of now."

"Thanks, Kath." Jen thought for a moment. "That project we were working on . . . ?"

"Management has had a change of heart," Kathy replied, "so it's not so much of a priority. Don't worry about it until you get back."

"Thanks."

"Call me later in the week, let me know how you're doing."

"Will do."

Showered and dressed, she made her way to the kitchen. Plug in the water boiler for tea. Two slices of bread in the toaster.  Butter.  Well, margarine. Jelly, strawberry please. As she stood and looked at the boiler, she chuckled to herself.

"Tea, Earl Grey, Hot!" Her voice was deep and comical.

Nothing. No little sparkles of light. No magical appearance of a glass cup and saucer. And certainly no Earl Grey Tea.

"Gee, honey, how much is the latest model of replicator, anyway?" She grinned. "More than we can afford, that's for sure."

The toaster popped and jolted her out of her reverie. The water boiled and she dropped the cheap teabag in her cup. As the tea steeped she buttered and jellied the toast. Then she turned, glanced at the little table in the middle of their tiny kitchen and decided to take her breakfast "on the veranda". She carried the tea and toast into the small living room and sat down on the loveseat.

Theremote for the TV was handy and she clicked it on.

The news anchor looked normal enough. He was middle aged, Caucasian, with dark hair and a stern voice. The co-anchor, a pretty young woman with far too much cleavage to be real, started to narrate a newsreel about migraine headaches.

Jen frowned. Coincidence?

"Millions of people suffer from debilitating migraines every day," the co-anchor began. "While the majority of sufferers are women, plenty of men get migraines as well."

Jen chuckled. "Why should we have all the fun?"

"While research is ongoing, medical science has yet to unlock the mysterious cause of migraines."