Beelzebub Girl (11 page)

"What about your dad?"

I squirmed in his lap, stalking for time to make it seem like I was hesitating. "Don't worry about him. I'll figure something out."

Retrieving the phone from my desk, I pressed it into his palm and winked. "Here, call her, and don't take no for an answer. There's a reason why even guys from the FBI come knocking on our door every now and then."

Dad didn't seem very happy to hear I was having yet more friends over.

"You're what?" He was pacing the study up and down; the frown on his forehead had been in place for the last two minutes, which was a new record given that we were neither at work, nor meeting Mum for lunch.

Pouting, I pressed my hands on my hips, ready to scream, beg or start giving him the silent treatment, all in this particular order. "You said I never bring anyone home, so there, I followed your advice."

"But, sweetie, I—" he ran a hand through his hair "—they're
mortals
."

"You say that like it's a crime. Are you discriminating against your main target audience? Besides, they're not mortal." I couldn't hold back a grin when I saw his jaw drop.

Dad's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are they?"

I shrugged. "This and that."

"No, Cass. If you want them to stay here you'll have to tell me the truth. Obviously, I could find out in a heartbeat anyway.

I laughed inwardly. If he could hear a heartbeat. Aidan was as dead as a doornail.

"Cass, are you listening?"

I nodded. "Sure. You were saying?"

"Why should I have to use my investigative skills? I want to hear the words out of your very own mouth." His voice sounded calm yet resolute. I sighed.

"All right, if you
must
know. Amber's a necromancer."

"And the boy?"

I winced. Nothing escaped Dad's heightened perception. "He's a

—" I snapped my fingers, thinking. "What's another word for vampire?"

Dad groaned. "He's a vampire? In Hell? You know that's about the only species we don't have down here, and there's a reason for it."

"Come to think of it, I'm not keen on that word since Aidan neither drinks blood, nor shuns the sun." I started playing with the green tapestry on Dad's sofa, avoiding his gaze in the hope he wouldn't ask how I knew them.

"Good then, because we're not causing an eclipse just so he can venture out in search of his next snack."

I jumped up from my seat and hurried over to plop on his desk.

"Dad, I told you he doesn’t drink blood."

He peered at me unconvinced. "Is that what he told you?"

Really, he kind of underestimated me. "Nope. Obviously, I don't rely on hearsay. I know this for a fact because I attended the ancient ritual ceremony at the Shadowland cemetery."

"What?" Dad's jaw dropped. "I told you to never set foot on their cursed territory. They could use your blood for their rituals."

"You watch too many movies." At his shocked expression, I patted his hand. "I was only there for all of five minutes because Aidan agreed to retrieve an ancient ritual book from the Otherworld and give it to the Shadows in exchange for a ritual to free himself from the curse of blood. Since at that time I was still considering my career options, I thought it might be a good idea to assist everyone so it wouldn't turn into a bloodbath." Obviously, my plan was to pinch the book because I couldn't just leave something that powerful with all these wannabe immortals. The book was now stacked in a hidden compartment in my bedroom, but Dad needn't know.

"Where do you know these people from anyway?"

My chance to avoid this particular question evaporated into thin air. I shrugged again. "You know me, I travel quite a bit so, naturally, I get to meet the odd person. It's a small world."

Dad smirked. "Yes, well, they don't exactly advertise themselves on social networking sites."

I gawked, open-mouthed, because I never figured Dad knew one could use a computer for more than keying the number of souls entering Hell in an
Excel
document.

"You're surprised, huh?" He laughed. "Yes, your old man knows a thing or two about what's going on in the world. It doesn't mean I like it, but I'm clever enough to keep myself informed."

"That's great, Dad. Well done." Rolling my eyes, I slapped his shoulder. "Now, can we get on with it? The love of my life is waiting for me."

"They can't stay here, Cassie. Having a vampire around wouldn't be good publicity." Taking a sip of his coffee, Dad turned back to the folders occupying most of his massive desk, signalling me our conversation was over. Maybe for him, but not for me.

I smirked because it was time to skip the arguing and possible yelling, and move on to plan B, which involved begging, and maybe even shedding a few tears if I could squeeze them out. Truth was, I knew he was aware I manipulated him, but I didn't care. He should've thought about possible consequences before teaching me how to wrap Mum around my finger.

"Daddy?" I batted my lashes. "You know I'm really enjoying the last few moments we're getting to spend together. Soon I'll turn eighteen when it's time to leave the nest and fly away into the night."

"Stop being melodramatic, Cassie. It's not working. Not in this particular case." He sounded serious, but a glint of amusement flickered in his gaze.

I brushed a stray lock from my eyes as I continued unfazed, "You see, I might leave the nest sooner because Dallas needs to take care of his sister. Since he's the love of my life, I'm not letting him go. Will you miss me?" I pouted, praying for those tears to start flowing. They didn't.

"The love of your life?" Dad snorted. "You've known him for, what, two weeks?"

Not even, but Dad didn't need to know. "Haven't you ever heard of love at first sight?"

"Of course I have." Dad snapped his fingers. Thunder boomed and a brilliant bolt flashed over my head. "You have a better chance of getting struck by lightning."

I smiled. "Well then, call me one of the lucky ones."

"Who says you're lucky? Been there. Trust me, it's not all chocolate cake. " He snapped his fingers again and a dark rain cloud hovered above my head.

"Don't you dare," I hissed. Water didn't usually do my frizzy hair any favours. I couldn't risk looking like a drowned rat with my beloved around.

The cloud disappeared. Sighing, Dad started rolling his pen around his fingers. He was slowly losing his patience. It made sense to exalt my game. I pinched my thigh until it hurt, but the tears still wouldn't make their grand entrance.

"I'll give it two months," Dad muttered.

Ignoring his annoying wise apple attitude, I reached out and covered his hand with my palm. "I don’t want to leave just yet and lose the last precious months we have left, but I must."

"Cass, I said stop the drama. You're turning eighteen, not entering a convent."

The first wet sensation reached the corner of my eye, but it was nowhere near enough to spill a fat, visible tear down my cheek.

"Turning eighteen is a passage that changes everything. I've heard it can turn the most loving adolescent into a party animal, who's always too busy with drinking and hooking up to call home. Is that going to be my future? I'm scared."

Dad smiled. "I'll always know where you are."

I set my jaw. "No, you won't. If you plan to plant your GPS aka Thrain into my phone, I'll get rid of him and you won't see me for the next fifty years."

Dad grunted. "There's something I need to tell you, sweetie."

His tone promised bad news. I raised my brows. "What?" The clock on the wall stroke a full hour. Seconds passed and yet he didn't respond. "Say it, Dad," I prompted.

He hesitated, avoiding my gaze. "Your aunt Patricia's the same age as you."

"So?"

"She's bound to her home."

I shrugged. "And? Get on with it."

Taking a deep breath, he turned to face me. "The same fate awaits you once you turn eighteen."

My jaw dropped. "What?" He couldn't be serious. "You mean I'll be bound to a haunted bakery for the rest of my life?"

Dad shook his head. "Not to the bakery. To Hell."

I laughed, figuring he must be winding me up. "Patricia's not eighteen yet."

"She inherited the bakery sooner than intended."

"But I don't want to live here." I jumped to my feet, knocking over a few folders in the process. "Do you have any idea how dreadful this place is? It's like being stuck in the Stone Ages without the rare excitement of being hunted down by the odd dinosaur."

Dad smirked. "Well, thank you for slanting off my life's work."

I pointed a finger at him. "It's
your
achievement, not mine. I have my own dreams to follow. You can't keep me here."

"You won't have a choice," he muttered.

In spite of the usual spats, until now I always thought Dad and I had a fantastic father-daughter relationship. I just realised I was wrong. I narrowed my gaze, my blood boiling. "That's it. You can finish that campaign yourself because I'm not helping you out any more."

"Don't blame me, Cassie. It's a curse even someone like me can't undo." Dad seemed pained, his expression betrayed suffering. I was upset, but something told me he wasn't ecstatic to relay the news either.

"Does Mum know about this?"

He nodded. Great. Everyone knew but me. Pulling my nose, I plopped back down on his desk wailing, "Why me and no one else I know?"

"Because Patricia and you are part—"

"Fallen," I finished.

Dad nodded. "Yes. There's this little misunderstanding that our kind gets out of control once we turn a certain age."

In other words, people thought we were promiscuous. Talk about clichés and being biased. "It never happened to you, or Aunt Krista and Selena."

"It's a new rule," Dad said. New could mean anything from a few hours to centuries in Dad's world. There was a more important question.

"Who put it in place?"

Dad pointed at the ceiling. For a moment, I didn't get it. And then it dawned on me. The big boss where Mum lived. I might be able to haggle with Dad, but in Heaven my little schemes stood no chance.

"So, what does this curse involve and why didn't Patricia tell me about it?" I asked.

"I asked her not to tell you so you wouldn't get upset." Dad sighed. "I wanted you to enjoy the time you had left before being tied to this
dreadful
place."

I nodded, suddenly putting two and two together. "That's why you agreed to letting me rent a flat and getting a job." His easy-going attitude, which sparked many fights between him and Mum in the last few years, made sense now. "How do I get rid of this curse?"

His pained expression returned again. "You can't. Only one person can free you."

"The person I'm connected to." Dallas's image popped into my mind. Dad might not believe he was
the one
, but I knew it. I laughed, feeling lightheaded as though a weight had just lifted off my chest.

"I've found him already so it seems like I won't be here for long after all, Dad."

"Finding him isn't enough," Dad whispered. "You'll have to get married."

This was getting better by the minute. I knew all the hours spent planning my future wedding would come in handy one day.

"Don't worry. I'll sort that out soon. It's only a matter of time."

"Don't count on it." Dad scoffed, annoyance crossing his face. It must be tough seeing his little girl grow up so quickly, but he'd have to suck it up and deal with his separation anxiety because I wasn't going to spend eternity in this heat.

That reminded me he still hadn't agreed to letting Dallas's sister and her emotionally detached boyfriend stay over. "Can Amber sleep in one of the bedrooms in the west wing? You won't even know she's here."

Dad shook his head. "No more guests. Look, kiddo, I have work to do."

What was wrong with him? Why was he so stubborn? My schemes never failed. Amber had to stay over for the sake of my relationship.

"I'll stop pestering you if you let them stay here for a week."

"I'll think about it," Dad said, returning to his sheets. "Now, get back to that campaign. We haven't got all eternity."

Pouting, I headed for the kitchen to see whether lunch was ready, then carried a tray with food up to my room where Dallas was having a nap because a coyote's yowling had kept him awake all night.

There were no coyotes in Hell, so it could only be one of Dad's winged gatekeepers doing the nightshift on bringing in a few deceased souls.

But Dallas needn't know.

I placed the tray on the night table and kneeled next to him on the bed, brushing his light brown hair from his warm cheek. Stirring, he opened his eyes, the golden speckles catching the rays of sun flooding in through the high bay window.

"You're back." He smiled and propped up on his elbow.

"Care for a bite?" Lifting the lid, I allowed the aroma of freshly baked bread to waft past me.

"You read my mind," he said. "I'm starving."

Yeah, I wish. I hadn't been able to read one thought since the second I met him. I ripped off a chunk and held it in front of his mouth until he bit into it. Watching him chew and swallow, I realised I'd have to come up with a solution even if it meant keeping Aidan and Amber hidden in a barn so Dad wouldn't find out.

"This is delicious, homemade just like my grandma used to make it." Dallas sat up and helped himself to a plate.

"My dad hired the best baker in California." I smiled, pleased that I had found something he seemed to like about this place. "He's come every day for the past five hundred—" I stopped, realising my blunder. "—I mean, five years."

"She's fantastic. A bakery is one of my favourite places. I love creamy French éclairs and mini donuts with strawberries and whipped cream." He laughed. "Maybe I'll be a pastry chef one day."

"One of my aunts has a bakery. She'd love you." Something else that might just earn him brownie points with one of the relatives.

Dallas peered up, interested. "Does she live nearby?"

I shook my head. "She isn't keen on the weather. After she inherited the bakery she moved there for good and never visits." I didn't point out she couldn't visit, literally, since she was bound to that haunted place by blood until the curse was broken. Given the place was secluded in the Swiss Alps and no stranger ever got side-tracked there, it might be a long time before we saw her again.