Dancing With the Devil (5 page)

The sword wasn’t just aimed at my heart. It was aimed at my
magic.

Stop.

A single word, nothing more than a thought, echoed in my
head. I must have said it out loud, because it also echoed through the square.

The sword came to a halt.

The angel’s orange eyes blazed with hatred. His muscles
strained as he tried to break through the magic suspending the sword over my
chest. The tips of his wings grew longer, quivering with agitation and dripping
orange acid that sizzled and blackened everything it landed on.

“Cursed be Amo,” he snarled, his voice loud and sharp as it
hit the church’s steeple and bounced back.

Amo? “It’s Amy, nitwit. Amy Atwood. If you’re going to kill
someone, at least get their name right.”

 He could have lifted one massive foot and squashed me like
an ant, but he seemed determined to spear me instead. Another surge of strength
rocked the sword. Sparks flew from the crystal blade, reminding me of July 4
^th
sparklers. The searing orange embers burned through the material of my red robe
and branded my skin.

In response, the dark energy flooding my body rushed forward
to meet his renewed attack. Once more, a single word entered my mind.

Leave
.

The light inside the sword flashed bright enough to blind me,
and a heartbeat later, there was the sound of an implosion. The energy inside
me quieted instantly and I peeked through my eyelashes to see nothing but
destroyed buildings and a few sizzling piles of debris.

Going through the motion of heaving a deep sigh—satisfying,
I must say, whether you actually draw oxygen or not—I sat up, propped my elbows
on my knees and scrubbed a hand over my face. I kept an eye on the horizon
where the fog was dense and cocked my head so I could listen closely.

Definitive silence met my ears. Nothing moved outside of the
swirling fog. My taut muscles relaxed a fraction and I wondered what to do
next.

Clap, clap, clap
.

The sound, coming from behind me, broke the silence. I
scrambled to my feet, whirling around to face whoever it was.

Zayfeer stood at the top of Immaculate Conception’s steps, a
cigarette dangling from his lips as he clapped. He took it out and blew a smoke
ring into the air. “That was some cool-ass shit there, Amo.”

Brushing dirt from my hands, I ignored the purposeful misuse
of my name. “What are you doing in my dream?”

“Dream?” His laughter cut through the heavy air between us. “You
think Michael is a dream? I don’t know what planet you’re from, but where I
come from, he’s a freakin’ nightmare.”

A chill slipped over my skin and I gathered the robe closer.
“Michael?” I glanced over my shoulder, some part of me still waiting for the
chainsaw guy to appear. “As in the
archangel
Michael?”

“Real peach, ain’t he?”

Damn. “What is this place, Zayfeer? Why am I here?”

The church steps reversed themselves and became stairs once
more. Zayfeer took another drag from his cigarette and sauntered down toward
me.

“This?” He extended both hands and motioned at the deserted
town, now decimated, thanks to Michael and his sword. “This is your purgatory.”

The magic that had flooded my body earlier drained out as if
someone had pulled the plug. “Purgatory is for dead people.”

One of Zayfeer’s eyebrows raised slightly as he quirked his
lips, egging me on to put two and two together.

Two and two added up to a number I didn’t like. “I’m…” I
swallowed the thickness in my throat. “Dead?”

“I’m afraid my curse backfired. When you and Lucifer did the
nasty…” He drew a finger across his throat in a cutting motion.

“I died because I had sex with the Devil?”

“I imagine there are worse ways to go.”

My fingers shook as I scrubbed my face again. I pushed to my
feet and thought better of it when my knees gave out. I sank back down.

My legs were weak. My body spent. My brain hammered a sharp
staccato inside my skull.

I couldn’t be dead. He must be playing me. “How do you know?”

He flicked the cigarette to the ground and tapped a finger
against his temple. “I know, remember?”

Déjà vu. I’d died and gone to Hell before. Now I felt the
same hollow sadness weighing me down. My bucket list was still a mile long. I
hadn’t said goodbye to anyone. Who would take over the shop?

Emilia and Keisha would take care of things, of course.
Didn’t make the idea of being dead any more palatable.

Just like the first time I’d died, some things didn’t ring
true. And I wasn’t one to give up easily. “Why would I go to purgatory? Why
wouldn’t I go straight to Hell?”

“Redemption, duh. God believes in it, you know. Apparently He
believes in you as well.”

Same message, different messenger. Still wasn’t buying. “This
isn’t the purgatory you climbed out of.”

“Hell and purgatory are different for everyone. So is
redemption. By the looks of it, you fear being alone. Separation from those you
love. Am I right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “And then there are those ugly
mommy issues. You think you’re to blame for her leaving, don’t you?”

Unexpected anger heated my cheeks. “That’s none of your
business.”

He raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Relax. I’m not
here to psychoanalyze your dysfunctional family. I have enough of my own family
issues to deal with.”

“Then why
are
you here?”

“Good question.” His eyes became guarded. He looked around
at the destruction. “My curse brought this on you, so I guess it’s my responsibility
to atone for that.”

Intuition told me there was more to it. A lot more. “What is
this curse you keep referring to?”

Shifting his sword out of the way, he sat next to me and ignored
my question. “Look, all you have to do is admit your sins, survive purgatory’s
holy fire purge—courtesy of Lucifer’s big brother Michael—and you’ll be headed
for the pearly gates before you know it.”

“No way. No pearly gates. I want to go back to my life. On
Earth.”

“Your life was screwing up Heaven’s plans. Even if my curse
hadn’t backfired, there’s no way Michael was going to allow you to live much
longer.”

“
Allow
me to live? Michael’s playing God now?” I
stopped Z with a hand before he answered. All the archangels had a god complex.
“What exactly are these plans I’m screwing up?”

“Cephiel didn’t explain any of this to you?”

Not that I remembered. “I don’t tend to listen to him.”

“Can’t say I blame you. He’s a bit Type A about all of this,
and he’s not too happy he’s been assigned to you.”

“Makes two of us. I’d love it if Heaven and all you angels
would leave me alone.”

“That’s where the rub comes. We can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

A confused frown pinched his forehead. He studied my face. “You
really don’t know who you are, do you?”

“What is it with you angels and my name?” I punched a thumb
into my chest. “Amy Atwood. Owner of Evie’s Ice Cream and Lucifer’s former right-hand
witch, who is now trying hard to be good.”

Zayfeer chuckled, looked out at downtown Eden and made
tsking
noises. “Lucifer, you dog.” His studious gaze returned to my face. “He never
told you the truth. But why?”

Annoyance burned in my chest. So did unease. “Tell me the
truth about what?”

He stood and held out a hand. The hand with the sigil. “Come
inside. I want to show you something.”

My eyes traced the sigil and a mental light bulb went on. It
was the reverse image of the Mark of Cain. The Mark of Cain repelled black
magic and evil and destroyed anyone or anything that might harm the bearer.
What did the reverse of that mark do? “Your curse
attracts
evil, doesn’t
it? You’ve had to fight every day in purgatory since Lucifer fell.”

Drawing back his hand, Zayfeer fingered his sword and
started climbing the steps to the church’s front doors. “Come on, Broker. You
need to see this.”

Hefting myself up on shaky legs, I followed him inside.

Don’t go in the creepy church, Amy.

Despite the voice of reason, I stepped across the threshold
and entered the dark, sinister vestibule of my purgatory’s Immaculate
Conception.

In the real world of Eden, Immaculate Conception was a
beautiful catholic church complete with gorgeous stained glass windows, beeswax
candles and a large wooden cross behind the pulpit.

In my purgatory, IC was empty of all but the cross and the
heavy air of repressed desires.

Following the echo of Zayfeer’s shoes, I entered the nave
and caught my nonexistent breath as the stained glass windows and a dozen painted
pictures became animated in front of my eyes. Saints, sinners, angels and
demons played out scenes from the Bible in high def.

Turning in a circle to take in all the mini-movies, I stopped
when I came to a picture with a red dragon in it. “What is this?”

Zayfeer ambled over and stood with me, watching the scene
play out. “The Great War between God and Lucifer.” Michael appeared and Z’s
face went slack. “
‘Now war arose in Heaven, Michael and his
angels fighting against the dragon. And the dragon and his angels fought back,
but he was defeated and there was no longer any place for them in Heaven. And
the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the Devil
and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world – he was thrown down to the earth,
and his angels were thrown down with him.’
Revelation
12, 7-9.”

Lucifer was the dragon pictured with seven heads and a crown
on each head. Even as a dragon, he was beautiful. So beautiful, I stared.

“You’ll slay him in the end.” Z’s voice was matter-of-fact.

“Excuse me?”

“The dragon. It’s what you fear most. Lucifer and true love
and all that Romeo and Juliet shit. He leaves you, you’re alone. Unloved.
String the violins, yada, yada. But he’s your get-out-of-jail-free card. You
slay the dragon, you’re topside before you know it.”

“Sounds very Arthurian.”

“You a King Arthur fan?”

“Only the Clive Owen version.”

Zayfeer quirked his head and one eyebrow.

The picture shifted and a pregnant woman appeared in the
heavens, backlit by the sun and standing on top of the moon. A crown of stars
circled her head and dozens of angels toppled from the clouds at her feet. Her
features were plain and undistinguishable, but she wore a red robe. I glanced
down at the sleeves of the robe I wore and saw the resemblance. As I watched,
the dragon appeared and sat at her feet like a well-trained pet.

Her eyes, staring straight at me, turned ice blue.

Oh, crud. “Who is that?”

Zayfeer blew out a dramatic sigh. “This little tableau is
what I was telling you about. Heaven’s plans. The dragon—a.k.a. my buddy Luc—is
supposed to devour the child you give birth to because that child will
otherwise alter the fate of the entire universe. But you’ve screwed up the
balance of good and evil by making him give up his magic. No magic, no
temptation, no sin. So now, as this picture depicts, your child will be born
and he’ll cherish it as much as he cherishes you.”

Holy hot buttons. A child? I instinctively placed a hand on
my lower abdomen. Not only did I blame myself for my mother’s abandonment and
fear being alone, I was tormented by the idea that I would never have a family
of my own. After all the evil I had done in my life, I didn’t deserve one.

“God is not happy,” Z continued. “And when God’s not happy, Heaven’s
enforcer takes command.”

“Michael?”

“Yep.”

Zayfeer had to be messing with me. I was dead. This was
purgatory. God or whoever was orchestrating this trip through limbo knew my hot
buttons and was sledge-hammering them.

Dropping my hand from my stomach, I squared my shoulders. “What
if I
do
have Luc’s baby? How will that change the universe?”

Z lit a fresh cigarette, gave me a respectful glance. “You
and your child will redeem Lucifer. No more Hell. No more purgatory. And Heaven?
Your child will rule it.”

“I don’t know what’s in that cigarette you’re smoking, but you’re
killing brain cells.”

That annoying grin spilled across his face. “Don’t believe me,
huh?” He cocked his chin at a painting behind me. “Have a look over there.”

A magnificent angel with gold-tipped wings bent over a
grieving human woman. His wings encircled them both as if he were protecting
her. His lips moved but no sound reached us. The woman looked up and I startled.
My mother.

She was lovely. Long, brown hair flowing over her shoulders
and down her back. Luminous brown eyes staring up at the angel with admiration
and affection. Her skin reflected the light coming off him, making it glow a
pretty peach color. A blush rose on her cheeks as he spoke to her.

This had to be another trick. “Who is that angel and what is
he saying to her?”

“Just watch.”

My mouth went dry as the angel gathered my mother in an
embrace. Her gaze dropped to his full lips and her own lips parted in response.
He continued to speak, and after a minute, she nodded her head. The painting
shifted and they were both naked in a breath-taking garden. Their embrace
turned intimate. Too intimate for me. I looked away, tears burning my eyes.

“Your real father was an angel, not that human who left your
mom before she even gave birth to you. But your true father wasn’t just any
angel. He was…”

I didn’t want to hear this. It was too preposterous and I was
tired, mentally and physically. “How do I get out of here, Zayfeer?”

Z’s face took on a look of strained patience. One I’d seen
many times on Cephiel’s. “I told you. You have two options. Slay the dragon or survive
Michael’s purge of your vices and swear to the Big Guy you’ll send Lucifer
packing if He allows you to return to Earth.”

“That simple, huh?”

One shoulder shrugged as he scanned the other life-like
movies playing around us. “I’ve been in purgatory for a hundred millenniums
fighting off every kind of monster you can imagine. Seems like a picnic to me.”

“And what happens if I don’t break it off with Lucifer once
I get topside?”

There was no drama in Z’s voice, no impatience, just fact. “Michael
will take care of you.”

My lower abdomen twinged. I pressed a hand against it. “Screw
Michael,” I said and headed for the church’s entrance.