Luck of the Devil (15 page)

“Are you okay?” Lisa asked me, leaning into his kisses.

“I’m fine. Why?” I answered.

“You got a bit pale there for a minute.”

“No, it’s the stress of everything. It’s nothing, really. Just a little shaken up.” Oh shit, what a mess. And my life did not need any more messes right now. “Well, anyway, now that Hope has fallen out of love with Boris, everything he does irritates her because she won’t let herself fall back in love with him.”

“But wouldn’t he have lost his abilities as an irritant once he fell up?”

“You know, I have no idea,” Tolliver said, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. “I would have thought so. But who knows?”

“Can we discuss it in a few hours?” I asked, yawning.

“Sure,” Tolliver said.

Lisa gave me a quick hug. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“Except me,” Malachi said. He’d cleared the pictures off my bed.

“Sorry.” I frowned at my demon. When dad had sent Malachi to look after me, he’d taken away his need for sleep. The dread demon had never said so, but I always got the impression he was a little put out over the whole mess. Not that I could blame him. Who doesn’t enjoy a good nap?

After Lisa and Tolliver left, I shut the door and climbed into bed. “He’s in love with her, Malachi.”

He floated at eye level, an eerie calm surrounding him. “Yep.”

“He’s been in love with her for a while, before he turned her into a succubus.”

“Right again.”

“Is that why he turned her?”

“Of course.”

“And you knew?”

“I know everything, and, yes, I knew he was turning her into a demon because he’s in love with her.”

“But she’s not in love with him?”

“He’s hoping that will change.”

“Damn.”

“Damn is indeed the word for it. Good night.”

“Good night.”

“What about me?” Harold asked. Oh, Harold. I’d forgotten about him.

“Come on, Ghost Boy,” Malachi said. “Let me introduce you to the joys of eternal insomnia. I’m sure there’s at least one infomercial on right about now.”

Chapter Seventeen

I had slept until noon, and Matt was already at work. He hadn’t stopped by this morning. Was it going to be awkward between us? What if he was pissed I sneaked out? And now I was chewing on a thumbnail and pacing. Forget Anne. My middle name was Neurotic.

Hope took a sip of coffee and flipped through the television channels with her feet, still snuggled in her makeshift bed. “You have heard of that wonderful invention called treadmills, haven’t you?”

I stopped pacing and tried to appear shocked. “Are those the funny-looking things at the gym? I wondered why those people seemed like they weren’t ever getting anywhere. Wait, I don’t go to the gym.”

“Funny,” Hope said, and took another sip of coffee. “Why are you pacing around the living room and wringing your hands like an idiot?”

“I’ve got to invite Matt over for a drink tonight and I don’t know how awkward things are going to be after my disappearing act last night.”

“You don’t have to invite him. I mean, if he was really bad in bed and you’d like to forget about it, I understand. Trust me, been there, done that, got the T-shirt. But I’ll admit, if you can suck up your disgust for the guy for a bit, he could be helpful.”

“He wasn’t bad in bed.”

“Then what’s the problem? And don’t think we won’t be coming back to that not-bad-in-bed comment, young lady. I want details of what exactly defines ‘not bad.’”

“What if it’s awkward between us? What if he’s pissed because I sneaked out?” My horns poked through my skin and I knew that meant my wings and tail weren’t far behind. I stopped in front of Hope and held out my hands, my despair rising. “What if he’s not pissed? What if he’s actually happy I sneaked out so he didn’t have to face me this morning?”

“Okay, okay, whoa. Let’s back up the neurotic train a little bit and look at things like sane, rational adults.”

“I’m not neurotic.”

“Right, Faith. Did he act like he wasn’t enjoying it last night?”

“No, but what if he was faking it?”

“One, men don’t fake it. That’s only women. Two, this is only going to be awkward if you make it awkward. Three, he didn’t seem pissed when he stopped by this morning while you were asleep.”

“He stopped by?” What? He had stopped by and she hadn’t told me?

“It’s not like he had to go far.” Hope took a drink of coffee and pointed the remote at the TV, clicking through channels. “He came across the hall, which is what? A whole ten steps? Oh! ‘Real Housewives of Bentonville’ is on.”

“And you didn’t wake me up?”

“I told him you weren’t here, you had an early-morning appointment with Mom for breakfast, and that was why you slipped out when you did. Now shut up. I’m dying to see what happens when they put Anna Lynn and Bethany Sue in a room together and tell them their boy toys were playing in Annie’s pool cabana.”

“You lied to him? And you know that’s staged, right?”

“Did you want me to tell him you were a chickenshit who bailed while he was asleep? And of course, I know it’s staged. That doesn’t make it any less hilarious.”

“No, I didn’t want you to tell him I was a chickenshit, but you could have told me you talked to him before I turned myself into a neurotic mess.”

“What would be the fun in that? And to keep you from looking like a chickenshit, I lied. You’re welcome.”

I cocked my head and stared at the television screen. “What are they doing?”

“They’re cat-fighting in a pigpen while slathered in peanut butter,” Hope said.

I sat beside her on the couch, getting sucked into her show. “This is insane.”

“It’s hilarious. Wait until Annie realizes that Emmanuel, the gardener she’s having an affair with, is actually Big Daddy’s son with the housekeeper.”

“Who’s Big Daddy?”

“Her 80-year-old husband.”

“And how old is she?”

Hope picked up one of her long curls and twirled it around her finger, inspecting it for split ends. “Twenty-four. By the way, I mentioned to Matt about the Angale and he’s going to make a few calls today to see what he can find out. He’ll tell us about it tonight over drinks.”

Did I know nothing that went on inside my home? “Wait, wait, what? You asked him out for drinks?”

“After work, seven o’clock, at Bridge City Bar on Carson Street. You know where that is, right?”

“Yeah, it’s in walking distance.” Which was beside the point.

“Oh good, I figured you’d know where we’re going.”

I tore my focus off the two women battling amongst the pigs and focused on my sister. “Why did you tell him about it?”

“Because he needed to know? And you were going to hedge because you don’t want to be a burden, and he’d be trying to figure it out tomorrow instead of today, when it would be the most help to us. Did Beth Anne shove Anna Lynn’s face in pig crap?”

“Is Beth Anne the one in the pink? That is nasty. But it’s my place to tell him about the crazy demon hunter I’ve got after me.”

“I’m not arguing with you on that.” She walked to the sink and dropped her coffee cup in it. “And you’re telling me. I’d seriously go demonic on someone for shoving my face in pig shit.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. But it looks like fun time is over now, kiddo. So, I’ll see you about 6:30, okay?”

I eyed her sweats. “Where are you going?”

“Upstairs to take a shower, change clothes, and yell at Boris. Besides, I’ve got this taping on DVR and Dad is pulling up.”

“How do you know that?” I shut up and focused on the sounds around me. Sure enough, the low rumble of his sports car disrupted the peace on the street below.

“I’m out of here,” she said, phasing out of my apartment with a quiet
pop
.

“Chicken.” Why was it, exactly, that she’d picked a fight with Dad and I was the one cleaning up the mess? That’s right. I was the wimp in this family.

“Faith.” My father knocked on my door a few minutes later. “Are you home?”

“Yeah, Dad.” I waved my hand and the door opened. “Come on in.”

“Thanks,” he said and headed for my couch. “I wanted to talk about yesterday—is that ‘Real Housewives of Bentonville’?”

“Yes, and I’m shutting it off before it takes over my life.” I grabbed the remote and clicked off the television. “And we really don’t need to talk about yesterday. It’s fine. Hope is exceptionally stressed right now and once things lighten up, she’ll be fine.”

“No, that’s not what I want.”

“You don’t want Hope to be fine?”

“I do want Hope to be fine, but I don’t want us to sweep this under the rug like it’s no big deal. Your sister feels, and I think you feel, that your mother and I weren’t the greatest parents to you.”

“Dad, you did your best. Let’s stick with the present and move forward,” I said, trying to keep my father from dwelling on things no one wanted to talk about. We couldn’t change them, anyway.

“Faith,” he said, shooting a red-eyed glare at me, “you kept a fiancé from us. That’s something we need to discuss. Even if your sister’s hysterics yesterday didn’t drive home that your mother and I screwed up somewhere, that would. I wasn’t the best parent for you, and I need to make up for it. But at the same time, I want you to know what I was thinking when I did the things I did.”

“Fine. Let it out if it will make you happier.”

“I really had no idea how to parent human children,” my father began.

“Yeah, because mortal fathers keep the manual locked up where you couldn’t find it.”

“No, really, I had no idea, and the two of you were drastically different from your half-brother. With demon children, you make sure they’re fed and protected and the mothers handle their upbringing until it’s time for them to join the ranks. But the two of you? I was expected to interact, to nourish, to teach you right from wrong, and I didn’t know how to do that. Especially the right-from-wrong parts.”

“So you left. Over and over and over again.”

“And each time I would think, Roisin has it under control. They’re better off without me.”

“But?”

“But she’d bring home some nutcase and I’d realize her head was in the clouds too much to be a responsible parent. And those wackadoodles she was so fond of weren’t helping the matter.”

“And yet, you’re choosing to be with her.”

His shoulders rose in a slight shrug, and he gave me a tight-lipped smile. “She’s grown up a lot.”

“Really? Are we talking about the same Roisin Bettincourt? Likes to chant at the city alderman and communes with nature spirits, even though you’ve told her they don’t exist? Not us telling her, but you, the Devil, telling her that there are no nature spirits to bring the world into harmony.” I pointed my finger at his chest, my eyes narrowing so much my lids twitched. “You’re saying that Roisin Bettincourt has grown up and become mature? Is that indeed your final answer?”

“Faith, I know your mother can be a handful.”

“No, she’s more of a—what did you call it? A wackadoodle? She’s a wackadoodle with extra crazy sauce drizzled on the sides, and a cherry-flavored break from reality on top.”

He closed his eyes and massaged his temples, where his horns pushed underneath the skin. “She needs someone to take care of her, and I owe her for the two of you. In fact, I love her for giving me the two of you.”

“So you’re going to be her… what? Her sugar daddy? Her caretaker? Does she know you’re with her because of obligation and no other reason?”

“There are unscrupulous people in the world that would take advantage of her. And I do love her. So it seems like the best option is to marry her and keep her protected.”

I smacked my palms on my thighs. “I think you’re both insane.”

“That’s fine. But what I want to know is why you hid such a large part of your life from us? Why wouldn’t you tell me you were serious with someone and getting married?”

“Have you met Mom? Do you really think she would have been able to know without ruining it for me? She wouldn’t have allowed me to have something meaningful with someone when it wasn’t all about her.”

“She only wants to help.”

“Oh? Really? Is that what she’s doing when she does her thing? Or is she serving her own agenda?”

“You could have told me,” he said, jabbing his thumb into his chest.

“And what? You’d have shown up and played nice? No stunts? No using powers to persuade him to do things your way? You would have lied to him the entire time?”

“But if he loved you, he should have loved you no matter who I was.”

“Dad, that’s nice in sentiment but you’re the Devil. The
Devil
,” I said, enunciating the word. “And I’m a demon, with wings and a tail. I’ll quit aging soon, and he will eventually grow old and die. What do you think that’s like for a mortal?”

“To grow old and die?”

“To know that you’re facing death alone? That you’re powerless over it? That the person you love won’t be by your side?”

He nodded, taking my hand into his. “Is that what drove him insane?”

I yanked my hand away. “Who said anything drove him ins—”

“I glanced through your trust fund withdrawals today, something I should have done much earlier. You’ve been sending money to a mental hospital and, when I called, they told me he was a patient there.”

“That’s a violation of HIPAA law.”

“Devil.” He pointed to himself. “I promise, the nurse who gave me the information won’t even remember she did it.”

“What am I going to do with you?”

“Tell me what caused it? What sent your fiancé over the edge and into a mental hospital instead of meeting you at the top of the aisle on your wedding day?”

“Dad, have you ever heard there’s a difference in knowing something in your head and knowing something in your gut?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Dan always believed there was a heaven and a hell, but you showed up and had your—”

“Moment of Anger.”

Yeah, because turning into a fifteen-foot-tall, black, fire-breathing monster in the middle of my street wasn’t something normal people did when they were angry. Like picking up Mom’s live-in boyfriend at the time—Remy, the psychic investigator—and throwing him to a horde of imps that tore him into tiny pieces and munched on the remains was a natural reaction to finding out your ex-wife had moved on. Sure. And people wondered why I had forbidden my parents to visit together before now.

“I was going with temper tantrum, but, okay, we can say Moment of Anger. Anyway, suddenly he learns that not only does good and evil exist, but that he’s about to tie himself to something evil. Dan was a good person. And somewhere inside him, he still is a good person. He couldn’t stand the thought that evil could not only exist, but that he could be a part of it. He watched this happen and it broke his mind.”

“I’m sorry, Faith,” Dad said and hugged me close to him. “I promise that from now on I’ll be more of the father you need. And I’ll make your mother behave, as well.”

“Don’t kill yourself trying to do miracles.”

He squeezed me tightly before kissing the top of my head.

I decided it was best to tell him about what was going on, what with the cozy father-daughter moment unfolding. He’d be able to trace the threats to the source and help track whoever was out to kill me more effectively than anybody.

“Dad?”

“I promise things will be different from now on, Faith. I’ll be a better father and I’ll protect you more.” And protection equaled Purgatory. No thanks. “Now, what did you want to say?”

“Um, nothing, just that I love you.”