Soul Conquered (2 page)

Grace

At first I was mad that Noah could
hurt me like that, but now I consider it progress. After all, he noticed the
shell, and he wanted it. He wanted that connection between us. And if he pushed
me away? Fine. It means I affect him. He cares. He just hasn’t realized how
much yet.

Immediately, I start to second-guess. Noah wouldn’t even
look at me until the moment he stole the comb. Maybe my plan isn’t really
working. I don’t get to see him often, and it’ll be all but impossible to save
him if he won’t even talk to me. And I need to save him from making the worst
mistake of his life. He can still choose to be good and not Lucifer’s minion. I
know it.

I gave up Heaven for him.

I gave up Josh.

Kicking at the gravel on the side of the road, I watch as a
few pebbles scatter over the asphalt. The sun beats down from the clear Nevada
sky, but I still keep my arms wrapped around myself. I feel naked in these
Daisy Dukes and off-the-shoulder top; it’s so see-through I may as well not be
wearing it. Undergarments would help, but I have none. It’s all part of Lucifer’s
plan to shame me into submission. And I’ll let him think it’s working as long
as he continues to allow me access to Noah—whatever his reasons. I’ll
make Noah listen next time. Somehow.

I hear the
caw
of a raven and pull out my cell to check
the time: 9:22 a.m. Despite my stilettos, I have to reach the closest rest stop
sign in the next six minutes and then step out onto the road. Those are my
instructions. Easy enough. Lucifer assured me the car would stop before hitting
me. Of course, I can’t die, but I
can
still feel pain. Anyway, death
isn’t the goal—the goal is to delay this guy from reaching Vegas on time so
he can’t stop the woman he loves from getting married. It’s all very soap opera-esque.

The whole scenario makes me feel icky. I don’t like ruining
this guy’s life. Still, true love isn’t always enough. I ought to know.

Lucifer’s instructed me to seduce Josh the moment I see him
so that he’ll fall from Heaven. And despite my own insistence that Josh stay in
Heaven and away from me, I can’t help but selfishly hope he won’t listen. But
he hasn’t been on Earth since I fell. I keep reminding myself that's a good
thing—he doesn’t deserve Hell. Lucifer seems pretty sure he’ll show up,
though. He even set an alarm on my phone. It’ll play “Highway to Hell” when
Josh makes an appearance, and when that happens, I’m to drop whatever I’m doing
and go.

I stopped checking my phone after about a week. It’s been
twice that. I hate myself for still wanting it to ring in spite of everything.

Right on schedule, I arrive at the rest stop sign. The sound
of a motor rumbles down the highway, and I take a deep breath. This scene
reminds me of my own demise. I’m sure that’s no accident on Lucifer’s part. He
loves adding extra meaning to everything he can. “Layering,” he calls it.

My pointed heels nearly trip me up for real as I pretend to
stumble near the thick white line of the shoulder. I see the car now, and it
takes concentration not to follow my instincts and pull myself back.

But no, I play the good little Demon and fall on my hands
and knees in the street, managing to skin myself in the process. Yet one more
thing I’m sure Lucifer intended when he picked out my outfit.

Screeching brakes. The smell of burnt rubber. I close my
eyes, waiting to be struck like the last time I was in this position. Except I
fell that time because Irma Alvarez pushed me—and it was Josh who ran me
over and put this chain of events into motion.

The sounds stop, and a breeze picks up the small hairs at
the nape of my neck, the rest having spilled over my shoulders in front of me.
I open my eyes and find the bumper an inch from my face.

“Are you okay? Oh my Lord. Oh, I can’t believe this. I’m so
sorry. I’m so—are you okay? Can you stand?” The man keeps falling over
his words as he helps me up. I brush off my hands and knees, where dirt and a
few small rocks have worked their way inside my wounds to mix with blood.

“I’m fine,” I say. It’s the truth. These scrapes and bruises
are nothing compared to what I’ve been through, and they’ll heal in a few minutes.
“You were in a hurry,” I say, meeting his eyes.

He’s about twenty, younger than I expected, with light-brown
hair and gray eyes. He’s nice-looking. I wonder why the girl he loves ran off
with another guy but shake off the thought. I don’t know anything about him or
her or what happened between them, and I don’t want to. The more I know, the
more I’ll care, and it will only make me feel worse about what Lucifer’s making
me do.

“Yeah. Yeah, but you—are you sure you’re okay?” He
gives me a once-over. His eyes linger on the wounds on my legs then travel up
to my chest and the nearly transparent fabric covering it.

I pull my hair down in front of me and twist it in my hands.
It not only comforts me—it also blocks his view.

Layering.

“I have to go. If you’re sure you don’t need a ride to the
hospital or anything?” He backs away a little, toward the car.

I guess it’s a nice enough response. I would’ve insisted on
calling 9-1-1, but then again, I seem unharmed, and he didn’t actually hit me.
“No thanks. Go ahead.” I step back toward the shoulder. Maybe if he hurries, my
ruse won’t have worked, and he’ll make it. Maybe Heaven sent an Angel to pose
as Elvis and delay the marriage.

Yeah, right. Heaven doesn’t interfere, even when you beg.

“What’s your name?” he asks, one leg already in the vehicle.

“Scarlet,” I say. Why not? I’m a Demon now, and one little
lie won’t hurt anyone.

He smiles. “See ya, Scarlet. Be careful out here on your
own.”

Moments later he speeds off down Highway 15, leaving me in
the dust.

I wait for a few minutes—for what, I’m not sure.
Lucifer to appear and give me my next assignment, I suppose. But why would he
when he can make me suffer by leaving me in the middle of the desert?

I’m going to need some sunglasses, water, and other
supplies. I can already feel a burn starting on my shoulders and the backs of
my legs. I may be a Demon, but my body still behaves like it’s alive.

The cellphone weighs heavy in my pocket. When I was alive, I
would have called a friend like Em to pick me up. That feels like ages ago,
even though it’s been less than a year. And I can’t call Josh, that’s for sure.

Pulling out the phone, I open the map to check my location. There’s
nowhere close to walk, and Lucifer has only given me the power to disappear and
reappear when summoned. Keira can disappear and reappear wherever she likes.

Well, there it is. The answer I’m avoiding.

I press the only name on speed-dial and wait for voicemail
to pick up.

“Leave a message or suffer my wrath
.”

“It’s me,” I say. “Lucifer left me stranded in the Nevada
desert. I could use a ride and some sunscreen.” I press
END
and stare at the black screen for a full
minute. Am I waiting for Keira’s ring or “Highway to Hell”? I’m not sure.

Damn it. Why do I even want to try to seduce Josh? I
purposely asked him to stay away so he wouldn’t fall.
Someone
should get
to stay in Heaven. Someone who actually enjoys it.

Plus, maybe—just maybe—he’ll find a way to save
Noah from his “fate.” I don’t believe in fate—not anymore. Mr. Griffith
said I belong in Heaven, but he threw me out for breaking the rules. So why
should I believe?

Shoving the phone back in my pocket, I heave a sigh and start
walking down the deserted highway toward Vegas. It’s the fastest way to
civilization.

After walking a mile down the road, I’m about to take off my
shoes and fling them toward the Joshua trees when I hear the roar of a motor
from behind. I shove out my thumb and turn toward the oncoming car. I fling my
hair back over my shoulder, leaving my legs and chest in full view. I’m desperate.

The black Vette pulls over, top down, and Keira grins at me
from the driver’s seat. She lowers her Louis Vuitton sunglasses an inch and
pouts her ruby lips. “You rang?”

“What took you so long?” I ask, yanking open the passenger
door and climbing in.

“I was in the middle of something. I have an afterlife, you
know.” She tosses me a can of sunscreen, pulls out a small gold lipstick tube,
and begins lathering her lips despite the fact that they already look perfect.
“That stuff stinks,” she complains, wrinkling her tiny nose at me while I spray
my shoulders.

“You could’ve brought the lotion kind,” I say.

She throws the car into gear, making my seatbelt snap back
up so I have to start buckling all over again. “I didn’t want you sliding
around on my seats. It dulls the leather interior.”

Music blares through the stereo system as we speed down the
road to who-knows-where. I don’t feel like asking. I don’t feel like talking at
all. Keira obliges. She’s focused on belting out the soundtrack to
Chicago
,
oddly enough.

Pretty soon, Vegas comes into view. I’ve never been before,
but there’s no mistaking the cluster of buildings. There’s so much activity
that the whole scene appears to move and change right before my eyes. Giant
billboards announce attractions and hotels, featuring sexy women in ball gowns and
bikinis, famous entertainers, or more sexy women in bizarre costumes and poses.

Keira turns down the volume and inhales deeply. “Vegas,
baby. I can smell the debauchery.”

I shift, uncomfortable on the sweaty leather seat despite
the air blasting from the dash. “Not my thing.”

Keira sneers. “There’s something for everyone in Vegas. But
no worries, Gracie, I’m sure Lucifer will call for you soon enough.”

I beat my head back against the headrest and exhale loudly.
“I saw him,” I say. “Noah.”

The car screeches to a halt on the shoulder, kicking up a
dust cloud behind us. “When? How is he?” Keira leans across the stick shift to
interrogate me. She lowers her designer sunglasses, and her dark eyes reflect
concern and something else. Maybe longing.

“Good, I guess. He’s got a throne room like Lucifer’s right
in my own house. Apparently no one else can see it for what it is. Lucifer
offered me up as a servant, but he sent me away. He didn’t want me. He wanted
you.” I try not to sound bitter.

“Me? He asked for me?” Keira’s voice grows shrill with
excitement and a healthy dose of fear. We both know her feelings for Noah must
remain a secret from Lucifer.

“Lucifer said no,” I tell her. Keira sinks back into her
seat, looking defeated, but she straightens up quickly, as if it never happened.
“How’s it going with Randy?” I ask about her current assignment, an extremely
hot guy meant to make her forget about my brother. She pulls back out onto the
road, cutting off another car and quickly leaving it far behind.

She shrugs. “Boring, but nothing I can’t handle.”

We remain silent as she pulls into the valet at the newest
and most expensive casino there is. Lavish waterfalls and fountains dance in
time to the music that seems to come from all around us as we walk between and
beneath the spouts of water toward the enormous glass doors.

I can’t help but think that Keira looks like she belongs here as
she struts confidently through the entrance and up to the front of the VIP
line. Me? I feel just as lost as ever, trailing behind. I wonder if somehow
that man was able to make it on time to stop the wedding. Maybe the girl didn’t
want to see him. Maybe it was a good thing I delayed him.

But it can’t be good if Lucifer wanted it to happen. The more
I let myself dwell on what I do for Lucifer, the worse I feel, and yet I can’t
seem to stop myself no matter how hard I try.

Keira grins at the man behind the counter, who she’s
obviously just glamoured, and hands me a golden keycard. “It’s the penthouse
suite,” she says with a wink, and leads me off toward the giant elevators
encircling a fenced-off atrium, where a large white tiger rests on top of a
flat rock, chewing on a hunk of meat.

“Nice kitty,” Keira says with a whistle as we enter one of
the glass lifts.

“Isn’t it dangerous to keep it in the middle of a crowded
hotel?” I ask, unable to tear my eyes away from the rapidly shrinking form
below.

“Probably. But they have state-of-the-art security. And
insurance.” Keira pushes the button repeatedly, as though we aren’t traveling
fast enough for her taste.

“I feel bad for him,” I say as the doors open to a sweeping
hallway flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows. I’m glad I’m not afraid of heights;
there’s only a nearly invisible glass wall between myself and the view. We’re
thirty-eight stories up.

“He’s probably better off than if he were in the wild,”
Keira says, tapping her keycard against the double doors. “Give a little, get a
little. That’s how the world works.”

She leads the way inside, and I gasp at the enormity of it.
The same full window-wall view reveals the sunset over a million twinkling
lights. There’s a long balcony, a sunken living room, a full bar, and giant
triple-size Jacuzzi sitting on a dais near the window.

“There are two bedrooms,” Keira says, tossing her keycard on
the coffee table and kicking off her shoes.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on an assignment?” I ask, coming
to my senses.

Keira shrugs off her dress and heads toward the Jacuzzi,
completely nude, which no longer fazes me. “He’s asleep. There’s a time
difference, and he’s dead-to-the-world drunk. Can’t do anything now, so we
might as well enjoy ourselves. Do me a favor and pour me a drink, would you?”

I grimace but dig around the bar while she fills the tub and
turns on the jets. I set a bottle of champagne down on the edge along with a
glass and snag a second bottle on my way toward the bedroom on the left.