by Cindi Madsen
A low growl emanated from him, and I wasn’t sure if it was aimed at me or my ex. He moved his hand to the side of my neck, and the cold, hopeless feeling filled me, and it took all my self-control to not step away.
Sooner or later I was going to have find a way to let Abigor down easy. Probably sooner, and I didn’t think there was actually going to be anything easy about it.
Tristan was already waiting when I arrived at our spot. He immediately pulled me into his arms and kissed me, long and deep, erasing all the stress of the day. This secret-meeting-in-the-woods thing was so working for me.
“Hey,” I said, my lips brushing his as I spoke, and his fingers drifted down my arm to twine with mine.
“Where to?” he asked.
I shrugged. “All the cool hangouts around here are always so crowded. And seriously, have they never heard of AC?”
The grin that spread across his face gave me that fresh-from-the-roller-coaster feeling. “Cheap bastards.” His lips came down on mine again. “My place, then. The rest of the guys should be gone for a while.”
He wrapped his arm around my waist, and I leaned my head on his shoulder as we headed in that direction. “Yay,” I said. “That’ll give us some time for you to teach me more chords on your rat guitar.”
“Man, do I know how to impress the ladies.”
“Ladies, huh?”
“You have enough personality to count as a few,” he teased, although the jealous side of me now wanted to know how many girls had been in his mud hut. Had strummed his guitar and kissed his lips.
But I certainly wasn’t one to talk.
We made the walk, keeping to the shadows as we hurried into Tristan’s mud hut. Tristan grabbed his guitar, pulled me onto his lap, and guided my fingers through the chords I’d learned last time.
After my mini guitar lesson, I stayed on his lap while he played a couple of songs. Then he set the guitar down, and I tugged him back to lie on the makeshift bed. I stared into his face, blissfully happy, wishing I could freeze time and just live in this moment forever.
Too bad my stupid brain wouldn’t shut off. All of a sudden, all I could think about was who he’d loved so much that he was willing to make a deal that sent him to Hell. Was it another girl? Had he been in love? I thought I had been in love before, but I hadn’t, not like that. Not enough to give up something as valuable as my soul.
Afraid my questions would explode out of me, I bit my lip, trying to think about something else. Anything else.
I could just ask who.
Tristan put his hand on the side of my face and ran his thumb along my jaw. “You look like you’ve got somethin’ on your mind.”
Here was my opening. The perfect chance to ask. Unless he got upset. Who’d want to talk about why they were in Hell? I hadn’t even been banished here permanently and I didn’t like talking about it.
My mind spun for something I could tell him that wouldn’t ruin the afternoon that’d been perfect before my brain tried to ruin it. “I wish it could always be like this. Just you and me, no one lecturing us on how to get people to sin or which demon reinforcements to call for.”
“I could get down with that.”
“How long have you been going to Hell High?”
He flashed me a crooked grin so adorable it plucked at my heartstrings the same way his fingers had strummed that guitar. “Hell High?”
“That’s what I call it. Even if some of the people have to be in their thirties, at least, and I bet some of them have been that old for a long, long time.”
“I’ve almost completed my year. Then I get to decide if I’m going to put what I’ve learned to use and help drag more souls down here, or if I’ll go back to work full-time.” Solemnness crept into his expression. “I’m going to choose the work option.”
I propped myself up on my elbow. “But the work…? You know that I don’t want an altar built for me, right? That’s all my dad’s doing, and I’m going to try to get him to stop it.”
“Eh, it’s not so bad. In fact, it’s a lot better than a lot of the other work I’ve had to do.”
Sadness spread throughout my body, touching my organs one at a time until they were all wilting and aching. I didn’t like to think about him working on the altar, and I definitely didn’t like the thought of anything worse than that.
He tugged me back down, hugged me tight to him, and brushed my hair off my face—I’d worn it down today, maybe just for him, minus the maybe. “Don’t worry about it. For now I only have to do it on the weekends.”
“But I do worry. And if you’re going to have to go back to it full-time…” I traced the curve of his biceps with my fingertips. “Would it be so bad to go to Earth and tempt people? They’d still be able to choose whether or not they act upon it.”
“I couldn’t do it. Not knowing the damage I could do.” He drove his hand into my hair and wrapped a section around his finger, the black strands standing out against his pale skin. “You couldn’t do it either.”
I sucked in a deep breath and then slowly let it out. “I don’t know. I’d like to say that I wouldn’t, but if my other option was doing slave labor—”
“You wouldn’t.”
I wish I had his confidence in me, but I wasn’t so sure. I couldn’t even go a couple days without influencing someone.
Tristan sighed, his sad smile back on his face. “I should probably get you back home before we get busted.”
I hugged him tighter and buried my head in the crook of his neck. “But I don’t want to. I’d rather stay here with you than go home to a big castle and my cushy bed. What does that tell you?”
He ran his fingers down my spine and splayed his hand on the small of my back. “That I’m falling for a mental girl.”
Alternating currents of desire and affection coursed through me, and I lifted my head and grinned at him. Yeah, I’d always fallen fast and hard, but this time it was different.
Okay, so we were in Hell, my father would probably never approve, and a warrior demon would blow a gasket if he found out how close Tristan and I were, so things weren’t exactly perfect.
There was also the tiny matter of getting Tristan to tell me the full story of why he was here. He’d said he wouldn’t agree to tempt and endanger any souls, so surely that meant he was a really good guy. But he’d somehow ended up here anyway. Which left me dying to know what kind of deal he’d made.
Stupid brain. Would it be so bad to just let me enjoy the moment for a few more minutes?
Twenty-Six
I crept down the staircase and strained to hear the conversation in the living room. Sounded like Dad and Baal were having one of their meetings, where Baal gave the rundown in a monotone voice and Dad hemmed and hawed and occasionally demanded better.
I tiptoed across the foyer and turned down the hall of nightmares, keeping my gaze straight ahead to avoid the morbid pictures lining the wall. Once I reached the door to the tech room, I paused again to listen. Not even the sound of voices drifted my way anymore. I’d gone back and forth all afternoon on what to do about Tristan’s past. Not knowing his full story was making me crazy, and it just seemed like I should find out more before I got my heart broken.
Although I was pretty sure it was too late.
Still, I had to know.
Unfortunately, unearthing the truth would require using the tiniest bit of my power to unlock the door. I’ll just do it this once, and then I’ll be done for sure.
Concentrating all my energy on the image of the bolt sliding free, I snapped my fingers.
The door didn’t magically swing open, so I gripped the handle and twisted and pulled. “Come on. I only need in for a second.”
The door didn’t budge, even when I yanked with all my might.
Maybe it’s for the best. I wouldn’t want to be the crazy girl who didn’t respect Tristan’s privacy.
Except when you think about it, I’d be doing him a favor. That way he doesn’t have to rehash a pain
ful subject.
Staring a bolt in the eye made me feel stupid, but I tried it anyway. “Open.”
Nothing.
For good measure, I demanded the door unlock and open while snapping my fingers again. “Stupid.” Tug. “Piece.” Twist. “Of.” Twist and hip check. “Sh—”
“Anything I can help you with?”
I jumped at the sound of the familiar deep voice and quickly spun around. “Jeez, Dad! Give me a heart attack, why don’t you?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why, Lily, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were acting awfully guilty.”
“I… I just thought I’d check out the tech room. See what I can see.”
“I want to show you how we run things down here. All you need to do is ask.”
“Well, I, um, wanted to check up on Mom, and I didn’t know how you’d feel about that.”
The mention of Mom sapped the smugness right out of him, replacing him with a remorseful, reminiscent version of my father that I’d never seen before. “You might not believe this, but I loved your mother. In fact, I think that’s what made me able to have you. I realize this…arrangement hurt Rachel, but I never meant to make her life harder.”
“What happened with you guys, anyway?” Remembering he often went into too much detail, I threw my hands up. “Just the breakup part. Not the…you know.”
“Story as old as time. It was love at first sight, followed by an intense, fast and furious relationship, and then she found out that I was the devil. After that, it didn’t matter what else I said.”
The air of confidence usually filling his voice was gone, so I didn’t bother correcting the story-as-old-as-time thing. I could hardly believe it, but the mix of sorrow and regret made it clear that he’d cared.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t realize that you genuinely loved her.”
“Yes, well, it made me too soft anyway. I didn’t know how to have a relationship and…” Dad waved away his words. “It never would’ve worked. It was stupid to think that maybe…”
A hard mask descended, effectively shutting down the inkling of vulnerability he’d shown. “So to get into the tech room manually, you enter the code over here.” He flipped up a panel, revealing a keypad.
“Don’t tell me,” I said. “The code’s six, six, six.”
He actually rolled his eyes, which gave me an odd sense of pride. “Six is the first digit, then one, four, three.”
Mom’s birthday and mine. Too big of a coincidence to be just that.
The bolt disengaged, and he opened the door for me. “You can check up on Rachel whenever you want to, but you can only call if I approve it. I’m afraid letting you talk to your mom on the phone too much will mess with your progression here.” He tapped a finger to his lips. “But I suppose it has been a while since you last talked to her, and she probably is worried.”
I’d come to find out about Tristan, but I couldn’t pass up a chance to talk to Mom. A squeal escaped my lips. “You’ll let me talk to her?”
Dad gave one sharp nod, turned toward the multiple screens on the wall, and raised his voice. “Rachel Lynn Becker.”
Mom’s profile came up.
weaknesses: wine, self-esteem, easily influenced, overspending
Dad pivoted his back to me, blocking whatever he’d typed into a numeric keypad to the left of the larger one. “Hit this red button to call, and it’ll connect. I set it for a ten-minute call.”
He walked out of the room but didn’t close the door behind him.
Below Mom’s picture were hyperlinked days of the week, along with folders showing older dates month by month. Two of the hyperlinks were a different color, which I assumed meant someone had already selected them.
I sat in the cushy computer chair and clicked on the first one. Video footage showed Mom visiting several churches. The feed didn’t show what happened inside the church, but I knew what she was trying to do: find a way to bring me back home.
Her eyes weren’t as puffy and red as the last time I’d seen her, but she didn’t look like her usual glowing self either.
Watching the clips made me yearn to hear her voice even more, so I hit the red button.
“Hello?” Mom answered, her voice coming through a small speaker above the keypad.
“Mom, it’s me.”
“Lily?” She launched into question after question, rapid-fire style.
As soon as I assured her I was mostly fine, she told me she was trying to find a way out of the custody agreement, but that the biggest hurdle was that no one believed her—none of the religious folk wanted to believe a child of the devil was possible. One priest had even tried to set up an exorcism for Mom, a couple of other clergymen had given her the names of counselors, and she’d received a handful of offers from others who claimed she could be saved using varying methods, some of which included money and others a simple dunk in the water.
But no solutions to get the daughter they didn’t believe existed—at least not in the capacity Mom was talking about—out of Hell.
“Mom, it’s okay,” I assured. “I don’t want them to throw you in a mental institution or anything, and really, it’s not so bad here.”
The gasp came through loud and clear, and her words came out an octave higher than usual. “He’s brainwashing you! I knew this would happen. I had you blessed and baptized into several religions, tried to make sure you knew better, and he’s still gotten to you.”
Jeez. For the first time I felt sorry for Dad. Obviously he’d never gotten over Mom. Not that I thought she should’ve settled and played house with Satan, but the lines weren’t as black-and-white as I’d once thought, and I told her so.
“That’s what he does, honey,” Mom said. “He uses his charms to make you think he cares, but he only cares about himself, and if you cross him, he’ll snap. Trust me, I’d know. When I told him I wouldn’t join him after you were born, he…” Her thick swallow carried over the line, as did the tremble in her voice. “He got violent with me. I’d just had a baby, and I thought he was going to…” Her fear drifted across the line, and I hated that I couldn’t see her face. “He’s not hurting you, is he?”
Only once, when he’d choked me with his mind after I’d dared him to do his worst. Enough to show me he could lose his temper and get physical in the space of a second or two. The fact that he’d hurt Mom sent a fresh wave of hatred through me.
Not wanting to worry her more than she already was, though, I bit back my anger and kept the one physical altercation we’d had to myself. “I’m fine, Mom. It was rough at first, and of course I miss you like whoa. But I’ve got it easy compared to everyone else here, and Dad’s doing his best to take care of me.”
A timer beeped, and sixty seconds appeared on the screen, ticking down. Which meant the FaceTime capacity had to be available, but Dad didn’t want it enabled.
“I’m out of time, Mom,” I said. “I love you, and I’ll call whenever I can.”
“Love you, too.”
The last few seconds ticked down, and the call disconnected. I stared at the screen for a moment, longing for my old life once again. Then I did my best to shake off those thoughts and feelings.
On to the original project… If Mom had seen Dad’s profile, she could’ve stopped herself from falling for him before it was too late. It was probably already too late with Tristan, but I told myself if he’d done something truly unforgivable, I’d be strong enough to walk away.
Another thought popped into my head, and curiosity got the best of me. “Pull up Lily Grace Becker.”
The screen scrolled through a bunch of names, but my profile didn’t come up. “How about Lilith Grace Becker.”
Nothing.
I groaned, the likely solution hitting me. “Lilith Grace Master-of-Darkness.”
That pulled me right up. My picture and stats, and then there at the bottom, was the information I was searching for.
Weaknesses: too trusting, mother
I w
asn’t sure if that meant who my mother was, or if it meant Mom was a weak spot for me.
bad boys, overly curious, impulsive, half-demonic
The half-demonic thing stung a bit even though it wasn’t exactly untrue. And was it just me, or did my list seem longer than most? Below my weaknesses there was a special note about my abilities and how my influence could be used to tempt people into making bad decisions. Okay, so it was fairly accurate. Which meant Tristan’s profile would be, too.
“Show me the profile for Tristan Slate.”
His picture blipped onto the screen. His sandy-colored hair was longer, and he was a little scrawnier than he was now, while still cute in that rugged way. The word damned in bold red letters stood out across the top.
Under that were his weaknesses: con man, thief, no religion, family
The word family was highlighted. A special note was attached to his, too, and I scrolled down to read more.
Then froze when I heard footsteps approaching.
“Rachel Lynn Becker,” I said, and the screen changed back to Mom’s profile a mere second before Dad stepped into the room.
“Did you have a good talk with your mother?” he asked.
“Yeah. Thanks for letting me talk to her.”
“Is she still running around to every church, trying to get a crusade going to come down here and get you back?”
I drummed my fingernails on the arm of the chair. “I told her not to bother.”
A self-satisfied smile curved his lips, and bitterness churned through me. He’d hurt Mom, and he thought he was getting to me, too.
“For her sake,” I said. “I don’t want her stressing over something she can’t change. I can do my time, and then she and I will never have to deal with being separated again. Bonus, you’ll never be able to hurt her again.”
