I smell food cooking. Marinara sauce? I enter the apartment. Everything looks the same as the last time I was here, except the stack of Neil Gaiman graphic novels scattered on the coffee table. I jump at the sound of the icemaker kicking in, then exhale, feeling silly. I peek into the kitchen. Two pans on the stove, but no Marcus.
“Marcus?”
No answer. A bad feeling gnaws at my insides. I check the balcony. No Marcus. I reach in my pocket, but realize I left my cell phone on my desk. Maybe he ran up to Persephone’s?
But why wouldn’t he have turned off the stove before he left?
I turn off the burners and search through several drawers to find oven mitts so I can move the marinara to a cool burner. Tucked in a drawer with the dishtowels is a photograph of a woman with white hair straddling a motorcycle, her pose seductive. I squint and take a closer look. Something about her seems familiar. Wait—the woman with Jude at the ice cream parlor. I turn the photo over. Daphne - the biggest mistake of my life. The writing isn’t Marcus’, so I’m guessing Daphne is Aiden’s mistake. But what was Jude doing with her? I put it back in the drawer and toss the mitts on top of it. I need to focus on finding Marcus.
If he’s not in his bedroom, I’ll go back downstairs and text him.
I turn around and collide with the gray-haired demon.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“What are you doing here?” I gasp as I shimmy to the left and back out toward the living room. With a trembling hand, I touch the stone resting against my chest, beneath my shirt and hope it works.
“You’re Lucy Walker, correct?” I’m not sure what I expected, but the kind expression and gentle voice were definitely not it. “I’m Seamus. Seamus McAllister.”
He extends his hand. I ignore it and take another step backward. “What do you want?”
He flashes a sympathetic smile but makes no move to approach me. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m an old friend of your grandmother’s.”
“I don’t think my grandmother would appreciate you breaking into my bedroom in the middle of the night. Twice. What do you want with my mom’s old letters anyway?” I take a quick look behind me. Where is Marcus? “And what’s the deal with you and Jude?”
“Jude.” He nods, his posture drooping. “I was afraid he would get to you first.”
“First? You could’ve introduced yourself anytime, instead of sneaking into my room while I slept.”
His expression is pinched, as if he just ate something awful. “Jude is evil. You know he’s a demon?”
“So are you.”
“But very different than Jude.”
Marcus told me his evil detector didn’t go berserk when Seamus was around. My spider senses aren’t sounding the alarm like they do with Jude, either. “Different how?”
“My powers are likened to those of parlor tricks. Invisibility and illusion.” So that’s why Persephone and Henry’s spells don’t work. “However, Jude is evil of the highest order.”
“What do you mean?” Is he trying to scare me? Because it’s working.
“Jude is your father. You know this?”
“Yes.” I shake my head in frustration, not wanting to get sucked in by his stories. “I don’t understand. What do you want?”
Seamus leans in, his eyes narrowing. “Did you ever wonder where your name came from?
I slide my foot backward. “I…I assumed from my mother.”
“Jude holds the rank of king among demons, and he is said to have been created second only to Lucifer.”
Nausea swirls in my belly. “No, that can’t be…” No wonder Marcus can’t fight the change when Jude is nearby. No wonder Momma went insane.
My chest tightens. I struggle to breathe.
“Jude idolized only one man. Or should I say, demon. And you’re his namesake.”
“Jesus,” I whisper.
“Not quite.” He smirks, then turns and walks into the kitchen. “I need a drink. Do you want something?”
There’s something knowing in his gaze. The room is too hot all of a sudden. I swallow and almost choke. My throat is dry, but there’s no way I’m accepting anything from him. “No, thanks.” Why would Momma allow Jude to name me? She hated him. Then again, maybe he hypnotized her.
Seamus returns a minute later with a glass of orange juice. My throat burns with thirst and I want to rip the glass out of his hands. I try to focus. What did I ask him? Oh yes, the letters.
“Did you know my mom? What…what did you plan to do with her letters, anyway?”
“I met her a couple of times.” He takes another drink from his glass, studying me over the rim, as if he’s waiting for something. A revelation of some kind? I stare at his glass and struggle to swallow, my dry throat making it difficult. I want to open the windows, but am afraid to turn my back on him.
A bead of sweat glides down my back, leaving an itchy tickle in its wake. “I think I will grab something to drink.”
I maneuver around him into the kitchen. I open one cabinet door after another, searching for a glass. Where the heck is Marcus? Did Seamus do something to him?
I stand with the refrigerator door open, fanning myself as I down most of my juice. Lucy. Lucifer. I’ve never given my name a second thought before. It just was. Like my hair is black and my eyes are green. Now it seems like an omen. I refill the glass and bring it with me to the living room.
“What was the truth you wanted my mom to uncover?”
“Your grandmother refused to have another child with Jude. She discovered the depth of his evil shortly after the birth of Zackary. She broke off all ties with him.”
“Uncle Zack?” My voice trails off. I press my hand to my temple, fragments coming to me.
“Your grandmother blamed Jude for Zachary’s death. Despised him for it.”
Pain rips through my belly. The glass of juice slips out of my hand and crashes to the floor as I fall to my knees. “What did you do to me?” I claw at my chest for the amulet, clutch it between my fingers. It’s not helping.
“Zachary was destined to die.” Seamus sighs. “He was the product of evil.” Wait…is Seamus admitting he killed Uncle Zack?
The pain unknots leaving me shaky. I struggle to my feet. My palms start to burn and for the first time, I’m grateful. I turn to face him, ready to turn him into a human fireball. I need to get to Persephone’s. Another blast of pain tears through me and I double over.
“He that is unjust, let him be unjust still.” His monotone voice is hollow and raspy like ancient paper, as if he just aged a hundred years. “And he which is filthy, let him be filthy still.”
I take a step back on unsteady legs and then another. “You’re insane!”
“And he that is righteous, let him be righteous still.” His dead eyes stare at me as I stumble away from him. All kindness is gone. By the time I reach the door, everything starts to spin. I see two of everything. I take an exaggerated step, unsure where to set my foot. My hands splay out as I try to catch myself.
“And I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see,” Seamus calls out urgently.
My face connects with the floor. Pain shoots through my skull while the room swirls around me. I call for Marcus, but it comes out a groan.
“And I looked, and behold a pale horse; and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him."
I curl into a ball as my stomach convulses. I writhe and whimper. The pain is horrible. Like shards of glass cutting, cutting, cutting inside of me.
Then everything goes black.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Moonbeams shine through the window, illuminating the room in a soft glow. I hear a noise and turn to see Marcus slumped in a chair next to me, snoring softly.
I want to reach out to him, but don’t have the energy. Sleep pulls me back under.
* * * *
The next time I come to, the sunshine is so bright, it casts a heavenly glow around the room. I tes
t out my limbs, stretching and extending them. I feel good. Incredible, actually. And everything around me looks beautiful. I study the unfamiliar comforter, beige with blue coneflowers, and run my fingers along the scratchy fabric. An orchid sits on the bedside table. White with pink veins running through its delicate petals. Beyond the plant, dust glitters in a ray of sunlight.
“You’re awake.”
Marcus. My smile falls away when I see the dark circles under his eyes. “What’s wrong? You look terrible.”
He chuckles as he scoots his chair closer to the bed. “Well, thank you very much.” His voice is light, but his face is lined with worry. “How are you feeling?”
I study him for a moment, afraid to admit how amazing I feel, not when he looks so awful. “I’m thirsty,” I tell him. “Other than that, I’m okay. Euphoric…if that makes any sense.”
Relief washes over his face. He takes my hand and kisses it—twice—and sets it back on the comforter.
“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.” His voice is thick. “I promised Persephone and Henry I’d let them know when you woke up.”
I watch him walk out the door. What happened while I was asleep? A glass of water sits on the bedside table next to the orchid. I sit up and drink the whole thing.
“It’s good to see you up,” Persephone says as she enters the room. Her expression holds the same frown as always, so I can’t read anything from her.
“What happened to me? And where am I?”
“In my guest bedroom.” She grabs the chair next to my bed, drags it further back and sits down. “How much do you remember?”
I scrunch up my face and stare at the pale blue wall behind her. “I remember trying on my new Homecoming dress, a gift from Jude. I remember a fight…no, not a fight, a disagreement…with my uncles, but I don’t remember why.” I try to focus, but nothing comes. “What happened to my memory?”
“A little alternative medicine, that’s all. How do you feel?” She studies me like she doesn’t trust me to tell the truth.
“I feel good. Fantastic, actually. But…why am I in your apartment? And why do I feel this good? I never feel this way.”
Henry walks in holding a shoebox. The sunlight makes his feline eyes glow. “You were poisoned.”
Poisoned?
“I didn’t get that far yet.” Persephone grimaces.
“Oh.” He waits for Persephone to say more. When she doesn’t, he turns to me. “We found you on the floor of Marcus’ apartment near a puddle of orange juice you vomited.”
“Seriously? That’s gross.” I hope Marcus didn’t see that.
“It helped us save you. Henry tested it on that little fella.” Persephone points to the shoebox. “Belladonna.”
Henry walks around the bed, removes the lid on the box and presents me with a dead mouse.
“Yuck.” I push it away. “Seamus again?”
“Yes.” Henry nods grimly. “Traces of his aura were left behind.”
Persephone rests her elbows on her thighs and leans toward me. “Why did you meet with Seamus without telling us.”
I think back. A jumble of images fill my head: the iridescent purple dress, Sheldon holding a menu, his disappointment. Then…nothing. “I don’t know.”
Henry looks at Persephone. “What I want to know is how he got in without the alarms going off.”
“Get rid of that thing, Henry. Please.” Persephone nods at the box. Henry slips the cover back on and leaves.
“Where’s Marcus? And what do you mean by alternative medicine?”
“I sent him home to get some sleep. If it wasn’t for Marcus, you’d be dead, Lucy. He used everything he had to heal you after we discovered that my magic had no effect.” She fusses with the comforter. “I gave you that amulet to keep you safe, but Seamus outsmarted us again. What I don’t understand is why he turned the thermostat in Aiden and Marcus’ apartment as high as it would go.”
The amazing feeling is gone. I guess I had hoped that Seamus would go away, that I’d only have to deal with Jude. I’m so naïve.
Persephone fixes me with a stern expression. “I couldn’t get Marcus to leave your side for two days. If he doesn’t get proper rest…his own kind of rest…then he gets sick. We can’t risk that.”
“His own kind of rest? What does that mean?”
Persephone pats my arm gently, then rises from her chair and heads to the door. “Don’t worry about Marcus. He will be fine.”
Is that a subtle way of telling me I won’t be?
* * * *
I sense him beside me. Opening my eyes, I can make out his dark shape sitting in the chair.
“Hey. I’m glad you’re back.”
He snorts. “You wouldn’t be if your memory was intact.”
“Why not?” I frown. “And what did Persephone do to my memory?”
“She put a spell on you to erase a few minutes of your memory, so you wouldn’t remember the pain you were in.” His voice catches. “You should thank her. Trust me.”
“Persephone said you saved me,” I point out.
“The whole mess is my fault.” There’s pain and anger in his voice.
“What are you talking about?”
He explains that while he was cooking dinner, he sensed Jude nearby, so he went outside to check the yard and the street. “I kept circling the house. It’s like…he was toying with me. Hiding.” Marcus sighs. “And then nothing. He was gone.”
“I went back to my apartment. And that’s when I found you.”
“In a pool of vomit.” I make a face. “Nice.”
Marcus leans forward, taking my hand.
“Jude knows the effect he has on me.” His grip tightens and I try not to flinch. “I think he and Seamus are working together.”
I try to pull away. “Jude wouldn’t hurt me.”
Even as I say it, I recall Jude’s relentless instruction. Would Gram have worked me until my fingers bled? Maybe a demon parent has different standards than a human parent. What if this was another test? What if Jude helped Seamus poison me because he wanted to see if I’d use my powers to defend myself? I tried to see it from Marcus’ point of view, but it just didn’t make sense.
A silence falls between us, and Marcus releases my hand. “Did you know your mother flat-lined after giving birth to you?”
“What?”
“That was your grandmother’s second clue of the identity of your father.”
“Wait, what was the first?”
“Her insatiable craving for rare steak.”
My stomach swirls with nausea.
“The doctors were able to save her, but it was clear within forty-eight hours that something was drastically wrong.”
I stare at him, my insides turning cold with fear. “Why? What happened?”
“Your mother attempted suicide.”
I shudder. “Her wrists.” I had seen the scars.
He rises from the chair and retrieves something from the dresser, which he hands to me. He turns on the table lamp. It’s a photo of me and Gram, when I was a baby.
“The night she gave this photo to me…she said that here, in this house, we don’t abandon our family. We do whatever it takes to protect them.”
I trace Gram’s image with my finger.
He sits down with a heavy sigh. “It was inevitable—”
“What was?”
“That I’d fall in love with you.” His voice is barely a whisper. “She told me stories about you, from your summers here with her to details she would learn from your mother. I sat with her when she read your letters. Sometimes they made her cry.”
My throat burns, but I fight the urge to cry. It didn’t have to be that way. Gram could’ve moved me up here—I would’ve come in a heartbeat. I don’t want to fight about the past though. I can’t change Gram’s decision so I focus on the present.
I think back to what he said a few minutes ago. “I don’t believe Seamus teamed up with Jude. We both read the letter he
wrote to my mom. Seamus hated Jude.”
“That letter’s pretty old, Lucy. Who knows what’s happened since then. And if Jude isn’t working with Seamus, then why did I feel his presence right before Seamus showed up?”
Good question. A coincidence? What if Jude ignored my request and is still spying on me?
“Maybe it’s the crows.”
“Yeah…on the subject of birds.” Marcus looks at me uneasily. “You should know. Serenity took off two days ago. She hasn’t come back.”
“Jude has Lola and Serenity?”
“Persephone’s been able to get a read on Serenity, but it’s faint. He’s killing the ravens.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
-Jude Morgan-
“Where is she?” I glance at Aiden. “It’s the third quarter. You assured me she would be here.”
The stands are packed for the St. Aquinas Homecoming game and we’re sitting dead center. I don't like it here. It’s noisy and crowded. The seats are uncomfortable and if the man behind me doesn’t quit digging his knee into my back, he’s going to wind up losing it. I comb through the crowd, searching for Lucy.
Her uncles are sitting several rows to my right, but there’s no sign of her or the winged one.
“She's supposed to be here,” Aiden says. “She wanted to show support for the Douglas boy.”
Sometimes I question Aiden’s usefulness.
I turn my attention to the field and zero in on Dylan Douglas in time to see him throw his third touchdown pass of the game. Soon he will belong to me.
“Why don't you tell Lucy the truth?” Aiden keeps his voice low “It would improve your relationship with her considerably.”
I spot Pierce and Alana Douglas in the first row, their useless brats jumping up, fists pumping the air as they cheer on their older brother.
“Let her think the worst of me. A little fear is motivating,” I tell him, as my gaze returns to Dylan. It’s a shame I had to give him up. No matter. Lucy will deliver him to me tomorrow night.
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