Soul Conquered

by Lisa Gail Green

  Great. That means I’m stuck with Dad for at least twenty minutes.

  I plug in my earbuds, indicating I don’t feel like trying to talk, and stretch out my legs. I’m pretty intent on my fingernails, which I’ve bitten down to stubs, when I get that feeling someone’s watching me. I glance up, figuring Dad doesn’t get the hint, only to find Grace staring at me with her big brown eyes. Only…they’re different. It isn’t the faint tinge of red around the irises—that was there last time I saw her. It’s the dark sunken skin around them.

  I jerk up in my seat, but Grace’s gaze darts over to Dad, who leans back in his own chair, eyes shut. She rises and leaves the waiting room. This time I’m not furious at her presence. Maybe I’m getting used to her. I’m curious as to why she’s here. So I mumble something about using the restroom and follow her out into the hall.

  “Grace?” I call when I see no sign of her in either direction.

  “I’m here,” she answers after a pause long enough to make me doubt my sanity. She’s propped open the door to some tax consultant’s office.

  I follow her into the empty office. I guess it’s off-season for this guy. I stop just past the threshold and wait.

  We stare at each other for awhile before she speaks. “You aren’t going to send me away again?” she asks with some edge.

  “That depends. You going to start lecturing me?”

  Her shoulders droop, and she deflates like a balloon, shaking her head. “I’m not going to try and make you something you’re not. Maybe I’m nuts. I don’t know. Maybe Lucifer’s finally gotten to me. But I do want you to know that I don’t blame you. I did this to myself. I get it. And I’m about to get it even more when I leave you.” She laughs at some private joke, but it doesn’t sound very funny. “Anyway, I just have a question for you. All I want is a truthful answer. Can you do that for me? For old time’s sake?”

  I cock my head, purposely not answering. That, dear sister, depends on the question.

  She sighs, nodding. “Well, I’ll ask anyhow. Is this really what makes you happy? Being the Antichrist? Following Lucifer?”

  I can tell she’s trying not to let her emotions show. “It seems you’ve been misinformed,” I say, stuffing my hands in my pockets. “I don’t follow Lucifer. I’m his hand on Earth. I am his equal.” I know full well he’s listening, and I’m pretty sure I just pissed him off.

  Sure enough, the lights flicker, and thunder shakes the foundation of the building. Grace squeals and falls into one of the empty seats. I frown. She never did “get” me. I’m not trying to be a dick to her. I’m talking directly to Lucifer.

  “See?” I say, undeterred. “He doesn’t like it because it’s true.”

  “Why are Mom and Dad here?” Grace asks in a small voice. A voice much more like her old, patronizing tone, the one she always used when she expected me to confess some wrong I’d committed, like breaking the dining room light when I was seven. Her presence is starting to annoy me again.

  “Therapy. They need to get over you. I’m just along for the ride since apparently I’ll never actually be rid of you.”

  Lucifer appears next to Grace. He snaps his fingers and she falls to her knees from the chair, apparently out of pain and not obedience.

  “Cut it out,” I say.

  Lucifer’s eyes narrow, and Grace remains on the floor, gasping for breath. “This is none of your concern. You’ve made it clear you don’t want her. I will do what I want with her.” Lucifer hisses at me, sounding remarkably like a snake, and yanks her up by her hair.

  If he’s trying to throw me off balance, it’s working. I grind my teeth together and clench my fists in my pockets. Stay cool. That’s how you win.

  “I have an appointment.” I turn around and step outside, where I catch the door just before it closes and press my ear to it.

  Lucifer’s rage is focused on Grace, so I know he isn’t paying attention to my whereabouts. He can’t take it out on me, anyway. My stomach sinks, but I scold myself to toughen up.

  “I have a new assignment for you, Gracie.”

  “I thought you were going to punish me now,” she says without much emotion.

  “Who says I’m not?” Lucifer cackles. “Remember your friend? Rhett? His real name is Corbin Treymark, and he’s your next target.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Be yourself. You’re good at putting nice young men over the edge.”

  I nearly yelp when my mother puts her hand on my shoulder.

  “Noah? There you are. Dr. Morris is waiting for you. It’s your turn. Are you okay?” Her eyes narrow in concern. She hasn’t looked at me like that in years. Resentment wars with sorrow inside of me. Why now? I want to scream.

  “If you thought I was, you wouldn’t have brought me here.” I force a grin and brush past her into the office.

  The therapist waits, cleaning the lenses on her glasses. “You aren’t going to fix me,” I offer, sinking into the chair. “But I guess you get paid either way.”

  “I’m not here to fix you, Noah. I’m here to help you, and my time is worth money, so I should at least try.”

  “Mine is, too. But you aren’t paying me.” I fold my arms across my chest and sit.

  “You aren’t here because of me,” she says. “You’re here for your parents who are concerned about you, Noah.”

  I laugh.

  “You don’t believe that? Then why would they bring you here?” She leans forward over her enormous desk and stares me down.

  “I don’t know. Maybe they think it’s what they’re supposed to do. It took them long enough to remember I exist.”

  She stares at me.

  “It’s been almost a year since the accident, and they’ve barely said a word to me since then.”

  “And have you said anything to them?” she asks in an infuriatingly reasonable voice.

  “I’m the kid. They’re the parents.”

  “They’re human. Losing a child is an unbearable loss I hope you never experience. I’m not minimizing what you’ve been through, but I’m wondering if you’ve bothered to consider what they have? I’ve dealt with selfish teenagers before, but according to your school records, you’re an exemplary student. Graduating early? I’m surprised to find you here with a chip on your shoulder.”

  Good grades? Oh. Lucifer did that. “I’m smart. So what? Does that mean I’m supposed to be an emotional robot? Or let everyone walk all over me?”

  She taps a long, fake fingernail on the desk. “Do you have a girlfriend, Noah? Or boyfriend? What do you do in your free time?”

  “Her name’s Keira,” I say.

  She smiles. “Your parents have no idea she even exists, you know. I think you should introduce them. You may be surprised at the outcome. It’ll be good for you to be open with them, and it’ll be good for them to see that you’re moving on past Grace’s death.”

  I wonder what would happen if I blurt out what I really am and all that I’ve seen and done. She’d probably try and lock me up, but Lucifer would get me out. He’d have to. I consider it just to wipe that smug look off her face.

  “I guess it would be pretty interesting to see their reaction if I introduced them to Keira,” I say instead.

  “Give them a chance. They may be more interested in your life than you give them credit for. In any case, that’s all the time we have for today. I prescribe time together as a family. An hour a day—dinner, at least. And I expect a full report this time next week.” She starts tapping at her laptop keyboard in dismissal.

  “Wait a second. I never agreed—” I start.

  “You’re a minor, Noah Howard. You don’t get a say in whether you come here or not. I will see you next week with your parents, and I will ask them what they think of Karen.”

  “Keira.” My vision nearly turns red, and I notice I’m trembling.

  She smiles and repeats the name, then goes back to her keyboard.

  I wonder how Lucifer would feel about me commit
ting another murder.

  Chapter 18

  Grace

  I’ve never been so frightened in my afterlife, and that includes being kidnapped and nearly tortured by a psychopath named Camden. Nothing’s actually happened to me yet, but I’m not sure why—and that’s exactly what makes me uneasy. I know whatever Lucifer has in store is going to be the worst thing I’ve experienced yet, which means it’s got to be pretty bad.

  Rhett’s real name is Corbin, but I’m not supposed to know that. The name won’t help me find him now, anyway—all I have to go on is that he’s in the same hotel. Or at least I hope he is, since he was gambling there the other day. He’s not the only one I have to worry about, though. My first determination is to avoid Randy and that whole debacle at all costs.

  Lucifer deposited me back at the hotel in the restaurant overlooking the tiger’s enclosure. I’m dressed in a tiny little skirt and halter-top. He seems to like me in the Daisy Mae look. I pick at a sandwich and tea, but Corbin never shows, so I walk around the entire hotel and grounds.

  Still nothing.

  Maybe Lucifer’s setting me up so I won’t find him and he can punish me for that, too? That doesn’t seem like his style, though, so I approach the front desk and glamour the receptionist.

  “Corbin Treymark. What’s his room?” I whisper. She immediately checks the computer.

  “There is no Mr. Treymark registered.”

  I think for a moment. “Try Rhett Butler.”

  She types again. “Room 953.”

  “Give me a key.”

  I slip the card in my bra and head for the glass elevator. I repeatedly press the gold-colored button for what feels like an eternity until the lavish doors open and I nearly run headfirst into Randy, who doesn’t make eye contact.

  “Excuse me,” I say.

  He holds the door for me without a word, then lets it slide shut. Did he recognize me? Is he angry? Hurt? By the time I get to the ninth floor, I’m both embarrassed and depressed. But on the plus side, I’m not nearly as edgy as I felt downstairs.

  Corbin’s room is the last one down the hall—a private suite. It’s probably not as nice as our penthouse, but it can’t be too shabby, either. I guess the man has some money. Though I should have figured, having seen him at the high rollers’ table.

  Despite the DO NOT DISTURB sign, I knock.

  Nothing.

  So I take out the keycard and glance around before letting myself inside.

  The sitting room is exactly as I’d expected: TV, sofa, minibar, small kitchenette. But what I see in the master bedroom sets my pulse racing.

  The floor, bed, desk, and walls are covered with printed photos. At first I think it’s me, but then I realize the girl is shorter and a bit heavier, with blue eyes. Still, the resemblance is uncanny. This was no coincidence. Lucifer sent me here for a reason.

  I begin searching frantically, though I’m not sure for what. At least half the pictures are defaced; the girl’s eyes blacked out with marker or cut with precision by a knife or scissors. Finally, my eyes rest on the one photo in the center of the bed. It’s the girl in a wedding dress with another man.

  Both of their eyes are covered with black Xs, and their bodies are slashed innumerable times so that the picture is practically in shreds.

  Shit.

  I turn to leave the room when something catches my eye on the corner of the desk. This time, the girl in the picture looks slightly different. She’s wearing a flesh-colored gown that barely covers her body, very different from the more conservative look she’s sporting in the other photos. Only it isn’t her. It’s me. Me from the other night.

  And my eyes are missing.

  I gasp and run from the room, heart racing as I reach the hallway. There’s no sign of him. So I run back down the hall and to the elevator, which takes me down to the front desk, where I don’t hesitate to glamour the same girl into giving me a room on the first floor. I’d rather run straight out the door and as far away as possible, but if I try that, Lucifer will only make it worse. But maybe I can do something to make this a little easier.

  I head to the shops lining the main floor where I charge as many “normal”-looking clothes as I can find to my new room. Then I find the salon. It’s time for a physical change.

  *

  By the time I arrive at my room hours later, I’m sporting a short-cropped, straight haircut dyed brown, and I’m wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers. I let myself in and head for the bathroom to inspect my new look.

  A stranger stares back at me. I square my shoulders. I guess this is the new me.

  I decide I need a shower to clean off what I saw earlier, so I run the hot water and take my time, trying not to think too hard about Noah or Josh or any of it. When I finish, I wrap a fluffy white towel around myself and head back out to the bedroom to pick out some of my new clothes.

  Except they’re gone. All the bags are gone. I assume Lucifer took them until I realize what’s been placed there instead. Photos are lined up on the bedspread. Pictures of me in the elevator. Me at the tiger’s enclosure, balanced on the edge near Randy. Me at the front desk a few hours ago. Me holding the keycard in an envelope with my room number on it.

  I’m nearly blind with fear when I remember that, no matter what, I’m not alive anymore. He can’t kill me if I’m already dead, right? And I’m a Demon for Heaven’s sake. I nearly laugh with the silliness of it.

  It’s pretty clear why Lucifer sent me to him, though, and what he meant by “be yourself.” I guess I already blew that by changing my appearance.

  But when I turn around to try and find something to wear, I find my old self reflected back at me, long golden curls and all. I touch my head, letting go of the towel, which falls to my feet.

  Lucifer must have done this—but I still doubt he was the one responsible for the pictures.

  I’m stooping to pick up my towel when the closet door swings open and Corbin strides out, a wicked-looking knife in hand. “Don’t bother, Scarlet. We both know you won’t be needing that.”

  Standing slowly, I swallow and long to cover myself, but know Lucifer well enough by now to realize that as long as I’m uncomfortable with my body, he’ll force me into these situations. And so I resist as best I can, standing straight and leaving the towel on the floor. It’s the only way I have to fight back.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, deciding to play dumb. “Are these your pictures?”

  He winks. “You like to dress for attention, Scarlet. You got mine. But you’re just like her, aren’t you? You prefer that black man.”

  Randy. I swallow hard. I don’t want him dragged into this. I’ve done him enough damage already.

  “He was just a passing fancy,” I say. “I’m actually a little flattered you went to all this trouble.” I gesture toward the pictures. “So put the knife down, and we’ll talk.”

  “That’s just it,” he says, stalking toward me until I’m nearly forced onto the bed. “See, I’ve always had these…feelings. I know they’re wrong, but I’ve always wanted to try them out, these fantasies of mine. I thought maybe she could change that, but it seems to be my destiny.” He sets the tip of the knife against my cheek and draws it lightly down to my shoulder.

  “What sort of fantasies?” I ask, trying to remain steady. This guy is a psycho. I doubt stopping that wedding would’ve helped prevent him trying out these “fantasies” for long. I guess Lucifer wanted it all to happen faster.

  He bites his lip, not even pretending to stare anywhere but at my chest. “I want to do things to you, Scarlet. I wanted to do them to her when she chose someone else, but still, I wasn’t sure I could. I wasn’t sure I was capable until I saw you parading around in those clothes.” He draws the tip of the knife down farther, running it against the curves of my body, ending next to my belly. I try not to move, but I can’t seem to quell my trembling.

  “I wear the clothes I wear for myself. Not for you.” Actually, I wear them because Lucifer make
s me, but still…

  “Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. You were meant for me.” He leans forward, breathing the words over my face, and I turn my head, closing my eyes. The tip of the knife presses into my flesh, pricking me. I flinch as a drop of blood trickles, hot and fresh, down my hip. “I know it. You were created to show me the way. You leave broken hearts everywhere. That’s the truth of what happened to the man you were with. But you don’t have anyone who truly cares about you in your life, do you, Scarlet?” he asks.

  I keep my mouth shut tight. What do I say? ‘I know an Angel, but I can’t call him because I don’t want him to fall from Heaven?’ The thought digs an empty hole in my chest.

  “It’s okay. No one will miss you. You’ll always be my first. It’s perfect.”

  It’s the same thing Cam said to me. I feel ill. “You don’t want to hurt me,” I say, trying glamour. But I know it won’t work. Just like I know Lucifer’s taken all my Demon powers away again, for this. His punishment. Layers. I almost laugh. Almost.

  “Oh, but I do. I want to hurt you so badly that I hurt thinking about it. And it’s all I’ve thought about since last night when I bought you that drink. I just didn’t know how easy you’d make it for me. I wouldn’t mind a little challenge, Scarlet.” He leans over me when he whispers the last sentence, his breath hot on my cheek, and I cringe.

  His free hand finds my hair, smoothing it back from my forehead. “I think I’ll keep some of your hair. It’s so much like hers. You know?” He flicks his knife so fast, I gasp. He smiles, holding up a lock of blond curls for me to see. Instinctually, I touch the side of my head.

  “This is going to take time. Lots and lots of time, but we have all the time in the world. I put the DO NOT DISTURB sign out for us. Oh, and I brought tools.” He holds out a finger excitedly, like he wants me to wait while he shows me a puppy or something.

  He pulls a black bag from the closet and tosses it down on the carpet between us. “I’ve been buying it all bit by bit for years. Collecting. You know, just in case I ever really got the nerve to do it.”