by Nina Harper
“So someone cooked the books,” Beliel said. “Who?”
Marten shook his head. “There are a number of possible candidates,” he said slowly. “I wouldn’t want to implicate someone who is innocent because they had the opportunity and the knowledge to do this.”
“That would include you, would it not?” Beliel asked, arching an eyebrow.
“No, that would not include me,” Marten answered quietly. “I did not have access to the Treasury at all, let alone the accounting programs, until Mephistopheles called me in. And I would be too easy to trace in the Akashic, had I done so.” Here he nodded to the Librarian, who stirred coffee with great deliberation.
“Is that true, Alwynd? Would you be able to trace that misuse if a mortal were involved?” Marduk attempted to redirect the questioning.
The Librarian drank the coffee and set down the cup before making a reply. “Indeed,” he said, and the voice was distinctly male. “If any mortal creature with a soul were involved in the theft, it would be clearly indicated in the Records. I have searched thoroughly, through time as well as worlds, and there is no indication of any mortal involvement. I have set my seal to the statement appended to this report.”
“I haven’t seen the report,” Beliel snapped. “What is your conclusion?”
The Librarian appeared pained. “As I just said, no mortal was involved. This embezzlement is entirely within the Hierarchy. My role was to search for any indication at all, not only of mortal guilt but of knowledge. If a souled entity even knew about the plot and thought of it at any time, that thought would be recorded in the Akashic. No such record exists.”
“So it had to be a demon?” Marduk asked.
“Or an angel,” Alwynd corrected him gently. “But more likely a demon.”
“And some of us are both,” Mephistopheles acknowledged dryly. Satan’s lieutenant nodded graciously at Marten. “Please continue with your conclusions.”
“The culprit was clearly part of a larger conspiracy,” Marten resumed. “That is indicated both by the amounts and the time in which they were taken. This individual is adept at accounting, and has access to Treasury records.”
“So it is someone in the Treasury,” Beliel mused. “Possibly rather high up.”
Marten shook his head. “Begging your indulgence, I believe not. Someone involved in this kind of deception does not want attention. This kind of ongoing siphoning of funds is best accomplished by a fairly low-level functionary infiltrated into an organization. Not invariably, of course, but that is the general pattern.” His face was pale and I wondered if he were worried about rebuking a demon of Beliel’s rank.
“So all we know is that someone with access is doing this?” Beliel sneered. “An inside job?”
Marten swallowed and his eyes were tense. “Yes. But if you note the report, I have all the dates of the transactions and where they occur in the books. So it will most likely be someone who was present on these dates.”
“I see. Very helpful,” Beliel sounded unimpressed.
“It is,” Meph said softly. “We can narrow down the possibilities to a handful here and get to the bottom of this now.”
Marduk said nothing. He sat like his statue in stone in the Temple of the Kings, his face was the same color gray.
“Finding the low-level clerk responsible will not give us the demon who gave the orders,” Beliel announced. “It is still the responsibility of the Head of Department to rectify the situation and make restitution or answer for the wrongdoing.”
“And I am in the process of rectifying the situation,” Marduk announced.
But Beliel shook his head and raised a gloved hand.
“Too little too late. As the Head of Security, I arrest you for embezzlement.”
Three oversized demons in gray and black uniforms with high collars and tight pants that showed off their powerful thighs marched into the conference room and surrounded Marduk. One grabbed the ancient god’s hands, but Marduk shook them off and rose. “You have the wrong demon, Beliel,” Marduk said. “But I will come quietly. For now.” And he marched out, trailing the Security goons behind him as if they were an indifferent honor guard.
Which left Marten, Meph, and me. And the Librarian, who rose gracefully and bowed in Mephistopheles’ direction. “If I can be of further assistance, do let me know,” he said. “But I believe my presence here no longer serves any purpose, and work awaits.”
“I have a question,” I said. “About several mortals—Craig Branford and Steven Balducci, in particular, and a group called the Knight Defenders. Did you run across them while you were looking for information on the Treasury?”
The Librarian gave me a thoughtful look and steepled his fingers. “Interesting. Those names are not unfamiliar. I can’t tell you offhand what the relationship is, but I can look into it further if you’d like.”
“Thank you, but I believe one of your colleagues already has an assignment to do that. I just don’t think she was looking for any connection with the Treasury. I’ll let her know.”
“If I can be of any other assistance?” the Librarian asked. “Otherwise I should return to my research.”
Meph nodded and waved his hand, and the Librarian disappeared without even the scent of sulfur in the air.
* * *
“If they were human, I would suspect Beliel,” Marten volunteered. “Setting Marduk up, ready to attack him immediately, instead of getting to the bottom of the problem.”
“I think it is beyond suspicion,” Mephistopheles said softly. “Beliel just showed his hand. He’s obviously been setting up Marduk for years, angling for exactly this moment.”
“But why would he challenge you?” I asked Meph.
“Maybe he doesn’t plan to challenge Mephistopheles,” Marten said softly. “Maybe he only wants to eliminate the competition at his own level. Marduk was his major rival. Baal-Beryth is the Master of Ritual and Pacts, but he isn’t interested in the politics of Hell. He wouldn’t care if he was ranked under Beliel so long as he retained control over all ritual matters. Everyone knows that Moloch isn’t a real power, he’s only accepted as a courtesy because Satan is so delighted with his airlines. So if Beliel can eliminate Marduk, he’s in a position just under Mephistopheles.”
“But he is anyway, so I don’t see where he has anything to gain,” I mused, not certain where things were going, but filled with icy terror. If Beliel was responsible for all our problems, then where would that leave Eros? How could I face her, let alone tell her what her friend? mentor? lover? had done.
“Marten, does my department have all the detailed information?” Mephistopheles interrupted my speculation.
“Of course.”
Meph sighed slightly. “Then I will begin to run the analyses. I’ve got enough demon power to narrow the list in a few hours if we get on it immediately. And I need to get there before Beliel does. So—I hear the two of you have a reservation at Per Se? Please do blog it for me. I’ve been meaning to go there for ages but things are a little too volatile right now.”
Somehow he went from being the second most powerful demon in Hell to an overworked CEO trying to save the company before the shareholders found out something bad and dumped stock. (Come to think of it, I must have been listening to Sybil if I could think of a metaphor like that.)
Then, with no effort at all, we were standing outside the restaurant. It was still chilly, though whether that was the weather or the situation was unclear. We walked in and our table was ready immediately. The food looked amazing, and if Marten hadn’t suggested that we share everything I would have had an impossible time choosing. As it was, I had only a slightly impossible time before settling on the pompano.
I was just happy being in Marten’s company again. I had missed him horribly since I’d left Aruba, and now being with him I was more aware than ever just how badly I’d fallen for the guy.
“So do you really think that Beliel is setting up Marduk?” I asked when the waiter dis
appeared, mostly to make conversation. “And why was I invited?”
“I expect that you were invited because Marduk likes you,” Marten said. “He certainly didn’t expect what happened there. I’m not sure he expected Beliel at all. But Lily, I did not invite you to dinner to discuss the politics of Hell.
“I want to talk about us.”
I don’t have much experience with relationships, but one thing I had learned from listening to my girlfriends and reading Trend was that men do not initiate relationship talks. They do not like talking about their feelings, and they especially do not discuss anything so early. Especially a guy like Marten, who mainly picked up tourists for quick flings that would end in four to seven days when she got on her plane (or cruise ship) and disappeared. No, Marten was definitely what Sybil would call commitment phobic.
“So I have thought about this since I watched your plane leave,” Marten said. “I know it’s difficult and there are issues we would have to work out, but if you are willing I do not see them as insurmountable.”
“No, they aren’t,” I agreed easily enough. He’d made it clear that he was interested in a real relationship. That thought made me feel warmer and happier than I would have imagined. Not that I had any illusions that Marten was real boyfriend material. He didn’t do relationships any more than I did.
Yes, of course I wanted to date Marten. Even if he did live in Aruba and distance would be a difficulty. We had airplanes. We had MagicMirror.
“So you are saying yes?” He looked happy and a little dazed.
“Of course,” I enthused.
Then he pulled out a jewelry box and I realized what I might have missed. A box. A ring.
And then the words, “Lily, will you marry me?”
I almost fainted when he opened the box to reveal a Cartier setting, a two-carat diamond set in a glittering pavé band.
chapter
THIRTY-ONE
Marten was asking me to marry him. Which would mean becoming mortal. I was dazed, utterly shocked. This was the last thing I had expected.
Mortal. Me. If I were mortal Nathan would want me back. He would be the boyfriend I’d always wanted. If I married Marten. I could be the woman Nathan wanted if I married him, too, but he wasn’t asking.
My head was swimming and I felt like I was going to choke. My stomach clenched although the entrées we had just been served looked gloriously enticing. I didn’t know what to say, what to do. I wanted to talk to my girlfriends. Who else would understand?
“You know, if I marry you I could become mortal,” I told him. “It’s in my contract with Satan. I could reclaim my soul.”
Marten went dead white. “I love you as you are, Lily. I do not wish you to change.”
My food was cooling in front of me, but I couldn’t force myself to take even a forkful. Meph was going to be very disappointed.
“You want me as a succubus?” I asked, incredulous. “That means I’m going to keep having sex with a lot of men. And I won’t age or be able to have children.” From what Sybil had told me, these were all things that would upset a mortal man. Well, maybe not the never aging thing.
But Marten shook his head. “I am not interested in monogamy, Lily. Perhaps I have not made this clear. I do not plan to be monogamous and I do not expect you to be either. These are some of the things that we would need to work out. Also, my own life span is much longer than mortal now and I have very little soul left. If you were to become mortal, I would lose you in sixty or seventy years perhaps? And I have at least six hundred on my current contracts.
“Unless I reclaim my soul, I have a long time left as a magician, and after that I will become a demon. A very highly placed demon, I might add, worthy of one of Satan’s Chosen. Already I am the right hand of Mephistopheles, and I intend to stay there. I propose a marriage of powers of Hell, not a union between simple mortals. Not a little house and children and vacations to the beach. I am talking about something much more.”
“And much less,” I said, disappointed to the bottom of the soul I had bargained away.
“No, not less,” Marten said. He reached across the table and touched my hand. I wanted to pull away, angry that he wanted me only as a demon accomplice. But he held my fingers and stroked my wrist. “I love you. I love who you are, Lilith the succubus, the magazine editor, the New Yorker. I would not ask you to be any less or different than you are. And I would not wish to be any different than I am. But I do want you always, in my life.”
It was too much, too soon, and yet I couldn’t say no. The thought of that was devastating, far more than I would have imagined.
But what to do? What to say? Sybil would say to marry him and sort it out later. Come to think of it, Desi might say the same. Eros would point out that he was not only amazing in bed, but wasn’t about to limit my other lovers. They would all tell me to say yes.
I hadn’t touched a bite of my dinner. The waiter came, cleared the plates and brought something delicate and chocolaty for dessert. I was entirely unable to eat.
“I want to say yes,” I started carefully. “I’ve been falling in love with you, but this is a little overwhelming. I mean, marriage? We’ve only known each other for six weeks and I didn’t even know that you weren’t interested in a more traditional marriage. I think we need to get to know each other a little better before we make this commitment.”
“Then say yes,” he said. “It can be provisional. You are right, we have not known each other long, and there are other issues as well. Like the fact that you are not about to leave New York and I must stay in Aruba, at least for the current time. And honestly, I like Aruba and my life there and I have no desire to leave Paradise. We will have to make some decisions. I have no interest in traditional marriage in any case; as I said, I have no interest in monogamy. Or children. But, Lily, I have never met a woman before that I have wanted to be with for more than a month or so. I have never felt the way I feel about you. And I want to know that you will be there to try to work things out between us.”
This was not possible, and yet it was happening. The words were out of my mouth before I could think about them. “Yes, then. Provisionally. With negotiations to follow. But I certainly commit to the negotiation process. Yes!”
I felt giddy and scared and suddenly there was champagne, which I barely tasted as I gulped it. Although I’d hardly touched a bite of the food, I was not even the tiniest bit tipsy.
Marten slipped the diamond on my finger. How had he known I wore a size four ring? It sparkled so brilliantly that I could barely tear my eyes away. Our waiter and his two assistants brought over a serving of truffles with Congratulations written in caramel sauce across the plate. I heard faint applause and suddenly realized that the other diners had become aware of what was going on.
I was—engaged. Oh my goodness, I was engaged to be married, with a big fat diamond on my left hand. I was so overwhelmed that I was numb. And I really wanted to talk to my girlfriends and know that they thought I hadn’t done something completely idiotic.
I didn’t get to see the girls until brunch. I wanted to call Sybil and tell her about Beliel, but I was terrified to. What would happen with Eros? How could we tell her? And Beliel was smart and careful—I was certain he hadn’t left any traces of his involvement with the Burning Men or the kidnapping. If he had been behind it. I really didn’t have any proof. The fact that Beliel had arrested Marduk did not make him immediately responsible for the other events, which Eros would point out to me immediately.
I didn’t have any hard evidence but the coincidences were overwhelming. I felt like a Ping-Pong ball, going back and forth between my terror and confusion about Beliel and Meph and my terror and elation about my engagement. My provisional engagement, that is.
Danielle noticed the ring as soon as I stepped off the elevator on Friday. She dragged me into her office, wanting all the details, and wouldn’t even let me drink my coffee while it was still hot.
“But this is perfection,
Lily,” she announced when I finally paused for a sip. “He does not require you to be exclusive, so you might continue to hope for Nathan as well. Although Nathan does not seem the type to be amenable to such a civilized agreement. You will have to see.”
I shrugged. “Nathan and I aren’t dating. That was his choice.”
I felt oddly distant from Nathan, as if he had been someone I’d known in a dream. If I thought too much I would probably become upset, but here on my hand was the proof that Marten (sophisticated, smart, hunky Marten) loved me. Yeah, we had a lot to work out, but that wasn’t the issue just yet. Right now it was enough to know that someone loved me enough to ask.
After three thousand years, I wasn’t quite sure I believed it, that I wouldn’t wake up and discover that I’d dreamed the dinner at Per Se.
Maybe I’d dreamed the meeting, too.
I didn’t get much work done. Every time I tried to pay attention to the needs of a future article, the sparkle on my hand distracted me. It was beautiful.
On Saturday morning I called Sybil. Thinking about Beliel and wondering whether he was actually responsible for the attacks had kept me up all the night before and I had to talk to one of my friends.
“Vincent is here,” Sybil said. “I was taking him to Barneys. But if it’s urgent we can meet for lunch at 212.” 212 was a nice Art Deco place in the East Sixties, very convenient to her destination.
“Can we be private?” I asked. “I mean, I know you have a date so I shouldn’t ask, but this is Hell politics and—”
“Of course,” Sybil agreed. “Shall we say one?”
At one o’clock I was waiting at one of the small tables while Sybil gave Vincent a peck on the cheek before she rushed inside. The brunch menu was not as varied as Public’s, though the bar boasted one of the best vodka collections in New York. But when I saw the salad with caramelized pear, fennel, and pistachios I didn’t care what else was available. I was so wound up I wasn’t sure I would be able to eat at all. Dinner last night had been a couple of crackers and a few indifferent spoonfuls of ice cream.
