The Devil's Angel (Devil Series Book 2)

by Rachel McClellan

  “I’m not unhappy.”

  “Were you happier in New York?”

  “I miss the children at the Academy.”

  "Do you want to go back?"

  “No. This is where I need to be. It’s just taking longer than I thought. Why do you ask?”

  “You’ve seemed distant lately.”

  “Sorry. It’s been frustrating. I didn’t realize this would be so hard.” She twisted a white linen napkin around her hand.

  Lucien adjusted his position to better see her hands. She had the most beautiful, long and slender fingers he’d ever seen. Again he had the feeling he’d seen her before, but he’d met thousands of people in his incredibly long lifetime. They moved in and out of his life like a fleeting breeze, blowing neither hot or cold. He remembered none of them.

  “When someone chooses to withdraw themselves from the world,” Charlie said, “you can’t force them back into it.”

  He rested his hand upon hers, as if to deliberately stop her from fidgeting. This bothered Lucien.

  Eve glanced down at the white linen. “It’s not paper. I can’t tear it up.”

  Charlie smiled at her. “I’m not worried about the napkin, I’m worried about you.”

  “Don’t be. Everything will work out.” She moved her hand away from his and took a drink.

  “But what if it doesn’t? What are you going to do with your life?”

  “I never stress about my future. When you live forever, you don’t really have a future, now do you?”

  The waitress brought their food and set it on the table. At the same time, Lucien’s waiter arrived with his pasta.

  “Can I get you anything else?” he asked.

  Lucien shook his head and thanked the waiter before he walked away.

  What had Eve meant when she said she would live forever? She wasn’t a vampire. Maybe it was an inside joke he didn’t understand? He stirred the pasta and pushed it to the sides of his plate to make it look like he’d eaten some and then returned his focus back to Eve.

  “How long has Michael been with the Deific?” Eve asked, then took a bite of pasta.

  “At least thirty years, if I remember correctly.”

  “And Alana?”

  “Not sure.”

  “Are they really in love?”

  “It’s hard to tell. They’re inseparable, but they never show any signs of affection.”

  Through a mouthful of food, Charlie asked, “What about you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you going to fall in love?”

  Eve squirmed in her seat. “Maybe one day. It’s not really my priority. Besides, I don’t see how that’s possible.”

  Her answer confused Lucien, but Charlie didn’t seem surprised by the remark.

  “Every relationship has its problems,” Charlie said.

  “Yeah, but mine is pretty hard to overcome.”

  It was Charlie’s turn to stare out the window.

  Eve stood abruptly, nearly knocking over her glass of milk. She took three steps over to where a large woman with short curly hair and eyeglasses ate alone. Eve slapped the lady across the face. The woman cried out, stunned, and lifted her hand to her reddening cheek.

  “Eve!” Charlie gasped.

  Two men sitting at a table behind the lone lady also verbally expressed their disbelief. One of them, a tall lawyer-looking man, cursed at Eve.

  In defense, both Lucien and Charlie stood up simultaneously.

  Eve didn’t acknowledge the man as she only was looking at the woman who was crying quietly. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

  She lowered herself back into her chair. Charlie followed suit.

  Lucien remained standing for a few more seconds before he forced himself back into his chair, but he kept his eyes on the man who had sworn at Eve. Why did that bother me so much? It was almost as if the man had directly offended Lucien and not Eve.

  “What was that all about?” Charlie whispered.

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  The waitress walked briskly to their table and dropped a piece of paper onto the table, her face scrunched tight. “Your check. Please leave.”

  Charlie handed the waitress a credit card despite their being plenty of food still on their plates.

  “I guess we’re not welcome here anymore,” he said to Eve after the waitress disappeared with his card.

  “I’m sorry, Charlie. I was just trying to help.”

  “I know you were. We’ll just have to find another place to eat from now on. But we’ll make sure wherever it is, that they have good Alfredo.”

  Eve smiled.

  The waitress returned with Charlie’s card. He scribbled quickly on the receipt and then stood up from the table. Eve walked behind him toward the exit, but when she passed by the woman she’d slapped, she apologized again.

  The same vulgar man at the nearby table hissed, “Whore!”

  His buddy laughed along with them.

  Eve pretended not to hear and caught up to Charlie who was almost out the door.

  As soon as they were gone, Lucien dropped a fifty-dollar bill on his table and crossed the restaurant to Eve’s table. He looked down at the name scribbled on the receipt. Charlie Grant.

  Lucien headed toward the front door, but as he moved past the man who had insulted Eve, he shoved the back of his head hard. The lawyer-looking man jumped to his feet and spun around. He attempted to stare Lucien down, but Lucien let a small part of his vampirism emerge from the pit he caged the monster in. His eyes glimmered a cold black, but just for a second and just enough to scare the hell out of the lawyer.

  The man’s expression changed from anger to fear. Slowly, he sat down without a word. Lucien was glad the lawyer had some common sense. The last thing he wanted to do was cause a commotion in a public place.

  As soon as Lucien was back in the Impala, he called Scott and gave him one more name to research: Charlie Grant. He leaned back into the seat, thinking.

  The conversation between Eve and Charlie had only added to the mystery surrounding Eve. It seemed her purpose for coming to Seattle was to help someone for whom she wasn’t having any success. This meant very little to Lucien. What did disturb him is why she said she could live forever. It was a strange choice of words.

  Across the street, a short woman in jeans and a t-shirt opened the door to the Deific and walked inside. She wasn’t in the usual business attire of the others, nor did she look official in any way. This gave Lucien an idea.

  He cut across the street and opened the same door; a blast of air conditioning blew through his short hair. One of the security guards stood. His arms were crossed at his chest, and in his right hand he tapped a short baton against his shoulder. He was also giving Lucien what was probably his meanest toughest face, yet there was evident fear beyond his eyes’ glossy surface. Somehow he recognized Lucien as a vampire, but that couldn’t be possible, could it?

  One way to find out.

  6

  Lucien casually strolled into the foyer toward the front desk as if he knew exactly what he was doing. The nearly twenty-foot high walls were black, but bright light fixtures hanging from the ceiling made the room seem not as dark as it should’ve been. His footsteps echoed against the white tiled floor. It was a sharp contrast to the steady hum of several computers.

  “Do you need something?” the standing guard asked.

  “Yes, I need an accountant.”

  “We can’t help you.”

  “Aren’t you an accounting agency?”

  The guard who was sitting down looked anxiously to the other.

  “Yes, but our clients are by invitation only.”

  “Then you must be really good,” Lucien said. “I’ll pay whatever you ask.”

  “I’m sorry, but it doesn’t work that way.”

  “Money can’t buy things?”

  “Not us.”

  Lucien’s gaze flickered upwards. A security camera was pointi
ng straight at him. Suddenly he heard the faint whisper of a button being pushed beneath the desk. The guard had triggered a silent alarm.

  “I guess I’m not good enough for your firm,” he said. “I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

  “You do that.”

  Lucien walked back outside into the bright sun. Though he didn’t learn anything new about Eve, one thing was certain—the Deific was not an accounting agency.

  Lucien returned to the hotel after some serious internal dialogue. What the hell was he doing, following around some strange woman? And so what if the Deific wasn’t really an accounting firm? But the most important question, why did he care?

  Inside his hotel room, he dropped into the leather recliner and turned on a movie to try and distract him—a loud, action-packed film. He squirmed in his seat, shifting back and forth, doing all that he could to pay attention. He had to think about something else.

  He was halfway through the movie when his cell phone rang.

  “What did you find out?” Lucien asked Scott.

  “Charlie Grant’s life is an open book. He grew up in New York and has lived there his entire life. His parents divorced when he was seven. He has one sister. He graduated with a master’s degree in education from NYU. He was the manager of the Deific office in New York until he transferred here. Oh, and he was married for a short time but then his wife passed away, murdered evidently.”

  This piqued his interest. "By who?"

  "Unsolved."

  “What of his father?”

  “His father was a history professor at NYU, but interestingly enough, his grandfather, Charles, also worked for the Deific for over sixty years.”

  “Anything else?”

  “That’s it.” Scott paused, then asked, “Are you in some kind of trouble, Lucien?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Keep it that way.”

  Lucien hung up the phone and stood. He paced back and forth, the movie no longer holding his attention. It was getting late, and Eve would be home soon. Of course, that’s what a normal person would be doing, but he couldn’t be sure with her. He threw on his jacket and left the hotel to find out.

  Lucien parked a few blocks away and walked to his usual spot in the tree, but halfway there, he knew Eve wasn’t home, his hearing having already zeroed in on the sounds of her home. He climbed the oak tree anyway and decided to wait for her.

  It was an especially dark night, the moon just a sliver. Even light from the street lamps seemed to get swallowed by the heavy darkness in the air. It unsettled Lucien who straightened his back tighter against the tree.

  Time ticked by and soon minutes turned into hours. With every second that lay wasted, a tick of its own rooted itself deep within Lucien. It was uncomfortable at first, an itch that couldn’t be scratched. He squirmed on the branch, thinking he could force this new sensation out of him, but soon the tick turned into a full pendulum swing of thoughts and emotions.

  What was he doing here? He’d never stalked anyone like this before, not without killing them at least. Maybe part of him thought Eve was dangerous. He had seen her do some pretty crazy, almost malicious things, but the intent to harm others just wasn’t there. He’d seen evil in plenty of others. Eve lacked this cruelty in her eyes. Instead, he saw something else, something he couldn’t quite grasp.

  He shifted positions again, unable to ignore a growing ache in his gut. Maybe the blood he’d ingested recently was bad, too full of drugs. It had happened to him before.

  He squirmed again and tightened his grip on a nearby tree branch. This feeling was different. He had a vague memory of experiencing the same sensation a long time ago.

  As more time passed, he realized the sinking feeling in his gut was worry. Eve should be home by now. Lucien told himself to leave, go anywhere but here, but he couldn’t bring himself to move down from the tree.

  Finally, at three in the morning, a taxicab pulled up to her house and let her out. Eve stood on the porch for several minutes, her head pressed up against the front door as if she was exhausted. Eventually she reached for the key hidden in the siding and opened the door.

  Lucien had a sudden impulse to follow after her, but he quickly stuffed the notion down into his aching gut. Eve lived a life he could never be a part of. She was the living, he was the dead. So, until his fascination with her passed, Lucien would be a ghost.

  ***

  For the next several weeks, Lucien followed Eve. Her work schedule was never consistent. Some days she would wander the streets for hours doing the most outrageous things while other days she would stay at the Deific.

  Lucien couldn’t make sense of Eve’s behavior. Like the other day, she was walking to work but slowed when she passed a Latino woman staring intently at a silver Volvo with spinning rims and a large spoiler in back. Eve bent over and picked up a metal pipe lying in the gutter and returned to the woman, giving her a friendly smile. Then, without warning or provocation, Eve turned on the shiny new car and proceeded to beat it repeatedly like a mad woman up and down, over and over. She broke every window, dented all sides and somehow managed to knock off both bumpers.

  The Latino woman watched it all with a big grin on her face, at one point even cheering. When Eve was done, she didn’t say a word. She merely returned to the sidewalk and continued on her way to work, not even stopping when a massive man came out of his house and yelled when he saw the car. He turned on the Latino woman who was no longer smiling. She pointed to Eve who could be seen walking two blocks away. The angry man exhaled, flaring his nostrils and balling his fists. He ran, half-shuffled on account of his weight, down the sidewalk after Eve.

  He didn’t make it very far.

  Lucien stepped in front of him. “Turn around. Now.”

  “Get out of my way!” he yelled and swung at his Lucien’s face.

  Lucien ducked, but returned quickly with a right undercut to the man’s jaw, knocking him out cold. He fell back, but Lucien didn’t stick around to watch Goliath fall. He had to keep up with Eve.

  7

  It was Friday. The weather was still unusually sunny and hot, surprisingly just how the weather reporters said it would be. This bothered Lucien. The whole point of moving to Seattle was because of its storms, but overnight Seattle had become some sort of tropical paradise. His whole world seemed to be falling apart.

  At 3:30 p.m., Eve left the Deific with Charlie walking next to her. Lucien didn’t like Charlie, though he didn’t know why exactly. Charlie was harmless enough, seemed to be a good guy even, but Lucien hated him nevertheless.

  Charlie was speaking on his cell phone as they crossed the street to the parking lot next to the coffee shop. He was almost to his car when he stopped abruptly. The phone in his hand fell to the ground.

  Eve gripped his arm. “What is it?”

  “It’s Sarah.” Charlie stumbled to a thick concrete barrier and sat down. He bent over and put his hands between his head. “She’s gone.”

  “Gone like she quit?” Eve asked, her voice strained.

  Charlie looked up at her, his face pale. “She’s dead. Car accident.”

  Eve shook her head. “But I just talked to her. She’s getting married in three weeks!”

  Charlie stood and wrapped his arms around her quivering frame. “I know. I know.”

  Eve’s heart raced, a pace Lucien hadn’t heard before. He thought it might break from the speed, and he almost moved out from within the shadows beneath a nearby awning, but confusion held him at bay.

  Charlie embraced Eve for what felt like eternity to Lucien, but in actuality was only a minute, before he finally released her and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

  Charlie took her hand and led her to his car, placing her in the passenger seat before taking his own place behind the steering wheel. Lucien snaked around the building toward his Hummer, which was parked a few rows behind them, but kept his hearing focused on their conversation.

  “I could’ve saved her,” Eve said.
“If I would’ve stayed, I could’ve saved her.”

  “Don’t do that,” Charlie said.

  “Do what?”

  “Play the blame game. I could’ve saved her, too. I should’ve sensed it.”

  Eve exhaled a tired breath. “Maybe this was a mistake, coming out here.”

  Charlie didn’t say anything as he pulled into traffic. Lucien was quick to follow behind.

  At first, he thought they were going to Eve’s house, but then Charlie turned onto the freeway. It wasn’t quite rush hour so Lucien was able to maintain a safe distance from them, separated only by a large moving truck and two smaller cars. He tried focusing his hearing, but Charlie and Eve’s conversation was drowned out by all the road noise.

  Lucien cursed and slammed his hand into the steering wheel. Who was this Sarah? It bothered him that he didn’t know more about Eve and the people in her life. She should be an open book, easily traceable through some kind of electronic record. If he had this, then maybe he would know who Sarah was and why she was so important to Eve. But then what? What would he do about it? Nothing. He couldn’t.

  The moving truck switched lanes, giving Lucien a clear view of the back of Charlie’s car. They were halfway across Aurora bridge when all of a sudden, Charlie’s brake lights came on and black smoke billowed up from the tire’s tread, burning against the pavement as the vehicle came to a stop. Everyone behind them slammed on their brakes, including Lucien.

  Before he could come to a stop, Eve was jumping from Charlie’s car and running toward the edge of the bridge high above the water. A man in a business suit and long coat saw her coming and backed up quickly until he was pressed up against the bridge’s rail, his eyes big.

  Lucien risked exposure and opened his door along with many other drivers who had been forced to stop.

  Eve slowed to a steady and careful walk as she approached the man and said, “I know this seems like an awkward time, but I was wondering if we could talk?”

  Lucien stepped out of the car and positioned himself behind a crowd of onlookers.

  “Are you serious?” the man asked and placed one hand along the rail. His long overcoat whipped in the wind, slapping as if a flag beating against a pole.