The Devil's Angel (Devil Series Book 2)

by Rachel McClellan

  Diablos were retreating to the back of the room and into the darkness. Lucien pursued them carefully, especially when he realized the room was filling with an unnatural fog, forcing him to rely on his other senses.

  Not far off, metal scraping against metal echoed through the room. Lucien moved faster, ignoring the blinding smoke until he reached a closed metal door. He tried to open it, but it was locked from the other side.

  Beyond the door, diablos scurried away to some secret destination. Lucien punched and kicked at the door, letting out the last of his rage. The door sustained many dents, but never yielded.

  Lucien slumped to the ground in the darkness, exhausted, but at least he felt better. Eve had made him out to be something he wasn’t, made him begin to feel things he shouldn’t. Ever. But this killing spree reminded him of what he was and what he deserved.

  After several minutes, Lucien finally left the diablos’ hole in the ground and returned to the hotel, no longer angry but frustrated. He must make Eve fear him. She knew what he was and was still unafraid. This knowledge made him nauseated, forcing him to lie down. Someone as beautiful and good as Eve should never be near the likes of him.

  As the hours passed, and he thought more of Eve, he wondered again if he’d met her before. That would explain how she knew him, and why she seemed so familiar. It wasn’t her appearance he recognized, but the way she spoke and the graceful movements of her hands. Even the way her lips turned up, one side slightly higher than the other, was familiar.

  And then suddenly he remembered.

  He had met her; at least, he thought he had. It was years ago in New York City, and the woman there had been a witch—a powerful and evil one. Lucien hated witches. They were always cruel and narcissistic. But that woman he’d met in the park wasn’t the Eve he knew today. There had been no light in her eyes, only darkness and an unquenchable hunger for power. They couldn’t be the same woman. A relative perhaps?

  Maybe that explained why Eve had sought him out, to get revenge for some cousin he’d insulted. Unlikely, but why else then? No matter. He knew what had to be done.

  He moaned and dropped into his chair. Why was Eve so foolish? Didn’t she know Lucien could snap her like a twig if he wanted? He didn’t want to hurt her, but he knew if he didn’t sufficiently instill fear in her, then she may continue her dangerous game. If not with him, then maybe with another vampire. Lucien had to end this.

  Shortly before Eve was to return, Lucien perched in the tree across from her house. He was colder than usual, and yet he was perspiring, a rare occurrence. There could only be one reason for this: Lucien was about to crush the most beautiful thing to ever come into his life.

  11

  Just as she promised, Eve arrived promptly at 8:00 p.m. She walked inside her house, leaving the door open behind her. Lucien knew this was meant for him. The act of her assuming he’d rush to her flamed his anger, so he decided to make her wait.

  After some time, he finally entered her home and found her in the kitchen. She stood across the room from him, eyes steady, hands at her side. He didn’t wait for her to speak—he couldn’t bear it.

  Before he could second-guess himself, Lucien stormed over and shoved Eve hard against a wall a few feet behind her. She crumpled to the floor; dust from the broken drywall puffed into the air.

  “No one plays games with me,” he said.

  Eve struggled to stand, one hand pushing her upward, the other steadying herself against the dented wall. Her eyes slowly met his, but Lucien didn’t see what he wanted to within that gaze. She was not afraid.

  He appeared before her in a blink of an eye. “I’ll make you fear me.”

  Lucien reached for a nearby table and flipped it upwards. It crashed into the ceiling, splintering into a hundred pieces, then fell to the floor along with the glass light fixture.

  Continuing with the destruction, he raised his balled fists and smashed them on top of the kitchen counter. Bits of shattered granite flew in all directions. Lucien took hold of the metal sink and ripped it free. He tossed it across the room. It went right through the wall and into the living room. The sound was deafening.

  He risked a glance at Eve, hoping he would see fear, but there was nothing. Maybe a hint of sadness. There was still one thing left he could do that would get results. The thought sickened him, but it had to be done. It was for her own good.

  Lucien pressed her hands to the wall and forced his lips upon hers, nearly crushing her. It was not a passionate kiss, but one made to intimidate and scare. He waited for her to push him away, knee him in the groin, anything! But when that response never came, he pushed even harder, needing her to not only fear him, but hate him, too.

  With surprising strength, she forced her arms away from his grip, but instead of decking him, she wrapped them around his neck and kissed him back just as fiercely.

  Lucien’s head spun, and he stumbled away, utterly and completely defeated.

  The silence in the room was worse to Lucien than death. He didn’t dare look at her, couldn’t bear to see the expression on her face.

  Very slowly Eve moved to the kitchen table in obvious pain. When she reached the table, she collapsed into the only unscathed chair.

  Inwardly, Lucien moaned.

  What have I done?

  “Lucien,” Eve whispered. “I will never fear you.”

  Lucien slumped to the floor, unable to speak. He could feel her eyes staring at him for what felt like an eternity. The weight of her gaze was paralyzing. How could she stand to look at him?

  “You must be hungry,” she finally said and stood carefully, her body swaying as if she were dizzy.

  “No, please,” he begged.

  She waited a moment before sitting back down, then asked, “Did you do anything fun while I was away?”

  The ridiculousness of the question made him look at her, something he regretted instantly. On the right side of her temple was a deep gash, a cut she must’ve sustained by one of the many fragments of debris that had been flying across the room, thanks to him. A granite shard most likely.

  Despite her injuries, Eve was smiling kindly. He couldn’t return it. How could he? Instead, he stood, taking with him a dishtowel that had been fallen from its crushed drawer. In one swift motion, he gently scooped Eve up, and before she could take a breath, he was upstairs in her room laying her down in her bed.

  Lucien smoothed her hair back, then firmly pressed the towel to the bloodied wound on her head. Her skin was pale and moist.

  “One day I will beg for your forgiveness,” he said.

  “I will never ask for it.”

  He knelt down by the side of her bed. “Don’t talk, just rest.”

  Eve gave a small smile, her eyes fluttered closed, and soon her breathing became steady.

  Lucien watched her for a long time, memorizing every part of her face, the little details he hadn’t noticed before. Like the tiny freckle just above the right side of her lips, or how her right eyebrow was arched slightly higher than the other. She was perfection in every way.

  Eve continued to sleep, so much so that Lucien grew worried. He’d never known her to sleep this much. Maybe she was hurt worse than he thought.

  Lucien rapped his knuckles nervously on the side of her couch, finally resorting to pacing the room. If anything happened to her … The thought sickened him. Time to take her to the hospital.

  He leaned in to wake her, but noticed something strange. The cut on her temple was gone! Only dried blood remained stuck against her skin. How was that possible?

  He searched her face for an answer. She wasn’t a vampire, but she couldn’t be human either. Possibly a witch, but she was asleep, so couldn’t have performed a spell to heal herself. Regardless of what she was, he grew increasingly concerned when she didn’t wake up even after he tried to rouse her.

  “Eve?”

  Her eyes moved back and forth beneath her eyelids. Lucien moved to touch her cheek, but froze inches above her face.
He’d never done something that tenderly before. Would he even know how?

  Slowly, as if she might crumble beneath his touch, he gently caressed her porcelain skin with his thumb. Air caught in his lungs when it tingled. He withdrew his hand, unable to find meaning in the strange phenomenon.

  “Please, wake up, Eve,” he whispered in her ear.

  He kept his lips close, breathing softly in and out. She smelled of lilacs in springtime. Lucien could collapse next to her and never want for anything more.

  Eve moaned and finally opened her eyes.

  Lucien quickly retreated to the other side of the room where moonlight pouring in from the open window wouldn’t reach him. He did not want Eve to see him in the light.

  She spotted him in the shadows. “You’re still here.”

  “I wanted to make sure you would be okay.” Lucien involuntarily stepped toward the door. He shouldn’t be here.

  Eve she sat up, her eyes wide. “Please, don’t go.”

  He placed his hand on the doorframe, secretly trying to keep his legs beneath him. “I don’t know who you are or how you found me, but you shouldn’t have.”

  “Stay with me, just for a little while.” Her eyes pooled with tears. “Please?”

  Lucien wanted answers, wanted to know who she was, but he couldn’t bring himself to remain in her presence any longer. “I’m sorry—for hurting you.”

  “You will hurt me more if you leave.”

  He clenched his jaw tight and glanced at Eve one last time. Before she could stop him, he disappeared.

  12

  Lucien drove fast, ignoring any speed limits, through the scarce traffic of Seattle. The sun wasn’t up yet and wouldn’t be for another two hours. He twisted his fingers tightly around the steering wheel and pressed on the accelerator even more.

  Normally his mind was clear, but he couldn’t put a coherent thought together to save his life. He needed advice, and there was only one person he trusted to give it.

  Scott Peterson’s three-story colonial-style home didn’t fit in with the other affluent homes in the ritzy Laurelhurst neighborhood. It was white with tall pillars in front; on the second balcony hung a long, scooped American banner flag. This was another reason why he liked Scott—he didn’t care what others thought of him.

  Lucien was about to knock on the front door but stopped when he realized the early hour. He removed his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Scott’s number. From somewhere within the house, a phone rang.

  A groggy Scott answered. “Yes?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “No, in person.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes. I’m standing outside your front door.” Something crashed to the floor.

  “I’ll be right down.”

  It was only a short moment before Scott opened the door. He greeted Lucien in blue striped pajamas, hair that had been hastily smoothed back, and thick glasses. He pushed them further up his nose and said, “This is a surprise. Come in.”

  Scott led Lucien to a study and turned on a fire. It sputtered and spit until its flames entirely filled a wide stone hearth.

  “Would you like some tea?” Scott offered.

  “No.”

  Scott touched his head as if remembering. “Right. I forgot. What brings you here this late hour?”

  “I need some advice.”

  Scott lowered himself into a chair near the fire. “Does this have anything to do with your questions about the Deific?”

  “Yes, specifically the woman, Eve Andrews. There’s something different about her.”

  “You think she’s different?”

  Lucien placed his hands upon the marble mantle and stared down into the fire. “I know that sounds crazy, but there’s something wrong with her.”

  “Why do you care?”

  Lucien flexed his jaw, and shook his head slowly. He lowered his arms and turned around. “That’s what I’ve been asking myself. I can’t get her out of my head. She’s all I think about!”

  Scott eyed him thoughtfully. “You’re in love.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m incapable of love. Besides I don’t even know who she is.”

  “I was in love with my wife the moment I laid eyes on her. It was if my soul recognized hers.”

  “Seeing as how I don’t have a soul, that’s not a consideration.”

  “How do you know you don’t?”

  Lucien frowned. “Must I remind you?”

  “If you don’t have a soul, why are you good?”

  Lucien visibly jerked. “I’m not good.”

  “Well, you’re not bad. I’ve put bad men behind bars for over thirty years. I know evil when I see it.”

  Lucien moved to the window.

  “Have you spoken to the woman? Asked her what she wants?” Scott asked.

  “She begged me to stay tonight. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stand to be near her.”

  “Why?”

  “She was too intense.” He glanced back at him. “Does that make sense?”

  “No. Why are you making this so complicated?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. Up until a year ago, my life was predictable.”

  “What happened a year ago?”

  He shook his head, trying to think how best to explain what had happened. “A light came into my life, something I couldn’t see or touch, but I could feel it as sure as I can feel the heat from these flames. And it’s been growing.”

  Scott tilted his head. “It sounds like hope.”

  “But I don’t hope. There is no hope for someone like me.”

  “Apparently there is. Seize it, Lucien. Take hold and never let it go.”

  “How do you know these things?”

  “It’s called living. You should try it sometime.” Scott smiled warmly. “Go to her. If she begged a vampire to stay with her, then she must really need someone. Don’t let her suffer alone.”

  He’d never thought of it like that before. One more stupid mistake.

  “Besides, don’t you want to know who she is, and how she came to be in your life?”

  “More than anything. Thanks for the advice.” He walked to the front door, and Scott followed.

  “I consider you a friend, Lucien. If you ever need anything …”

  “I know. I’ll call you later.”

  ***

  Lucien parked in front of Eve’s house and listened closely. He’d become so familiar with her breathing that he could tell by the way she exhaled, the air slightly forced, that she was still awake.

  He exited his car and stepped onto her porch. Very quietly, he turned the doorknob and ascended the stairs to her darkened bedroom. Eve was lying on her side, staring opposite the open window. He watched her for a moment, hidden within the shadows, then stepped out of the darkness and knelt at her side. When he came into her view, she looked at him as if dreaming.

  “I’m back,” he whispered, wishing he had something more clever to say.

  She searched his face. “Lucien?”

  “I’m here.”

  She reached for him and pulled him close, burying her face to his chest. He sat awkwardly not knowing where to place his arms. Suddenly, his body tingled, and a sensation like warm liquid poured into him, warming his extremities. He pushed himself away and stood.

  Her eyes flashed to the open door way and alarm spread across her face.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  She sat up easily and pain free. “You’ve met me before, years ago, but I was a different person then.”

  “The witch in New York. But that is impossible.”

  “You remember?”

  “I remember a cruel and power-obsessed woman.”

  Eve glanced away, ashamed.

  “That couldn’t have been you,” Lucien said. “You may look similar, but there are too many differences.”

  “It was me.�
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  “But you’re too young!”

  “I’m immortal.”

  He shook his head, more confused than ever. “How?”

  She paused, and her eyes grew dark as if remembering a painful past. “To put it simply, a vampire injected altered vampire venom into me, creating whatever it is that I am.”

  Lucien tensed. “What vampire?”

  “It doesn’t matter. He’s dead now.”

  “Why would he do this to you?”

  “He wanted me to live forever by his side, but he didn’t want me to be a full vampire because he was afraid I would be more powerful than him. We did many terrible things together. I did terrible things.” She lowered her head. “Can you ever forgive me for what I’ve done?”

  “You don’t need my forgiveness.”

  “Yes, I do. I almost killed you.”

  He shook his head. “No, you didn’t.”

  She closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them back up, she said, “Remember the black witch you fought in the woods?”

  Lucien did remember. She was the most powerful being he’d ever encountered. He thought for sure she would be the one to end his life.

  “That was me, too.”

  And then before he could reply, Eve told him everything: the abuse she’d endured at her parent’s hands in a twisted attempt to force her to use magic, the vampire’s deception, and the cursed necklace that nearly destroyed her had it not been for Lucien.

  Her mood lightened when she also told him of the Deific and the magic of beauty she’d first felt from a crimson rose. She also mentioned the special children and the work she did at the Academy. Lastly, she spoke of him.

  “But why? Why did you need to find me?”

  “Because of our connection.”

  He shook his head adamantly.

  She quickly continued, “I’ve never felt such beauty with anyone else.”

  “Beauty?”

  She reached out and caressed his cheek. “Don’t you feel it?”

  He flinched and stepped back.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not used to being touched.”

  She moved past him to the window and stared out, her body only a shadow in the darkness. Her breathing was slow and steady, and she remained still.