The Devil's Advocate

by Michaela Haze

  In my hands, was an honest to goodness Treachery stone. Taken from the base of my home at the centre of hell. The very foundations of the Ice Castle.

  My fingers began to tremble. My emotions warred against each other. Elation, fear and confusion.

  Did Luc want me to come Home? Hope bloomed in my chest and then quickly diminished when I looked to the note.

  Use this stone to reach me when you find the mother of my future child.

  He didn’t sign his name but he didn’t need to.

  I scrunched up the lined paper and called forth the flames of Hell to burn it to a crisp.

  I jammed the Obsidian shard into the pocket of my trench coat.

  I would never use it.

  Luc thought that I owed him enough that I planned to integrate myself with the Rose family on his behalf? I snorted in disbelief.

  If I found the woman who was destined to bear his child, I wouldn’t call him.

  I would rip her fucking throat out and laugh in his face.

  Every Pureblooded Hellion has a summoning name. It allows someone to call them with the correct ritual. Bones. Blood. Pentagram. That sort of thing.

  Before Morgenstern and Clark was a reputable business in a sleek central London office building, my primary method of doing business was by making deals when I was summoned.

  Being summoned was unpleasant.

  When I experienced the tell-tale feeling of my stomach dropping out of my arsehole with a forceful tug, I knew that someone had acquired my long and pedantic Pureblood name.

  Since it had not been used in an age, I had almost forgotten what the feeling was like.

  Hunched over in pain, I unfurled myself when I felt my feet hit solid ground. My Louboutin’s stuck to the grotty maroon carpet. I flicked my hair over my shoulder and searched for the human that had the audacity to summon me.

  “What the fuck, Kerning?!” I snarled as I came face to face with the Leviathan; Slimy Envious daemon bastard. “Can you not take no for an answer?”

  Kerning looked up to the dripping sound to his left. My attention was drawn to the rather squalid surroundings. We were underground, in some sort of sewage system. I plugged my nose but it made no difference. My sense of smell was far superior than I would have liked it to be, especially when I was surrounded by a putrid stench.

  Mike Kerning cracked his neck to the side. His expression was livid.

  “You will grant my request or I will go to your boss. He won’t be too happy with you.” Kerning threatened. Spittle flew from his mouth. I casually wiped my cheek with disdain.

  “You will do no such thing.” I said calmly.

  “You haven’t even heard my request!” Kerning clenched his fists.

  I waved my hand in a circular motion as I gestured silently for him to get on with it. The MP startled and quickly gathered his thoughts.

  He opened his mouth. “I want—”

  I interrupted him. “No.”

  His teeth bared in a snarl. “But—”

  “No.” I smirked, as I surveyed my manicure for signs of wear and tear.

  Kerning looked like you could fry an egg on his forehead. “I’ll keep you trapped in that circle until you give me what I want.”

  I snorted an unladylike laugh and stepped out of the circle gingerly, making a conscious effort not to get my suede heels wet. Of all the days to wear in my new shoes. I shook my head to myself in disdain. His circle could not hold me.

  “The Devil is not allowing any contracts to go through at the moment.” I said in an uncharacteristic moment of honesty. “I would suggest you contact him directly and ask.”

  “I tried!” Kerning spluttered. “I got you instead.”

  I swore under my breath. The bastard had redirected his phones and I was the one stuck answering them. He must have been in someone else’s body, if a summoning had failed.

  “What is it that you want?” I pinched the bridge of my nose in exasperation and closed my eyes.

  “I want my party to win the majority of seats in the next election.”

  I shook my head sadly. “I can’t do that.” Besides the obvious logistical issues of influencing an entire country, I wasn’t in the mood to help the slimy bastard.

  “Why not?” Kerning hissed.

  “Because I’m not registered to vote.” I crooned, cocking my hip as I disappeared in a dramatic flurry of Hellfire.

  With every contract that I had submitted in the past fortnight bouncing back, Luiz and I found ourselves pulled into the more human affairs of the firm. For the first time in five years, I sat at the end of the conference table as I listened to my human associates discuss various new tax legislation.

  I did not need to sleep but I stifled a yawn anyway. It was tedious.

  Luiz hung by my side, ever the dutiable hound. He took notes on his tablet so that I didn’t have to. I found it difficult to command the technology easily. I was from the coldest region of Hell. Ice was in my blood. It often caused touch screen technology to fumble.

  I sighed and dismissed the others when the meeting drew to a natural close.

  Luiz Ramirez went to leave when I grabbed him with my power. Too tired to speak.

  “Are you still maintaining my online dating profile?” I asked in a hoarse rasp.

  “Yes. I have a list of potential matches on this new app. It caters specifically to extramarital affairs.”

  I licked my bottom lip. “Set something up. I need to feed.”

  As I sat opposite my date, my hand trembled. I reached over slowly for the cool glass of water; it’s condensation left a sheen of sweat on the glass.

  The man opposite me was well maintained but older than he had looked on his profile picture. His caramel-coloured hair had a natural wave but his cheeks held a taut youthful quality that made plastic surgery an uncertainty.

  He ordered a bottle of wine but did not question my tastes before doing so. He spoke French to the waiter, but his accent was atrocious. It smacked of boarding school lessons with no real-world experience.

  I did not care. Every second I drank in his presence, I felt my cheeks warm and my veins fill with energy. Every lie and omission he told as he skirted around the fact that he had a wife, and that they were in an open marriage, was a gluttonous feast.

  I had spent too much time around bleeding hearts. Open people without filters. I needed corruption. Layers upon layers like an onion. I was linked the sin of betrayal. Treachery and lies.

  I took a sip of my water and sucked the lemon tint from my tongue as I glanced around the restaurant. It was in Hoxton, which was unexpected for a man of Bradley's nature. Perhaps he wanted to be as far from his wife as possible. I imagined that he lived in a lavish home in Queens Park on the other side of the city.

  “Dahlia, what do you do for a job - if you don’t mind me asking?” Bradley's eyes glinted, as if he was proud that he had thought to ask a question of the woman that he planned to fuck.

  “I’m a broker of sorts.” I shrugged. I eyed the full glass of Rioja with disdain. I had planned to curb my appetite for red wine, ever since Luc had gifted me the bottle, my taste for it had soured.

  “Insurance, mortgages? That kind of thing?” Bradley asked. “That sounds a bit...boring.”

  I glanced at my Rolex, biding my time.

  “I didn’t mean for it to sound that way, of course.” Bradley laughed nervously. “God, you’re an intimidating woman.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “How so?”

  Bradley shook his head to clear it. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. You must have some Japanese ancestry or something?”

  I rolled my eyes internally but kept my expression impassive. “Or something.” I trilled a false laugh. “You like my face then? I’m glad, I made it myself. It’s ever so hard to get the mixture of Oriental and Caucasian just right.”

  Bradley rubbed the back of his neck, and the silence became awkward.

  I could see his thoughts as if they were a
tickertape across his forehead. He was deciding if I was eccentric or just insane. He was debating if my pussy was worth it or not.

  I took another sip of water to hide my smile. Oh Bradley, you will never know the touch of my body, but thank you for the feast of lies.

  “Ms. Clark, fancy seeing you here,” Samuel’s voice was made of warm molasses but his tone was benevolent.

  I schooled my expression into a mildly peeved off one when I felt the opposite. I had not hidden my connection to Hell fast enough but when I glanced at Samuel’s emerald eyes, I knew that he was too focused on my breasts to notice.

  I smiled demurely and gestured to my date with a flick of my wrist. “Bradley Connors, this is my associate Samuel Rose.”

  “It’s Connalls.” My date cleared his throat. “Not Connors.”

  “Riveting,” Samuel drawled.

  “What brings you this far from Camden, Mr Rose?” I asked tartly.

  “What brings you this far from Kensington?” Samuel fired back with a smirk.

  The air was thick with tension that could only be supernaturally led. I wondered how honed incubus' senses were.

  I quickly pulled back my connection to Hell again, little more than a human once more. I saw the tension in Bradley’s spine slowly relax when my presence no longer triggered his fight or flight response.

  “You’re making the lady uncomfortable.” Bradley glared at the incubus.

  I glanced around the room, every eye was on Samuel Rose in some fashion. Women and men alike were drawn in by his presence.

  “Are you threatened by me?” Samuel gasped theatrically. “Is it my facial scar?”

  Bradley spluttered. “No. I just—”

  “Is it because you're married?” Samuel’s voice was low and menacing.

  I groaned and sank back in my seat. The incubus paid no mind to me. The playful man that reminded me of the Devil was in front of me.

  Bradley stood up with a scrape of his chair. His eyes darted from me to Samuel’s languished and toned body, as it imposed on our table. The human's pupils dilated in the presence of a predator but his human mind could not make logical sense of the reaction.

  My date left without a word, tripping over his male heels on the way out. Samuel took his seat with aplomb. He slipped in as if he belonged there. He took a sip of the red wine and shivered.

  “This is a pretentious Rioja.” He licked his lips and gestured to the waiter to our table.

  “You know wine?” I asked.

  “I know a great deal about alcohol.”

  I lifted my glass of water to a toast. “To one of the most socially acceptable vices.”

  “If only orgies could be as accepted.” He smiled wickedly.

  He danced around the subject of what he was, as I played dumb. His harsh exterior, marred with a sardonic smirk almost dared me to ask.

  “Red wine? When you ordered the fish? Is that man insane?” Samuel shook his head.

  “To be fair, I didn’t plan to eat the fish.” I said, but did not elaborate further.

  “Why were you seeing a married man?” Samuel asked darkly.

  “I fear commitment.” I lied.

  Samuel huffed, rolling my deception on his tongue as if to taste my words. I made him uncomfortable but he could not decide why.

  “Do you have any hobbies?” I asked gently. The waiter returned with a ice bucket with a white wine bottle, stalwart and proud as it poked it’s head from the silver edge. I nodded in appreciation when the server showed me the label.

  “Wine. Women. Worldly affairs.” Samuel pushed his glass forward to allow the waiter to pour the wine.

  I nodded in appreciation. “That’s a lot of W's.”

  “And you?” he crooked a brow.

  “I work too much to consider a hobby.” I licked my bottom lip and fought the urge to pick the skin on my thumb.

  Disgusting. Filthy habit.

  “You're a broker. Is it as 'boring' as Mr Connors suggested?” Samuel smirked.

  I caressed the rim of my wineglass with my manicured finger. “So boring.” I purred.

  “You never just want to... Let go. Have some fun. Release your inner...” his sentence went unfinished.

  “My inner what?”

  Samuel surveyed me from head to toe, his gaze hovered like the slow caress of a lover. “I couldn’t tell you until you let it out.”

  I smiled demurely to myself. “And what about you?”

  “You don’t want to see what happens when I let out what’s inside of me.” Samuel warned, his voice was dark with warning.

  I sat up, intrigued. “Maybe I do want to.”

  The server brought my dish out but cleverly did not bring out the food for my absentee date. I placed my napkin on the table with delicacy.

  Samuel’s eyes were hooded. Together, there were sparks on the air. A promise of physical gratification. His gaze reminded me of the possessive way that Luc used to look at me. As if I was his alone.

  “Can I offer you a ride home?” Samuel whispered. Even though he sat on the other end of the table, I felt his voice curl in my ear like a roaming tongue.

  I shivered and nodded.

  It was all downhill from there.

  The street outside of The Honeycomb Bar in Hoxton was a main road with double yellow lines. When Samuel put his hand on the base of my spine, I could feel the cool temperature of his skin through the thin material of my pencil dress.

  We rounded the corner of a secluded alleyway, my heels on the cobblestones was the only sound. It was bright out; a side effect of the relentless summer sun. The sharp geometric graphic on the brick walls of the alley stared down at us. A splash of colour in a darkened city crevice.

  Samuel took a set of car keys out of his pocket. He did not dress like a business man. In fact, we looked like opposites. I was suited and straight from a day in an office. He wore fitted jeans and a white t-shirt that stuck to the hard lines of his broad chest as if it was wet.

  The blue lights flashed as Samuel unlocked an Audi from the line of cars parked on the side street. He held the door open so that I could slide in.

  Samuel was a gentleman. I hadn’t expected that. He even put the seat warmers on to protect me from the bite in the air. Obviously, he wasn’t aware that I was just as resilient to temperature as he was, as I maintained the facade of humanity.

  I couldn’t take it anyone. My mind was a stew of conflict as I battled with sexual frustration and intrigue for the incubus at my side, and the heavy burden of my past. My secrets.

  Samuel reached over and cupped my face. My lips parted and our kiss lingered.

  I wanted to fill my mind with a stranger and pull further away from Luc.

  The Devil's written message played through my mind as Samuel’s tongue danced with mine. I could hear Luc’s voice in my mind as he was right next to me. Arousal died quickly as if someone had dumped a bucket of water over my head. I broke the kiss, and smiled nervously. My hand trembled.

  “I’d like to go home please,” I whispered. My voice was uncharacteristically raw.

  Something in Samuel’s eyes told me that he was concerned for me and my sudden hesitancy towards him. He drove me home; I did not wait for him to open the car door for me as I ran up to my house and slammed the door behind me.

  I hadn’t seen or spoken to Samuel Rose in several days when Luiz dropped a fat manila envelope on my desk.

  I expected it to be information on the Parr file, but was pleasantly surprised to find that it was photos of the incubus that had somehow wormed his way into my cold little heart.

  “What's this?” I asked as I spread the photos out on my desk. Luiz took the chair which was typically reserved for clients.

  Each of the photographs showed a woman. The same woman. In different locations. That was strange.

  “Is she human?” I asked.

  Luiz nodded as he watched my fingers hover over the glossy paper.

  I tapped my bottom lip in deep thought. “That is
rare.”

  Luiz's brow furrowed. “How so? Incubi need to feed often.”

  “Yes.” I agreed. “But from the same human? Proximity to Incubi can be deadly to humans. Especially if there is prolonged skin to skin contact.” I tapped the first photograph which showed the two of them arm in arm. I quashed the pang of jealousy down until it dispersed like ink in water.

  “By all rights, if they are sleeping together as much as they seem to be touching in these photos then this woman should be dead.” I mused.

  “She could be the one mentioned in the prophecy. That woman has been around the Rose brothers several times. She can withstand an incubuses touch.”

  I collected the photos and slipped them back into the envelope. I refused to meet Luiz's hazel eyes as I dropped the evidence into my desk drawer.

  “When did you get so wise?” I joked but my words had a bite.

  If Luiz sensed my anger, then he didn’t show it. There was no way for him to know how much the notion of a human woman hurt me. The rage that came with an unknown entity getting everything that I had ever wanted. What made the woman who would bare Lucifer’s child more worthy than me?

  I had been created from his very existence. I had been by his side. No one could rile me like Lucifer. No one could sooth the burning ache of loneliness like he could. He had been my everything.

  I gripped the pencil in my hand so tightly that it snapped. I jolted from my reverie.

  “Do you want me to continue to watch the woman?” Luiz asked.

  “I want every ounce of information. Nothing is too small. I want to know the woman’s shoe size. How she takes her coffee. I want it all.” I hissed, slamming my palm down on the wood of my desk with a thud.

  Luiz scurried from my office as I fixed my hair. I reapplied my lipstick as well and decided to hone my anger into something productive.

  “Are you angry because Samuel’s with another woman, or because that woman could be the potential mother of the antichrist?” Luiz asked gently.

  I mulled it over with pursed lips. “Can it be both?”