Forget upset. She was downright pissed.
26
The foyer of the Bell Tower looked as picture-perfect as when I’d left a half hour ago. The giant arrangements of bloodred roses and hand-painted skull accents looked perfect and untouched. No blood. No gore. No fire damage.
The realization scared me even more than a few bodies strewn here and there would have.
What if she’d given up on me and called off the wedding? What if she was, at that very moment, signing a decree that would send me spiraling back to Hell?
I ignored a wave of panic and tuned my senses. I could hear muffled voices coming from the ceremony area as I strode down the hallway toward the bridal suite. At least the guests were still here. I pushed through the double doors leading to a plush sitting room, where I found Cheryl.
She stood near a granite-topped bar off to the left. Her makeup was streaked and her hair was frizzed and full, as if she’d stuck her finger in a light socket.
“Cheryl?”
She was rummaging through the array of bottles sitting on the granite. “Have to find it,” she muttered, doing a crackerjack imitation of Rain Man. “Have to find it. Have to find it. Have to find it.”
“Cheryl?” I tried again, my voice louder, my anxiety mounting.
“Where is it? Where is it? Where is it?”
“Cheryl?”
Her head snapped up and I knew she’d finally heard me. “Jess?”
I nodded. “Yes, it’s me, Jess.”
Her gaze focused. “You’re here,” she breathed. “You’re really here.”
“And everything is going to be fine,” I added. “Where’s my mother?”
She pointed to a closed door that led to an adjoining bathroom.
“The ladies’ room?”
“She drank all of these when Blythe told her you were running late.” She indicated the empty rows of liquor bottles. “She’s not good at waiting. Speaking of waiting”—she snatched up a bottle and upended it—“she wants another margarita and we’re out of tequila.”
“She drank margaritas and wine?”
“And a few Bloody Marys, some Cosmos, a couple martinis and half a bottle of Windex.” When I arched an eyebrow, she shrugged. “She thought it was a Blue Hawaiian.”
“How many drinks total?”
Her gaze collided with mine. “Before or after she zapped me?”
Which totally explained the hot new hair trend.
I watched as wisps of smoke curled above her head before I shifted into Super Wedding Planner. “No more alcohol. Give me the bottle.”
“But—”
“Hand it over.” I waited until the glass met my hand and then I sent her off to the lobby restroom to regroup. Meanwhile, I grabbed my emergency bag and retrieved my usual black pencil skirt and white silk blouse that Blythe had brought for me.
I shed the bloodstained tee and jeans and pulled on the clean clothes. Then I combed back my hair, tied it up into a ponytail, grabbed my headset and clipboard, and inhaled.
Easy. Calm. Breathe.
I braced myself, pushed open the adjoining door, and smiled at my mother, who was just coming out of the bathroom stall. Her gaze narrowed and electricity crackled in the air. She looked more than ready to throw a few lightning bolts my way.
I squashed the urge to turn and run the other way and instead pasted on my most excited smile. “There’s my happy bride. Let’s get married!”
“It’s about time,” Blythe said as I slid into a seat next to her. The bridal march had already started. Every head swiveled toward the entryway, eager for Lillith’s appearance.
Behind me sat my three sisters, who wore black couture dresses and bored expressions. The cousins filled the next twenty rows. Monique frowned, obviously distressed that I’d thumbed my nose at proper etiquette with my hasty arrival. Portia and Hester and the rest of Aunt Bella’s brood stared daggers at me.
I ignored a tap on my shoulder from Camille, who whispered that I was late while she’d been on time. And from Tracey, who wanted to tell me how great she looked in her dress. And from Jill, who wanted to tell me that all Tracey could talk about was how good she looked.
As if I didn’t already know that.
Blythe sniffed me. “You smell like smoke.”
“Trust me, it could be worse. My mother was so liquored up that her aim was a little off.” Still, I was going to have to add a nice chunk to the Bell Tower fee to pay for a brick statue of Venus that was now history. “Three lightning bolts and they all went right over my head.”
I drew a deep breath, ignored the symphony of whispers behind me (a scandalous wedding + a roomful of female guests = a lot of gossip) and watched as my mother reached the front of the aisle, where Judge Parks waited. He wore the same suit as last night, but with Lillith demanding every eye, no one seemed to notice.
Being the attention hog that she was, my mother had decided to give herself away, and so she mounted the steps solo and stopped next to Samael.
“I can’t believe you actually pulled it off,” Blythe murmured. Her gaze touched on the sprays of withered red roses that lined the front of the ceremony space. The water wall served as a backdrop. I’d swapped the blue up-lighting for red, which made the water look like a sheet of shimmering blood. Totally icky for the typical bride, but this was Satan, so it simply set the mood for the sinister event about to take place.
“Me either.” My aunties stood to the bride’s right, wearing the hated white bridesmaids’ dresses, while the groomsmen looked dark and debonair in black tuxedos and bloodred cummerbunds. My gaze caught Aunt Lucy’s and I gave her a grateful smile.
I wasn’t sure what she’d had to do or say to get the other aunties into the dresses, but she’d pulled it off and I couldn’t have been more thankful.
So far, so good.
Lillith herself wore a black fitted mermaid dress with lots of lace and beadwork. While it wasn’t the typical wedding gown, it fit her like a glove and, more importantly, she actually liked it. Not that she’d said as much. But she didn’t have to. She’d put on the dress and was now wearing it in front of everyone, and for the most important event of her existence. That alone spoke volumes.
Of course, it wasn’t the pat on the back I’d hoped for, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
I let loose a deep sigh and the tension eased just a little. I’d made it. I was here and this was really happening, despite my grandfather going off the deep end and kidnapping the judge and Azazel almost ripping off my head.
“We are gathered here together in the sight of the Evil One”—Judge Parks nodded toward Gramps, who sat to my right, a sour look on his face—“to join this woman and this man in unholy matrimony…”
The judge went on about two people clinging together and ruling the world and I found my thoughts drifting to Cutter and our uncertain future.
I should be happy, right? Cutter had reclaimed his soul and I’d helped. Talk about major brownie points for me. The thing was, I knew deep inside that no matter how I’d helped, it wouldn’t make up for the fact that I’d lied to him about my identity.
He would hate me when he found out, which was exactly why I had to keep my mouth shut. While Azazel had known who I was, he’d never said it out loud in front of Cutter. Cutter didn’t know, and I didn’t want him to ever know. Better to back off and keep my distance from him. No more touching. No more kissing. No.
Cutter was the last man on earth for me.
If only he wasn’t the one man I really, really wanted.
The notion brought a wave of tears to my eyes and I blinked frantically. Not for fear of standing out. There wasn’t a dry eye in the place, particularly when it came to my aunties.
Aunt Bella wept openly, obviously mourning the hellish dictatorship about to be born. Aunt Levita moaned. Even Aunt Lucy shed a few tears, though I had the distinct feeling those were more because of the dress she’d been forced to wear than the impending change in leadership.
> No, I wept because it wasn’t just the kissing and the touching that I would miss with Cutter. It was the camaraderie I’d felt when he’d been in my kitchen and we’d been talking. Or the comfort of knowing he was close by, watching me, protecting me. I’d never felt things like that with any man. I’d never felt anything other than lust. I felt that with Cutter too, but even that was amped up. What I felt for him was different. Special.
I dabbed at my eyes with the tissue Blythe handed me.
“…anyone can show good reason why these two demons should not be joined, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”
Gramps cleared his throat, my stomach dropped to my knees, and I had the sneaking suspicion that things were about to get really ugly.
Don’t do it, I begged silently. Don’t open your mouth.
“I have something that needs to be said.”
Yep, ugly was barreling toward me at the speed of light.
Come on. Don’t be such a pessimist. Maybe he just wants to wish them a long and happy eternity together. Maybe he learned his lesson earlier about trying to manipulate women. Maybe you’re about to stroke out for nothing.
“You can’t marry Samael,” Gramps declared, rising to his feet as my mother whirled around. “This union is an abomination. And while I have nothing against a good abomination, this is completely unacceptable. It’s a travesty and I won’t allow it to happen.”
Then again, maybe it was time to stop, drop, and roll.
27
“Dad?” My mother zeroed in on my grandfather. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Preventing you from making a huge mistake. You can’t marry this sorry excuse for a demon.”
“But I thought you wanted me to get married.”
“Not to him.” He waved a hand. “Never to him.”
“Why? Because he isn’t afraid to speak his mind and disagree with you?”
“Precisely because of that.”
“Egypt was ages ago. Just get over it.”
“No more loopholes.” My grandfather’s eyes narrowed and I could feel the anger pulsing around him. “I rescind the decree stating that whoever marries first assumes control. You and your sisters will continue to share. Forever.”
My aunt Bella let out a whoop followed by a crack of thunder. Aunt Levita launched into a happy dance. And Aunt Lucy ripped off the monstrous bow adorning her shoulder.
My mother stiffened and her features seemed to stand out in stark contrast. “Let me get this straight,” she said, her lips tight, so frighteningly tight. “You let me go to all this trouble”—she waved an arm around her—“and now you’re saying you won’t allow me to follow through?”
Okay, so technically, I was the one who’d gone to all this trouble, but I wasn’t going to point out that tidbit. Especially with the tension mounting and the temperature in the room climbing several dangerous degrees.
“That’s right,” Gramps went on. “I forbid you to marry Samael.”
“You forbid it?” My mother said the words slowly. Carefully.
Uh-oh.
Breaking news alert—Lillith Damon didn’t like being ordered around, even if it was my grandfather doing the ordering.
Especially when it was him.
Sure, he was the ultimate evil, but he was her father. A parent. And my mom had a rebellious streak that had caused more than one of the gray hairs on his head.
“No way are you doing this,” he said, wagging a talon-tipped finger. “It’s not happening. This wedding is officially off.”
“But it’s not your wedding to call off. It’s my wedding.” Her gaze caught and held his. Her eyes sparked and the air seemed to shimmer around her. “And I say it’s on.”
It wasn’t just Gramps’s eyes that flared bloodred in that next instant. His face elongated, his chin jutted down into a point, his cheekbones sharpened. His skin glowed a deep, vivid crimson. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear the first time.” His voice had taken on an unearthly quality. “I’m not giving you sole control of Hell. I’m never giving you sole control of Hell. No matter who you marry.”
Aunt Levita and Aunt Bella high-fived each other, and Aunt Lucy went for another bow.
He shook his head as if she’d brought home a hated brand of beer right before a Super Bowl party. “I should have known you’d pick the wrong one. Samael, of all demons.” Another disgusted shake. “Why, I couldn’t rest if I knew he was in charge. Of all the chiefs in my service, you go for this idiot?”
“He’s not an idiot,” my mother growled, confirming my guess that there was more to the wedding than simply a power maneuver. “Continue,” she barked, turning back to face Judge Parks. “Say the words. Now.”
“Lillith,” my grandfather demanded. “Do not defy me.”
But my mother had been defying my grandfather for as long as she’d been in existence. All of my aunties had, which was why he’d finally given up the fight in favor of the PGA.
“Say them.” My mother touched the judge’s arm, her fingers digging into his flesh and overriding his resistance. He was a chief and one of her peers, but she was royalty.
His eyes glazed over. His mouth opened and a steady monotone blared over the microphone. “Do you, Lillith, take this demon, Samael, to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold? From this day forward—”
“I will,” my mother cut in. “I do.”
“You’ll regret this, Lillith.” Smoke steamed out of my grandfather’s ears. His eyes spit fire and an excited gasp echoed among the crowd.
What can I say? My relatives love a good fight.
“You’ve defied me for the last time!” He shimmered and vibrated and more sparks flew. “The last time!” And then he disappeared in a swirling cloud of smoke that choked the oxygen in the room for a long, frantic moment.
When the bitter fog cleared, I caught sight of my mother.
She stared at the empty spot where my gramps had been as if debating his words. For the space of a heartbeat, I thought I saw regret in her eyes, but then the expression hardened into pure, pigheaded determination. She turned back to Samael.
“Looks like this torture is over,” Aunt Levita began, but my mother silenced her with a look that said I may not be the head honcho, but I can still kick your ass. My auntie shrugged. “Then again, we’re already here. Might as well finish what we started.”
The entire room went silent, and in a matter of seconds the I dos were over and the attention shifted to the reception.
The first few minutes were as tense as the ceremony, but as the guests began sucking down drinks and appetizers, the mood lightened. An hour in and Beelzebub was chasing Ashtoreth with his sword. All was back to normal in the Damon clan.
Or so I thought until my mother cornered me near the sculpture that I’d had Agarth create as my special gift to her.
“I can’t believe this.” She stared up at the monstrous sculpture that sat center stage, surrounded by platters of braised eyeballs and brain tartare.
Lillith Damon liked herself above all else, so I’d had Agarth sculpt a life-size replica of her in rich, dark chocolate.
“Doesn’t it look just like you?” I was desperate to tip the scales in my favor and point out just how thoughtful I truly was. Especially since she was no longer going to be superbusy ruling the Underworld. She would have plenty of time to focus on me and the fact that I’d turned my back on my birthright, which meant I needed to kiss up in a major way.
“Why, it hardly resembles me. I’m much more stern and frightening. There’s nothing stern and frightening about chocolate.”
“Maybe not, but it’s the finest available. It’s imported.”
She eyed me before reaching out to pop off a finger. “I’ve had better,” she murmured after a quick nibble. “Bella,” she growled, her gaze streaking past me to her sister, who raised her sword and sliced the head off a nearby male demon. She tossed it up into the air and my mother went nuts. “I’m the only one allow
ed to play fetch with Cerberus! He’s my dog.” She popped the rest of the finger into her mouth and went to intercept her three-headed pet before he leaped after the severed head.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I was off the hook.
For the time being.
But the moment of truth was still out there, barreling toward me like an out-of-control freight train. If I didn’t want to find myself splattered all over the pavement, I needed to come clean and tell her about the magazine article before she saw it for herself. Just as I had to tell Cutter that I was one of Satan’s own before he made the connection himself.
Just do it.
That’s what I told myself later that night after the festivities wrapped up and I arrived home to find a Land Rover parked in front of my duplex.
My porch light was off—testimony to the fact that Gio had gone to pour his heart out to Syra and do everything in his power to get her to change her mind about marrying another man.
He wanted her and he didn’t intend to give her up without a fight.
Go, Gio.
Meanwhile, my house was dark and quiet. Moonlight spilled onto the front yard, illuminating the man waiting for me.
Cutter still looked as sexy as ever despite the bruises on his face. He leaned one hip against the front bumper of his Rover, his ankles hooked, arms folded. He’d changed into a fresh pair of faded jeans, a black fitted T-shirt—and a determined expression.
Here’s your chance. Tell him now.
I gathered my courage and climbed out of the car.
He met me just as I was pulling a box from the front seat.
I could do this. I would do this.
Satan’s my mom.
Satan is my mother.
Mi madre es el Diablo.
“You’ve got your soul back,” I blurted instead.
“Yes.” His gaze locked with mine. “Thanks to you.” I didn’t miss the gratitude as he said the words. But there was something extra in the brilliant green depths. The vibrancy that I’d seen in those few seconds after he’d slain Azazel.
The Devil's in the Details Page 21
