by Holly Hunt
I'm your brother-in-law, Lucifer, I growled, hissing at him. The Angel you were going to turn into an uncle until God found out! She didn't just throw you and the Demons from Heaven, with Sera's "accident" on the side. God split and destroyed my entire family! We were targeted because we were made different from the other Angels, different from you! And now you're going to get Clarissa killed as well, just to make it two for two!
Lucifer frowned at me, looking me over. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Clarissa looking between the red-skinned Devil and me. "So your name wasn't a coincidence."
No. It was one of the few times that she could hear me without the assistance of your magic. I settled back down on the couch, continuing to glare at him. The way I would like her returned, Lucifer. Now!
"If I did that, she would bleed to death—Clarissa? Are you all right?"
I detected genuine concern in his voice, which didn't soften my resolve. The people in greatest danger were always the ones the Devil cared about. I turned to find out what he'd seen. Clarissa was slumped on the couch,
watching us with wide eyes.
I shot across the couch to sit next to her, beating the Light-Bringer to her.
"Please don't talk to me, Aspen. I'm still not sure that this is real," she said faintly.
I frowned, licking at her hand. I pushed her hand up so that my head was underneath it, and she automatically scratched behind my ears. I was happy to see that Lucifer looked devastated.
She doesn't want you, Lucifer, I said with a dark laugh, enjoying his pain. So get out of her life before you bring God and Her minions down on her.
"Clarissa?" Lucifer asked, sitting on the coffee table opposite her. He was ignoring me. "Are you okay?" He felt her temperature, checking around her jaw for something. I yowled and growled at him, but he ignored me.
"I'm just—it just hit me, that's all." Clarissa sat up, and I climbed up onto her lap. "I never really thought that the things the preachers told me every Sunday could be real, that there were such things as magic, or talking cats, or the Devil."
"It's a lot to take in, on top of the attack," Lucifer allowed. "You probably haven't been able to really process it until now, then you processed too much."
Clarissa nodded, scratching my ears again. "Especially when I never really thought I'd see anything like this." She laughed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, and buried her face in her hands.
I tumbled from her lap as Lucifer leaned back from her. Clarissa scrubbed at her face and I jumped up to sit beside her.
"The world just—just jumped around. What I thought was real turns out to be fake, and what I thought was imaginary turned out to be real—" She rubbed at her face again, and I rubbed my head along her arm, showing my support.
"Do you want me to leave?" Lucifer asked gently. "I can give you some space to get used to the fact that I am real before I try to be your friend?"
Clarissa looked up at him, reaching a hand out to rest on his knee. "No, stay."
I looked at her hand on his knee and felt my anger at the Light-Bringer flare. I might only have been a cat, but I had claws and Clarissa would never forgive him if he killed me. At least, I hoped so.
I leaped for Lucifer's face, my claws extended. Clarissa yelled, trying to grab me, but I sank my claws into Lucifer's scalp as his hands pushed me from him. I felt my claws slide through his skin as I flew through the air, and landed on my feet. I yelled and charged at Lucifer again.
I stopped. Clarissa had hold of my tail, pulling at it.
Let me go! I'm going to kill him! I was satisfied to see that Lucifer was holding a hand to the side of his face, where my scratches were bleeding. However, as I watched, the scratches healed, leaving the blood dripping down his face. Coward! Fight me like a man!
"You aren't a man, Aspen," Lucifer said as Clarissa picked me up by the scruff of the neck so I couldn't break free. "You're a cat. And a very annoying one at that."
Because of you! I hissed and screeched, but Clarissa wouldn't let me go. She threw me in the bathroom again, shutting the door.
"You can stay in there until you learn to be nice, Aspen!"
Nine
Lucifer Morningstar
I really hate cats.
Even when I was in Heaven, with the little monsters constantly underfoot, I hated cats. They never seemed to like me, and Aspen just proved that they still don't like me.
"I'm so sorry, Lucifer," Clarissa said, returning from the bedroom.
I could hear Aspen yowling and growling from the bathroom, accompanied by the crash and bang of shampoo bottles and other assorted paraphernalia hitting the floor and the walls. I felt a perverse sense of pleasure when I heard my brother-in-law's cat-curses.
"Aspen was being an ass." She looked at the side of my face. "Let me get you a cloth or something for those scratches."
"They're healed," I said, touching the blood on the side of my face. "Don't worry about it."
"I'll get something to wipe the blood off, then." She headed into the kitchen.
I followed her, watching. She dampened a hand towel and wrung it out, turning to look at me. I moved to take the towel, but she smiled at me.
"Here, let me do it." She reached up, trying to clean the blood from my face, and laughed. "You'll have to bend down closer than that, Lucifer. I'm not ten feet tall," she teased.
I rolled my eyes at her exaggeration, but bent down so she could reach my forehead. I didn't stop leaning forward, taken by impulse. I pressed my lips to hers, then felt her freeze. I started to lift my head again, to end the kiss, but she lifted her arms up to wrap them around my neck, holding me to her.
I felt her relax into me and I frowned, pulling back. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that—"
She shook her head. Disappointment crossed her face for a second, but then she let me go. "It's okay, Lucifer." She smiled. "If it wasn't I would have pulled away." She cleaned the blood off my face, and I hesitantly smiled at her.
"You know, you still have to help me take those bullets out."
She laughed nervously, handing me a towel to dry my face. "I'll do it now, if you think you can stand the pain."
I smiled at her. "Sure. I even brought the things I use to grab them." I pulled the tongs from one of the green bags, handing them to Clarissa. "I doubt many people would have the stomach to do this, but I think you do."
Clarissa nodded, looking like she was trying to hold the color in her face by sheer willpower. "What do you want me to do?"
I grabbed her hand, leading her into the living room. I took my shirt off, examining the holes from the remaining bullets. They hadn't healed at all.
"Pick a hole, put the tongs in, grab at the thing you find, and pull." I showed her the one in my arm first, making sure she knew what she was doing. "It won't hurt, so don't worry about grabbing the wrong thing. It's not like you could pull a bone out or anything."
Clarissa nodded, setting her mouth. "Okay, let me try." Her hands were shaking when she lifted the tongs, inserting them into the bullet hole. She glanced at me, then frowned.
"That doesn't hurt?"
I smiled at her. "It feels a bit strange, but it doesn't hurt."
"Hmm." Clarissa peered into the hole, closing the tongs around the bullet. It was sitting inside my bone, and she only just managed to grip the edge of the bullet to pull it out.
"Can you feel anything?" she asked, pulling the bullet from my bone.
"I can feel everything you're doing," I said to her, watching her face. "It's strange, and I don't think I can describe it to you."
"Oh." She pulled the bullet out, looking at it. "I'm amazed that you didn't get an infection or lead poisoning."
I laughed again. "I can't be killed, so sickness doesn't get a foot in the door." I grinned at her. "The same as I can't get lead poisoning."
"Oh. Where should I put this?" she asked, gesturing to the bullet.
I held my hand out, and she put the bullet in it, moving
to look at the hole in the center of my chest. She kneeled between my legs, pushed the tongs into my chest and watched my face. I smiled at her, and she grabbed the bullet, pulling it out. My expression didn't change.
"That's so weird," she said as I pinched the edges of the holes together. They stuck, already healing. She put the bullet in my hand and looked me over.
"Thanks. They're the only ones left. I couldn't get the angle of the tongs right to pull those two out." I stood up, taking the tongs from her.
I walked into the kitchen and dug through the green bag, pulling out my jar of bullets. I put the latest two in, and Clarissa snatched the jar from my grip.
"You've been shot this many times?" she gasped, shaking the jar.
"Plus a few that I removed and left at crime scenes, and the ones that pass through my wings." I smiled at her. "I'm not an Angel anymore, Clarissa. I do occasionally get into fights. Usually involving guns."
"What did you collect before there were bullets?" she asked. "Musket balls?"
I nodded, ignoring her scornful-turned-incredulous look. "And before that, crossbow bolts, darts, arrows and spearheads."
"Right." She looked me over. "So what's for dinner?"
"Dinner is whatever I cook," I said with a grin. "I'd better get it started. It'll take a while."
Clarissa laughed. "Okay. Do you need any help?"
I smiled at her. "I'm always willing to teach someone to cook, Clarissa."
~ * ~
It was fun cooking with her. I directed Clarissa on what to do, putting her to work on the sauce while I made the pasta sheets. She was cutting up onions and crushing garlic, her hands unsteady on the knife, when I glanced at her.
"No." I frowned and stepped behind her, taking her hands in mine. "You cut up vegetables and other things like this." I adjusted her grip on the knife and the onion, smoothing her cuts. "You looked like you were trying to cut your finger off or something. I don't think my magic will fix that as easily as the stab wound."
Clarissa's face was red, and I realized how close to her I was standing. I let her hands go, stepping back.
"Sorry."
Clarissa shook her head, continuing to cut the onions, though in a less-damaging way. "It's okay. I've never been a very good cook anyway. I appreciate the help." She smiled at me.
I smiled back, heading back to the pasta dough and checking its elasticity. "Any time."
Clarissa abandoned the onions, and I thought I'd said the wrong thing, somehow. She stopped at the fridge and reached up to a small iPod and its speakers. She played around with it for a few seconds before some old 80s music echoed around the room. With another smile at me, she returned to the onions, chopping haphazardly again.
I sighed, and split the dough up, wrapping it up to keep it moist. I stepped up behind her and rested my chin on her shoulder again. "I'm going to teach you how to cut these onions properly if it takes all night and the entire bag," I said with a grin, adjusting her shaky grip on the knife again.
"Sorry," she said, biting her bottom lip and blushing.
I shook my head, kissing her on the cheek. "Relax. Cooking should be fun."
She laughed, her blush visibly darkening, and tried to relax. She didn't do very well.
I laughed, taking the knife from her hand and put it on the counter. She turned her head to frown at me, and I kissed her on the lips. I pulled back when I felt her relax again, laughing as one of my favorite songs echoed around
the kitchen.
"Come on!"
"What—? But, dinner—"
I laughed, spinning her around. "Forget dinner. You can't cook when you're tense. It ruins the flavor."
Clarissa looked at me as though I'd lost my mind. It probably seemed that way. "What?"
I laughed, spinning her around and dancing to the song. "Dance, Clarissa!"
I heard her bastard cat object from the bathroom, but I ignored him.
Clarissa turned red again. "I can't!" she cried, her body following my silent motions and dancing anyway.
"Nonsense!" I laughed, pulling her into my arms and doing a fake waltz with her, too fast for the music. "Have some fun!"
"No, really, Lucifer, I can't." She tried to pull away from me, but I didn't let her go, holding onto her hand.
"Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong," I sang along to the up-beat recording of the famous song. "Under the shade of a Coolibah tree..."
Clarissa laughed at my horrible singing, starting to relax, though she was still blushing. "That's terrible!"
"I bet you can't do better!" I retorted, spinning her around the small space between the living room and kitchen.
"I can too!" she answered, laughing. The chorus started up and she sang along with it. "Who'll come awaltzing Matilda my darling, who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me..."
I laughed, joining in and leading her in a quick tango to the song's beat, making her laugh.
"Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me? Down came a jumbuck to drink at that billabong..."
I turned Clarissa around so she had her back to my chest, and breathed across the back of her neck, making her shiver and giggle.
"The entire Australian population would be furious to hear you singing their national song so badly," Clarissa laughed. "They'd go to Hell just to beat the crap out of you for it, you're that bad. Of course, once they're all there they'll sit about drinking beer and singing like the Irish, but
still..."
"Well, you sing with your American accent," I retorted, laughing as I spun her around. "They'd come after you for that too, you know. Aussies are very protective of their national song. Especially against Americans."
"You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me. Up jumped a squatter, a-riding on his thoroughbred. Up jumped the coppers, one, two, three. 'Whose is that jumbuck you've got in your tucker bag? You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me..."
"Your singing really is terrible," Clarissa laughed as I spun her again.
"Maybe," I allowed with a grin, "but it's got you relaxing."
Clarissa laughed and spun back into my arms. "And you managed to get me dancing."
"As graceful as a butterfly," I said with a laugh. "You haven't trod on my foot once."
With an innocent expression on her face, she stood on my right foot as hard as she could.
I laughed. "That's my girl!"
"But the swagman, he up and jumped in that billabong, drowning himself by that Coolibah tree, and his ghost may be heard as you pass by that billabong, 'Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?'"
Clarissa rolled her eyes at me and we danced around the living room until the song was finished. I led Clarissa back to the counter, standing behind her to make sure she cut the onions properly.
"All relaxed now?"
She laughed, slicing the onions easily.
"Excellent. Never cook when you're tense, upset, or angry. You either burn the food, or you get something that tastes terrible, no matter how closely you follow the recipe." I headed back to my balls of pasta dough, testing them. They were ready to be rolled.
"I don't suppose you have a pasta roller?" I asked Clarissa, then shook my head, laughing when she lifted her eyebrows at me. "Silly question." I thought for a second. I could go out and buy one, but that would take too long.
It was true that in Hell I could make anything I
wanted. I snapped my fingers, thinking. "How would you like to meet Leviathan?"
"Isn't he a sea-monster?" she asked, then blushed.
"He is sometimes." I grinned at her. "Mind if I use your phone for a second?"
Clarissa nodded, washing as much of the onion smell from her hands as she could. She pulled a cordless phone from the wall beside her and handed it to me. "Who're you going to call?"
"Ghostbusters."
She laughed as I smiled at her. "Really?"
"Nah, Beelzebub should still be up dancing at this time of night. Hell's like a nightclub," I said with a smile. "All Beelzebub does is
party. Silly me left him in charge. I shouldn't have done it, but..." I shrugged with a smile.
"If it's any more than a local call—"
I laughed, dialing a three-digit number. "The telephone companies can't pick up calls to Hell—Oh, Belial." I smiled at Clarissa, heading out into the living room.
"Hey, boss. I didn't realize you knew our phone number." There was loud dance music playing in the background.
"Of course I do, I'm the one that installed it, remember?"
