Luck of the Devil

by Patricia Eimer

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. But it looks like fun time is over now, kiddo. So, I’ll see you about 6:30, okay?”

  I eyed her sweats. “Where are you going?”

  “Upstairs to take a shower, change clothes, and yell at Boris. Besides, I’ve got this taping on DVR and Dad is pulling up.”

  “How do you know that?” I shut up and focused on the sounds around me. Sure enough, the low rumble of his sports car disrupted the peace on the street below.

  “I’m out of here,” she said, phasing out of my apartment with a quiet pop.

  “Chicken.” Why was it, exactly, that she’d picked a fight with Dad and I was the one cleaning up the mess? That’s right. I was the wimp in this family.

  “Faith.” My father knocked on my door a few minutes later. “Are you home?”

  “Yeah, Dad.” I waved my hand and the door opened. “Come on in.”

  “Thanks,” he said and headed for my couch. “I wanted to talk about yesterday—is that ‘Real Housewives of Bentonville’?”

  “Yes, and I’m shutting it off before it takes over my life.” I grabbed the remote and clicked off the television. “And we really don’t need to talk about yesterday. It’s fine. Hope is exceptionally stressed right now and once things lighten up, she’ll be fine.”

  “No, that’s not what I want.”

  “You don’t want Hope to be fine?”

  “I do want Hope to be fine, but I don’t want us to sweep this under the rug like it’s no big deal. Your sister feels, and I think you feel, that your mother and I weren’t the greatest parents to you.”

  “Dad, you did your best. Let’s stick with the present and move forward,” I said, trying to keep my father from dwelling on things no one wanted to talk about. We couldn’t change them, anyway.

  “Faith,” he said, shooting a red-eyed glare at me, “you kept a fiancé from us. That’s something we need to discuss. Even if your sister’s hysterics yesterday didn’t drive home that your mother and I screwed up somewhere, that would. I wasn’t the best parent for you, and I need to make up for it. But at the same time, I want you to know what I was thinking when I did the things I did.”

  “Fine. Let it out if it will make you happier.”

  “I really had no idea how to parent human children,” my father began.

  “Yeah, because mortal fathers keep the manual locked up where you couldn’t find it.”

  “No, really, I had no idea, and the two of you were drastically different from your half-brother. With demon children, you make sure they’re fed and protected and the mothers handle their upbringing until it’s time for them to join the ranks. But the two of you? I was expected to interact, to nourish, to teach you right from wrong, and I didn’t know how to do that. Especially the right-from-wrong parts.”

  “So you left. Over and over and over again.”

  “And each time I would think, Roisin has it under control. They’re better off without me.”

  “But?”

  “But she’d bring home some nutcase and I’d realize her head was in the clouds too much to be a responsible parent. And those wackadoodles she was so fond of weren’t helping the matter.”

  “And yet, you’re choosing to be with her.”

  His shoulders rose in a slight shrug, and he gave me a tight-lipped smile. “She’s grown up a lot.”

  “Really? Are we talking about the same Roisin Bettincourt? Likes to chant at the city alderman and communes with nature spirits, even though you’ve told her they don’t exist? Not us telling her, but you, the Devil, telling her that there are no nature spirits to bring the world into harmony.” I pointed my finger at his chest, my eyes narrowing so much my lids twitched. “You’re saying that Roisin Bettincourt has grown up and become mature? Is that indeed your final answer?”

  “Faith, I know your mother can be a handful.”

  “No, she’s more of a—what did you call it? A wackadoodle? She’s a wackadoodle with extra crazy sauce drizzled on the sides, and a cherry-flavored break from reality on top.”

  He closed his eyes and massaged his temples, where his horns pushed underneath the skin. “She needs someone to take care of her, and I owe her for the two of you. In fact, I love her for giving me the two of you.”

  “So you’re going to be her… what? Her sugar daddy? Her caretaker? Does she know you’re with her because of obligation and no other reason?”

  “There are unscrupulous people in the world that would take advantage of her. And I do love her. So it seems like the best option is to marry her and keep her protected.”

  I smacked my palms on my thighs. “I think you’re both insane.”

  “That’s fine. But what I want to know is why you hid such a large part of your life from us? Why wouldn’t you tell me you were serious with someone and getting married?”

  “Have you met Mom? Do you really think she would have been able to know without ruining it for me? She wouldn’t have allowed me to have something meaningful with someone when it wasn’t all about her.”

  “She only wants to help.”

  “Oh? Really? Is that what she’s doing when she does her thing? Or is she serving her own agenda?”

  “You could have told me,” he said, jabbing his thumb into his chest.

  “And what? You’d have shown up and played nice? No stunts? No using powers to persuade him to do things your way? You would have lied to him the entire time?”

  “But if he loved you, he should have loved you no matter who I was.”

  “Dad, that’s nice in sentiment but you’re the Devil. The Devil,” I said, enunciating the word. “And I’m a demon, with wings and a tail. I’ll quit aging soon, and he will eventually grow old and die. What do you think that’s like for a mortal?”

  “To grow old and die?”

  “To know that you’re facing death alone? That you’re powerless over it? That the person you love won’t be by your side?”

  He nodded, taking my hand into his. “Is that what drove him insane?”

  I yanked my hand away. “Who said anything drove him ins—”

  “I glanced through your trust fund withdrawals today, something I should have done much earlier. You’ve been sending money to a mental hospital and, when I called, they told me he was a patient there.”

  “That’s a violation of HIPAA law.”

  “Devil.” He pointed to himself. “I promise, the nurse who gave me the information won’t even remember she did it.”

  “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Tell me what caused it? What sent your fiancé over the edge and into a mental hospital instead of meeting you at the top of the aisle on your wedding day?”

  “Dad, have you ever heard there’s a difference in knowing something in your head and knowing something in your gut?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, Dan always believed there was a heaven and a hell, but you showed up and had your—”

  “Moment of Anger.”

  Yeah, because turning into a fifteen-foot-tall, black, fire-breathing monster in the middle of my street wasn’t something normal people did when they were angry. Like picking up Mom’s live-in boyfriend at the time—Remy, the psychic investigator—and throwing him to a horde of imps that tore him into tiny pieces and munched on the remains was a natural reaction to finding out your ex-wife had moved on. Sure. And people wondered why I had forbidden my parents to visit together before now.

  “I was going with temper tantrum, but, okay, we can say Moment of Anger. Anyway, suddenly he learns that not only does good and evil exist, but that he’s about to tie himself to something evil. Dan was a good person. And somewhere inside him, he still is a good person. He couldn’t stand the thought that evil could not only exist, but that he could be a part of it. He watched this happen and it broke his mind.”

  “I’m sorry, Faith,” Dad said and hugged me close to him. “I promise that from now on I’ll be more of the father you need. And I’l
l make your mother behave, as well.”

  “Don’t kill yourself trying to do miracles.”

  He squeezed me tightly before kissing the top of my head.

  I decided it was best to tell him about what was going on, what with the cozy father-daughter moment unfolding. He’d be able to trace the threats to the source and help track whoever was out to kill me more effectively than anybody.

  “Dad?”

  “I promise things will be different from now on, Faith. I’ll be a better father and I’ll protect you more.” And protection equaled Purgatory. No thanks. “Now, what did you want to say?”

  “Um, nothing, just that I love you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “How was the nonexistent breakfast with your mom?” Matt asked later that night.

  I followed him into Bridge City Bar and found the two tables he’d claimed in the back corner. “How did you know?”

  “You woke me up when you pulled the feather from my hair.” He smiled. “Good ninja imitation, by the way.”

  My shoulders slumped and I stared at my feet. “So is this going to be awkward?”

  “Why don’t we discuss it at my place, later, without the audience?” he said, pulling out the chair beside him. “We have a bit of an audience right now.”

  I sat, and waited for him to sit next to me. “Sure.”

  “Did you already get the beers in?” Malachi asked as the large, male manifestation he’d selected sauntered around the table and dropped onto a chair across from Matt. “His Majesty doesn’t allow me to have money, so you’re buying my rounds tonight, Angel Boy. Consider it an inconvenience tax.”

  Okay, this wasn’t going as well as I’d hoped. “Nice form,” I said, checking out his attempt to look like Pierce Brosnan during his James Bond days. “It’s a bit bigger than usual, isn’t it?”

  “I thought it would work well for the evening.” Malachi held out his hand for Matt. “Malachi, Dread Demon and Former Commander of the 13th Legion of his Majesty’s Special Troops.”

  Matt nodded and shook Malachi’s hand. “And yet, you’re usually only three feet tall and wear a dress?”

  “Funny,” Malachi said. “But I prefer to think of it as travel-sized. And it’s a cowl, not a dress.”

  “Be nice to my demon,” I said, struggling to keep my lips from quivering. “He can go straight to Dad and there would be Hell to pay. Literally.”

  “And then I’d have to eat you,” Hope said, not bothering to keep the menace out of her voice. She sat beside Malachi and narrowed her eyes at Matt. “We’ve met before, but that doesn’t mean I completely approve of you. Don’t test me.”

  Wow, if the bitch stare was already out, she was preparing for war. I’d hate to be my stalker when she caught him. Or anyone else who got in her way until her mood improved.

  “I’ve got an idea of who your stalker might be,” Matt said.

  “You do?” Tolliver asked. He and Lisa approached the table, him with a pitcher of beer and her with a couple of pilsner glasses.

  “Yep, it didn’t take much to figure out, either. There are six members of the Angale who could be involved in this. And by the description your sister gave me, your stalker has to be an Angale. No one else would glow.”

  “Seriously?” I gaped at him, wide-eyed. Was I so low profile only six freaky nephilim saw me as a threat and wanted to take me out? It wasn’t a vast, far-ranging Angale conspiracy to destroy the Throne of Darkness? That was disappointing. Maybe I needed to work on my profile more?

  “I figured it wouldn’t be an angel, and Harold said he glowed yellow, which could only mean we’re dealing with a nephilim.”

  “That doesn’t mean he has to be part of the Angale,” I said. “He might be a freelancer.”

  “We’re all part of the Angale,” Matt said. “Every nephilim is born into the Angale. And only six of us have ever gone rogue. And a rogue wouldn’t do this.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because every one of us is terrified of being found and dragged home. There isn’t a prize big enough to make a rogue give up his freedom. Besides, I know the other five and they don’t match your stalker’s description.”

  “How do we know the stalker isn’t a full-fledged angel?” Lisa asked, pouring beer into her and Tolliver’s glasses.

  “Because God has a live-and-let-live policy with demons, unless you break the rules. And He has a definite hands-off policy when it comes to Faith and Hope. In fact, after a little small talk with another rogue, I found out something rather interesting. Not only are full angels not allowed to threaten you, they have to protect you if they know you’re in danger.”

  “No shit.” I turned to Hope. “Did Dad tell you about this?”

  “No, but when does Dad tell me anything relevant?”

  “I knew,” Tolliver said.

  “Me too,” Malachi said.

  Why was I always the last to know? “You did?”

  “It’s not my fault you never listen to me, is it?” Malachi said.

  “And all of the proper Heavenly Host has been accounted for,” Matt added. “Besides, none of them look like a weasel.”

  “So your stalker is a nephilim,” Malachi said. “I told you so.”

  “And that means we can hurt him,” Hope said with a wicked smile.

  “Fuck that,” Tolliver said. “A nephilim is fair game for soul extraction without having to jump through the diplomatic hoops we’d have to go through for an angel.”

  “Exactly.” Malachi rubbed his hands together. “Now, who am I going to be eating, Angel Boy? Tell me it’s someone good. Please let it be someone good. A screamer. I love it when they scream.”

  Matt’s eyes widened. He blinked a few times and shook his head. “Let’s get back to finding him first. What do you say?”

  “Fine,” Malachi muttered. “Who do you think it is?”

  “It could be any of them. They’re all nuts. I thought we could put a dossier together on each of them, and let your ghost look at them to see if someone looked familiar.”

  “My question is, how did one of you find out where we are?” Hope asked, suspicion darkening her face.

  “It isn’t hard,” Matt said. “You’re on Google. There are plenty of sermons dedicated to destroying the evil Satan has created amongst men. All it takes is the right questions put to the right nephilim and you can figure out Satan has two half-human daughters.”

  “And what? You just typed ‘Daughters of Satan’ into the computer and up popped a picture of Faith?”

  “That’s how the names Faith and Hope came up. Then I asked a few more questions. I’m a lawyer, that’s what I do.”

  “That’s it?”

  “There are fan pages out there for the two of you. I’d say demonic nephilim-run, by the looks of them, but they’re still easily accessible by the public.”

  “What?”

  He pulled out his phone and typed something into it, then handed it to me. I stared at a black webpage. ‘All Hail the Queens,’ it said in large, red letters, and beneath that were pictures of Faith and me. Lots of pictures.

  “There are websites out there about us?”

  “Welcome to the Internet age,” Matt said. “It didn’t take too much to figure out the landmarks behind you were Pittsburgh. After that, I found Faith in an Internet phone book. There aren’t many, but I got a big help when I managed to access Chicago PD reports about a young man who claimed you were a demon. The report said he was mentally unbalanced, but it skyrocketed you to the top of the list. One drive by the apartment building, and I knew I’d found who I was looking for.”

  Uneasiness crept over me. “So you’re saying this fan boy did the same thing? He just got out there and found a webpage someone made and it led him right to me?”

  “Basically, yes. But I don’t think this is a case of an obsessed fan boy who thinks he’s in love with you. This is something much more serious.”

  “Then what is he so fixated on?” Lisa asked.
/>
  “He’s looking for a demonic nephilim so he can harness its power,” I said. “My power.”

  “Correction: he’s looking for more demonic nephilim to harness for power,” Malachi said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “It’s the only way he’s phasing, or able to mask his actions. Think about it—no one noticed when he suddenly flew up and hovered outside the window while Lisa was killing Harold? It wasn’t in the papers? On the news? We didn’t even notice him, so he had to be masking himself like this one”—he nodded toward Matt—“masks his signature when you touch him.”

  “You have a good point.” Hope focused her attention on Matt. “Why should we trust you? How do we know this isn’t some elaborate plot you’re a part of?”

  “Don’t you think I’d have made a move by now?”

  “Maybe you’re waiting for the right time? How should I know? It’s not like we’re experts on the affairs of psychotic Angale.”

  He leaned forward, his hands on the table, and met her accusing glare with a level stare. “I’m not trying to steal Faith’s powers.”

  Blackness curled around her, and her eyes turned from sapphire to ruby. “How can we be sure?”

  “Don’t you think I would have taken them last night while she was, you know, distracted?”

  “Is this something we really need to talk about?” I said, shrinking into my seat.

  Hope raised her eyebrows, and I noticed the corners of her lips twitching upward. He’d stood up to her and hadn’t flinched. Apparently, I wasn’t the only Bettincourt female he’d managed to impress.

  “Fine,” Hope said and took a drink of her beer. “You’ve got a point. I’ve done it enough in my misspent youth. But why should we trust you about this other nephilim?”

  “Look, trust me or don’t trust me, but I’m telling you it’s one of these six nephilim you’re looking for.”

  “Why exactly do these six have some sort of burning desire to take Faith’s power?”

  He dragged a French fry through ketchup and pointed it at her. “The first five are crackpots who really believe in the total war to come. They’d love to take the opening shot of the war between Good and Evil and, even if they die in the process, go down in infamy for their actions.”