A hiccup escapes and I cover my mouth. I’m trying to blend in again near the gates. It’s busy, full of incoming souls, but it’s the easiest place to be alone with no one interested in me or my issues.
Maybe I can transfer to the gates. Maybe if I talk to Mr. Griffith, he’ll let me be a greeter Angel. I still can’t understand how someone like me can be expected to save the world. I feel like it was mostly luck the first time. What’ll happen when my luck runs out?
I kick at the mist by my feet. I’m wearing my old, worn-out tennis shoes and jeans. No need for Angel robes. They only make me feel more separated from the real world.
“There you are.”
Mr. Griffith stands over me, holding out a hand to help me up.
“Hi,” I say, pasting on a smile and accepting his arm, seeing no way out. “You were looking for me?”
“Why, yes. I was hoping we could chat. You look like you could use a cup of coffee. I’ll buy.” He winks and escorts me back through the throngs of lost souls and greeters. Things might have been so different if only he had been the one to meet me here instead of Ms. Alvarez.
Of course, Mr. Griffith is much too important to spend his time greeting dead teenagers. That’s what greeter Angels are for. Still, someone else—anyone else—would’ve been nice. Shona, maybe. I may have never even had to go near Cam. But then again, that would mean I’d never have met Josh.
We pass through the breathtaking hallway of stars and soon we’re back in Mr. Griffith’s office, which today is decorated as a café straight off of a street in Paris. Tiny birds flit around the bottoms of the chairs, hoping for crumbs, and one table is set for two with steaming mugs of coffee, milk, and a plate piled high with cookies of various types, including chocolate and peanut butter, my favorite. I nearly cry at the sight of them. I seem to cry at everything lately.
I take a seat and halfheartedly pick at a cookie, tossing a crumb to the birds below. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“You’re very welcome. So,” Mr. Griffith takes a sip of his own steaming cup, “I hear you and Josh are going through a tough time.”
I sink back into my seat, breaking up the cookie into tiny pieces on my plate. Maybe he did give Josh permission to be with Hope. “Word travels fast in Heaven, huh?”
“It’s hard to hide things from this view.” He spreads his hands out to indicate all around. “But what matters is you, Grace. How are you holding up?”
His fathomless eyes focus on me, giving me his undivided attention and making me feel like I’m the most important person in the world. But all I can think is that Josh used to make me feel that way all the time.
“I’m kind of a mess,” I say, and finally take a bite. A soft breeze tickles my neck and I catch a waft of freshly baked bread. I inhale.
Mr. Griffith nods, full of understanding. “Love is one of the hardest things humans have to deal with, living or dead. I’m not sure, but I suspect that’s why The Man Upstairs created chocolate.”
I surprise myself by giggling and take a sip of coffee.
“Tell me, Grace: what’s on your mind? I want to know how you’re feeling.”
“Everyone I love is out of reach. I guess I’m lonely, and maybe a little afraid.” The words pour out as I lean in to answer. “I’m in Heaven, and it isn’t that I’m not grateful, but it just doesn’t feel all that perfect here. I thought with Josh it would be okay, that we could build a new life together and he would be enough, even without my family.” I have to stop for a minute to collect myself before I start sobbing again. “But like you said, we’re going through a tough time. And I can’t visit my family—not in a real way. I can only watch them suffer.”
Mr. Griffith grinds his teeth like he’s in pain and shakes his head. “I’m so sorry, Grace. It must be difficult. I can only imagine.”
I sink back into my seat, defeated, and Mr. Griffith puts a hand on mine. I feel my spirits lift with the contact, but I’m on to him and I pull away. I don’t want a Band-Aid. I want my family.
“This is my fault,” he says, tossing a piece of cookie to a bird. “I should not have allowed you to visit your family. It would have been easier if you couldn’t see what they’ve become.”
“What? No.” I stand. “You can’t take them away.” I’ll die. I’ll dry up like a starfish on land.
“I won’t, Grace. Relax.”
I swallow, breathing deeply until I’m able to think rationally again. “I’m glad you let me see them. I would have wondered forever. My imagination would have been just as bad. At least now I can be near them.”
“You know what always makes me feel better?” Mr. Griffith is full of life again, his dark eyes sparkling like dewdrops. “Besides chocolate?”
“What’s that?” I ask to be polite.
“Saving a soul. You can’t help the ones you love, so save another soul—the right soul for you.”
“You want me to focus on my job,” I say, embarrassed. “I’m working on it. I’ve been studying a couple of the potential souls. I’ll look into the others and report back—”
“No.”
I stop, unsure what he’s getting at. “Am I fired?”
He laughs. “No! Not at all. You’re ready to do more than study. The halls will guide you to a new room, where you can have a quiet space. Pick one of these souls you’ve found. Guide him or her—you’re more than capable.”
“But I thought you didn’t want us to interact with anyone until we were sure it was the next potential Antichrist.”
“Even if a potential soul doesn’t become the Antichrist, everyone needs guidance, and since they are technically a potential, you are allowed to interact.”
I rub the end of a strand of hair between my finger and thumb. Maybe this is what I need. I can’t change Josh’s mind, and I can’t reveal myself to Noah. There’s someone I can help, though—I think of the little boy named Kobe, walking the streets of Detroit like a shadow.
“I know exactly who I can help. Thank you.” I rush over and give Mr. Griffith a hug. He returns the embrace and I’m fueled with excitement and renewed determination, just like the first time I met with him alone.
I can make a difference instead of wallowing in self-pity. I can save Kobe’s soul.
Chapter 17
Keira
I don’t mind the Boss sending me back to corrupt Noah. I’m looking forward to spending time with him.
The moment I packed up the “picnic,” I ducked behind a tree, changed back into my own body, and returned to find Noah in the midst of a drug deal with the boys from his basketball game. Now I wait, enjoying being in my own skin while he finishes up. The pierced-tongue kid leers at me where I sit up on the splintered picnic table, legs crossed, and I wink just to mess with him.
“See you next week,” the other kid says.
“About that,” I say, “you’re going to have to start working for your fix. Noah’s too busy to cater to small-timers like you idiots. Bring in some new clientele and he’ll set you up for a month. Otherwise, you can find another source for your habit.”
Noah glances at me, eyebrows raised, an amused smirk on his face. “You heard the lady.”
“Whipped much?” Tongue asks, stepping toward me menacingly.
Noah moves closer, but I hold up a hand and lean forward into Tongue’s face. “You think you can intimidate me?” I bat my eyes at him. “I chew up boys like you for breakfast and spit you back out by lunch.”
“What’s so special about Noah?” he asks, settling a hand on my knee.
I grab his fingers and squeeze with Demon strength until he falls to the grass, crying. “He’s a real man. You? You’re a waste of space. Now get the Hell out of here.” I compel him with the last words and he turns to leave.
“Like we said, see you next week,” the other boy says.
I nod to Noah, letting him know he can take over.
Noah shrugs. “Doubtful. I’ll have better clients by then. Let’s go, babe.” He holds out a hand
for me and I hop off the table to take it.
The boy scowls, but follows Tongue toward the parking lot. I press myself against Noah, wrapping my hands around his neck.
He leans down and kisses me deeply. Maybe once a century I find someone who can make my toes curl with a kiss, but I’ve never met someone who sets my whole body on fire. I pull him closer, wanting to devour him from head to toe.
“Can you take us back to my room?” he asks, working his mouth over my ear.
I answer by snapping my fingers and transporting us inside my cloud of black smoke right to his bed.
“Whoa. That was awesome.” His chest pumps in and out like we just got off a roller coaster.
“You mean I’m awesome. And you were right, by the way.”
“About what?” he asks, getting on his knees and crawling toward me.
“You can do so much better than those creeps in the park. You’ve got untapped potential, Noah Howard. I can feel it.” I run my hands over his arms.
“I’m starting to see the possibilities now that I’m with you. I feel like I can finally be somebody. I want what Lucifer promised. I want power. I want to be important like you made me feel at the park.”
“I thought I knew what I wanted when I was human. But the more I tried to find it, the more it eluded me.” Why did I say that? It must be on my mind after Lucifer’s torture session.
“Did you have a deal with Lucifer?” he asks, eyes searching me like he’s trying to X-ray my brain.
“No. No deal. I earned my place downstairs all on my own.”
“I bet you always did what you wanted when you wanted. I bet you never let anyone keep you from being who you wanted to be.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I tell him, pulling him down on top of me for another slow kiss that ignites my blood.
He stops after a minute and lifts himself to look down at me, smoothing my hair from my face lovingly. Is he teasing me?
“Can I ask you something?” The question slips from somewhere inside. What is wrong with me, asking permission like a dimwitted child?
“Sure.”
“You said you wanted your parents to forget about your sister. What was that about?” I think I know: with his parents willing to waste the rest of their lives missing perfect Grace, Noah was ready to sacrifice his own soul to stop their suffering. I just want to understand what’s so special about her that everyone is willing to give up their lives and afterlives for her.
He clenches his jaw and tightens his hand into a fist as he sits up. I probably should have waited to ask until we weren’t in the bed.
“Her name was Grace. We were close. But…my parents always favored her. They’ve forgotten that I even exist since the accident.”
I tentatively put a hand on his fist.
“I had this plan in my head, you know? I never said it out loud, but I guess I can tell you. You won’t judge me, right? Of course not—you’re a Demon.”
I pull my hand back into my lap. “Tell me.”
“I wanted them to forget they ever had her so they’d finally notice me. I’d be the favorite for once.”
That was not what I was expecting. “So you don’t want her forgotten because it hurts to miss her so much?”
He snorts. “She annoyed the crap out of me. She always corrected everything I did. She was like a watchdog. I think it’s pretty obvious I’m no saint, but she was convinced I was. You know the worst part?”
I shake my head, unable to form words.
“Now I know she’s been rewarded for getting all the attention. She’s in Heaven and I’m going to Hell. How’s that fair?”
“I know what you mean,” I say. Hadn’t I thought that very thing about Josh?
“But I don’t care if they forget anymore. I don’t need their approval like I thought. What I really need is to finally do what’s right for me, and it’s probably better if they don’t pay any attention.”
Noah’s lost in his thoughts, so I climb onto my knees and rub at his shoulders for a bit, thinking. Noah sounds a lot like me when I was young, with his hunger for affection and a desire to make it happen at any cost, with anyone.
Or maybe I’m just thinking that because of what Lucifer put me through.
“What’s the worst thing you ever wanted to do?” I ask, moving in front of him to take his hand.
He smiles. “I don’t know. Make my parents forget they ever had my sister? Do wicked things with you?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“That’s not awful. It sounds pretty good to me.” I crawl into his lap and pull his mouth down to mine, placing his hand on my waist.
He stands, lifting me up, and tosses me down on the bed where I bounce and squeal. He climbs over me, entwining his fingers with mine. “I just want to be somebody, you know?” he says as he kisses my neck. “Is that really so evil?”
It’s tough to catch my breath, engulfed in the feel of Noah and his scent of cloves and mint, but I try. “I don’t think it’s evil.”
“Says the Demon in my bed.”
Noah drowns out my next words with his mouth, and this time the kiss is hot and fierce and hungry. I respond with fervor, hoping he can make me forget myself for a moment instead of reminding me of what I am.
Chapter 18
Josh
I’m sort of breaking the rules by getting involved with Lucy. Mr. Griffith told me to watch, not interact. But I’ll already be screwed when he finds out I’ve made a deal with my old Boss. At least this is sort of my job. And I have a good reason to get involved—namely Ms. Alvarez. Even so, I don’t want to ask permission, because the less I talk to Mr. Griffith, the less likely he is to figure out what I’ve been up to.
Lucy’s parents have an ad posted online, searching for a nanny for their three kids, two of whom are in public school for the majority of the day. It sounds like a dream job. I checked with the local babysitting company, charming the girl behind the desk so she’d spill their private info, and it turns out the family has been through every registered sitter. That’s why they moved on to the internet. When the sitters found out it was the oldest girl’s disability that scared others off, they were eager to prove they could be more sensitive, only to quit without explanation days—sometimes as soon as hours—later.
I’m not convinced that it’s Lucy scaring them away; it might actually be Ms. Alvarez. Either way, it wasn’t tough to get the sitting job—I didn’t even need to use glamour.
Lucy doesn’t go to school. I’ve been watching the last couple of days so I can be prepared for my “first day” today. She stays in the house, only coming out to the porch to read. She doesn’t even interact with her parents and siblings, just watches through the window with that filmy gray eye when they get home from school and work. Sometimes I think she sees me even though I’m invisible, because the eye will hone in on me and stare.
Her house doesn’t help lighten the creep factor. It’s dark and smells like mildew and old people even though a young family lives there. It probably hasn’t been updated since the seventies, judging by the mustard-yellow and pea-green colors, and lace trim everywhere. I’m surprised there’re no doilies on the coffee table. Today, I see a teacup with bright-pink lipstick staining the edge. It must be Mrs. A’s—Grace told me about her tea-drinking habit.
Lucy’s curled up on the couch beneath a blanket, reading and ignoring me despite her mother’s introduction. I tell her mother not to worry, that I’ll just watch until she gets used to me.
Lucy bites at her cuticles as she turns the pages, so I guess her Satanic book is exciting. When she ignores her mom’s call for dinner, no one tries again. About an hour later, her mom comes in with a paper plate full of meatloaf and salad, which she sets before Lucy like an offering and backs away.
“Don’t forget to eat, Lucy.”
Lucy grunts in response, ignoring her mother.
“I see Ms. Alvarez was here.” Her mother scoots over to pick up the teacup. “I’m glad to see you finall
y sticking with a tutor. I hope you and Josh will get along as well.”
Lucy’s eye rolls independently to stare at her mother, and, like a deranged doll, the rest of her body turns to catch up. “I hate that woman,” she says softly.
“Well, at least she’s willing to stick with it,” her mother counters.
“She’s too stupid to be scared of me, Mother. And I don’t have high hopes for your newbie over there, either.” Her eye darts to me and then back.
Her mom’s mouth drops open, then closes again. “Stop being so rude. I’m sorry, Josh,” she says. Her eyes start to water as she turns back toward her daughter. “Maybe I should make an appointment with Doctor—”
“No!” Lucy stands suddenly, clutching her book in one hand, and takes the plate from the coffee table with her other, flinging it at her mother. Brown-and-orange chunks spring out, peppering the floor and her mother’s feet with the contents of her dinner. “I said no to seeing a doctor. Leave me alone, or I’ll curse you!”
Her mother stands there, fighting tears and wringing her hands like she doesn’t know what to do with herself, and I notice Lucy’s little sister in the doorway, watching with big, brown eyes.
“I’m going to my room,” Lucy says. “Do not disturb me.”
I tell her mother not to worry and follow Lucy up the steps. Her room is at the end of the narrow hall and she slams the door just as I approach. I’m standing behind her by the time she turns around.
“How’d you get in?” she asks. “Never mind. Just get out. I can curse you, too.”
“You aren’t going to scare me away,” I say, crossing my arms. She needs to drop the crazy act. She might come off as creepy, but she’s twelve. Her room’s covered in purple flowers and smells like bubble gum, for shit’s sake.
She considers me with both eyes in unison for once. “Whatever. I have a right to privacy and if you don’t leave on your own, I’ll tell everyone you made me do nasty things.”
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