Devil May Care

by Patricia Eimer

  “You could say that.” I opened a portal from their little hidey-hole to the hallway outside my living room so we could wait for news on Matt’s condition.

  “Listen up,” my father called behind me. When I turned, I saw that he had his hands over his head, dark energy crackling between his fingertips as he addressed the Angale. “This compound is no more. Your army is no more. Disperse from this place and live in peace. If you do not, I will come for you, and when I do, there is nowhere you can hide, no one that will save you. Go now. While I’m feeling merciful.”

  There was a sharp crack as he released the energy he’d been holding. The walls shimmered and began to dissolve. “Your hiding place will be gone in a few hours. I suggest you find your way out of here before then. Otherwise there may be uncomfortable questions for all of you to answer.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  I paced the length of Matt’s living room. Twenty-three paces across. Turn. Twenty-three more paces. Rest your head against the door and try to hear something from across the hall. Twice a day I stopped and made myself a pot of coffee. I drank one cup and emptied the rest down the drain when I went back to make the next pot.

  Tuesday night I tried to sleep. I curled up in Matt’s bed and buried my face in his pillow, trying to smell sunshine and cookies. Two hours later blood-curdling screams across the hall in my apartment woke me.

  No way could I sleep. I had to be closer to him. So I moved to pacing the hallway. Eleven steps from his door to mine. Eleven steps that could either destroy me or save me. I made that eleven-step trip one thousand times before giving up and going back to Matt’s apartment to hide again.

  My cell phone rang sometime on Wednesday, two days after we’d gotten Tolliver back from the Angale, and I reached for it numbly. Probably work. Lisa and I had taken emergency leave but someone from PICU always called each day to check on us and see if we needed anything.

  I slapped my hand around on the empty granite counter and let my tail roam across the floor toward the ringing. I thought it was somewhere on Matt’s island. I remembered throwing it there sometime after the screaming stopped and before the long silence began. When had that been? Yesterday? Last night? I wasn’t sure.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Miss Bettincourt. It’s Detective Kastellero, from the Pittsburgh Police.”

  “I paid my parking ticket,” I mumbled. I buried my head back into Matt’s pillow, breathing in the lingering trace of his scent.

  “That’s wonderful, Miss Bettincourt,” he said, sounding amused. “But I’m not with the Parking Authority. I’m with the Police Department. We spoke last week? You made some unfortunate jokes that I would have happily arrested you for?”

  “Right.” I remembered now. “What do you want?”

  “I wanted to let you know that we’ve closed the car bombing case. My superiors believe all the loose ends have been tied up and so the case is being closed.”

  “You don’t sound so sure, Detective. Do you think I’m still in danger?” ”

  “It’s too convenient,” Kastellero said. “It’s too convenient and way too damn elaborate, but my superiors believe that Dr. Cosgrove and his brother were responsible for the stolen morphine at Rogers Hospital. Dr. Winslow found out and confronted him and Dr. Cosgrove, in an act of desperation, killed the pediatrician to protect his secret. After that, Miss Bettincourt, we believe you and Miss DeMarcos were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  My heart rate picked up at the suspicious tone in his voice. “What do you mean?”

  “Dr. Cosgrove may have attacked you and Miss DeMarcos because he thought you could tie him to the missing drugs and the murder. He may have seen you outside Dr. Winslow’s office or overheard one of you talking about meeting with him. He may have even been worried that you had seen him kill Dr. Winslow. No matter what the reason, he saw you as a threat and he decided to get rid of you.”

  “But you don’t think that’s what happened?” He was right. Lisa had tied the ends up too well. Everything was neat and tidy. No wonder Kastellero thought it was a setup.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think. The case has been closed,” he said. “I wanted to call and notify you myself.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Miss Bettincourt?” Detective Kastellero dropped his voice to a whisper.

  “Yes?”

  “I heard about your brother’s disappearance. Mr. Cheswick mentioned it when I came by the hospital to speak with you.”

  “And?”

  “And,” he let out a long breath, “your family didn’t notify the police that he was missing.”

  “The police weren’t necessary. My brother simply got cold feet before his wedding,” I said. “He got over it and came home.”

  “Miss Bettincourt.” His voice was soft now. Friendly. Like he was concerned and not just trying to give me an extra ration of grief. “You don’t have to lie to me about what your family does. I’ve looked into your past.”

  “You’ve what?” My stomach dropped. He’d been looking into us? He knew what we were? Or at least he thought he did. What did he think we were?

  “It was part of the investigation related to the bombing,” he explained. “I saw that your family moved quite a bit when you were younger. Several college transfers on your part. Strange notes in the local police department files right around the same time as the moves. But no follow-up on any of the complaints. Then someone tried to kill all of you? Your brother’s come up missing only a few weeks later? It doesn’t take a very smart man to figure out your father has involved all of you in something dangerous. I’ve seen the websites about you. About your father’s cult.”

  “I—” He thought Dad was some sort of crazy cult leader? Well, that was definitely better than him finding out the truth.

  “You don’t have to tell me anything,” he assured me. “I just wanted to let you know that if you ever need anything—absolutely anything—I can find a way to help you. No questions asked. No police involvement, even. I would rather save your scrawny butt than sit at your funeral while the world laments the loss of one of its greatest smart alecks.”

  “Thank you.” I sniffled and tried not to cry at the mere thought of someone—especially him—being nice to me right now. “I appreciate that, Detective Kastellero.”

  “Have a good day, Miss Bettincourt.” The phone clicked once and then nothing. He’d just hung up on me. Even with everything else going on that might be the weirdest thing I’d ever experienced—and that was saying something, considering what my day was normally like.

  I set the phone down on the counter and caught a whiff of myself. Ugh. Demon funk mixed with Eau de Angale. With slight undertones of Mississippi related sweat. I stalked into the bathroom and threw myself into a hot shower. I had no intention of going any farther than Matt’s coffee machine but that didn’t mean I had to stink.

  Besides, I was a demon. Pain was a part of my life and it was time I faced that. I was giving myself one more day to wallow in my own misery and then I was getting out of this apartment and getting on with my life.

  Once the water was scalding hot, I scrubbed myself down. The sharp, tangy smell of Matt’s soap made my eyes tear up, and I curled up on the floor, sobbing. So much for not wallowing.

  What if he died? What if the resurrection didn’t work? What if it did? What if he hated me? Even worse, a resurrection always involved some form of memory loss. For J it had just taken the two days leading up to his death. He remembered Pilate’s sentence, but everything after was hazy. Lazarus though had lost almost three months. Dad had always claimed resurrections were like alcohol; they affect every person differently. Some people, like Lazarus, fell down drunk after one drink and lost months of memories. Others, like J, could drink his own weight in tequila and lose just a few days. What would happen with Matt? Would he only lose Tolliver’s disappearance?

  Or would he lose me entirely?

  The water turned cold, and I huddled in t
he far corner, shivering as tears ran down my cheeks and snot ran out of my nose. Great, tearing sobs rattled my chest. I lay my head back against the shower wall and fought the urge to vomit.

  “Oh, for Evil’s sake,” Lilith said from the doorway.

  What was she doing here? This was a pity party for one. I hadn’t invited any additional guests.

  “Get up.”

  I scrubbed at my eyes with the palms of my hands. Lilith grumbled under her breath, coming into the bathroom. She turned off the water and grabbed me by the arms, pulling me up and out of my glass box of grieving.

  “Get a spine, would you?” she said. “You’re a Royal Princess of Hell. Not some common woman. Stand up straight. Wipe your eyes. Look like you’re meant to be your father’s daughter.”

  I followed her commands on instinct, a lesser demon following the commands of her superior. I threw my shoulders back and wiped the tears on my cheeks. She was right. I was a Princess of Hell. Even if Matt hated me for what had happened, I couldn’t hide forever. I had to get back out there and prove I wasn’t beaten.

  “Now,” she said, turning her back to retrieve a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt from Matt’s closet. “Why are you sobbing in the shower like a lovesick teenager?”

  “Where do I start?” I sniffed, trying to stop my nose from running.

  “At the beginning, of course,” she threw the clothes at my head and shook her head. “Where else would you start?”

  “Well, my boyfriend…ex-boyfriend—I’m not sure what he is because we sort of made up but didn’t come out and say that we were back together—he died for me. Died. Dead. Shuffled off his immortal coil. For me.” I pulled on the sweatpants she’d handed me and rolled the waistband down so they’d fit. They were still too long but now at least they wouldn’t fall when I walked.

  “Yes, and your uncle resurrected him. So why are you crying?”

  “Exactly,” I said and bit my lower lip. “My uncle resurrected him; which, from this end of the hall at least, sounded painful. What if he can’t forgive me for this?”

  “Then you take back up with the mortal.”

  “Dan?” I shook my head and then pulled on a T-shirt. “He’s not the man for me. Even if Matt never speaks to me again I won’t go back to Dan.”

  “The mortal isn’t the man for you? The mortal you had once planned on marrying?”

  “How did you know about him?” I asked, suspicious.

  “Your father told me. Plus the mortal’s been calling your apartment like an incubus on deadline for a soul extraction. I got sick of answering the phone and told him you couldn’t come to the phone because you were sick due to the stress of your brother’s disappearance. He offered to bring soup. Very charming.”

  “Oh no.” I groaned and pulled my hair back into a ponytail.

  “What?” she asked. “It was lovely soup. Very tasty. You could tell it wasn’t out of a can, and he’d actually gone to a restaurant and ordered it for you.”

  “You ate it?”

  “What was I supposed to do? Let it go to waste? It was good soup. Besides, you were busy here, sulking, while the man you’re supposed to be with is resting in your guest room.”

  “He’s…”

  “Resting. A resurrection is draining for everyone involved. Especially the person on the receiving end,” she said. “Your mother has been with him. She’s a surprisingly good nurse. Very compassionate. It must be where you inherited it from. I don’t think the crystals and the protective runes she’s scattered about the room are helping, but for all her faults, she is quite a good mother, isn’t she?”

  “She’s not bad.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. It was always weird talking about my parents with Lilith. She’d always been nice about things but that didn’t mean I wanted to rub salt in the wounds of my Dad leaving her—the world’s most famous sex goddess—for Mom—otherwise known as the world’s loopiest witch.

  “She’s better than that,” Lilith answered. “Even the Alpha said that she’s been instrumental to his recovery.”

  “Has he said anything about me? Matt, I mean.”

  “He worries about where you are, and why you’re not with him.” She pulled me out of the bedroom, half dressed, behind her. “He thinks you’re angry at him. He wants to know you’re safe.”

  “What does he remember?” I asked.

  “He’s a strong man,” she said. “The strongest I’ve ever met in fact. He remembers everything. But his first question was to see if you were safe.”

  “Has someone told him what happened to Valerie?”

  “We let the girl have a supervised visit with him when he woke and she told him. She claimed that we murdered his mother in cold blood and destroyed his home. I believe your ghost may have given him a kinder version of the story afterward. But it’s not my place to snoop.”

  “Sure it’s not.” I snorted and finished getting dressed. “You, the demoness who invented the idea of pillow talk and espionage. You’d never dream of snooping.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She gave me a sad smile. “The feverish murmurs of a half dead nephilim aren’t what I trade in. Besides, it’s better if you figure it out for yourself. And your father wants your opinion on how to best deal with the female nephilim. She makes me nervous.”

  “I want to go over there.” I started toward the door and then stopped. “But I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  My stomach clenched and I tried to slow my breathing so I didn’t hyperventilate. When that didn’t work I covered my face with my hands and tried to collect my thoughts, doing my best to stay calm. What was I afraid of? That he’d be different somehow? Strange? Unnatural?

  He was going to be different, but he would still be Matt. Who he was wouldn’t change because of this. But it might change who we were together. We were no longer two paranormal beings pretending to be a normal couple. We couldn’t do that anymore. Every time he saw me from now till the end of eternity he would think about this.

  Tears pooled in my eyes. “Because I’m scared. I don’t know what I’m getting myself into by walking in there, but I have this feeling that everything else in my life hinges on what happens in the next five minutes.”

  “Welcome to being alive.” She opened the front door, motioning for me to go into the hallway. “But for the record? The things that change your life forever?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Those things happen when you least expect it. They’re not the things you have time to prepare for. Now, quit trying to work up the nerve to be someone you’re not and go in there.” She pointed at my apartment door and then used her tail to give me a gentle prod on the butt.

  “Oh thank Evil you’re okay,” Lisa cried. She jumped off the love seat she’d been lying on and rushed over to me, wrapped me in a tight hug, and buried her face in my neck.

  “Did you think I wasn’t?” I asked, confused.

  “I wasn’t sure.” She shook her head against my shoulder and squeezed tighter. “After everything that’s happened I’ve been worried about you.”

  “I’m fine.” I patted her on the back for a second before disentangling her arms from around my neck.

  “Faith,” Harold said and tried to wrap his arms around me. He didn’t manage it of course but the sentiment was still appreciated. “I’ve been worried about you. Did you hear about Dr. Cosgrove?”

  “Yeah.” I shifted away from him and tucked my hands underneath my armpits. “I’m sorry that they basically convicted the wrong guy for your murder and you’ll never actually get justice. If you want to smite someone for it, I’m sure we can tie Tolliver down and let you mess with him a bit. Give him ghostly wet willies or something.”

  “I don’t need justice. I forgave you and Lisa for my death weeks ago.” Harold narrowed his eyes at my uncle. “But I still don’t think using a good man’s moment of weakness was the right way to go to fix things. We could have found another solution.”

  “Right, good, than
k you for forgiving me. That really does mean a lot to me.” I stepped away from him, avoiding everyone’s gazes. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I need to check on Matt.”

  The living room fell silent, and I made my way down the hall, knocking on the door that used to belong to Lisa.

  “Yes?” Mom called out from the other side of the door.

  I pushed the door open. Mom was sitting in my desk chair, reading aloud from what looked like an old school bodice ripper—complete with naked man chesticles and a fuchsia background, while he rested on my bed. “It’s just me.”

  “Oh.” Mom dog-eared her page—which would have killed Matt if he’d been feeling better—and smiled at me. “Faith, you’re here to sit with Matt. That’s wonderful. Super, in fact. I’ll just go…well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll come up with something.”

  Instead of waiting for either of us to answer she hurried out of the room, taking the kitchen chair with her, leaving Matt and me alone, and for the first time since we’d met completely at a loss for what to say.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  I looked at the door and then at Matt. My heart clenched at the sight of him. He was bare-chested, my comforter drawn up to his waist, and he was rocking a serious case of bed head. If it weren’t for the heavy bags under his eyes he would look sleep rumpled, charming, and absolutely drool-worthy. Considering the fact that he’d died and been brought back to life this week I’d say he still looked amazing.

  “Hey,” he said. His eyes widened, like he was surprised to see me, and then he gave me a shy smile as he tried to push himself upright, his arms trembling. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

  “I’ve been worried about you, too,” I said, leaving out the part about how he wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for me.

  “So…” I smiled, my lips trembling and my stomach rolling with tension at the thought of being alone with him. I shoved my hands in my pockets and shuffled my feet against each other. Yeah, because that made me look cool and confident. Right.