by Angie Fox
"You don't get it. I can't save you every time." We'd barely made it the last time he'd gotten caught up with the Earl, and that time, Dad's immortal soul was in danger. Now he didn't even realize he was in trouble, and God knew what he'd already done. "You're working with the Earl of Hell," I said, trying to get it through my head, and his.
Dad nodded like a salesman on speed. "He needs darkness, despair, hate, loneliness. Even hopelessness. All of the things that we have to live with on Earth."
"Because he's a demon!" This was insane.
He kept talking, as if he could make me see reason. "The Tomb of Kebechet takes that despair and gives it back to the Earl in hell, where it belongs."
"I broke it," I said, my voice an octave higher.
"The Earl made thirteen," Dad said. "That's the great thing. What I said down there about praying? That was bullshit. The Earl can give me another one."
"Of course he can. You are part of his evil plan. He's doing something to these people. God knows what. Open your eyes and take a good look for once in your goddamned life!"
"Listen to yourself," he shot back. "You can't imagine that for once you don't know everything. You just walk in here and assume."
"Yes. Yes, I do." In this case, I was right.
"We are very well equipped," Dad went on, as if I were somehow going to say, "Oh sure. Now I get it. Let's partner with a demon." He glanced out over his church before turning back to me. "We help people feel better. It's so simple. They come here and they let go of any darker emotions, any baggage, anything that holds them back. It goes straight down to the Earl and leaves each of the members of our congregation feeling light, free—happy! It's also a potent anti-ager. Some in our congregation are actually aging backward!"
"By feeding a demon in hell," I said slowly.
"Well, we're hoping he can make it up to purgatory soon," Dad said.
"Are you insane?" Purgatory was an in-between place, and way too close. No wonder the people felt good, while this place was so evil. So hateful. It was unnatural, scary, and wrong on about a hundred different levels. "You don't honestly believe the Earl is going to stop in purgatory."
He waved me off. "The emotions he's getting from us aren't enough to feed a second coming."
That was a lie wrapped in bullshit—the Earl's specialty. I couldn't believe Dad fell for it. I crossed my arms over my chest. "You said you needed me. For what?"
Dad eased his suit jacket off, as if it had suddenly gotten warmer in here.
"Does it have anything to do with the fenris on our beach this morning?"
He moved back behind his desk and hung the jacket on the back of his chair. "The fenris was a…complication." He paused, his fingers caressing the fabric. "We've had some side effects with the transfer of dark emotions." He found a particularly fascinating piece of lint. "Sometimes things show up from the other side."
"Jesus." I rubbed at my eyes. They were scratchy. Cripes, I'd been up since the fenris showed up on my beach in the middle of the night.
"It's mostly under control," Dad said quickly. "I can usually send things back, and when I can't, I find them homes." He brightened. "Like that fenris. I know you like dogs. I figured you'd take good care of it."
He basically dumped a large devil dog on my property and expected me to adopt it. Hell, I had. But that wasn't the point.
"You could help me with other things," he said, as if it were the best idea in the world.
"Let me guess," I said. "You had a succubus pop up this afternoon."
"It was so freaky," he said, as if we were old girlfriends, "but I handled it."
By screaming like a girl.
Enough. "Dad. If you won't stop this, I will."
"Don't you dare," he shot back. "I'm in hock to the Earl for sixty-three more years. You saving me didn't change that."
Then we'd just have to take out the Earl. I was done pussyfooting around this. That demon had proven time and time again he'd kill me if he got the chance. I hadn't vanquished him yet because, frankly, I didn't know how. He was the most powerful entity I'd ever come across. But now he was way, way too close to the surface. It was clear that locking him away had done no good.
Oh frig.
I'd figure it out this time. I had to. And if I played it right, Dad could be my unwilling accomplice.
Chapter Eleven
I ran a hand over the squat statue of Ammut on the desk. "If I'm going to be any help, I need to see more of what you do." Like what was growling in the basement.
Dad leaned back against his desk. "Not going to happen, sweetie." He shot me a grin, as if we were colleagues in on a joke. "Do you realize how pissed the Earl is going to be now that I've brought a demon slayer into this?"
I watched him. "You don't look too worried."
He kept his face carefully neutral. "The Earl needs me." He rapped his knuckles on the desk and pushed away from it. "He's still going to chew my ass."
"Don't tell him." I really couldn't see any advantage to letting the Earl of Hell know I was onto him. I'd just as soon he forget about me until I shoved a switch star through his heart.
Dad gave me a level look. "The demon's not stupid. Who else besides, well, you"—he flung a hand at me—"can break the Tomb of Kebechet?" He paced in front of his bookcase full of artifacts. "Besides"—he gave an involuntary shudder—"the Earl knows everything about me. Total transparency," he added. "It was the only way he would trust me." Dad paused in front of a statue of a screaming man. "He can crush my soul with a thought."
I didn't want to know that.
It made sense. Demons didn't trust anyone. And they were assholes when it came to demanding loyalty. There was no way the Earl of Hell would let my dad have free rein up here. Especially when he had a daughter like me, even if I wasn't in the picture.
This was too much for anyone to bear, and for that, I was sad.
"I'm sorry this happened to you," I told him. No one deserved to be used that way—to be controlled. It was worse than joining the mob. At least the Godfather couldn't read your mind, or tear holes in your soul like tissue paper.
Dad nodded. He stood stoic, determined. "I'll be fine," he said simply. Scarily enough, he actually seemed to believe it. "I just have to keep feeding him," he explained. "We'll make it through this. We'll get a new coffin."
Yes, because that would solve the problem.
I tried to reach out. One last time. Maybe I was a fool to do it, but something in me hoped, thought, prayed, that maybe Dad wasn't as far gone as I feared.
He had to see that it didn't need to be this way. "You could have come to me earlier," I told him. "I might have been able to get you out of hock for that sixty-three years you said you owed." We could have taken a different path. "There still might be a way now."
Dad shook his head slowly, as if the suggestion were foreign, absurd. "Don't you get it? I'm happy here." He turned his back on me in order to look out over his church.
It was over.
It hurt more than I thought it would. More than I wanted it to. There were so many things that we could have been for each other.
Stop. I blew out a breath. I had to stop wishing for that and look at the reality of this church, this cult—this man and his demons.
I watched his rigid back, his practiced control. I couldn't save him anymore. If Dad didn't have the sense to put an end to it, I would. I'd play along, learn more, and then stop him cold. I approached him slowly from behind, my heels echoing off the wood floor. Casually, I took my place at his side, overlooking the worship area.
The way I saw it, I had one major disadvantage. Unlike the Earl of Hell, I couldn't peer into Dad's mind before we started down the primrose path. Then again, Dad wasn't on my team. He never had been.
Together, we observed Mimi and her assistants as they frantically tried to salvage the demon's artifact. Poor Mimi crouched over it, attempting to piece the thing together with her bare hands.
"Let her know it's okay to quit," I
told him. It was a useless endeavor, and a sad one to watch.
"No," he said, his tone reflective. "It gives her a purpose."
Irritation ground in me like glass. These church members looked up to him. He had a responsibility to treat them like people with feelings, dreams, living souls.
Keep it down. Or I'd explode with it. The only way to change things was to keep my cool.
I might not be able to save Dad, but I could halt Earl's hold on Dad's unwitting congregation. The churchgoers were the real victims. They felt whole, blessed, and so they'd assumed this place was good.
When I finished, it would be.
I glanced at Dad. It was so tempting to straight-out ask him how it worked. But, no. That wasn't the right question. "What do you need from me?"
Besides salvation?
Only I'd offered that to him once. I'd earned his freedom. And he'd squandered it on this.
"Truly?" he asked, his face a profile, as if he were afraid he'd give away his thoughts.
"I'm not going to offer again." I had to be in charge of this or it wouldn't work.
He turned to me. "You don't know how glad that makes me, sweetie."
I tried not to cringe.
He approached me, hands spread. "I found a way to improve on the process."
I hated that tone.
Dad gave a slight wince, but I had a feeling he did it for show. "You have to understand how much power we're sending down to the netherworld. We have to take something back or it disrupts the flow. The entire portal will collapse."
It made sense. But I didn't like where this was going. "What are you pulling out of purgatory?" I asked. I had to learn exactly what we were facing.
"Rocks," he said innocuously. "Trees," he added, misreading my frown. "I know what they say about foreign plant life, but they really were harmless. We burned them in my new fireplace at home."
Sending the ashes…everywhere.
I held back that thought. "You have a new place?" I asked, keeping the conversation going.
He fingered his collar, as if it had grown too tight. "I've made some improvements."
Lovely. There was quite a profit to be made in salvation. Dad certainly wasn't the first purported holy man to discover that. When I'd decided to hold back, to draw out the information, I'd underestimated his ability to piss me off.
I worked to set aside my feelings about his greed and his lack of regard for life on our planet. Even more worrisome is that he'd talked about those rocks and trees in past tense. I rested my hands on my hips, fighting the urge to finger a switch star. "What are you pulling out of purgatory now?"
Dad glanced at me warily. Hell, he should realize I'd be chewing his butt this way to Sunday if I weren't trying to learn more.
"Gold," he said, innocently, moving away from the window. "Jewelry." He shook his head dismissively. "A few minor artifacts. Those who are incorporeal don't need their valuables anymore," he quickly explained. "Still the adjustments I made to the power flow meant that a few…undesirable creatures…have also managed to sneak through."
Greed and a complete lack of foresight—two of my dad's finest qualities. "Of course you haven't told the demon," I added.
"I almost had to do it." He walked over to the bookcases to the right of his desk, fingered a volume on public speaking. "You can't hide that sort of thing forever. But now you're here," he said, brightening.
I hated that look. "You want me to fix it."
"I love you," he said, solemnly.
"Don't push it." He wanted to use me. We both knew it wasn't love. It was cruel of him to pretend. "But fine." We'd use each other. As long as I didn't throttle him first. "If you want my help, give me access. Show me exactly where you're drawing from."
I wasn't going to give if I didn't get anything in return. That was how Dad's world worked, didn't it? Besides, he needed me, not the other way around.
He hesitated.
"Or don't," I told him. Frankly, I was sick of this entire thing, of him.
Sure, it might be easier if he gave up his secrets, but at that moment, I was done being the same room with him. I turned and walked out the door.
He gasped. "Lizzie!"
I slammed the door behind me. God, that was liberating.
No more games. No more lies.
There was a certain freedom in being pissed the hell off, in not caring for once. I headed for the elevator. I should have done this the minute he told me about the fenris.
He needed me more than he was willing to admit and if he didn't see that, I was done. I was done trying to save him. I was done trying to fix him. I couldn't be held responsible for the kind of life he'd chosen. I wanted him to be good and strong and all those things a dad should be. But he wasn't and wishing for it was useless. And exhausting.
He'd told me enough. I'd find another way to stop the Earl of Hell, and if my dad went down with him, I didn't care anymore.
Red mist poured from behind the wooden door near the elevator. Ah, yes. I placed a hand on the knob, drew a switch star.
"Lizzie, wait!" Dad stood in the hallway, terrified. "Not that one. The demon will know you're here for sure."
I turned my back on him and kept walking.
His footsteps were frantic behind me. "I can't show you my operation. You're a demon slayer. Just stop. Give me a minute. Let me think about how to get you involved."
I punched the elevator button. "I'll buy you a clue. Stop leaving creatures on my beach."
"Loud and clear." Perspiration dotted his upper lip. "I'll figure something out. I promise."
He didn't get it. This whole "being finished" thing? It felt too good. I'd had my taste of freedom and that was all it took. "I'm done. You want to be in it this deep? You want to lead? Go for it. Let 'er rip. Be the best goddamned cult leader on the planet. Just leave me out of it."
Until I send it all crashing down on your head.
The elevator doors dinged open.
"Sweetheart—" he pleaded.
I walked inside the small car, turned to face him. "Don't you dare," I said, pointing a finger at him before he could step inside.
The doors closed on his startled face.
Even his surprise pissed me off.
That he'd think, dream, imagine I'd let him run the show again. I'd trusted him once. I'd redeemed his soul. And it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
He was incapable of change. Now I just had to figure out a way to stop him.
The doors opened and I headed for the exit.
I turned the corner into the lobby and saw two burly guards manhandling Dimitri and Frieda.
Fancy that. It looked like they got something done while I was gone.
The brutes were as big as werewolves and rough, too. The smaller one had Frieda's shoulder in a vise grip. He shouldered open one of the doors at the front and hustled Frieda out onto the sidewalk
The larger one had Dimitri by the arm. The guard gave a sharp exhale, even though my man walked easily next to him. Dimitri must have given him a bit of trouble earlier. Go hubby.
Dimitri was sweaty, and a little wrinkled, but none the worse for wear. He shook off his handler and opened the door for me as I approached. "You look pissed," he remarked.
"You look hot," I answered.
We left on our own power. Mostly.
Frieda stood on the sidewalk, straightening out her zebra-print top and glaring at the back of the security officers as they left.
"You okay?" I asked her.
"Sure, sure," she mumbled. "This ain't my first time getting tossed out of a place." She paused and glanced back at the building. "Maybe the first time in a church."
At least it appeared that the Mind Wiper had worn off.
But the trouble wasn't over yet. Dad had caught up to us. He thrust open the doors. "Wait."
The guard threw an arm in front of Dad, as if we were dangerous. "Security breach, pastor. The man and the old woman tried to get into the basement."
; "Who are you calling old?" Frieda shot back.
Dad looked truly pained. "You can't ever go there."
"Yeah, I got that," Frieda said, holding up a hand. Her palm was swollen and red. Burned. She shrugged when she saw the alarm on my face. "The locks were enchanted."
We'd talk about it later. When we didn't have an audience. "Let's motor," I said, as Dad watched helplessly.
We headed across the street, toward our Harleys.
Unlike Frieda, Dimitri appeared unscathed. Still, they could have used something magical back there and that could hurt him worse than physical force. "You okay?" I asked him as we walked
He shot me a lopsided grin. "I may have a few new scratches on my back."
He was happy. They'd discovered something. "Did you have fun?"
"I'll tell you soon," he said. "After we get out of here." He turned to Frieda. "Where'd you park?"
She pointed to a chrome-and-steel beauty under a tree. Dimitri and Frieda shared a glance. "We gotta bring the witches in on this," she said.
"Agreed," he told her.
I wasn't going to argue. "Okay, Frieda. You get everybody together and bring them over to our place."
In the meantime, we'd stop off and grab a certain she-demon. I had an idea of how to crack my dad's defenses. With any luck, Shiloh would be more help than she realized.
Chapter Twelve
When we arrived home, I found the she-demon in my kitchen, making a mess. Yellow mixing bowls competed for space on my already-overcrowded counter with a three-tiered cooling rack and assorted cookie trays. She'd taken out every piece of Tupperware I owned. Some of the containers were filled and stacked. Others were scattered over the counter. A large hunk of dough clung to the base of the KitchenAid mixer that I hadn't even gotten to use yet. It had been a wedding gift. Never mind that I'd had half a year to take it out of the box.
In the middle of it all, Shiloh worked like a woman possessed.
Boy, I sure hoped she wasn't.
"Is everything okay in here?" I asked, moving slowly, sharing a what-the-frick glance with Dimitri.
