by Emma Castle
“The dark one came to you and made a deal for your father’s life?”
Again, Diana nodded and whispered, “Yes.”
“You gave him your body, not just your soul.” The woman pursed her lips, turning the cup a little. “He’s going to break you, child. No one ever survives a deal like that.”
“Break me?” Diana wrapped her arms around her chest, a chill slithering down her spine.
“You are not the first woman to catch his eye. He loves pleasure in all forms.”
The woman set the cup down and gently touched Diana’s shoulders.
“Is there anything I can do?” Diana asked. She wouldn’t rescind the contract because her father’s life was at risk, but if there was anything she could do to protect herself, she would.
“Come with me.” The woman escorted her back to the front of the store, and she retrieved a small box behind the counter. She sat down and opened it.
A small wooden cross on a leather cord sat inside the box.
“This is a talisman that has been blessed by a saint. Take it. Though I do not know what good it will do.”
“I thought crosses only worked on vampires?”
The woman laughed. “Child, crosses do not work on vampires. Vampires are not demons.”
Diana blinked. “Are you saying vampires are real?”
“You made a deal with the devil, and you don’t believe in vampires?” The woman laughed softly. “Child, the dark is full of monsters, human and other.”
“Vampires…” She didn’t know what to say. Her world, or what she knew of it, was vanishing overnight. She slipped the cross over her neck and tucked it beneath her sweater.
“How much do I owe you for the reading and the cross?”
The woman held out a hand. “Nothing. My name is Amara. You may come back anytime you need me.”
“Really?” Diana wanted to hug Amara and did so, ignoring the woman’s outstretched hand. Amara patted her back before they broke apart, but her eyes were serious as she looked at Diana.
“You must be careful. The more you surrender to the dark, to him, the more you will lose yourself. You must find the light inside you and hold on to it. Do not go into his darkness—it will destroy you.”
“Thank you.” Diana touched the cross hidden beneath her sweater and waved goodbye to Amara before she exited the shop.
A bitter wind curled around her, icy fingers teasing her hair and digging into her clothes, making her shiver. She rushed to her car and got inside. She turned on the lights and thought—for just one second only—that someone was in the back seat. She spun, gasping, but the back seat was empty. She turned back to the steering wheel, her heart pounding and her blood roaring in her ears. She could have sworn there’d been a flash of light, like the yellow of an animal’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“I’m going crazy. I just need to go home and rest.”
“Rest.” A deep voice laughed in the back of her mind. “You’ll need it.”
Diana closed her eyes, breathing in slowly.
Stay calm. You have to stay rational. I will face this devil and the deal and save my dad. I won’t let him break me.
When she opened her eyes again she felt better, more clearheaded, until she heard the voice one last time.
“I will have you in every way I desire.”
3
Chained on the burning lake, nor even thence had risen or heaved his head, but that the will and high permission of all-ruling Heaven left him at large to his own dark designs. - John Milton, Paradise Lost
Amara Dimka locked the door to her shop and flipped the Open sign to Closed. After reading that poor girl’s palm and tea leaves, she didn’t want to face any more customers. She needed to recover from the rush of premonitions. Touching the other side always took a toll on her. She’d caught a glimpse of a shining city, heard a flutter of wings in the dark, and then her stomach had dropped to her feet as she’d sensed the end. The end of everything. Amara paused and leaned against the counter for a minute, catching her breath.
That young woman was in danger, but there was no way to help her. One did not simply defy the dark one.
She put a few books back on the shelves, then fetched a broom from the storage closet and made a quick pass through the shop, collecting a small amount of dust. She leaned the broom against the counter and bent to retrieve a dustpan on a shelf away from where customers could see it. She gripped the handle and froze. Something was in her shop.
A chill trickled down her spine, and she suppressed a shiver. She stood slowly, and it took every ounce of her self-control not to flinch when she found herself face-to-face with one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen. He wore a tailored black suit and a red tie. His dark hair was a little long, and it gleamed as if lit by sunlight although the sun had already set. His eyes were obsidian and eerily unreadable of any emotion.
“Can I help you?” she asked carefully. There was no doubt who this man was.
“I think you can, Amara.” His voice was silky and low, like a lover’s voice.
She waited, her heart racing.
“You can stay out of my business.” His dark eyes flashed with red fire.
“With the girl, Diana?” Amara’s heartbeat felt heavy in her chest because she knew her words might sound like a challenge. She didn’t want to bow down to him. She was a white witch, not one who followed him. She believed in helping people.
“Yes.” The dark one trailed a finger along the counter as though checking for dust, but his finger left a burning path on the counter with a charred black line in the wood.
“I don’t hear about you making any deals these days.” She couldn’t help but wonder what had changed for him that he would make this deal personally. “People usually visit me after signing up with a crossroads demon. What’s so special about this one that you did the deal yourself?” Amara tried to act casual, as though she wasn’t having a conversation with the king of hell. She bent down to retrieve the dustpan and picked up her broom. Then she finished sweeping up the dirt and dust bunnies.
The devil followed behind her, pausing at a shelf of books on witchcraft and plucking a title off to flip idly through the pages.
“She’s…pure,” he finally said.
“Nobody is pure,” Amara replied without thinking.
“I don’t mean pure as in free of sin. Everyone makes that mistake.” He paused in the study of a book on the Salem witch trials and smirked. Then he waved the book at her. “Poor women, white witches, not dark ones, yet they were killed all the same.” He put the book back and crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the edge of the bookcase.
“If you do not mean sin, then what do you mean?” Amara carried her dustpan to the garbage bin, pretending to ignore his remark about her fellow sisters from centuries ago who’d been condemned to die. No doubt he wanted to hurt her, but she refused to let him see her pain.
The devil watched her, his dark eyes hot and dangerous.
“A soul can be pure when a mortal loves another more than his or her own life. Diana is the only soul to ever make a deal with me to save someone else.”
That surprised Amara. “Surely there have been others.”
“I’m sure that people exist who would die for the ones they love, but giving oneself to me? No one has ever done that before. I find her…interesting.” He paused at the counter and looked at the glass display cases. “The little present you gave her was charming. Ineffective, but charming.”
Amara’s face heated. “It won’t work?”
“No, not on me. Lower demons, of course, but fallen angels? Never. We Fallen may be barred from heaven, but part of our grace is still there—not the part that allows us back through the pearly gates, but enough to fool little party tricks like the kind with blessed talismans. When I lost my wings, I thought it was all gone, but it turns out that there’s a tiny bit still inside me, alive and kicking.” He held up his thumb and index finger as he spoke, pinchin
g a tiny portion of the air together.
Grace. Amara couldn’t believe it. The devil still had some small bit of the grace of God inside him?
“I will let you keep your life, Amara. I find you delightful. You’re terrified of me, but you haven’t shown it once. Humans like you are good to have around. It’s no fun to play chess with heaven when the other team has only pitiful pawns.”
Amara kept her mouth shut. She would not thank the devil for sparing her life.
“If Diana does visit you again, you may ease her concerns. I don’t tend to break my favorite toys.” He removed a beautiful crucifix from the glass case and examined it in the gold lights of the chandelier hanging above her counter. Amara held her breath.
“As long as she does not rescind the contract, nor does she resist my demands, she will be released from our deal in three months’ time. Of course, when she dies, her soul is mine. Forever. But we mustn’t let her worry about that, not when she’s got about seventy or so years to enjoy life.”
“But she will be changed, won’t she? When you’re done with her?”
The devil smiled, his eyes now cold and black as obsidian. “Oh yes, most certainly. She’ll be corrupted, a soul destined straight for hell when the time is right. But you may pick up the pieces of whatever is left if you feel particularly noble.”
“I will,” she promised.
With another smirk, he walked toward the door and left.
A sigh of relief escaped Amara. “Oh, Lord.” She muttered a soft prayer. If the devil planned to visit her more often, she’d have to think about relocating. She paused as she replayed the conversation in her head. Two things about their encounter felt off. The devil had seemed concerned about Amara, a mere mortal, interfering with a contract. He’d also agreed to let Diana go after three months, at least until it was her time to die. That was…merciful.
The last time she checked, the devil was not supposed to be merciful.
“You didn’t kill her?” Andras asked as Lucien walked into the shadows by the closed shop and left.
“No,” Lucien said. “She is more useful alive.”
“How so?” Andras kept pace with him as they walked toward the parking lot. Lucien felt like moving at the moment, not flitting about with a flick of his thoughts.
“I want Diana to come to me willingly. I do not want her becoming frightened and revoking the contract. Having the pure soul we need is too important. The more she wants me and the darkness, the quicker I can claim her for the gates. If she feels she can run to Amara and find some comfort, then she will be ready to face my desires rather than run from them. So Amara is not to be touched. I want you to ensure her protection.”
Andras let out a sigh. “If word gets out we’re protecting a white witch…”
“All hell would break loose?” Lucien joked.
“Possibly.” Andras frowned.
Lucien slapped him on the back. “Lighten up, old friend. After millennia, I have finally found something that interests me again. This is a cause for celebration. Meet me at the club in half an hour. We will find some succulent humans to slake our lust.”
At this, Andras smiled. “It has been too long since either of us indulged.”
“Indeed.” Lucien could spend days in bed with women, taking them over and over, never tiring of it. Every position, every toy, every fantasy—he’d done it all.
Andras vanished.
Lucien slid his hands into his pockets and walked along the darkened streets. Night was a time of beauty, a time when shadows ruled and the chill of the breeze rustled the limbs of trees in a way that made one’s hair stand on end. Midnight was his favorite time, even though it was a few hours away. When clocks chimed away the twelfth hour, the battle between night and day was completely equal, giving the world a sense of balance, a sense of beauty, a sense of peace.
It had been so long since he had felt peace.
After the fall, he’d mistakenly thought that he would find it, but he had not. His shoulder blades itched, the knotted scars the only imperfect part of him. They always ached when he thought too long about the wings that had once been there.
You can never taste heaven again, not fully. He knew that, yet as he sealed the bargain with Diana he had tasted heaven. Her heaven. And he wanted more, was desperate to feel that peace, that bliss her lips had given him. If kissing her, merely kissing her, had been that strong, bedding her would be explosive. There was an irony to it all—the more he would take her to see heaven again, the more he would be condemning her to hell. But that was the bargain, and she had agreed.
He knew Andras would be waiting for him, but he didn’t return to the club right away. First he closed his eyes and honed his focus on Diana. He could see inside her apartment, her…cat? The white-and-orange creature stared at him, his ears flattened. People assumed cats were evil, familiars of the devil, but it wasn’t true. Cats were a bane to a demon’s existence, and they often didn’t like fallen angels. They could see and sense the unnatural presence of creatures like him.
“Seth, what’s the matter?” Diana came out of her bedroom dressed in boxers and a loose T-shirt.
The cat ignored her, his feline glare still on Lucien. Lucien flipped his middle finger at the cat, and it hissed and sprinted into the bedroom. Diana shook her head and sighed before she went to the kitchen. Lucien followed her, an invisible undetectable presence.
Diana put a kettle on her stove and prepared a tea bag in a mug. As she waited for the water to boil, there was a stark loneliness to her face that puzzled him. He honestly didn’t spend much time around mortals, not like this. He was either torturing them, making deals, or banging them in his bed.
She is to be my toy. I am allowed to watch her, to see what she’s up to when I’m not around to pull her strings and make her dance like a marionette.
The kettle whistled, and Diana turned off the stove and poured a cup of tea, and then she took the cup to the couch and settled in with a blanket and a book. He eased down onto the edge of the couch arm and leaned over to study the book she opened. He frowned. A vampire romance.
Ugh. There was nothing romantic about those bloodsucking, brooding immortals. Fallen angels were far more interesting. When they bit a lover in bed, it was for fun and not for sustenance.
“Don’t worry, Diana. I’ll show you how much fun we can have in bed,” he whispered. She shivered and pulled the blanket up tighter. She had heard him, the barest hint of his sensual promise.
“Sleep well,” he added with a low laugh and left her to dream about him.
He was there, in her room. A dark shadow in the corner with glowing red eyes. Diana tried to open her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. The shadow moved closer, manifesting itself into him, Lucien Star, in his black suit with a blood-red tie. He stared down at her on the bed, and then very slowly he reached for the covers, drawing them back to expose her. She was naked, her pajamas gone, and he was looking over her body with a satisfied smirk.
It was a dream, she knew it was, had to be…yet it felt all too real as his hand gripped her throat tightly enough to send new shivers of dread through her.
“Such a pretty little thing, and all mine.” Still grasping her throat, he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. Heat exploded from that kiss, burning her up with an inner fire. Wetness pooled between her thighs.
“How will you resist me when I fuck you into oblivion, little mortal? Will you shriek my name as I thrust my cock deep into you? Will you moan when I take your ass? I have a thousand ways I want to take you. And you will enjoy every second of it, won’t you?” He sank his teeth into her bottom lip hard enough that she tasted blood. He tugged on it while he continued to squeeze her throat just enough that she feared she wouldn’t be able to breathe.
“No!” she screamed and jolted up in bed. The covers fell down around her, and she reached to cover her naked body…but she wasn’t naked any longer. She was clothed again, and the shadow Lucien was gone.
&nbs
p; I was dreaming. It was all a dream. She winced as she licked her lip and tasted blood.
4
“Is this the region, this the soil, the clime,” said then the lost Archangel, “this the seat that we must change for Heaven? This mournful gloom for that celestial light?” - John Milton, Paradise Lost
Wednesday came without much fanfare until it was time to take her father home from the hospital. The dreams of Lucien came every night, but that was all they were. Dreams. So she focused on her parents. Diana still couldn’t believe it—her father was really going home. He’d been given doctor’s orders that he rest, and now he was looking better than he had in years.
Diana spent the day with him and her mother, helping her father settle into his old routines. It was still instinctive for her to try to help her father climb the stairs to his bedroom, but he didn’t need her help at all. The ragged edge to her emotions from two years of worry was softening. Had he really been this healthy once? With a flush of color in his cheeks and a twinkle in his eyes? She’d forgotten the man he’d once been. It was hard to remember after so many nights in the hospital, so many tubes, tests, and machines all trying to keep him alive.
Diana waited outside his room for him to change out of his hospital sweatpants into jeans and a polo shirt. Then he returned with her to the kitchen, where her mother was checking on a pot roast she’d put into the oven that morning. Diana’s mouth watered, and she realized she hadn’t eaten pot roast in ages. It had been her dad’s favorite food because the smells would fill the house for hours while it cooked, and neither she nor her mother could stand the smell without him there to enjoy it.
“Everything okay?” Janet asked as they entered the kitchen.
Hal winked at her. “Everything’s great, hon. Smells fantastic. You know it’s so funny, after all that chemo, nothing smelled or tasted good, but damn if I don’t smell that roast now and it’s making me hungry.” Hal joined his wife by the kitchen counter and leaned in to hug her from behind, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Janet blushed and Diana turned away, smiling, but feeling a little shy at witnessing something so private between her parents. They’d been suffering together for two years, and now…now things were good again. She was terrified to believe it was all true, that her dad was healthy again, because if he wasn’t, she and her mother couldn’t go through that again.
