by Maya Nicole
Ascend
Copyright 2019 © Maya Nicole
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
For permissions contact: [email protected]
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real people, living or dead, businesses, or locales are coincidental.
Cover design by www.OriginalBookCoverDesign.com
Contents
Ascend
Social Media
Playlist
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Social Media
Be sure to join my Facebook group for book release updates and sneak peaks!
https://www.facebook.com/groups/mayanicoleauthor/
Playlist
Don't You (Forget About Me) - Simple Minds
Runnin' With the Devil - Van Halen
Pray - Sam Smith ft. Logic
Hey Child - X Ambassadors
The Truth - James Arthur
Novocaine - Hidden Citizens
Baptize Me - X Ambassadors & Jacob Banks
Sucker - Jonas Brothers
Exit Music (For a Film) - Radiohead
Coming Home - Leon Bridges
Nothing Else Matters - Metallica
Chapter One
Tick. Tick. Tick.
I stared down at the beige and gray flecked linoleum tiles as the sound of the seconds ticking by echoed in my ears. I ran a hand over my jean-clad thigh, smoothing a miniscule wrinkle.
Glancing at the clock, the red hand taunted me as it made its slow circle around for fifty-eight beats before hesitating and then clicking twice in quick succession as the minute hand moved forward. It was torture listening to it. It's like one day a clockmaker said 'Hey! Let's make the loudest clock possible to put in schools!'
It seemed louder in here with the office staff quietly chatting, answering phone calls, and clicking away on their computers. They glanced up occasionally to check on me, to make sure I was still in the rather comfortable arm chair situated outside Mr. Miller's closed office door. I itched to take my phone out of my backpack to check to see what people were saying on Twitter, but didn't dare pull it out in the office.
It was an office I was all too familiar with. It was a chair that might as well be engraved with my name. It was a well-known fact that the chairs in high school offices were specifically designed to create a false sense of comfort before the guillotine came crashing down. That's how I felt, as if my head was about to be lopped off Tale of Two Cities style.
Mr. Miller and I saw each other more often than I'd care to admit. He told me he didn't like seeing me in his office so much and that he saw me more than he saw his own son, which I find to be a gross exaggeration. Last time I was here for disrupting class he said that I was an adult now and needed to get my act together before I ended up in a different type of concrete building. A concrete building where they didn't care that my dad worked all the time and left me practically to my own devices.
My own devices put me near the bottom of the entire senior class and at the bottom of a discipline flow chart he referred to every time I was sent to him. I was a smart woman, even though my grades might not reflect that, so I knew what was coming, was actually surprised it hadn't happened already. The flowchart dictated what action Mr. Miller had to take no matter his sympathies towards me. He warned me every time I was suspended that my time was running out to turn myself around.
Maybe I would just get my GED. Would I even pass the GED test? I could get a job. Could I get a job without a GED?
My body jerked as a secretary slammed a file cabinet shut, the metal on metal echoing in the sterile environment of the hall. I let out a long breath of air and picked a piece of lint off my shirt with my bruised hand. It still strung but the ice the nurse gave me helped. Too bad ice wouldn't help what was about to happen.
My last suspension was my last chance and now the glint of metal sat ready and waiting above my outstretched neck. They even called my dad, even though I was eighteen now. I begged them to call my former caregiver like they usually did before my birthday, but they declined. I was screwed.
My dad was a busy man with an important job, and the last time he came for something I'd done, his wrath was merciless and I was grounded for months. That was back when I was kicked out of the private school where they didn't dick around or put up with the same "juvenile delinquent" behavior as public schools did.
My friends always bitched about their parents and their rules. Their consequences. Well, I had them beat. My dad tortured souls for a living. Dealt their punishments. Condemned them to suffer in the fiery pits of hell.
Literally.
My eyes snapped up as I heard the front door of the office open. I couldn't see him from where I was sitting, but I felt him. The smallest whispers of discomfort spiraled up my spine and caused my shoulder blades to tingle with an itch that I couldn't quite scratch. I slouched down slightly in the chair as his voice carried across the room and into the hall.
"I'm here for my daughter, Danica Deville." I shut my eyes as his smooth, yet slightly gravelly voice drew the attention of several of the office staff.
Whatever initial reactions they had to his demanding tone quickly vanished as they took in his tall, lithe frame, and his mesmerizing dark eyes. They sat up a little taller in their chairs and patted their hair to make sure it was in place.
The principal's secretary stood and fumbled with the latch on the swinging door that blocked the lobby from the back offices. "She's right through here sir. If you could have a seat, Mr. Miller will be right with you," she said with a slight tremble to her voice.
My heart stuttered as my father came into view. He flashed a white smile at the secretary that crinkled the corners of his eyes and caused a small dimple in his left cheek. The secretary placed one of her trembling hands on her chest as if it would stop the fluttering of her heart. I covered my mouth with my hand, a smile threatening to escape at her display. It was hard not to laugh when he came into a room and put people under his spell.
My dad made his way towards me, his shiny brown shoes making a clicking noise on the floor, much like the ticking of the clock. Today he was wearing a brown three-piece suit, the color reminding me of a blonde coffee bean, with a navy tie tucked neatly into the suit vest. He sat down in the chair next to me, the scent of firewood and cinnamon hitting my nose.
"Danica."
I bit my lip and shifted in my seat. He probably would much rather be attending to the souls down in hell than be in a stuffy school office dealing with my transgressions.
"I'm sorry." The words came out as a breath. I only half meant the words. I was sorry he was here, not for what I had done. I was also sorry for turning out to be a failure of epic proportions.
I clasped my hands in my lap and kept my eyes focused on them. I could feel my father's eyes burning into the side of my head.
I knew when he looked away because the slight warmth his gaze caused dissipated.
The principal's door opened and I lifted my eyes to meet those of my best friend, Ava. Her blue eyes were red from crying. She looked past me at my father and her eyes went wide before snapping back to mine. She gave me a very slow shake of her head before exiting out of the office. If she had a tail, it would have been tucked between her legs.
Ava was caught in the crossfires, dragged into the middle of something I was keeping her out of. She had a scholarship to a top university to protect. Her headshake was all that was needed to let me know that the guillotine was locked and loaded.
"Mr. Deville. If you and Danica could step into my office." Mr. Miller stood by his open office door and gestured inside.
I entered in front of my dad, as he stopped and shook Mr. Miller's hand in a firm handshake that I'm sure left my principal feeling unease, but he didn't show it as he took his place behind his desk.
The room was silent, the only sound the faint office noises on the other side of the closed door. During my three and a half years at Montecito High the office had remained the same. Except for the man behind the desk, he looked tired now. I reached out and straightened Mr. Miller's name plate. He steepled his fingers just under his nose and then let out a long sigh.
"Mr. Deville, I'm sorry to call you in like this, I know you're a very busy man."
"Please, call me Michael," he replied, flashing another award-winning grin that didn't reach his eyes. He was not happy to be here.
"Michael," Mr. Miller said testing the name out. By the way his eyes narrowed the tiniest bit, it was clear he didn't think my father's name was actually Michael. It's like he could sense the wrongness of it on his tongue.
It's not like my dad could go around calling himself Lucifer Deville here. It would raise too many eyebrows and garner too much attention. He decided his name would be Michael when he was here. It was akin to giving the angel the middle finger.
I was sure the angels were well aware that Lucifer visited this place, but left him alone unless he gave them reason not to. I would have thought him using the name Michael would piss some of the angels off, especially Michael, but perhaps it wasn't worth their time or effort.
"As you know, we have tried many interventions to help Danica succeed, and she has already been granted an additional chance by the expulsion review board. Given she continues to disregard rules, her failing grades in almost all of her courses, and her assault on a young man this morning, the district is going through with expelling her."
"I see." My dad was no longer smiling, instead his eyes were on me again, sending a sharp slap of heat to my head. It didn't hurt, but was uncomfortable.
At the moment I didn't know if failing out of senior year and being expelled simultaneously was rock bottom, or the fire that was smoldering next to me was. I braved another glance in his direction, keeping my chin down, and saw the pupils of his eyes dilated inside the smoky gray of his irises. He was assessing me, no doubt thinking of how he was going to punish his half-human, half-devil daughter.
At least torture was out of the question, not that he'd ever do that. We weren't entirely sure I was immortal anyway. I was uncharted territory. Something that shouldn't even be possible. Yet here I was. Lucifer's daughter.
He released me from his stare and looked back at Mr. Miller. "She assaulted someone? That is out of character, even for her."
"Well as you know, she has been showing increasingly troublesome behavior over the past several years."
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught my dad clenching his jaw ever so slightly. No, he didn't know because I didn't tell him and my caregiver was too nervous around him to tell him. He knew about the expulsion hearing, it was mandatory since a joint was found in my locker, but he hadn't even attended that.
"This morning, one of the boys she has been in verbal altercations with before, approached Danica and handed her a flier to his church. She punched him and broke his nose." He paused. "The boy's family has decided not press charges, since she will no longer be attending school here."
"You punched a boy because he gave you a flier for a church?" Lucifer may have sounded calm, but his voice was a slightly lower timbre that caused goosebumps on my arms.
I gritted my teeth and swallowed the bile that had slowly worked its way into my throat. My father may very well be the devil, but never once had I heard him speak ill of the big man upstairs. At least not in front of me. I couldn't tell him the real reason John had offered me that flier, he'd kill him.
I shrugged. Nothing I could say at this point would help. Ava telling Mr. Miller that John had done more than just hand me a church flier certainly didn't get me out of being expelled. John was the golden boy of the school; no adult would believe a juvenile delinquent like me. Especially if I told them the church was not a church but a front for drug dealing.
Lucifer cleared his throat and turned his gaze back to Mr. Miller who was watching our exchange with piqued curiosity. My dad had this detached manner about him, where he didn't show his emotions even when the situation called for it. He'd probably act the same if we were sitting discussing my college prospects. Which by the way, were non-existent, especially now.
"I'll just need you to sign this document. One of our school resource officers is cleaning out her locker and will bring her personal belongings." Mr. Miller slid a paper across the desk and my dad took a pen out of the inner breast pocket of his shirt.
He never signed anything with other people's pens. He said it was too risky, that there was always a potential for blood shed. As if a high school principal would put some kind of spell or something on a pen. He took a moment to skim the page and then signed his name in flowing cursive that was much too pretty to be that of Satan himself. He slid the paper over to me and offered me his pen.
I let out a long sigh and signed my name under his. I slouched in my chair as the paper was slid back across the desk and Mr. Miller signed his name. It was all too simple, sealing my fate with a flourish of a pen. No senior prom. No senior week. No graduation. No future.
Mr. Miller left the office to make copies of the document, leaving me alone with my dad.
"Sit up. You did this of your own accord, now deal with it." To an outsider his words would have sounded passive, almost bored. But his eyes were glossy and his face too stoic.
I sat up and glanced over as he looked at his watch. Today he was sporting his Louis Moinet Meteoris, it had a piece of a meteorite from Mars in it. Seemed a little extravagant to me, but it was one of his favorites. He had a thing for fancy watches and there was no better place to keep them safe than his lair in hell. Sometimes I felt he took better care of his watches than he did his own flesh and blood.
Once Mr. Miller returned with copies and a bag of random junk I had in my locker, we left the office and walked towards the student parking lot.
"Keys." Lucifer held out his hand as I dug in the front pocket of my backpack for them. Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes as I handed them over.
We got into my black Nissan GT-R and I threw my bag in the backseat. Lucifer was peeling out of the parking lot before I could even get my seatbelt buckled.
"Jesus! Don't hurt my baby!" I gripped onto the door handle as he drifted around a corner.
He laughed and took his foot off the gas. "Yours? Last time I checked, the pink slip was in my name. And you can't tell me you don't drive it like this, you are my daughter after all."
I might be his daughter, but I was at least a semi-sane driver. He drove like a bat out of hell.
The rest of the ten-minute drive to our house was quiet, the only sounds in the car the faint sound of the radio that was practically turned all the way down. He wasn't a fan of popular music or small talk. When we got to the gates leading up the long drive to the house I felt my stomach clench.
He pulled into the garage, still silent, his jaw set, and I followed him into the kitchen where he turned on his espress
o machine. I sat at the island and watched as he made himself a cup of espresso. He then grabbed me a Diet Dr. Pepper out of the refrigerator and slid it across the smooth surface of the island.
I knew he was going to ream me after he finished his drink, but despite that, I had missed him. He visited once a week for dinner with me, but the rest of time he spent reigning over hell and his army of demons. FaceTime and texting just weren't the same as having him around.
When I was little, I used to wonder where he was all the time. The first time I realized he was different was when I was about six. Surprisingly, I had convinced him to go to my elementary school harvest festival. It was warm, but he still chose to wear a suit. He always wore a suit and I had never seen him wear anything else but a suit.
It was there, in the middle of the carnival when he was buying me ice cream, that I realized he was different than the other parents. The other parents didn't seem to think it was weird he was wearing an expensive suit while they were in jeans and T-shirts. In fact, they had looked at him as if he was the most beautiful man they had laid eyes on. Even the men.
It's not that he looked different than a human, but here was just something about him and his presence that sent emotions soaring, especially if a person had done something that was of questionable morals. Most of the time he blocked me from having to feel this aspect of himself, but I could tell he was letting just a little bit of his fear inducing spell, or whatever it was, leak out.
I took a long gulp of my drink and put the can on the counter, popping the tab off and fiddling with it. I watched as he rinsed his cup and put it in the dishwasher.
"What's your plan?" He leaned against the counter opposite the island, crossing his legs at the ankles.
I continued to fiddle with the tab, spinning it on the counter. "I guess get a job. Any job openings in hell?" A laugh left my lips and died a silent death as he stared silently at me. There was no way in hell he was going to let me live or work in hell. No. That would be impossible.