by Ryan Hill
The waiter returned, giving me the card, and I tipped him another $100 for good measure.
The four of us left Poole’s together, with Bunny and Kenan leading the way. Veronica squeezed my forearm.
“You did great,” she said.
I raised my eyebrows. “Spilled drink and all?”
Veronica turned to me as she walked outside. “Of course.”
We stood in a circle to say our good-bye’s. Bunny gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I didn’t need a mirror to know she left a lipstick mark on my face.
“You are just the cutest thing,” she said. “I could just pinch you.”
I turned, giving her a clear look at my vivacious rump. “Pinch away.”
She blushed and gave me a soft pinch. “You scamp.”
I giggled, holding my hand over my mouth for added effect. Veronica rolled her eyes and stalked off, disgusted.
Kenan patted my shoulder. “Well, think about it.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Embracing humanity.” He pulled me close. “Its strengths, its flaws, the whole kit-and-caboodle. When you stop focusing on the sin, a whole new world opens up.”
It was bad enough that Kenan said, “the whole kit-and-caboodle,” but what was he going on about? If the ex-demon dropped acid before dinner, it would’ve been nice if he’d shared.
“I will,” I said. “I see what you’re saying, I do. Maybe one day.”
“I’d love to talk further with you about it,” Kenan said. “If you’d like.”
“Oh absolutely,” I said. “You can get my number from Veronica. I’d like to get home at a decent hour, though. Don’t want her breaking curfew and making her father angry, that kind of thing.”
“Nonsense.” He put his arm around me. “Bunny can drive her. Let’s talk now.”
“Sure, I guess, if it’s okay with–”
Veronica smiled and kissed her father’s cheek. “Dad, are you trying to steal him away?”
“No? Yes? Maybe?” Kenan laughed. “Can’t a demon have a chat with a demon?”
“Of course you can, sweetie,” Bunny said as she took Veronica’s hand. “You two have fun.”
“Do I get a say in this?” Veronica asked.
“No,” Bunny said. “Leave your father to it.”
“Do I get a say?” I asked.
“Nope,” Kenan said. “Come on.”
He led me away and I glanced back at Veronica, giving her a smile and a dissatisfied wave.
“Remember me,” I said. I meant it, too.
For the first couple of blocks, Kenan and I walked mostly in silence. The ex-demon was probably trying to make up his mind about me. For most, that took two seconds. Not two blocks.
“What made you leave Hell?” he finally asked.
“I lost my horns.” I didn’t feel the need to break everything down at that point. Kenan didn’t need to know about the failed attempt to take over Hell, working with Sam, or anything else. “I didn’t have much of a choice after that.”
“You didn’t ask for them back?”
“No.” It was the truth. Lucifer had offered to give them back after Sam and I stopped his son from enacting his own coup, but I declined. “I figured it was as good a time as any to go my own way.”
“Interesting.”
The two of us made it to Woody’s at City Market, a cozy sports bar across from Moore Square, and my guard went up at the sight of the dark, grassy square. Lucifer’s son Nicholas once kidnapped me there, even going so far as to use holy water on my feet, melting them into piles of fleshy goo. It went without saying that I was still a bit raw over the entire ordeal.
Thankfully, we turned and walked into Woody’s instead.
Inside, the walls were covered in red wallpaper. Framed photos of sports moments hung all over, but the red reminded me a bit of Hell. I figured it had the same effect for Kenan, and that was why he’d picked the spot.
We took a seat at the empty bar and Kenan pulled the bored-looking bartender’s attention away from the basketball game on one of the bar’s televisions to order each of us a Scotch. The bartender quickly poured the shots, then returned to watching the game. Kenan downed his Scotch in one gulp while I fiddled with mine, wondering how I wound up sitting at a bar with this hippie beatnik.
“Look around you,” Kenan said.
There were a dozen people scattered throughout the bar, most of them drunk or close to it. A table of guys laughed like buffoons. In a booth, a couple grinned, fingers intertwined.
“Tell me what you see.” Kenan said.
“Some drunks and some horny humans.”
“No.” Kenan smacked my arm, a big grin on his face. “It’s potential.”
The cool glass of Scotch touched my warm lips, and the drink rushed down my throat. I showed the empty glass to Kenan.
“Doesn’t even look half-full to me,” I said.
The level of optimism in Kenan’s voice as he spoke was downright spooky. Had existence away from Hell driven him so far into the depths of insanity that he’d come through the other side with an infinite sense of optimism?
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Kenan motioned to the bartender, who refilled my Scotch. “This could be the best of all possible worlds.”
“Quoting Gottfried Leibniz?” I drank my Scotch, letting it swish and burn in my mouth a moment before swallowing. Yep. Kenan had gone full-on optimist.
“All you have to do is open your eyes,” he said.
The alcohol flowing through my veins made it difficult to keep my temper from boiling over. I took a deep breath and bit the inside of my lips, fighting off the full force of my snark. Oh, how I wanted to destroy this silly little demon. If he didn’t have the potential to ruin a perfectly good fling with Veronica, I’d have destroyed him with my trademark wit.
“Is this a business proposition?” I asked. “Are you starting a pharmaceutical business that aims to put a smiley face on the whole wide world, one person at a time?”
“Not exactly.” Kenan laughed. “I’m talking about living well. Rising above the rat race to answer a greater calling.”
I waved him off. “Tried that twice. There won’t be a third time.”
“I’ve been free from Hell a lot longer than you have.” Kenan scooted his stool closer. His arm rubbed against mine. “The more time you’re away, and the more distance you get from there, the better your perspective. There’s so much more to things than a battle for someone’s soul.”
“Of course there is.” I scrunched my face up, thinking of a good rebuttal. “There’s sex, booze, fine wardrobe, luxury sports sedans, videos of cute kittens…”
Kenan sighed. I smirked, happy to frustrate him.
“It’s deeper than that,” he said. “Life, existence; everyone is floating along, no sense of purpose or direction.”
“I have that,” I said. “I follow the Tao of Winnie the Pooh.”
The stool screeched against the floor as Kenan rose to his feet and set a few fifty-dollar bills down on the bar. I reached for my wallet, but he stopped me.
“Consider it a birthday present,” he said. “I’d love for you to be a part of something special, I really would.” He tucked a business card into my jacket pocket. “Call me if you want to hear specifics.”
We shook hands and I watched as he left the bar. Once the door closed behind him, I laid my head down. My brain needed a moment to stop swirling. Kenan’s nonsense had left me jumbled and discombobulated. Taken separate or together, those two things should’ve happened to me only in the presence of a fetching virgin.
I wrote his chat off to drugs. Lots of them. Even a demon’s mind could go to waste under the influence of too many drugs.
The bartender set down another shot of Scotch.
“On the house,” he said. “You look like you could use it.”
“Cheers.” I downed the shot with relief. It took my mind off Kenan, and for a brief, fleeting moment, things felt normal.
omgz u wnt blve ths!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
This Guy?
Sam texted me every few minutes, asking how far I was from the Barwell Road Community Center in southeast Raleigh. I got tired of responding on the second message. On the fifth, I screamed at my phone, then threw it out the window. The catch was I didn’t roll down the window first, so the phone bounced off the glass and smacked me on the nose.
I winced, the pain shooting through my nose and into my eyes, and the Benz swerved into the next lane, a Toyota greeting the intrusion with its horn. I stared at the road through wet and murky eyes, steering the SUV back into its lane.
I’d never known Sam to text me like an excited tween trying to buy concert tickets to the latest and most popular boy band, but here she was, doing that very thing. She must’ve stumbled onto something Caelo-related. Or a pot of gold. Good for her, but she didn’t need to text me eight thousand times about it. I understood the sugar-free angel was excited. That was obvious on the third text.
Six minutes and 433 texts later, I’d arrived. I parked my Benz in a back corner of the center’s parking lot, next to Sam’s SUV. It was one of the few open spaces in the entire lot. Not that I frequented community centers, but it didn’t seem like the kind of place that was bumpin’ on a Wednesday night.
Sam waved for me to get in her SUV, and I moved for the front passenger side. Remy was sitting there, though, so I groaned and got into the seat behind the Cajun. I hadn’t even shut the door when Sam opened her mouth, speaking a mile a minute and with the volume of a jet engine.
“Oh, my gosh, you are not going to believe what’s going on,” she said.
“Can you turn down the volume?” I asked. “I’m not a teenager who just discovered loud music.”
“Okay, sorry.” Sam sat in silence, looking like I’d sucked the air out of her lungs.
“You’re fine,” I said. “Had a long night, is all.” That was as close to an apol– an apolo– an indication that I may have jumped down her throat as I’d offer.
“We followed that teacher of yours here,” Remy said. “You going to sleep with this one and fall under her spell too?”
I laughed. It was loud, obnoxious, and very annoying. The laughter continued until Sam and Remy looked uncomfortable. Only then did I cease my obnoxious behavior.
“I didn’t sleep with the last one,” I said. “Get your facts straight. I sl–”
“Can you two stop?” Sam asked. “Please?”
Sam’s request didn’t bother me. It was cute, realizing she didn’t want Remy to know that my last run-in with a supernatural teacher had led to sex with Sam, not the teacher. The three of us sat in silence, staring at the dimly lit community center. Nobody went in or out of the place.
“How long has Miss Adams been in there?” I asked.
“Forty-five minutes or so,” Sam said.
“This isn’t a PTA meeting, is it?”
Sam and Remy exchanged a puzzling look, and I figured they hadn’t thought of that.
“So, this could be a waste of time,” I said. “Good to know.”
“It’s not a PTA meeting,” Remy said. “There weren’t any kids.”
I smacked my forehead. How did these two get out the door each morning without setting their hair on fire?
“You know the P and T in PTA stands for parent and teacher,” I said.
“Yes, but we’re not–”
I interrupted Sam before she could say anything else. “So you brought me out here on your date night with Remy to what? Rub it in my face?”
Sam sighed. “You sound like a broken record.”
“Yeah? And?”
“Stop it,” Remy said. “Both of you.”
Sure, tell us to shut up when I’m speaking, not Sam.
“It’s annoying,” Remy said. “Listening to you two bicker like some old married couple.”
“We are no–”
Remy held up a hand, stopping me with an ah, ah, ah.
“They’re coming out,” he said.
Whatever PTA/Future Bored Housewives Association of Whatever-ica meeting Miss Adams and others attended must’ve ended. People were trickling out of the community center one by one, then in a steady stream. Several walked out carrying the same book I saw Miss Adams holding at her apartment. The one with the snake wrapped around the world on the cover. So that meant this was a meeting of the Caelo—right?
Sam pointed. “There’s Miss Adams.”
The teacher walked outside, placing her book in a green satchel draped over her shoulder.
“Anything else?” I asked.
“Oh yeah,” Sam said. “Keep watching.”
An older man stepped out behind Miss Adams. The two of them shared a hug, the kind that churchgoers would qualify with, “Peace be with you.” The man had striking white hair and a bit of a paunch in the belly. I’d seen that guy before. I knew it.
I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes for better focus. “Is that…”
Sam nodded. “He’s the reason I wanted you to meet us.”
“Sneaky old Arthur Powell,” I said.
A former televangelist, Powell was neither man nor beast. Televangelists existed in a plane somewhere between the two. They were inherently evil, but since they preached the “Good Word,” Heaven gave most of them a pass, freeing them up to do whatever dirty deeds their hearts desired. It was a pretty sweet deal, provided they could stomach extolling the virtues of the Man Upstairs. Personally, I’d have taken a pass.
“When did that toad get out of jail?” I asked, rubbing the Ring of the Gods with my thumb.
I’d stolen the ring from Powell’s collection of religious and mystical artifacts last year. He didn’t appreciate it and tried to steal it back. For his efforts, Sam and I had framed the puss-filled cyst for double murder.
“Askin’ the wrong guy,” Remy said.
“I don’t know either,” Sam said.
“The criminal justice system in this country is a sham,” I said. “We framed him good and proper.”
“I guess he lawyered up,” Remy said.
“What the Heaven is he doing with these jokers?” I asked.
“What’s he even doing in Raleigh?” Sam asked.
Questions bounced around like my mind was a pinball machine. How did Arthur weasel his way in with the Caelo in Terra? And why? Powell was a hack. Apart from the relics he’d collected, the ex-televangelist amounted to little more than a dried booger someone left on the underside of a table.
Or maybe it was a ruse? What if Sam and I just got the better of him before? Was it possible he was more than a flim-flam man with a beer gut?
Nah.
Powell was from another dimension. All televangelists were. I wondered if that was where the Mop Tops’ victims wound up. If the poor saps were getting a one-way ticket to his old home, that sort of made Arthur a trash collector, but with souls.
Miss Adams and Arthur separated, walking toward their cars, and while Miss Adams walked away from us, Arthur moved closer. His car was a few rows over from where we sat. Sam, Remy, and I scrunched down in our seats, hoping to avoid detection.
“What do you want to do?” I asked Sam. “This is your party, not mine.”
Sam hemmed and hawed. “What do you think?”
Yet another reason I didn’t trust Sam to do things without me. “I wouldn’t mind paying the good Reverend a visit. Catch up on old times, see what the boob’s been up to, and what his relation is to the Caelo. Maybe it’ll shake him up.”
Sam nodded. “Works for me.”
The three of us got out of the SUV and danced around the cars pulling out of their parking spots. Powell leaned into his Ford and tossed the book on the passenger seat. The poor sap had no clue we were right behind him.
“Nice to see you without your otherworldly bodyguards,” I said.
Powell jumped, hitting his head on the car’s interior ceiling. He rubbed th
e top of his head, still not looking in our direction.
“A Ford?” I laughed. “Are things really that lean for a pompous blowhard like yourself?”
“I don’t know who you are,” Powell said. “But I don’t have any money, and I don’t appreciate being called names.”
I tsked. “Arthur, you’re driving a Ford. We know you don’t have any money.”
Powell turned around and his eyes widened with recognition. I held up my hand, showing off the Ring of the Gods. It was Powell’s prized possession. I could only imagine how tight his butthole got at the sight of the ring on my finger
“Your toys, however, are fair game.” I tapped my finger on my chin, letting the nail extend into a claw. “Provided you didn’t sell them all to cover your lawyer’s fees.”
“I hope you haven’t come to ask forgiveness for your sins.” Powell tried to sound tough, but his trembling hand betrayed his terror. “Because I don’t do that anymore.”
I sneered. “You’d be the last person any of us would ask for forgiveness.”
“Then we have nothing else to talk about.” Powell moved to get into his car, but I grabbed his arm, pulling him out. Remy was quick on the draw, closing the door with his body. He smirked, arms across his chest. Powell wasn’t going anywhere.
Sam nodded toward the book in the car. “What’s that all about?”
“A book some friends and I are reading,” Powell said.
I thumbed toward the community center. “That’s a pretty big place to have a book club, don’t you think?”
“It’s a popular book.” Powell stammered as he spoke. “I don’t know what you think we’re doing, but that’s what we do.”
Ha!
“I’d oblige Sam here and stop lying if I were you,” Remy said.
“You.” Powell’s eyes narrowed, like he’d found an easy target. “I don’t know you, but I do know that associating with this scum doesn’t reflect very well.”
“Scum?” Remy puffed his chest out. “Sam here is the purest creature I’ve ever come across.”
Purest? Ha! Though … in all fairness, she’s kind of pure.
Sam flushed at the compliment, like a pre-teen who’d received a wink from their favorite boy band singer.