Hell Hath No Vengeance (Vengeance Demons Book 5)

by Louisa Lo

  “What are we going to do?” Madeleine whispered.

  “As if one enemy isn’t enough.” Esme sighed. “Now we have a second one.”

  Yes, the Council wanting to take over was bad enough, now Lucifer wanted to, as well. And they were both dangerous. Well, the Council seemed more dangerous to me, just because I had personal experience with it, but there was no doubt they were both major players in the Cosmic Balance in their own right.

  A light blub went on in my head.

  “That’s it!” I screamed, waving the name list around. “I’m going to see Lucifer.”

  “What?” Everyone else in the room yelled simultaneously. It took a while for them to calm down.

  “I’m going to see Lucifer,” I repeated. “You know that saying ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’?”

  “What about it?” Madeleine snapped.

  “Well, the enemy of my enemy is still my enemy, but what’s not to say these two equal powers could balance each other out and leave us alone?”

  “What are you proposing?” Esme asked.

  “I’ll go to Lucifer with the name list.” It was a reckless plan, and I wanted to get it out there before I lost my nerve. “Tell him I know all about his little army—maybe suggest I got the full list rather than the partial—and ask that he let the innocents go. He could grow his army organically, but not with participants others would have to be forced to replace in Hell. That ought to keep his army smaller but still a good balancing force against the Council.”

  Vera seemed cheered by the idea of her man being freed, but only cautiously. I didn’t blame her.

  “And what’s not to say he’ll just imprison you there to keep you quiet?” Gregory asked quietly.

  “That’s where everyone else here comes in,” I replied, gesturing the entire room. “You all take a copy of the list and go into hiding. If I don’t come back after a certain time, you make the list public so the Council will be on Lucifer’s ass. That’ll be my leverage.”

  “It’s too risky,” Esme protested.

  “It beats going to the Council directly. That’ll only tip the balance in the wrong way. And we still won’t get Boyce and the rest of them back.”

  The day that working with the king of Hell became a more viable option was a sad one indeed, but here we were.

  “I’m coming with you,” Esme announced, ignoring the frown from her mother.

  “So am I,” Vera added. “I want to be there.”

  “No,” I said firmly, “I need as many of you scattered out as possible to make my leverage work.”

  “Well, I’m coming with you,” Gregory said. “Lucifer was our client. Still is.”

  Looking into his eyes, I knew there was no stopping him. So I nodded.

  “You do realize there’s always a price to pay dealing with Lucifer.” Cynthia thinned her lips. “He is the Lord of Lies.”

  I sighed. “Don’t I know it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The Touch

  After coordinating with everyone to make sure they were as widespread as possible across different planes and societal levels, Gregory and I said good-bye to them, with the promise to get in touch as soon as it was safe.

  Then we teleported to the front of my duplex, checking in on Sophia and Rosemary before we headed to Hell. Neither of us would admit it, but we were wondering if this was the last time we would see our loved ones in a long time. We’d left instructions with our friends about caring for Sophia, Rosemary, and Sassy if something were to happen to us, but hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

  Talking about Sassy, she greeted us at the front door with loud meows that sounded suspiciously like where have you been and have you brought me any bad guys to munch on? I laughed, leaned down, and rubbed my cheeks against her fur. "Oh, there were bad guys alright. But none I could bring home. Believe me, I would’ve loved that, too.”

  Sassy gave me a reproachful look and stalked off.

  “Thank you,” I told Gregory. “For everything.”

  “Not a problem.” He let out a breath. “I guess I should go find myself a tux.”

  I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “The easiest way to see Lucifer is to play along with his invitation and go through Hell’s front entrance,” Gregory explained. “It beats trying to surprise him in his own territory by using the service entrance. We never met him before so I’m not even sure where to go.”

  Right, the invitation. I’d almost forgotten about that, as busy as I was to argue for visiting the Lord of Hell, I’d forgotten the logistic of how. Using his invite would make the most sense. Unconsciously, I fingered my necklace, where the VIP pass was miniaturized and attached to its clasp.

  “Let’s go see Sophia and Rosemary first,” I said.

  The two ladies were both just as we’d left them. Gregory leaned over Sophia with an expression so tender that it strengthened my resolve to do what I had to do next.

  I lightly touched one of his shoulder blades where his vengeance wings would come out of, and applied just a small amount of energy tailored to cancel out the frequency of his power signature.

  Gregory slumped over his mother’s bed, and I gently eased him into a chair nearby. He would be out for hours. Hopefully I would return by then. If not, there would’ve been nothing he could do about it, which was exactly what I wanted.

  Generally, it would’ve taken some powerful magic to knock out a full-blooded vengeance demon, but I was using the knowledge of Gregory’s own power signature against him—something I acquired being his business partner all this time, not to mention the fact that we had dated and kissed.

  What I just did was considered so despicable and unsportsmanship-like, that only the lowest of the low would do it. I felt like a slimeball for tricking him like that.

  But I did it because I had no intention of dragging Gregory along into my confrontation with Lucifer. As Esme said, it was too risky. In addition, there was a chance the VIP pass was only good for one person. I mean, Lucifer didn’t send Gregory the flowers and card, now did he?

  My eyes were moist as I stared at Gregory’s still figure. Then I took a deep breath and started making the preparation to go to Hell.

  I wished Rosemary was conscious, because I could sure use her advice in getting dolled up. To go through Hell’s casino meant I had to dress up for it. Heck, Lucifer had asked me to do so outright in his own invitation.

  Wear something nice. I shivered as I wondered what his true intention was. The idea of a professional interest was just as gross as a romantic one.

  I started hunting down suitable formalwear for the occasion. I had a closet full of dresses from my mom, stuff spun with trickster magic that was designed to enhance one’s sensuality. But considering that I would be trying to threaten my host, something a little more dignified would be preferred.

  I turned on my heels and walked toward Rosemary's wardrobe. She always said I was free to borrow anything from there. As a chef, she was always more interested in her white aprons than the edgier stuff her fashion-designer mom tried to get her to wear. So in a way, I used the clothes given by my mom just as little as Rosemary did with hers.

  From my roommate’s closet, I picked out a cocktail dress of wine red and a flattering sweetheart neckline. I also borrowed a faux diamond tennis bracelet and necklace set. I was tempted by a pair of silver strapped sandals, but decided that a little polishing spell on my old black pumps would do just fine. New footwear always made me feel unbalanced, and tonight I needed to be on an even heel like no other time.

  I washed up, changed, and left the house.

  Let’s pray I won’t become a permanent guest in Hell, for Lucifer’s amorous attention or otherwise.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Hot Date

  I stopped short on the front lawn, right when I was about to start the teleportation. While I might’ve had a VIP pass to be presented at the front gate of Hell, I still had to get there first. All I h
ad ever done was travel with Gregory through the back door, and that was where the teleportation would’ve taken me.

  I took out my cell phone, ignoring the passerby’s stares as they took in my formalwear, and dialed a number.

  “This is the main switchboard of Hell. Your call is very important to us, please wait for the next available person. Your estimated wait time is—” There was a pause. “Five minutes.”

  Five full minutes, plenty of time for me to wait around and feel absolutely miserable about how I’d just betrayed Gregory’s trust. Not to mention the sheer helplessness regarding Grandma’s situation.

  Then the girl at the switchboard said “hello.” I told her the extension number I wanted to reach and got connected with my guy in Hell.

  “Hey, Megan,” Tatus, the assistant of Leonard, bookkeeper of the Book of Life and Death, answered the phone, his tenor cackled over the cross-dimensional line.

  Yep, that was my guy in Hell. Well, technically he was Gregory’s guy, but that was just semantics.

  “Are there any big sinners biting the dust tonight?” I asked.

  He didn’t ask me why I needed to know. That wasn’t the reason why Gregory put him on a magical credit allowance. Tatus just said, “I’ll be back.”

  I was on hold for only a few minutes, but in Hell it could’ve been hours or even weeks. I knew where Tatus was off to. He was taking a sneak peek at the Book behind his boss’s back.

  “A heart attack,” Tatus said after he came back, and went on to give me the information of a medical emergency that was about to happen in an upscale restaurant in downtown Calgary, on the human plane in a little under two hours. The person involved definitely deserved a grand entrance into Hell. That meant through the soon-to-be departed I could hitch a ride all the way to the front gate of the Underworld.

  Well, luckily I was all dressed up and would fit right in at a fancy restaurant.

  I hung up on Tatus and teleported using the coordinates he gave me. Outside the restaurant, the sky was lit with a spectacular summer sunset, all clear-blue sky and hues of orange clouds. With Calgary being two hours behind Toronto, it was only about nine o'clock here, and night hadn’t fallen at this time of year. On the sidewalk, patios were in full swing, with people mingling, chatting, drinking beers, and catching sport games on large TV monitors.

  Inside the restaurant, I told the front desk I had a reservation. I didn’t, but I laced my words with compulsion and was soon shown in. I made sure to take the table right in front of the heart attack waiting to happen. Literally.

  Dark wood panels covered the walls of the restaurant, and each table had a single rose and candle in the center. Soft violin music played in the background. Couples were sitting together, bending their heads together in intimate conversation or holding each other’s hands. I was the only single person in the room.

  A glance at the logo on the front page of the menu revealed that the place served French cuisine. The cruel irony of it all, for me to be surrounded by frog legs and escargots, when that was how I envisioned my second date with Gregory to be.

  That date was impossible now, after how I’d betrayed him. Even if it was for his own good.

  My stomach rumbled. It apparently didn’t care if my heart was breaking. It didn’t matter that I’d spent a lot of time since my last meal not even being inside my physical body—it smelled food, it wanted some, and that was the end of it.

  My stomach rumbled again.

  “I see you’ve worked up quite an appetite.” A mirthless chuckle sounded behind me, making me jump to my feet.

  I turned around and my mouth fell open.

  There was Gregory, standing behind my chair. How was he awake? How did he sneak up on me like that?

  With a tailored suit, broad shoulders, and untamed brown hair, he looked as handsome as the…well, I guess I shouldn’t say as handsome as a devil, given where I was heading this evening. It didn’t matter that he’d only dressed up to blend in when he tracked me here, he was still looking the sexiest that I'd ever seen him, and I couldn’t deny the effect.

  “Well, aren’t you going to invite me to sit?” he asked.

  My jaw was still on the floor. All I could manage was, “H-how?”

  Gregory sat down smoothly and gave me a cold smile. “You can’t imagine this is the first time I’d ever been surprised by someone I trusted, right? Would you not think, that I might’ve developed some sort of defense against that?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You only pretended to pass out?”

  “Of course.”

  I sat back down. “Listen, I—”

  Gregory gestured to the server for a place setting for himself. He, too, had used compulsion, and the server did his bidding, never mind that my non-existence reservation was for one person only.

  I opened my mouth again, but he held up a hand.

  “We’re a team, Megan.” Gregory’s eyes glinted with smoldering heat. “What you did wasn’t only underhanded, but insulting.”

  His shoulders twitched jerkily as if his wings, in his agitated state, were begging to come out. His face was stormy. But under all that rage, his power signature hid a deep sense of confused hurt. And that was what made me feel like the slimiest grub ever.

  I swallowed. “I was trying to keep you safe. I don’t even know if my VIP pass would let both of us in.”

  “We won’t know until we get there, now will we?” Gregory said, his voice determined.

  “What about your adopted family?” I demanded. “I thought you don’t want Lucifer paying any attention to Candy. There’s also your mom to consider.”

  “I am doing this for them.” Gregory ran his fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes, then opened them and looked at me directly. “Listen, if Lucifer is taking over, they aren’t safe anyway.”

  “Alright.” It was hard to turn him down when he put it that way. “And, er, sorry about the whole knocking you out business.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “Trying to knock me out.”

  “Yeah, that.” My shoulders, which I never realized I was tensing, relaxed. I’d really come to rely not only on Gregory’s support, but his companionship. Having him by my side while I faced Lucifer would be a great asset. To be frank, I expected Gregory to be so furious with me for what I’d done that he would throw roadblocks to prevent me from going to Hell, or not speak to me for another three months. Perhaps having a foundation of a professional relationship before we’d ever contemplated dating was a good thing, as we could talk like grown-ups without a lot of hurt feeling got in the way.

  “We have a bit of time before we hitch a ride,” I informed him, checking my cell.

  “I know.” His eyes sparkled. His mood seemed to have picked up now that we’d settled the matter between us. “My guy in Hell told me.”

  “Hey, I thought he was my guy.” I smiled.

  “Nope. He’s mine way before he’s yours.”

  “Jerk,” I muttered.

  “Let’s order.” Gregory picked up the menu, effectively blocking the napkin I threw his way. “This is our second date, after all.”

  “Our second date?” I echoed.

  Gregory’s face turned serious. “Look. I have no idea what we’re going to face in Hell. Let’s treat this meal as a date, so that come hell or high water, we have this. Would you like that?”

  Would I like that? Almost two hours together with him, where we keep the burdens of recent events at bay and simply enjoy ourselves? It sounded precious beyond compare.

  But all I could do was choke out, “Come hell or high water? Is that supposed to be a pun?”

  Gregory laughed, and I flipped open the menu with a grin.

  Alright, there might be a little problem here.

  The menu was in French, or they were describing items that were in French. Other than frog legs and escargots, I knew basically nothing about French food. Would that be just as offensive as thinking Chinese food was all about spring rolls and sweet and sour ch
icken?

  Our server approached, and I got busy listening to him talking about the various menu items. His voice was accented as expected, fake or otherwise, but I had no idea what the sauces were that he was talking about. Actually, I wasn’t even sure if he was describing sauces, meats, or veggies. It all sounded French to me.

  When I told Gregory that I wanted to go to a French restaurant, it was because it sounded so posh and romantic. But the truth was, other than the aforementioned frog legs and escargots, I really knew nothing about the cuisine. Sure, Rosemary cooked French dishes at home before—what self-respecting chef wouldn’t?—but I’d never bother remembering their names because it wasn’t like I had to order them at a restaurant.

  Until now.

  Gregory seemed perfectly content to let me order, either out of chivalry, or assuming that I must knew more about the cuisine than him since I was the one who suggested it. I was too embarrassed to admit to him how little I knew, and I couldn’t exactly Google the dishes right in front of him.

  See, no matter how they sliced it, there was a difference between sharing a meal and going on a date. Megan-the-mercenary- business-partner would never have a problem telling Gregory the truth. Hack, once we had to do a stakeout at a zombie nightclub, and I told him straight up I knew nothing about any of the uniquely flavored brain appetizers on the menu.

  But the Megan who was on an unexpected date with a guy who just minutes ago was mad at her, found herself unable to admit to him her lack of knowledge.

  I ended up nodding to whatever the server said was the specials of the day, and Gregory said he’d have the same. I gave a mental push, making sure the kitchen would know to make it a priority order.

  After the waiter left, Gregory turned to me. “So, do you know much about the heart attack victim?”

  I shrugged. “I was in a hurry. Just the name, physical description, and cause of death.”

  Our victim was a beautiful, if slightly artificially enhanced young woman by the name of Yelena King. She was seated behind us, in a booth with an elderly man old enough to be her grandfather, and they were flirting outrageously with each other. When I tilted my head toward the lower section of the booth, I could see Yelena’s hand exploring the inside of the old man’s thigh. Urgh. From the flushed look on his face, I wondered if Tatus got it wrong and it was the old man who was about to die of excitement.