Lucifer begins droning on about Emily’s position as scapegoat and my industrious rocket-ride through the ranks. I nod and smile, even ask a few questions for clarification here and there. Finally, he gets to the part where I rule the world after I’ve taken control of the UN. But that’s where he stops.
“Then what?” I ask. If I trust my Sunday school days—the few that I paid attention in—Hell doesn’t win in the end. Obviously Lucifer doesn’t buy that part, so what does he expect?
He blinks. “Then you rule the world. What more do you want?”
“You want more than Hell, right?” I toss the question back at him.
Blue fire flares in his eyes, but only for a moment before his face is as calm and benevolent as before. “I want what’s rightfully mine.”
“Which is what?” I press, spreading my arms across the back of the sofa like I’m hanging with some dude from school. I know he wants Heaven. But why? He doesn’t answer right away, so I give a little. “See, I want more than just to rule. I want respect. I want others to appreciate me. Is it the same for you?”
Lucifer cocks his head, appraising me, and I wait it out.
“In a way,” he says, finally. “To put it in human terms. When we are done here on Earth, I expect an apology of sorts from the beings who doubted me. I belong up there.” He points vaguely upward. “At least free to move back and forth. To make up for that and to acknowledge I’ve been right all along, I expect a token. But that’s not for you to concern yourself with.”
I nod again. So Lucifer thinks The Big Dude Upstairs is going to apologize and offer a makeup gift. Personally, I think he’s deluded. Then again, I don’t really understand it all. Maybe he knows what he’s talking about. I mean, he has come this far. And if he does somehow get to go back to Heaven, does that mean there’ll be an opening in Hell after I die? Even part-time? Maybe I’ll inherit the crown, so to speak, and then I can make some changes to the torture-for-all-eternity bullshit.
The more I learn about Lucifer, the more possibilities I see for my future.
Chapter 10
Grace
I exit the elevator with Randy and follow him past the big tiger, which eyes me with distrust. I think about how hard it must be to always be on display like that with no privacy, then realize I’m not much different when it comes to Lucifer. But those thoughts are pushed from my mind when I round the corner and walk through the glass doors.
The casino is unlike any place I’ve ever experienced. I mean, sure, I’ve seen casinos on TV, but the reality is so much more dizzying. The chaos envelops me the moment the doors whoosh open. A cloud of smoke. Colors, designs, and lights. The movement of hundreds of people, like a swarm of ants. The array of sounds—from music and chatter to dings and bells—are all just a bit too loud. The entirety takes my breath away, and I pause until Randy offers his arm and escorts me through the horde like a bodyguard until we reach a stairway roped off by red velvet and flanked by bouncers in tailored blue suits and sunglasses.
Randy nudges me. “Show ‘em your money, baby.” I open my small beaded purse and flash a stack of hundred-dollar bills at them. One nods almost imperceptibly, and the other unhooks the rope to let us through.
“High rollers’ club,” Randy whispers, hauling me up the steps and away from the hubbub below into a whole new kind of insanity. Here, the music is jazz and the crowd is sparser, but there are still far more people than I expected on a Wednesday night. We’re all in black tie, including the dealers. Their only difference in attire is the red garters around their left arms that indicate their positions. Those and the white earbuds they wear, which remind me we’re being monitored.
I push away the worry that we might be caught. I can talk anyone out of filing charges if it comes down to it. Clutching Randy’s arm, I let him steer us toward the big black-and-red wheel in the center of the room. There’s a tiny card on the table that reads $100 MINIMUM. So I take out the stack of bills and tuck it all in Randy’s pocket with a wink. I need to keep him happy so he’ll do what Lucifer wants. The quicker he steals from the casino, the sooner I get to see Noah.
He pulls me in and leans down over me, enveloping me in the familiar scent that reminds me of Josh. There’s a pang in my chest as he says, “A kiss for good luck,” and before I can form a coherent thought, his lips are on mine.
It’s a soft and slow kiss, the kind that means he’s taking his time to make sure I’m okay with it. His sincerity makes me feel awful. I only want Josh’s mouth on mine, and I fight not to pull away, knowing Lucifer expects me to play this role in order to earn time with my brother. I console myself with the idea that we’re in public, so this can only go so far. I just hope Josh isn’t watching from up in Heaven.
I kiss him back, then pull away. “Show me what you’ve got, big guy.”
But the last seat at the table was taken while we kissed, so now we have to wait until someone gets up. Randy’s already explained that if I want him to do his misdirection thing, we have to stick to roulette, so it’s not like I can suggest blackjack instead.
I scan the table as Randy lays a hand against the small of my back, his long fingers reaching beyond my comfort zone. I have to play it cool. If I pull away, he’ll be suspicious immediately. So instead I settle back into his hand, hating myself.
That’s when I spot him in the corner of the table. The man I stopped from breaking up the wedding.
He’s just as handsome as Randy in his tux, though a very different type of handsome. His blue eyes remind me of Josh—there I go thinking of him again.
When he sees me staring, he smiles. “Well, hello, Miss Scarlet,” he calls across the table, earning annoyed looks from the other players at the table. Shoot! Why’d I give him a fake name?
“I think I can score a seat. Be right back,” I whisper to Randy and hurry around to the man’s spot. He’s got several towers of red-and-black chips in front of him along with a drink that looks and smells a lot like Lucifer’s favorite whiskey. When he speaks, I can tell he’s already had a few, not just from the smell but also from the slight cotton-mouthed slur.
“Hey, if it isn’t the helpless girl in the middle of the road. I guess you made it to Vegas safely.” He smiles, and it’s one of those practiced, white-toothed grins that must’ve scored him a lot of dates in high school.
“Guess so,” I say, smiling back. I sneak a glance at Randy, who’s studying the wheel and other players. I relax a little and tuck a stray tendril of hair behind my ear. “You were in a hurry when we met before. Did you make your appointment?”
Something fogs behind his eyes, but his expression stays plastered on his face. “Nah. But sometimes things aren’t meant to be, you know? Or maybe some things are.” He motions for a waitress, who seems to appear out of thin air in a tiny maid’s outfit, body parts falling out left and right. “A Bloody Mary for my friend Scarlet.” He tucks a ten-dollar bill onto her tray, and she whisks away into the fray.
“Oh, I can’t! I’m sorry, I have a—” But what do I say? A date? Why is it so difficult to admit that to this stranger? I do want to get away. I feel horrible that I ruined his life, but another part of me is curious as to the real story. Curious about why Lucifer would bother…
“No harm, no foul,” he says, standing with a wobble way too close to me, but there’s no room to move out of the way because of the crowd around the table.
I throw out my hands automatically to steady him and find him pressed against me. I swallow. His gaze is very…intense. “What’s your name?” I whisper, and we’re so close together, I know he hears me even over the buzz around us.
“Rhett. Here, sit.” I can’t break away from his stare, and I realize he’s guided me into his seat at the table and is now kneeling beside me. I barely noticed it arrive, but a deep red drink sits on the table before me with a celery stalk and a tiny gold napkin.
“Oh. I don’t play,” I say. I need this seat for Randy. It’s why I came over here.
“
Beginner’s luck. Perfect. Go ahead. Think of the chips as fun money. It’s nothing to me. Just put a handful on your favorite number.” He guides my hand over to one of his towers, and I take a stack of about seven chips, which I place on number sixteen. My age when I died.
Rhett throws a few more chips down in various corners and squares.
“Rhett’s not your real name,” I say when I can’t take him staring at me any longer. It feels like he’s tearing me apart piece by piece in his head, like a jigsaw puzzle.
“Scarlet isn’t yours. I guess we all come to Vegas to lose ourselves. Or maybe find our real selves,” he leans in and whispers, his breath tickling my ear and making me shiver.
“I better let you get back to your boyfriend, or he’s going to get jealous.”
Randy. I almost forgot all about him. I glance around, not seeing him for a moment, and panic sets in. Then I feel a hand on my shoulder, and a backward glance tells me it’s him. I turn back toward Rhett, determined to introduce him, but he’s gone. Vanished, just like the waitress.
I shake my head, trying to clear it as the dealer calls, “Number sixteen. The lady wins!” The next thing I know there’s a new stack of “fun money” shoved in front of me. I stand and motion for Randy to take my place. He closes the space between us and pulls me into his body again. “You sure? You’re doing pretty well yourself, baby.”
“I want to see you work your magic,” I say, recalling Lucifer’s command, the pain, and the desire to talk to and save my brother. I practically shove him into the seat and take a quick gulp of the drink Rhett ordered for me. I’ve never loved tomato juice, but I’m not in it for the taste. I need to calm my nerves.
Randy takes advantage of my distraction and pulls me onto his lap, large hand wrapped around my waist. “You’re my good luck charm, baby.” I force a giggle as he tosses a stack of chips onto number thirty-two and take another swig.
I wonder what Randy saw between Rhett and me, and then I wonder why it matters at all. I suck on the bottom of the celery stalk and close my eyes. The atmosphere and the drink are dousing everything in a layer of fuzz like a cozy blanket. Randy’s body is warm behind me. He feels like an anchor stopping me from floating away.
“You okay, babe?” Randy’s voice brings me out of it, and I turn, cuddling against him. He feels good and safe.
“Yeah. How are we doing?” I ask.
“Patience. We got this. And when we’ve made our money, I’m gonna give you a gift.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” I ask. I can’t help but smile. Randy’s not a bad guy. He really is trying to impress me.
“It’s waiting upstairs.” He gives me a quick peck and puts some chips on twenty-three.
“When did you have time to do that?” I ask, seriously perplexed.
“I have people.”
“People, huh?” This time when I giggle, it’s for real.
“Winner number twenty-three!” More chips are shoved in front of us. I notice Randy’s hand below the table, adjusting something. His chocolate eyes meet mine.
“This is seriously comfortable, babe. But you should probably do your distraction thing.”
I nod and stand, his hand continuing to steady me. Then I slip behind him and around the table toward the dealer, whose shrewd expression makes me think he may already be suspicious. I glance at a middle-aged man sitting halfway around the table with a grim expression and a comb-over. His tux is worn, like it’s seen better days, and his chips are almost gone. I feel guilty instantly, but I try to think like Keira for a moment. I can almost hear her tell me what an asshole he is. How he bankrupted his wife and kids, and then left because of his gambling problem. How he probably steals to pay for each fix.
It’s harder to catch his eye than I anticipate. He’s so intent on the tiny silver ball skipping from number to number. But I slide my hands down over his shoulders onto his chest. He jerks slightly and looks shocked when he sees me.
I smile. Bat my eyes.
“May I help you?” he asks.
I turn on the glamour. “Yes. First, answer this question truthfully: are you a good person?” I have to know.
“No.”
“Would you honestly describe yourself as an asshole?”
“Yes.”
I feel a bit better now about what I’m going to do. “Soon the dealer’s going to realize the ball is magnetic. When that happens, you’re going to stand up quickly and accidentally drop this magnet. You won’t remember how you got it, or whether you did it.” I drop the magnet into his inside jacket pocket and move on. Randy’s the one who replaced the real ball with a magnet. He’s the one manipulating the wheel. But if the dealer finds out it’s him, I won’t get to see Noah.
So I choose this guy instead.
How to corrupt and ruin a life 101. I get an A.
Chapter 11
Keira
Lucifer is angry, which does not bode well for me. Every time he reaches one end of his throne room and turns around, the torches flare, bathing everything in a sickly blue glow. I hug myself as he paces before me, but it’s a poor substitute for Noah’s strong arms. If I weren’t so scared, I’d laugh at that thought, since it’s ridiculous to picture Noah able to defend me against Lucifer.
Finally, he stops before me, the blue flames behind him stretching nearly to the ceiling. “Do you have feelings for him?”
I look him in his fathomless eyes and speak with a clear and confident voice.
“No.”
Lucifer stares back for quite awhile, but I don’t waver. I know without a doubt that saying yes would result in unendurable horror.
“If you are lying…”
“Would I risk that?” I snort. “I’ve experienced the consequences for much less, not to mention I learned my lesson about men a long time ago.”
“So if I told you to kill him?” Lucifer asks, moving closer so that he’s literally a breath away.
I stand my ground, meeting his stare. “Then I would do it.” He couldn’t really want to go through all of those years of searching for the Antichrist again and fighting with Heaven just because he’s annoyed at Noah, right?
Lucifer nods. “Good. However, I want him alive for now. Yet I cannot simply forget that he’s challenged me.” He roars the end of the sentence so sudden and loud that I have to cover my ears.
Lucifer recovers his cool in a flash. He stands, grinning and fixing his cufflinks, which today are tiny golden skulls. “It would make things easier if we destroyed his confidence.”
I don’t respond, but inside, my heart pounds. What’s he planning? Why can’t he just let us be together?
“Here’s what we’re going to do. You are going to make him fall in love with you.”
I nod and shrug. No biggie. He better be. I can’t believe Lucifer doesn’t see it. But since when is the Boss concerned with love?
“Then you will listen for treasonous language when he opens up to you.”
I nod again. As if I’d report that.
“And when I give the word? You break his heart. It shouldn’t be difficult for you—after all, it’s your specialty.”
“Yes, Boss.” I stand tall, looking eager to please as always, but inside I’m searching my mind for a way out of my instructions that won’t result in my eternal torment. Because being without Noah is the same thing.
Lucifer’s hand shoots out, grasping my upper arm. Every molecule that he touches burns with white-hot pain. Like fire, but worse. I cry out and fall to my knees.
“I want him so pathetic and lost that he will do whatever I say. Do you understand me, Keira?”
“Y-y-yes.”
“There is no room for mistakes here. I promise that if you so much as consider disobeying me, I will make sure that you and anyone you may care about are separated and tortured for the rest of eternity.”
I shake my head up and down desperately, unable to form any more words. Tears blur my vision. If I were human, I would have passed out by now.
/> Then his hand is at his side like it never happened, except for the smoke curling up from my flesh, where a glowing handprint slowly fades. I’m afraid to touch it.
“Now get back to Noah and make him fall hopelessly in love.”
Lucifer throws out a hand, and I find myself suddenly in Noah’s room, where he sleeps soundly in the bed, shadowed by the leather throne. I slide quickly in next to him, eager to feel him against me so I can center myself.
I hug him from behind, and he nuzzles into me, making a happy noise in his sleep—a contented sigh, like when you bite into a delicious piece of food. I can’t help but smile at this little thing that means so much.
Brushing the hair from his face, I kiss him softly on the cheek and settle back down to sleep beside him. But I guess that’s not good enough because my arm flares again like Lucifer’s touched me, and I yelp, making Noah spring up in bed.
“Keira?” he asks, chest heaving in a delicious way. “Are you okay?”
I think fast. Lucifer is watching. “I must’ve had a nightmare. Would you mind holding me?” I pout my lower lip.
He smiles, and the world lights up even before he lies back and pulls me into his arms. I press my face to his bare skin and inhale his scent, which makes me giddy.
“What did you dream about?” he asks, stroking my back.
“About losing you,” I say, and I feel the warm tears break through again. I hope Lucifer sees it as a performance, but it’s the truth.
Noah tips my chin up to look at me, and there is so much love in his eyes that it’s hard to understand how this man could possibly be the Antichrist. Then again, I’m a Demon, crying in his bed. What a pair.
“You won’t lose me, Keira. I promise. There is no one in this world or the next who can take you away from me.”
I shudder against him because I know Lucifer heard that, and I’ll have to repeat it back to him later to show that I’m sincere about spying. I wish I could scream at Noah right now and tell him to stop saying such dangerous things.
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