The sweet scent of fried onions hits my nose as he pays. After drowning it in mustard, he takes his first bite.
“Mmm,” he says, a bit of sauce dribbling out of the corner of his mouth.
I look to the aproned guy behind the counter. “I’ll have the same, please,” I mutter, ignoring Crow’s grin. “And you’ve got food on your face.”
When I’m handed my hot dog, I cover it with mustard too, then pull my card out of my pocket to pay.
“’S okay. I’ve got this,” he says, nudging me away. After wiping his face with the back of his hand, he hands over the cash.
His attempt to be nice gets under my skin just as much as his active attempts to annoy me. I don’t want to owe this guy anything. Even if it’s only a few dollars.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say as he steers me away, toward the church.
He shrugs, taking another big bite. “Force of habit. In my day, men always bought dinner. Plus, I have some spare cash lying around.” He throws me a sideways glance. “You may not be aware of this, but I completed a couple of jobs this past twenty-four hours.”
“Well, that’s true,” I say, taking a bite. “A hot dog is the least you can do.”
He chuckles as we reach the church’s tall, black iron gate. It’s chained shut, held in place by a heavy padlock. I was right: this was his great idea.
“So, genius, how exactly—?”
Crow whistles, and a crow flies out of one of the surrounding palm trees, almost giving me a heart attack.
“Jesus Christ!”
The bird lands on Crow’s arm and drops a small rusty key into his open palm. Crow gifts the bird with a bit of hot dog before it caws and flies off into the darkness.
Acting as though nothing strange has happened, Crow unlocks the padlock. The gate screeches against the concrete as he pulls it open.
“After you,” he says.
I eye him warily as we head down the wide path that cuts through the gravestones toward the church. The moonlight reflects off the white stone walls and the cross sitting atop the spire.
“What the hell was that?” I finally ask.
“What?”
“Erm, the freaky bird thing?”
He laughs. “I’m an Omen, little Demon. Perk of the job.”
We reach the steps that lead to the chapel’s arched oak door. Crow sits down on one, legs spread. I sit beside him, making sure there’s a few feet between us. I feel his body heat all the same.
“So are you finally going to tell me how you know Jonathon?”
Crow takes another bite of his hot dog, chews deliberately, then swallows.
“Everyone knows Jonathon, little Demon,” he says. “He’s the founder of Afterlife.”
Chapter Eighteen
The world around us goes still. The tombstones jut out of the lawn like they always have, the shadows cluster under the palm trees undisturbed, and the church building behind us lies deathly silent. But my mind is in overdrive. I have so many thoughts and questions that I don’t know what to say first.
“I thought so,” I say at last.
“Aye?” says Crow, arching an eyebrow. “Because of your feather tattoo?”
“Yeah.” I take a deep breath. “How do I find him?”
Crow stares out at the churchyard. He takes the last bite of his hot dog, then he scrunches the wrapper and drops it on the concrete step.
“I don’t know, little Demon. He disappeared around a year ago.”
“What?” I get that god-awful feeling in my stomach that feels like I’m falling. “What does that mean?”
“He was a big name after he created the app. A real celebrity. What’s that show all you girls like? Kardashian. We’re talking Kardashian-level here. Anyway, he was always contactable through the app. Had a pin on that map just like everyone else. Then, one day, he just disappeared from it.”
“That doesn’t mean something bad happened to him, right?” I say. “If he created the app, then he could have taken himself off it.”
He looks back out at the graveyard. He’s playing it cool, but I sense a tension.
“That’s what I always thought. That perhaps he got fed up of it all,” he says. “I mean, if I were him, I couldn’t be arsed with the stiffs over at Halo Corp. and the dickheads from Devils Inc. But now—”
“What?”
“Well, no offence, but you’re not exactly the Devils Inc. type.”
“I don’t want to be their type.”
“They usually recruit, you know, good lawyers,” he continues, ignoring me. “Ideally, ones who have been involved in dirty-dealing.”
“Is there a point you’re trying to get at?”
“Well, it’s strange that Jonathon’s sister is recruited after he goes missing, isn’t it? And by someone anonymous . . .” He gives me a pointed look.
“You think Jonathon recruited me—? No.” I shake my head vehemently, gripping my uneaten hot dog so hard it squirts mustard onto my leg. “Shit.” I put it down and wipe my bare thigh, sucking the mess off my thumb. “No,” I repeat. “He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t make me sign my soul away to the Devil. Never.”
“People change. You don’t know—”
“I do know.” We stare at each other, tension crackling in the few feet of space between us. “I do know.”
Finally, Crow raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, little Demon. But I’ve been doing this Omen gig for long enough to not believe in coincidences. This is connected, one way or another. He goes missing, you get recruited, and now, we have an Apocalypse on our hands.”
“So let’s find him.”
He gives a dark laugh. “People have tried. No one has managed it.”
“Well, I haven’t tried. If anyone can, it’s me.”
He looks thoughtful. “Aye. Perhaps.”
Silence falls like a shroud over us. I pick up my hot dog, but it doesn’t take long to realize my appetite is gone.
“How does it work anyway?” I say. “I thought when you die, you go up or down. That’s what you said earlier.”
“That’s how it works usually.” He absently twists at his ring finger, though there’s no ring around it. “But sometimes, one side or the other makes an investment in a soul—exchanges a Miracle for a position at Halo Corp., or trades a Desire for a position at Devils Inc.”
“So what happened with Jonathon?”
“He worked for Halo Corp. for a bit. Then he found a loophole in his contract and joined Omens Limited. After he created the app, he went freelance. Moved to LA.”
I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the gut. I’ve mourned him for seven years, his loss like a hole I could never fill. For months after it happened, I was numb, invisible, barely making it to school every day. Meanwhile, Mom stared dead-eyed on the sofa between her nursing shifts at the care home, and Dad nearly lost his electronics store because he spent so much time barking on the phone to lawyers as he tried to find someone to blame.
Now, here, I discover Jonathon was living this whole other happy life.
Coldness spreads through my body. “Why did he never visit me?”
Crow gives me a look. “He was dead, little Demon.”
“Yes. And apparently, his dead self created an app! So that doesn’t really—?”
“Okay, keep your knickers on,” he says.
“My what?”
Crow exhales. He rubs the back of his neck, fingers brushing a tattoo hidden by his collar. “Look, there are laws,” he says. “Halo Corp. and Devils Inc. both have company policies. Any employee who joins them after death has to cut off ties with their life. Breaking the policy would result in immediate termination and the reversal of whatever Miracle or Desire was granted. Most do desk work until everyone who knew them died anyway.” He pauses. “Omens Limited’s policies are a little more lax, but even we have rules. We’re not supposed to visit anyone who would recognize us.”
“Oh,” I say.
We fall into silence. He ey
es my hot dog.
“You going to eat that?”
“Yes.”
I take a defiant bite, but when it only makes my stomach churn, I hold it out to him. He takes it, stuffs it in his mouth, then lies down on the steps, folding his arms behind his head and looking up at the night sky. He has mustard in the corner of his mouth.
“You know, most people like to chew when they eat,” I say.
He chuckles. “I’m not most people.”
I roll my eyes, leaning back so I can stretch my legs too. “You said you knew him?” I say.
“Aye. I met him. Once. He liked me about as well as you do.”
“Not very well then,” I say.
“Aye.” He turns his head, a glint in his eye. “Though I don’t think he wanted to sleep with me as much.”
I snort. “I don’t want to sleep with you.”
“I wouldn’t annoy you so much if you didn’t.”
Irritation flares inside me. Not because he’s right. No way. Although . . . Josie and Lucas might disagree. After reading some pop psychology book, Josie tried to convince me that I only date guys who are ultimately unattainable. Apparently, I’m protecting myself from the heartache. Meanwhile, Lucas thinks the adrenaline junkie in me—the one who enjoys boxing and horror movies and really wants to go skydiving—treats dating like an extreme sport.
I think they should both mind their business. I just suck at dating—as my lack of serious boyfriends attests. Other than an on-and-off relationship my senior year of high school and a few hook-ups after parties since being here, I’ve not had any luck in that department.
I glance at Crow, with his hard body and tattoo and undertone of darkness. If I did view dating as an extreme sport, taking on this guy would be like competing in the Olympics.
“I’m pretty sure you’d find a way,” I say.
He laughs again. “You’re not my type. Sorry, little Demon.”
“Who is your type?” I ask. “Drunk blondes in clubs?”
“Jealous?”
“Do you want me to be jealous?”
He chuckles. “I can’t say I have a type in terms of hair color. But I do prefer my women not to have damned souls.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t take such an active part in helping women damn their souls,” I say, failing to keep the bite out of my tone.
“Aye. Maybe not,” he says softly, his gaze burning into mine.
I look away, focusing on the angel statue weeping over a tombstone by one of the tall palm trees that line the churchyard. “What about your soul?” I say. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re hardly a model citizen.”
“My soul doesn’t belong to anybody,” he says. “So my guess is, it works the same way as for a mortal. The big bosses aren’t exactly forthcoming.”
“Aren’t you worried though?”
“Aye, about some things.”
“Well, don’t you think you could absolve some of that worry by not being a complete and utter dick?”
“And how do you suggest I do that?”
“You could start by not getting people to sign away their souls to the Devil.”
“I didn’t,” he says, grinning. “That was all you. I warned you not to—”
“And you could maybe not terrorize the elderly at retirement homes,” I say, recalling where he was when I looked him up on the app.
The smile on his lips dies. Before, he was soft and relaxed; now, he’s all edges. The churchyard is dark, the only light coming from beyond the barred gate at the end of the path, and the shadows do their swirling thing as they gather around him.
Then he blinks, and he’s back again. The transformation is so fast I could almost make myself believe I imagined it. It puts me on edge, as if all of this charm is masking something darker. Whatever he was up to this afternoon, he’s not proud of it. I dread to think what someone like Crow would be ashamed of doing.
“You were stalking me, little Demon?” He clucks his tongue. “Don’t you know, the Devil makes work for idle thumbs?” He sits upright. “Want to go back to the club?”
I hold his gaze, then I shake my head. “No. I’m just going to head back to campus.”
“I’ll give you a ride.”
“No. It’s okay. I—”
“I insist.” He gets to his feet in one quick movement and hops down the steps to stand in front of me and hold out a hand.
Sighing, I let him pull me to my feet—something I regret when we’re suddenly close enough for me to feel his body heat. He reaches over my shoulder and brushes the edge of my peacock feather tattoo with his fingertips.
I grab his wrist, throwing it away from me as I put some distance between us. I try to ignore the hot trail of energy his fingers leave on my skin.
“What are you doing?” I say.
“Why a peacock feather?” he asks. “What does it mean?”
I shake my head. “I’ve known you, like, five seconds,” I say. “And for four-point-five of those seconds, you were being purposefully antagonistic. So let’s save the childhood stories.” As he chuckles, I look down at his hot dog wrappers still on the ground. “You going to pick those up? I hardly think littering on church grounds will win you any favors up there.”
“I think it will take more than picking up litter to win me favors up there, little Demon,” he says. His expression darkens, his irises a silvery gray in the faded moonlight. “Does that scare you?”
As we stare at one another, the night circles us like thick smoke, cool and suffocating, and my heartbeat quickens. The black shadows from the church building rush toward him, and whatever this is, I understand now that he’s doing it on purpose.
I’m just not sure whether it’s to impress or scare me.
Am I scared? The tightening of my chest feels something like fear. But the buzzing beneath my skin and the lick of heat in the pit of my stomach feel like something else entirely.
I keep my eyes on his and force my expression to remain impassive.
“No,” I say, dismayed when it sounds more like a gasp.
A slow, satisfied smile broadens across his face. Then he bends down, grabs the wrappers, and stuffs them into his jeans pocket. As he does, the shadows retreat, and the lights from the surrounding streets come back.
I take a deep gulp of the musty churchyard air when he’s not looking.
“There,” he says, rising. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” I’m pleased to hear my voice sounds normal again.
He laughs as we walk back to the iron gate. I remain silent, eyes fixed ahead, unsure whether to trust this man who seems to shift seamlessly from darkness to light. I can usually trust my gut about these situations, yet something about this guy has my mind reeling.
“What about the last half a second?” he says, interrupting my thoughts as we rejoin the world outside.
“Huh?”
“You said I intentionally annoyed you for four-point-five seconds. What about the last half a second?”
“You annoyed me by accident,” I deadpan.
He laughs, and, surprisingly, one erupts from my lips too. Damn. I can’t help it. As annoying and frustrating as he is, there’s something magnetic about him. Like the shadows, I find myself attracted.
I study his full lips, the hard line of his stubble-covered jaw, and the edge of the mysterious tattoo brushing the back of his collar.
When he catches me looking, he gives me another wicked smile.
Ugh. No. What am I thinking? I start walking again, making a vow not to go there. He’s not trustworthy, and he clearly knows how to manipulate women.
“What’s your tattoo of?” I ask when he catches up, trying to make it seem like my gawking was a simple curiosity.
“You won’t tell me about yours, but you want to know about mine?” He shakes his head. “Nah. Doesn’t work that way, little Demon.”
I shrug. “Okay. Fine.”
We pass the growing line outside Apocalypse before we come to the side road
where Crow’s black Mini Cooper is parked.
“If you drove here, why didn’t we just have our private conversation in the car?” I ask.
“I like churches. They give me a sense of peace.”
“You’re a complicated guy, aren’t you?” I say.
He appears to consider what I’m saying. “Nah. Pretty simple, really. Like everyone else. You’ll learn that in this line of business. There are only two things you need to know about a soul: what they want, and what they’re willing to do to get it.” He smiles, gray eyes glinting in the light of a nearby streetlight. “After that, everything else makes perfect sense.”
“So what do you want?” I ask.
“That’s for me to know, and you to figure out,” he says, opening the driver’s door. “Come on. Let’s get you back to campus.”
We don’t talk much in the car. I message Josie and Lucas to tell them I’ve headed home, then I take stock of the situation. True, I am apparently an intern to the Devil, but I have a shot at finding Jonathon again. It seems almost too good to be true, but what choice do I have but to believe it?
Five minutes later, Crow pulls up to the road nearest my dorm building. Engine still running, he turns to me.
“You’re really going to look for him then?” he says. He twists at his ring finger again.
“Jonathon? Yeah.”
“Then you’re going to need someone to protect you.”
“I don’t need protecting.”
He chuckles. “You can handle yourself—I’ll give you that. But you have no idea the danger you’re in. You’ll need help.”
“I’m not paying you, if that’s what you’re after,” I say, opening the door.
“No need. I’ll do this one for free.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Right. You’re going to help me out of the goodness of your heart?”
“Well, I never said that.”
I sigh. “What’s in it for you?”
His eyes travel down my body, then up to my face again.
“I’m not sleeping with you,” I say.
He grins. “Who said anything about that? Your brother is a powerful man. Way I see it, if I keep his little sister safe, maybe he’ll do a little something for me.”
I shake my head and get out of the car. “You’re the worst.”
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