Devils Inc.

by Lauren Palphreyman

  Slowly, a smile spreads across his face. I smile back.

  Then he grabs me and throws me over his shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” I yelp, failing to keep the giggle out of my voice. “This is very undignified.”

  “Things are going to get much more undignified in a minute, little Demon.”

  My arms dangle down his muscular back as he walks us across the room.

  “Where are you taking me?” I yell.

  “Bed.”

  Both of us laughing, he carries me through the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The sun creeping through the gap in my blinds is what wakes me the next morning. I’m warm. Relaxed. In fact, I feel more relaxed than I have in a long time.

  I’ve felt so pent-up lately—from college, and the pressure of not disappointing my parents, and the questions about what I want to be doing with my future. Last night, I was finally able to let some of that go.

  I yawn, shifting beneath my black-and-red duvet. The heavy arm curled around my waist pulls me closer.

  “Morning, little Demon,” says Crow, voice gruff with sleep. He nuzzles the back of my neck.

  I roll onto my back to look at him. As he props himself up, the comforter slips down, exposing his ridiculously muscular chest. His eyelids are heavy with sleep, but they don’t hide the mischief.

  “Morning,” I say with a groan.

  “So . . . last night was . . .” The corner of his lip tugs up. “Fun.”

  I put my hands over my face. He laughs, pulling one of them away and looping his fingers through mine before pinning it to the pillow.

  “No use getting embarrassed now, little Demon. We have no secrets anymore.”

  “Mmm.” Untangling my fingers from his, I trace the pillow mark on his temple. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  He turns his head to bite my wrist, then he leans down to brush his lips against mine. I tilt my head away.

  “What’s wrong?” he says.

  “I haven’t brushed my teeth.”

  “I don’t care about that.”

  “Well, I do.”

  His face lingers above mine. “Okay, a closed-mouth kiss then.”

  “A closed-mouth kiss! What the hell is wrong with you?”

  I laugh, and he laughs too, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

  “You’re weird,” I say.

  “How am I weird?”

  “I don’t know. You’re just. . .” I struggle for what I’m trying to say. “You’re more affectionate than I expected.”

  “Aye? Well, you’re more violent than I expected.” He puts on a face of mock shock. “Jesus Christ! Last night was terrifying!”

  “Oh, shut up!” I say.

  After brushing his lips against my forehead, he rolls onto his back. As he does, I note the red burn mark on his left shoulder where I grabbed him with my weird blue-flame hand.

  “Sorry about that,” I murmur, propping myself up on my elbow to touch it.

  “You should be. You’re an absolute monster,” he says, turning his head to meet my eyes. “I think you need to make it up to me.”

  “Oh, you do, do you?” I say.

  “Aye. It really hurts.”

  “Liar.”

  “It’s the truth! I swear on my soul!”

  “I’m not sure that means much coming from you.”

  “It does.” He takes my hand, kisses the underside of my wrist, then puts my palm on his chest. “I need something to distract me. From the pain.”

  “And what exactly would distract you?” I ask.

  He slides my hand down beneath the covers. “I read in an article once that orgasms are excellent painkillers.”

  I burst out laughing as he feigns innocence.

  “It’s not me!” he says. “It’s science, little Demon.”

  “Well, I suppose I can’t argue with science,” I say, bending down to kiss him just as a knock interrupts us. I glance across my room to the door by my broken mirror.

  “Ignore it,” whispers Crow.

  The knocking persists. When I start to climb over Crow, he pushes me back.

  “’S okay. I’ll get it. You reserve your energy,” he says, kissing my forehead as someone knocks again. “You’ll need it in a minute.”

  As he slides out of bed—completely butt-naked—I can’t help but be entranced by his ridiculously good physique. My eyes trace the muscles of his back, the scratch marks I left on his skin, and the tattoo on his left shoulder blade: a lily surrounded by black feathers.

  Then, when he makes no move to cover himself, I snap out of my trance.

  “Crow!”

  He looks over his shoulder. “What? I’m just going to peek through the door.”

  “I don’t care! Put some pants on!”

  I scoop his sweats off the floor and throw them. As he turns to catch them, my eyes flick down. He smirks, pulling them over his hips.

  “Just get back in bed and cover yourself up,” I say, shuffling out of the covers.

  Crow laughs and does as he’s told.

  I’m not all that better-dressed than Crow given I’m wearing nothing but his T-shirt and my underwear, so I only open the door enough to peek outside. It’s Josie, bright-eyed and annoyingly awake. Her Afro is styled to perfection, and she’s in skinny jeans, boots, and a black leather jacket.

  “You still sleeping, babe? It’s almost eleven.” She starts to push past me. “Anyway, I—” She closes her mouth when she spots Crow on my bed, the duvet tucked around his waist.

  “Oh. Hello,” she says, but then her brow furrows. “Wait. Do I know you?”

  “Aye. You threw a packet of salt into my eye.”

  “No shit! I knew I recognized you. Sorry about that, babe.”

  “’S all right,” he says, then he twists a little to show off his back. “I’m getting used to you Trinity Falls girls having violent tendencies. You should see what Rachel—”

  “Okaaay, that’s enough from you,” I say, shuffling Josie into the hallway and shutting the door behind us. “What’s up?” I ask casually—or, as casually as possible when one is pulling at a white T-shirt in the desperate hope it covers her thighs. My hair is tangled, and I can smell both mine and Crow’s sweat on my skin.

  She just smiles at me, saying nothing.

  “What? I am allowed to have a man in my bed from time to time,” I say.

  She raises her hands. “Hey, no judgement from me, babe. Although . . .” Her smile slips a little. “Isn’t he the guy we saw making out with some blonde the other night?”

  “Yeah, I know. Look, it just . . . happened. It’s not like I’m going to marry him.”

  After a beat, she shrugs. “Well, whether he’s marriage material or not, he’s pretty hot! Exceptionally hot, in fact. Did you. . .”—she dramatically arches an eyebrow—“do the deed?”

  I laugh. “Do the deed? How old are you?”

  “You did, didn’t you! Was it good? I bet it was.”

  “Is there a reason you’re here so early on a Saturday?” I ask, trying to fight my smile.

  She laughs. “Early? It’s almost midday! Although, I guess I can forgive you for being a bit tired,” she says, smirking at my door.

  “How was your first shift at Apocalypse?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “Yeah, good. For the most part anyway. It’s actually why I stopped by.”

  I frown. Crow said the Horsemen would protect her, but he also said he’d protect me, and I just got stabbed.

  “Did something happen?”

  “Kind of. A group came in about midnight. They knew we were friends, and they said they were looking for you. Only . . . I’ve never seen them hanging out with you.”

  I tense. The Demons must be still after the bounty on me.

  “What did you tell them?”

  “Nothing. Chris was training me on bar and told them where to go before I could answer. They got pretty aggressive after that, started yelling about how it wasn�
�t time yet. Then Darius saw them out. Which was super-hot, but . . .” She gives me a stern look. “You’re not in any trouble, are you, babe?”

  Other than signing my soul away to the Devil. . .

  “No,” I say.

  “You sure?”

  “I think they were people from my law internship,” I say, not untruthfully.

  Josie studies my face, brow furrowed. She’s my best friend, and as such, she knows when something’s up. Surprisingly, however, she lets it go.

  “Okay. Well, if you ever need to talk . . .”

  “Yeah.” I smile. “Yeah, I know. Everything’s fine. I’m fine.”

  She holds my gaze for a moment longer. Then she returns my smile. “Okay, well, I was going to see if you wanted to come watch Lucas’s Faustus rehearsal. But I can see you have more pressing matters to attend to.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “I’ll catch you later, okay? You can fill me in on all the juicy details.”

  I laugh, promising to call her tonight, then watch as she heads back down the hallway. The smile dies from my lips as she disappears from view.

  When I go back into my room, Crow’s sitting up against my scratched wooden headboard, a slither of sunlight shining across his face. When the door clicks shut, he gestures for me to join him.

  I stay put.

  “Josie said some people were looking for me at Apocalypse,” I say. “They asked her where I was.”

  “Demons. Or Omens,” says Crow, bringing his knees up and leaning forward. “Makes sense. You set yourself to offline on Afterlife. Makes you harder to trace, so they have to do some digging.”

  “How did they find me last night?” I ask with a frown.

  “I dunno. Guessing someone from Devils Inc. recognized you from the job advert and tipped off some of their friends.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want Josie in danger,” I say, angry. “I just hope Gabriel finds a way for me to tell her what’s going on so she can protect herself. If he hasn’t—” The words get stuck in my throat. “Oh, shit.”

  “What?”

  I hurry to my nightstand, picking up my cell. “Oh, shit!” I say again.

  “What!”

  “It’s eleven!”

  “So?”

  “We’re supposed to meet Gabriel for brunch at Evie’s at eleven, remember?”

  “Oh, aye . . . he did say something about that, didn’t he?” Crow pulls a face, then he chuckles. “He is not going to be happy with us.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  We’re twenty-five minutes late to Evie’s.

  Gabriel is sitting at a high table in one of the front windows. Today, he’s all Business Angel in a gray sweater with a stiff-collared blue shirt peeking out from the top.

  He scowls at us as we walk by the glass. Then he looks away to take a pointed sip from his apple blossom teacup.

  “That’s one angry-looking Angel,” Crow mutters as we head inside.

  Evie’s in the morning is a different scene than Evie’s at night. Only a few of the dozen or so tables are occupied, and instead of pulsing club music, we’re greeted by the mellow tones of piano jazz. The only lighting is that streaming through the front windows, and the blackboard behind the bar advertises half-price apple muffins and juice.

  Gabriel watches us coolly as we approach. A white folder rests beneath his elbows.

  “Hi, Gabriel,” I say.

  Beside me, Crow shifts from one foot to the other. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was feeling awkward.

  “Hey, mate.”

  Gabriel’s obviously pissed we’re late, and given the weird energy yesterday, I don’t want him to realize the reason why. I suddenly regret how quickly I got dressed. My jeans and T-shirt are all right enough, but I didn’t have time for a shower and had to scrape my long hair back into a ponytail.

  Gabriel slides his gaze over to Crow, who’s still in the gray sweats from last night.

  He puts down his teacup and turns his attention back to me.

  “You’re late,” he says.

  “Sorry,” I say. “We . . . lost track of time.”

  “Oh, well, not to worry,” says Gabriel. “It’s only the end of the world.”

  Crow blows out a puff of air, absently twisting at his ring finger. “I’ll go get us some drinks, shall I?” He pauses. “Evie in today?”

  “She doesn’t work Saturday mornings,” mutters Gabriel, eyes fixed on his tea.

  “Probably for the best,” says Crow.

  “Yes. Probably,” says Gabriel.

  It takes me a moment to remember that she threw him out of the bar not so long ago. Like a lot of people, she doesn’t seem to like him.

  “So an Earl Gray for you, mate?” says Crow.

  Gabriel doesn’t meet his eye but inclines his head.

  Crow touches my shoulder. “Want anything?”

  “Coffee,” I say.

  Crow squeezes my arm, then turns and heads to the bar. When I look at Gabriel again, his eyes are lingering on the place Crow just touched. When he realizes I’m watching, he averts his gaze to the folder on the table.

  “So,” I say, sliding onto the stool, “what did you want to talk about?”

  He picks up the white folder but pauses in opening it. “Did you . . .? Did you and him. . .?” He purses his lips. “No. It’s none of my business.”

  I shift a little on the high stool and look out the window, hoping to God he won’t pry. It’s embarrassing enough as it is. I let my desires take over any semblance of common sense. And the worst part of it . . . I liked it.

  Crow is not to be trusted. Everyone seems to dislike him. He betrayed Gabriel. And he’s a blatant player—I mean, he was making out with some girl in a club just the other night, for God’s sake.

  And yet I liked it.

  I liked the feel of his body on top of mine. I liked digging my fingernails into his skin, and biting his chest, and working out the frustration that’s been building up inside of me for . . . well, for a long time. I liked the feel of his strong hands pinning my wrists to the mattress, and his stubble scraping my skin, and his tongue, so forceful against mine . . .

  I blink to clear the unwanted flashbacks and better focus on what’s going on outside. Students in red-and-black Trinity Falls Rams hoodies wander past Apocalypse. They’re completely unaware that the actual Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse work there and the world might be ending.

  That’s where my focus needs to be. On the end of the world and finding Jonathon.

  Not some bad, yet irritatingly charming Omen.

  Gabriel awkwardly clears his throat, and I turn back to him.

  “Anyway,” he continues, “I’ve been looking for way to get your friend Josie on board so we can use her as a source and—” He stops, exhaling through his nose. “You’ve slept with him, haven’t you? No, no, sorry,” he says hurriedly, looking down at the table. “Don’t answer that. It’s none of my business. It’s just . . .”

  “What?”

  “Be careful, Rachel. This . . . this is what he does.” He glances to the bar, where Crow is still ordering drinks, then leans forward. “He gets his hook in you and reels you in, and then he casts you adrift like an old. . .” He pauses as though searching for a word. “Haddock,” he concludes, sticking with the fishing metaphor. “He’s learned that if he can make people care, if he can make people like him, then they’ll give him what he wants.”

  “Gabriel, it’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is under control,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “I’m not getting reeled in. I’m in control. I’m not a haddock.”

  “You might not think you’re a haddock,” says Gabriel, looking back at his folder, “but you are a haddock.”

  “I’m not a haddock!” I insist.

  “You are,” he insists, but he clamps his mouth shut when Crow brushes past me to take an adjacent school.

  “Are you talking about fish?” says Crow.

  We’re saved from responding by the blond
bartender, who exchanges Gabriel’s teapot with a new one, passes me my coffee, then leans over the table to hand Crow a red mug topped with whipped cream and marshmallows.

  He flashes her a big smile. “Cheers, love.”

  “No problem, sweetheart,” she replies before heading back to the bar.

  Gabriel raises an eyebrow as if to say, “Told you so;” as if we just witnessed them fornicating on the table rather than engaging in a polite—if a bit friendly—interaction.

  “You were saying something about Josie?” I say, taking a sip of coffee.

  “Yes,” says Gabriel. “I thought if we could get Josie involved, we could find out who delivered the first scroll to the Four Horsemen and track them down. If Rachel’s brother is connected to all this, it’s likely that whoever stole the scroll put the hit out on Rachel.”

  Gabriel opens his folder and flicks through the papers within.

  “It’s a breach of the Devils Inc. contract to tell a mortal soul about any of this,” he continues. “So telling Josie outright will have severe consequence.”

  Crow takes a sip of his hot chocolate. When he puts it back down, there’s whipped cream on his top lip, and I have a horrible urge to lick it off. As I watch, he deliberately rolls his tongue over it.

  “However, if the mortal soul were to see something,” continues Gabriel, not looking up from his papers. “If they were to happen upon our world by accident, that is a different case entirely. So I was thinking . . . “

  “We cause an accident,” says Crow.

  “Yes. And while it would be dangerous, one option might be. . .” He glances at me.

  “Aye,” says Crow, his smirk disappearing. For once, they seem to be in perfect agreement.

  “What?” I ask.

  “We set your Afterlife status back to online,” says Gabriel.

  “Aye,” says Crow. “And then we take you to Apocalypse and let the dickheads over at Devils Inc. and Omens Limited expose themselves when they come to kill you.” He raises an eyebrow at Gabriel. “And here you were thinking you wouldn’t need me, mate.”

  Gabriel scowls. “I don’t need you.”

  “So you’re going to act as Rachel’s bodyguard? An Angel protecting a Demon?” He chuckles. “Don’t think so. Aren’t you barred from Apocalypse anyway?”