The image of me in my latex Demon outfit materializes on my screen. I really need to change that profile picture. Sure enough, the price on my head has increased—and drastically. It’s now at fifty thousand dollars. Whoever is trying to draw out Jonathon is getting desperate.
“At least that’s less insulting,” I mutter.
“Aye,” Crow says, leaning intimately over my shoulder. “Looks like they updated it this morning.”
Adalind studies us, nose wrinkled. “What the Hell is this? Are you two—? Ugh.”
For a brief moment, something seems to pass between her and my Omen, though I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is. It’s like they’re sizing each other up.
Or something.
Surely, he hasn’t slept with her too.
“Intern, come with me,” Adalind says after an awkward beat. “Omen, pick her up at one. I’ll keep her safe until then.” She walks to the elevators, not bothering to see if I follow.
“I thought I was just coming in this morning to show you I’m not dead,” I protest. “My shift doesn’t start until this evening.”
“I know,” says Adalind. “I’m guessing the Demons who attacked you know that too. So you can get yourself murdered, or you can make yourself useful. You coming?”
I sigh.
“Looks like I’ll resume my babysitting duties later, little Demon,” says Crow.
“I don’t need babysitting,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “I don’t know if you remember, but I have super awesome powers now.”
“Aye. And just how did you channel those powers?” he says with a wink. “I seem to recall giving you a little helping hand.”
“You know nobody winks anymore, right?” I say. “I mean, it might have been all the rage in the Forties, but flirting has evolved.”
His laugh causes a few of the disheveled souls waiting for appointments to look up in distress. “Aye? I’ll make a note.”
“Stop that. Both of you,” snaps Adalind from the bank of elevators. “You’re going to make me barf. And guess who would have to clean that up? Me. Get out of my reception, Omen.”
Crow raises his hands in surrender. But not before shooting me another wink.
When I make it to the elevator, I turn to watch him go, only to find he’s paused at the statue to watch us. His smile is gone, and his forehead is creased. Adalind’s expression mirrors his, her posture stiff and alert for once.
Then the doors slide shut, and the elevator starts to move down.
There’s something going on here, but Adalind’s hostile face keeps me from asking. I have a better chance of finding out what the deal is from Crow—although, if it’s some sordid history, I’m not sure I want to.
A few seconds later, the doors slide back open, and I know immediately that something isn’t right. Shrouded in darkness, the air is deathly still. Clenching my hands into fists, I remember what Crow taught me about Sin as I try to build up enough anger to protect myself.
Which isn’t hard, seeing as Adalind is clearly leading me into a trap.
Heat shoots through my veins, and I feel the telltale crackle at my fingertips. But when I turn to ask her what the Hell she thinks she’s doing, her inhuman eyes are wide and trained on my fists.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was afraid.
She quickly trains her expression back to disdain. “Oh, relax,” she says, stomping out onto the floor. As lights flick on automatically, I see we’re in a windowless space lined with rows of towering shelves. “Why would I kill you? What use would you be to me then? Come on.”
Rubbing my palms against my jeans to cool them, I follow. More lights flick on as we walk.
“What is this place?” I ask.
“Legal archives,” she says as she unlocks a room whose door bears a plaque reading, “GENESIS.” She flicks on a light.
The small room looks like the victim of a tornado. It’s messier than my bedroom pre-Gabriel. Although shelves line the wall, cardboard file boxes are scattered across the floor, their parchments strewn everywhere. I spot a box labeled, “CAIN: GUILTY,” and another one, empty, reading, “EVE: NON-DISCLOSURE.”
“Why have you brought me here?” I ask, fearing the reason may be even worse than murder.
“Some moron messed the place up a year or so back.” She leans against the doorframe and studies her bitten fingernails. “It needs sorting. Match the papers with their folders. They’re labelled. Then organize them chronologically.” When I grimace, she gives me a hard look. “What do you expect? I have to keep you out of the way. This place is crawling with Demons, in case you haven’t noticed. Can’t trust a single one of them. And seeing as you proved incapable of collecting a few coffees—”
“I was attacked,” I snap.
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Just do this and stay safe, okay? I can’t be assed with the paperwork if you get kidnapped and it all goes to shit.”
“Your concern is touching,” I say in a monotone.
In response, she stomps out, muttering how much she hates interns.
Staring at the mess around my feet, I sigh. A morning of this, then a contract law lecture this afternoon makes the prospect of fighting for my life at Apocalypse tonight seem like a step up. As I pick up the nearest folder, my work cell buzzes in my pocket.
It’s a text featuring an emoticon of a bird, a Demon, a winky face, and an eggplant. The phone vibrates again as Crow’s next message pops up.
Modern flirt. Did I do it right?
I shake my head, biting back a laugh. Then I stuff the phone back into my pocket and get to work.
***
By midnight, the three of us are sitting at one of the window tables at Evie’s. Being a Monday, it’s fairly quiet, but there are still a couple of students milling around the apple trees.
Crow’s black leather jacket has made its reappearance. Paired with his day-old stubble and the dangerous look in his eye, he’s really channeling the Bad Omen vibe.
Gabriel, on the other hand, has gone the other way with his wardrobe, wearing a fuzzy pastel-pink sweater that clashes horribly with his red hair. It’s oversized enough to expose his collarbone, and there’s a canvas bag at his feet reading, “Save the Planet.” As he absently takes a slurp of his appletini, Crow asks the question for both of us.
“What are you wearing, mate?” he says. “We’re off to fight some Demons, not go to a pajama party.”
Gabriel’s cheeks turn a new color that manages to clash with both sweater and hair. “I thought I’d better wear something I don’t mind damaging. In case I have to provide you with backup or happen to get . . . emotional.” He juts out his chin. “I don’t want to ruin another perfectly good shirt, thank you very much.”
“Fair enough.” Crow chuckles and takes a sip of his beer. “Wings,” he adds for my benefit, as if anyone could forget the last time Gabriel last lost his temper.
“Aren’t you coming in with us?” I ask the Angel.
“They don’t like me in there,” he replies, looking out of the window. “They say I stick my nose in where it’s not wanted.”
“Can’t imagine why,” says Crow.
“Is that why you were in disguise last time?” I ask, remembering his inappropriate club attire last time I saw him there. “You know, my friend Lucas is a theater major. I could have got you a fake moustache from the costume department.”
Gabriel’s eyes brighten. “Really?”
“She’s joking, Gabe,” says Crow, playfully nudging me.
“Anyway, no, I thought I’d keep a look out from here,” continues Gabriel. “I need to catch Evie anyway. At first, I assumed her Wi-Fi had been hacked, but I’ve heard rumors she’s been more open to black market dealings since Adam left her. I’ll find what she knows.”
Crow nods once. “Aye. Good idea, mate.”
Gabriel tries not to look pleased with himself as he stirs his appletini with the paper umbrella he requested for his drink. Appar
ently, it makes it taste better.
“I am prone to them on occasion,” he mutters.
“Holy shit!” I say suddenly, feeling profoundly idiotic. “Evie . . . Eve!”
“Aye,” Crow says slowly. “That’s her name, little Demon.”
I glance at Gabriel’s drink and the bar’s apple theme. “She’s the Eve? As in, Adam and Eve? As in, the first woman Eve?”
Crow chuckles and leans back against the window, giving a slow clap. Even Gabriel smirks a little, although he tries to hide it.
“Give me a break,” I say. “I’m new to all this. So is she an Angel or something?”
“No,” says Gabriel.
“But she’s immortal?” I ask.
“To an extent,” says Crow.
“They call people like her Ethereals,” says Gabriel, taking a sip of his drink. “There are a few others like her—our Horseman brothers, for example—who have been granted immortality for one reason or another. Eve and her ex-husband were the first man and woman on Earth, so their life forces are linked to all of mankind. They can’t die of old age and can only be killed by someone with Greater-level powers, such as a Greater-level Demon or—”
“An Archangel,” says Crow.
“Yes, well. . .” Gabriel goes back to fiddling with his umbrella. “Those with such power are constrained to Heaven or Hell. There are very few who can pass between, and even those who can only do so on certain occasions. Lucifer, for example, can only set foot on earth in the event of the Apocalypse.”
“Speaking of which. . .” Crow tilts his head toward the club in question. “Must be almost closing time.”
Gabriel nods sharply, then he looks at me. “Are you ready, Rachel?”
My work phone is already on the table, the Afterlife app open to my profile.
“Yeah,” I say. I glance at Crow. “Good to go?”
“Aye.”
I suck in a deep breath, then change my status from offline to online. My red pinpoint instantly pops up on the map of Trinity Falls, conveying my exact location to every Demon and Omen looking to kill me.
Crow rises to his feet and grins. “Let’s go fight some Demons, shall we?”
Chapter Thirty
When we enter Apocalypse’s main room, Josie is wiping down the middle bar, while a redheaded guy stocks the towering shelf of liquors behind her. They’re both in uniform: an off-white flannel shirt with black suspenders tucked into black riding-style leathers.
My stomach sinks. Josie should have left by now.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan,” says Crow, detecting my unease.
Josie beams as we approach. “What you doing here, babe?” she says. “We’re just closing.”
“We thought we’d drop in and say hi,” I say as Crow and I slide onto the barstools.
The tall guy stocking bottles turns. He’s as good-looking as the other two brothers I’ve met but more disheveled, complete with stubble and tufty hair that looks like he’s been carelessly running his fingers through it. His greenish-blue eyes are amplified by the neon lighting.
“Felix, mate, how you doing?” says Crow, leaning over the bar to shake his hand.
Felix. Famine?
As Felix meets Crow’s firm grip, I notice tattooed scales inked on his forearm.
“Crow! How’s it going? Saw you in here the other week with a busty blonde.” His eyes glitter. “Was going to say hi, but you seemed . . . preoccupied.”
I try to hide my irritation, but Josie catches it. She flashes them both a disapproving look before focusing on me.
“Want some drinks, babe? I need to finish closing up, but I’ll join you after.”
“Oh, no, thanks,” I say, wanting to hasten her exit out of here. “Why don’t you—?”
“I’ll go for a beer, if you’re offering,” says Crow, ignoring my glare.
As she nods and turns to the fridge to pick up a couple of bottles, he turns to Felix. “Chris around, mate?”
Felix’s smile holds, but it’s gone cold. “Not at the moment. Why?”
“Just weird,” says Crow. “What about William?”
I throw Crow a sideways glance as Josie returns with our drinks. He needs to stop needling this guy about things we’re not supposed to know about and help me get Josie out of here.
“They’re both a little preoccupied right now,” says Felix.
“Oh, aye? That’s unusual,” says Crow. “Doing what?”
The smile disappears completely from Felix’s face. “What’s it to you?”
I squeeze Crow’s thigh, digging my nails into the dark denim. His leg muscles harden, but his expression doesn’t change.
“Played some cards with them a month or so back. They owe me some money,” he says.
“I’ll let them know when I see them,” Felix says tersely.
“No need. I’ll catch them another time.”
“Right. Well, I best get back to work,” he says. “Josie, I’m off to the cellar. You okay to wipe down the booths?”
“No problem,” she says.
Once Felix is out of earshot, Crow leans forward to rest his elbows on the bar. “Oh, Josie, I almost forgot. I bumped into Darius on the stairwell. He wants to see you in his office.”
Her eyes brighten.
After she exits the room, Crow spreads his hands. “Ta-da.”
I turn my whole body to glare at him.
He chuckles. “What?”
“Well, first, you could have said that as soon as we sat down. And second, you just couldn’t help yourself, could you? You had to antagonize one of the Four Horsemen of the freaking Apocalypse?”
He takes a sip of beer and shrugs. “Now we know Conquest and War both have their scrolls. Puts a bit more urgency on the whole thing, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, right, you did it for information. Not just to be a dick.”
He laughs. “Well, he brought up the blonde first. Dick move. He’s been hanging out with his brother too much.”
I take a sip of my Coke, then ask, nonchalant, “So does the busty blonde have a name?”
“Jealous?”
“No.”
I stare at the wall of liquor in front of me, focusing on the little symbols carved into the glass shelves. But thanks to the mirror behind the bottles, I know Crow’s eyes are on me.
“You wish I was jealous,” I add.
“Aye. I do a bit.” When I turn to him, surprised, his eyes glint. “I like it when you’re all wound-up, little Demon.”
“Well, I’m not. Have all the busty fun you want.” I take another sip of my Coke. “It’s no business of mine. Unless, of course, she’s your girlfriend or something. In which case, it would only be a courtesy to let me know.”
He grins. “Nah. Nothing like that.”
“Wait—is this the same blonde I saw you making out with the other night?”
“Nah. Different one.”
“You like blondes then?”
He shrugs. “I like you. But aye, I usually go for blondes.”
He’s clearly angling for some sort of reaction—which I’m not going to give. Although, I do think back to the weird moment between him and Adalind, my non-blonde Demon friend. I hesitate. Do I really want to know the answer to this?
“What about Adalind?” I ask.
“What about her?”
“Have you slept with her?”
He gives an exaggerated shudder. “Definitely not.”
I search for signs of the lie, but I can’t find any. “Really?”
“Aye, really. I’m not sure she even likes men.” He takes another sip of his beer. “Not sure she likes women either, for that matter. Not sure she likes anyone.” His forehead creases. “Why would you think something happened between us?”
I shrug. “There was a weird moment between you. I thought maybe it was a sex thing.”
“Oh, right . . . that,” he says.
I raise my eyebrows, relieved I didn’t imagine the moment between them—because th
at would imply I care about Crow’s sexual history.
And I definitely don’t.
“So what was it then?” I say before he can interrupt. “And don’t say you don’t like explaining things. Remember, you want to remain in my good graces.”
He raises his hands as if to say, “You’re the boss,” and then he sighs. “She thinks I’m up to something. One of my diabolical plans. And that made me think perhaps she is up to something.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“She knows what I am, little Demon. A Bad Omen who doesn’t do things unless they benefit me. But if I was going to kill you for the money, I’d have done it already. So I reckon she thinks I’m up to something even more diabolical.”
“Well, she’s not wrong. You are trying to get a favor off my brother.”
“Aye. But she doesn’t know that, does she? She shouldn’t even know about the impending Apocalypse. The theft of the scrolls has been kept pretty hush-hush. Gabe’s the only one who thinks there’s anything wrong.”
“So you’re saying she must know something to know you’re up to something?”
“Aye. Otherwise, why wouldn’t she just think we were hooking up?” He rolls his eyes to mine and smiles. “Because, let’s face it, I am a little bit slutty.”
The corner of my lip twitches. “You said it.”
He finishes his beer.
“I saw a memo on her desk about the Purgatory Vaults,” I blurt, thinking back to this morning.
Crow raises an eyebrow. “Aye? Well, that’s suspicious, isn’t it? Maybe someone at Devils Inc. is making enquiries about the missing scrolls too.”
“Wait a minute,” I say, head snapping to Crow. “You thought Adalind, a super scary-ass Demon, might be somehow involved in the Apocalypse, and yet you were perfectly happy to let her lead me down into the depths of Devils Inc.? Thanks a bunch.”
He chuckles. “Well, I didn’t reckon she’d try anything at work. Plus, you’d win in a fight, hands down.”
“Yeah, in a fair fight, maybe. But I’m guessing she’s been a Demon a lot longer than me.”
“True. But it wouldn’t have been a fair fight.”
Devils Inc. Page 15