Devils Inc.

by Lauren Palphreyman

  “So if she gets her power back, we’re all pretty much screwed.”

  “Yes. Pretty much.”

  We settle into silence as the shadows in the room grow. When the ice cream has pretty much melted, Gabriel decides to head home. Despite my protests that he could just use the door, he takes off his top and heads for the window. As I watch him go, I realize I feel better than I did a few hours ago. So much so that when my mom messages again to ask whether I’m planning on coming home for Jonathon’s anniversary, I pick up the phone and give her a call.

  “Sweetie, it’s so good to hear from you,” she gushes after one ring. “How are your classes? Are you keeping well? Are you eating properly? Did you get your internship sorted? You’ve let the university know you got the internship, right? You don’t want to do all that work only to not get the credit.”

  “Mom! It’s fine,” I interject, regretting my choice.

  “Are you okay? We’ve heard so little from you lately. We’ve been worried.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I’m fine.”

  “How is the internship going?”

  I take a deep breath. “To be honest, Mom . . . I’m not sure it’s really me.”

  “No?” There’s a pause. “Well, these big companies can have a way of grinding you down; sucking out your soul.”

  You have no idea.

  “Maybe you should try for a smaller firm next time?” she continues.

  I bite my lip. “It’s not just that. It’s . . . I don’t know if law is for me. I mean, I’ll finish the internship and my degree. But . . . I kind of want to explore other things too.”

  My heart thuds through her long pause.

  “Oh. Well, okay. That sounds sensible.”

  My brow furrows. “You’re not mad?”

  “Of course not, honey. We only pushed because we thought it was what you wanted. We were always a little surprised you decided to go down the law path. I don’t think anyone in our family is suited to the corporate lifestyle. I went into the nursing assistant role because I wanted to help people, your father opened his electronics store, and Jonathon . . .”—her voice wobbles—“I always thought he’d end up leaving that big technology company and creating his own app or something.”

  My throat tightens. I wish I could tell her that I’ve seen him. I wish I could tell her that what she wanted for him did come true.

  “I had a dream about Jonathon,” I say finally. “He said he misses you.”

  Mom sniffles on the other side of the line. “You’ll come home for the anniversary?” she says, her voice breaking fully now. “Please.”

  “Yeah, Mom,” I say, eyes stinging. “Yeah, I’ll come home.”

  After we say goodbye and hang up, I sit on my bed feeling like a weight has been lifted. But as it gets later, and I’m incessantly checking my phone for any word from Jonathon, the dread starts to seep back in. I’m worried about my brother. Tomorrow, the Serpent will most likely get her powers back, and I’ll have to face Crow again. Plus, it hits me that I might not be able to keep my promise of coming back for Jonathon’s memorial. The world might end before I get the chance.

  When it gets to around three in the morning and Jonathon still hasn’t shown, I decide I should at least try to get some sleep. My head is starting to hurt, and I’ll need my wits about me tomorrow.

  It’s hard though. For a long time, it seems, I lie in the dark staring up at the ceiling.

  How the hell are we going to stop this Apocalypse?

  Chapter Forty-One

  I’m woken from restless dreams at around seven. It takes me a minute to realize the pounding sound isn’t the stress headache creeping into my temples, but someone knocking at my door.

  I shuffle to the door to find Jonathon in the hallway. He wears the same crimson football hoodie and jeans as before, but the black eye is new.

  We stare at each other for a moment. Then I throw my arms around him, and he sweeps me into a hug. He smells like sweat and airplane food.

  “You need a shower,” I tell him.

  He chuckles into my shoulder. “Thanks, sis. Good to see you too.”

  When we head inside, he sits on the edge of my bed, rubbing his face in his hands.

  “You’re hurt,” I say, gently touching his eye.

  “I’m fine. I actually got to Adam first, but the Omen I hired turned on me once he realized Adam had the apple.” He shakes his head. “Omens, man. I should have gone alone.”

  I sigh. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  “Yeah, but today’s going to be interesting. I heard the trial’s at twelve. I guess you’ll have gotten the invite—” For the first time, he really looks at me. He narrows his eyes. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

  “I’m fine.”

  His jaw tenses. “It’s that Omen, isn’t it? Crow? What has he done?”

  I exhale. “Long story. And I think we have bigger things to worry about.”

  “Want me to kick his ass?”

  I roll my eyes but feel a swell of warmth despite myself. My brother is here, after all this time, threatening to get into a fight he won’t win out of brotherly duty.

  “No,” I say. “It’s okay.”

  “Thank God. I’m not much of a fighter. You were always the one with the talent in that department. I remember babysitting you when you were five and sending you to bed when you wanted to watch something on the Disney Channel. You came at me like a child possessed. Thought you were going to kill me.”

  “Oh, shut up. I wasn’t that bad.”

  He grins. “Well, still, I don’t envy this Crow guy.” He gets to his feet. “Mind if I take a shower before the trial?”

  “Please do. You’re stinking up my room.”

  He laughs, messing up my hair as he walks past me to the door. But when he opens the door, he stops and says hello.

  “Oh, my god!” I hear Josie say. “You’re the brother, aren’t you? I’m Josie. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Despite it being 7:00 a.m., Josie is dressed as if she’s ready for the club, complete with skinny jeans and a floaty green top that matches her earrings. She—unlike me, Gabriel, or my brother—is a hugger and pulls Jonathon close, giving him a kiss on both cheeks.

  “Hey, yeah, nice to meet you too,” he says awkwardly before escaping to the showers.

  Josie watches him over her shoulder, then she takes a seat on my bed, folding one of her legs beneath her.

  “He has the same eyes as you,” she observes. “And he’s kinda—”

  “Do not say he’s hot,” I say.

  She laughs, giving me a mischievous half-shrug. Then her brow furrows.

  “You look like you’ve been crying.” Her expression sours. “It’s that Crow guy, isn’t it? What’s he done!”

  “I’ll tell you later,” I say. “Got to get through today first. Did you hear—?”

  “The trial? Yeah, babe. Darius told me. And if you’re going, I’m coming too.”

  ***

  The Ethereal Courthouse is underground and, like the Purgatory Vaults, at an equal distance between Devils Inc. and Halo Corp. We take Jonathon’s white Honda Civic to a public lot not far away and walk down the office-lined street together.

  We considered not coming at all, but, apparently, trial attendance is compulsory for any employee of either company, and Jonathon and Josie didn’t think I should come alone. Plus, we need to know what we’re up against if she actually wins.

  When I lead Josie and Jonathon into the Devils Inc. atrium, it’s just as chaotic as a day ago. I’m wearing my black blazer, so no one looks twice as we follow the crowd and line up at the elevators. I imagine Gabriel doing the same over at Halo Corp. And Crow . . . I harden myself. Well, who cares how Crow gets anywhere?

  When our elevator doors open, they reveal a black marble hallway lined with lush Hellscapes in ornate golden frames. We follow the stream of Demons parading across the black-and-white tile to a grand archway up ahead. Soon, we fin
d ourselves in a circular underground courtyard fed by three other hallways.

  My heart stills when I spot Crow walking with Kat. A half a head higher than the rest of the crowd, I can tell he hasn’t dressed up for the occasion—unless you count the leather jacket. The fact he’s on jovial terms with Kat must mean he’s managed to get Adam into protection. Which is good. I suppose.

  He must feel me looking because he stops and searches the room until our eyes lock.

  We stare at each other, the bubble of noise around us suddenly faraway. There are smudges beneath his eyes, and he hasn’t shaved since his visit to explain himself. Then he gives me a half-smile and raises his hand in a semblance of a wave.

  I swallow.

  “You okay, babe?” Josie touches my arm.

  “Yeah, fine.” I force a smile and drag my gaze away.

  When I look back again, he’s gone.

  We spill into the actual courtroom, which has a high-domed ceiling painted with Michelangelo-style cherubs and Bosch-style Demons and the same checkered tile on the ground. Above us, two mezzanine levels curl around the space. The jurors, twelve people randomly chosen from Halo Corp. and Devils Inc., are already seated along a bench near the front.

  The air smells sweet and musty like flowers and churches, but it’s quickly overwhelmed by the scent of hundreds of bodies.

  “This way,” says Jonathon.

  He leads us to a space at the back as the rest of the organizations’ employees trickle in. I lean against the wall as I search for Gabriel. Finally, I spot a flash of red hair to my left.

  When he sees my nod, he turns away so quickly I’m surprised he doesn’t give himself whiplash. While I doubt anyone would care much about an Angel smiling at a Demon at this point, it seems he wants to be on the safe side.

  He barges through the crowd to Crow, who leans against a column.

  They appear to argue for a moment—Crow refusing to meet his gaze; Gabriel grabbing his wrist. I know Gabriel and I had a heart-to-heart last night, but I can’t imagine him showing emotion in front of his colleagues on my behalf. Something else is going on.

  “As soon as we find out the outcome, we need to head out,” says Jonathon under his breath. “If Adalind gets her powers back . . .”

  “Agreed,” I mutter. “Gabriel wants us to reconvene at Evie’s after the trial. Evie’s given him the keys so we can use it as a base.”

  “What about Crow? Is he coming too?” says Josie.

  I tense, trying not to think about the fact I might have to have a civil conversation with him. I can get over this, but not without space. I don’t want to be in close proximity to the hard body that held me, or the stubbled jaw that brushed against my skin, or the mouth that moved against mine.

  And I don’t want to look into the eyes that filled with tears as he told me about his past.

  Not now. I’m not ready yet.

  “I guess so,” I say with a casual shrug that doesn’t fool Josie.

  She narrows her eyes and shoots daggers at him across the room—which he doesn’t see because he’s still trying to bat Gabriel away as if he’s an irritating fly.

  What’s going on?

  A couple of minutes later, a hush ripples through the crowd. A stern-looking woman with a blonde bun and black-and-white robe takes her seat at the judge’s bench. There’s a murmur of interest at her appearance.

  “Her name’s Eleanor. Human once, but she’s pretty senior now,” Jonathon whispers in my ear. “She reports directly to Saint Peter. Only takes high-profile cases. She’s very fair, which could be a bad thing—we could have done with a bit of bias against Adalind.”

  Eleanor nods at two guards standing on either side of a black door, and they open it to reveal Adalind. Silence descends as she saunters over to the witness stand. Her hands are stuffed in her suit trousers, and her white shirt is unbuttoned enough to reveal the snake tattoo coiling around her neck.

  “Shall we begin?” Eleanor says, sitting down as she surveys the room. “We’re here today to witness Adalind’s appeal against the disciplinary action taken against her back in the Genesis period. Oaths, please.”

  Adalind scowls at the proffered Bible before placing her hand on top. “I swear by Almighty God to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” she says in a low drawl.

  Eleanor nods. “You have some evidence you wish to present to the court?”

  “Yeah,” says Adalind. “I’d like to present—”

  Suddenly, a glint of silver slices through the court. One of the guards twists her fingers, and a shadow snatches the weapon out of the air when it’s just inches away from Adalind’s face.

  It’s an ornate dagger. Blood already on the blade. My heart sinks.

  There’s an eruption of noise as it clatters to the floor. Everyone turns toward the wannabe assassin. Crow stands at the edge of the room wearing a smirk that doesn’t meet his eyes.

  “Thought you might want it back,” says Crow, his gruff tone carrying across the chaos.

  Adalind smiles back coolly. “Nice try, Omen.”

  “Order!” yells Eleanor. “Guards, take him into custody. Order, please!”

  Through the chaos, I see Gabriel grab Crow’s thick arm and shove him toward the door, face pink with fury. As the guards make their way toward them, Kat laughs, twisting her hands together. A cloud of darkness conceals them both.

  When it’s gone, they’ve both disappeared.

  I guess Crow’s pointless assassination attempt is what they were arguing against.

  “Order!” yells the judge again. “Order!”

  The courtroom goes quiet, and the trial begins.

  ***

  Given that the fate of the world rests on the outcome, the trial itself is surprisingly boring. And Adalind is surprisingly eloquent.

  When she tells the jurors about the nondisclosure agreements, it causes ripple of intrigue. But when she presents the apple, disclosing the fact she recovered it from Adam—who initially stole it from the Vaults—it causes so much chaos that there has to be a recess while Eleanor decides whether to permit it as evidence.

  For about twenty minutes, I wonder if this is all going to be resolved in our favor due to a legal technicality.

  But when we reconvene, Eleanor allows the apple as evidence, having since reviewed a security tape depicting Adam’s theft. Jonathon curses.

  “We presumed she’d spike the jury with the apple,” he whispers. “But she’s done everything by the book. It’s hard to argue against.”

  Finally, each of the jurors is presented with a very small segment of the apple of knowledge. The room goes completely silent as they eat them. There’s another recess in which the jury disappear to determine Adalind’s fate.

  When they retake their places behind the bench, all eyes are on them.

  “Verdict?” asks Eleanor.

  The lead juror—a Devils Inc. employee with a blond man bun—stands. Adalind tries to look casual, eyes focused on her fingernails, but I can see the tension in her sharp shoulders.

  “In the light of the new evidence presented to us today, it is of our belief that Eve would have taken the apple with or without interference from the Serpent. And therefore, Adalind is not accountable for the Sin committed in Eden.”

  Eleanor inclines her head. She raises her mallet and bangs it against the desk.

  “Sentence overturned,” she says. “Adalind, I grant you back your power.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  The noise of hundreds of Demons, Angels, and Omens echoes around the high-domed ceiling. Some cry, some speculate, and others celebrate.

  Behind it all, Adalind remains a quiet force. She looks over the pews of people until her snakelike eyes find us. She smiles, and my heart goes cold.

  Her mouth opens.

  Then it keeps on opening, jaw dropping, until it’s impossibly wide.

  “Holy shit,” I mutter.

  Fangs erupt from within. Then her skin turns inside
out, peeling off her to reveal something dark green and scaly. As she grows, a serpentine head erupts, brushing the domed ceiling as a tail coils out to whip at the far wall of the courtroom. Rubble begins to fall.

  Eleanor bangs her mallet against the table. “Order! Order!”

  Adalind laughs—a low, raspy hissing sound.

  “Time to go, sis!” says Jonathon.

  “Agreed!” I say.

  He grabs my wrist, and I grab Josie’s.

  “Where are we going?” she yells as the hissing behind us deepens.

  “We need to meet with the others!” I yell back.

  Evie’s Garden Bar is where all this started. Maybe we can come up with a plan there to stop it. Preferably before the end of the world.

  ***

  After parking on a side street, we make it to the dark shopfront of Evie’s, where a “Closed” sign is still taped to the glass. I try the door, hoping Gabriel made it.

  As it swings open and we pile inside, though, it isn’t Gabriel sitting at the bar beneath the unlit fairy lights and white apple blossoms.

  It’s Crow.

  He sits at the bar, one big arm resting on the counter. His leather jacket rests on a stool beside him.

  There’s an awkward pause.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “Where’s Gabriel?” I ask.

  “Not here yet.”

  “How did you get in?”

  “I’m an Omen, little De—”

  He stops and clears his throat. There’s another awkward pause—one in which Jonathon folds his arms across his chest and Josie looks ready to say something. Then Crow’s gaze fixes on something over my shoulder.

  “Speak of the devil,” he mutters.

  Gabriel marches in briskly, key in hand, buttons of his stiff gray shirt not quite done up right.

  “This is not good. This is not good,” he repeats under his breath. Then he barges past us to yell at Crow. “Of all the stupid things you could have done, Ewan!” he says. “Throwing a dagger at an Ethereal while she was in human form? In front of everyone? What the hell were you thinking?”

  Crow cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, was I just supposed to do nothing? Like you, mate? How did that work out? Because news is, she got her powers back.”