“Black is fine. Thank you, sweetheart,” he said. “We’re trying to be supportive parents.”
“Please don’t do this.”
“Honey,” my mother said, shooting him a glare that made him wince. “I can’t believe she’s actually roped you into pouring that junk into your body. Do you know how bad it is for your chi? And your cholesterol? Your arteries are probably clogging right now from the smell alone. How you expect to see old age, I’ll never know.”
“Mother.” I took a long drink of coffee. Only she would be worried about the Devil’s chi. Or his cholesterol, for that matter. Neither of which were probably an issue, considering the whole Satan thing. “One, I’m pretty sure it’s fat that clogs arteries and raises your cholesterol—not caffeine. Second, Dad do you even have arteries to clog?”
He held out his arm, his palm facing up, and inspected his vein-free wrist. “No, I actually don’t think I do. How can we tell?”
“I could have Lisa bring home a syringe and I could try to draw blood?” I couldn’t help grin when he shuddered. The Devil hated needles.
“I’ve gone this long without knowing whether or not I have arteries. Ignorance is bliss, you know.”
“Well, even if you did, I don’t think they’d clog.”
“Well, you don’t know that for sure, darling,” my mother said.
“Your mother isn’t convinced I’m immortal,” Dad said, and drank his coffee.
“Excuse me?” I glanced back and forth between the two of them.
Mother flipped the page of her magazine, a smug little smile playing on her lips. “We have no definitive proof your father is immortal.”
“He isn’t dead now, is he?”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” she said.
Dad tried to hide a smile by sipping his coffee, but his eyes twinkled.
“And just how old are you, Dad?”
“That is a good question,” he said. “And one I don’t feel comfortable answering. Why ruin the debate by giving up the answer? Besides, you should know better than to ask a demon his age. We’re very sensitive about those things.”
“Okay, if you’re done beating around the bush, can we at least agree you’re old?”
“It depends on how you define old.”
“More than 1,000 years old?”
“Of course.” He sniffed, acting offended. “You don’t think I lied to you about my adventures in Ancient Rome, do you?”
“No, of course I believe you taught Nero how to play the violin.” I knew that story was true because I’d seen the violin in his office. He’d even tried to teach me how to play it. Apparently, demonhood doesn’t make one musically inclined. “And that you took a bubble bath with Cleopatra. Why would I ever doubt such things?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Okay, then.” I placed my coffee cup on the kitchen island and turned to Mom. “If Dad is old enough to get raunchy with Cleopatra and teach Nero how to play the violin, I’d say he’s relatively old.”
“I never said he wasn’t an old soul,” my mother said. She lifted her magazine so it covered her face. “I said I don’t think he’s immortal. For all we know he could be as mortal as they come.”
Right. “And his life span? How does that work?”
“He could be a separate species that lives an extremely long time. How do I know? I don’t think we have enough proof to say definitively that he and the Alpha Creator are immortal. It would be against nature.”
“Against nature?” I repeated, my hands on my hips.
“I told you,” my father said in a singsong voice.
“I can’t imagine Gaia would surrender her power so willingly.” Mom slapped the magazine on the coffee table and pierced him with a glare. “She may allow you two to live a long time, but she wouldn’t take them completely out of her Great Stream.”
I gaped. Why had I let this conversation go on? “Great Stream?”
My father widened his eyes and shook his head. “Let it go,” he mouthed.
“Yes.” My mother continued with her crazy and I tried to hide my smirk. That’s what Dad got for barging in on Matt and me this morning. “The Great Stream of Life Gaia controls and that all things flow through. Everything within the Great Stream is connected, but only if they live a spiritually clean life and don’t allow unnatural elements to pollute their bodies or their souls.”
“And Dad?”
“What about him, dear? I’m sure he’s part of the Great Stream. But if the two of you don’t quit guzzling that poison, it’s sure to numb your ability to interact with others and make connections within its healing waters.”
As I took another drink of my precious, numbing coffee, I sat next to her on the love seat. It was time to try reorienting her like any other delusional mental patient. “You know there is no such thing as Gaia.”
“Yes, there is,” she insisted. “She’s the Great Mother Spirit and she controls the Great Stream of our lives. You’ve closed your mind to her because of your backward philosophy.”
“Mother.” I took her face in my hands, felt her tiny spark of life crackling along my skin, and forced her to look me in the eye. “There is no Gaia, no Great Mother Spirit. There is no such thing as fairies, or nature spirits, or anything else. You know that.”
“But—”
“This Wicca offshoot you’ve decided to dedicate yourself to is a bunch of bullshit.”
She pushed my hands away. “It is not!”
My horns poked through my forehead, and my tail descended. I thought about letting my wings come out, but I wasn’t wearing anything beneath my bathrobe. Probably not a great idea to flash my parents to make a point. “Mother, you are engaged to become the wife of Satan. Satan, Mother. You have given him two children, both of whom have horns, tails, and large black wings. We can fly. And phase between places. And my best friend is a succubus who eats men’s souls during acts of sexual depravity—the more depraved, the better. You have personally met the Alpha.”
“So?”
“So, that proves there is no Gaia, no nature spirits, and, more importantly, you know it.”
“I do not know that.”
My father flopped in the recliner with a loud sigh and picked up the remote.
“Yes, Mother, you do.”
“But—”
“Mom, you are not going to pull this crazy today.” The last thing I needed was to subject Matt to her, on top of everything else. Turning to my father, I said, “Tell me you’re not going to let her pull this crazy today. I will agree to let you ruin my date but that’s where the concessions stop.”
He smiled at me. “Your mother will behave. I swear it.”
My mother glared at both of us. “Don’t make promises about things you have no control over.”
“Ruth Anne Wannamacker,” my father growled, his nostrils flaring, his eyes glowing red.
I sat up straight, rethinking my decision to sit next to her.
No one used my mother’s birth name. She decided to take the name Roisin when she was pregnant with Hope as part of her ‘spiritual journey’ and she’d switched to using her mother’s maiden name of Bettincourt. She’d said it was so much easier than bothering to explain the whole Impregnated by the Devil thing. But no one—and I do mean no one—called her by her given name.
Not even Dad.
She narrowed her eyes at him and he narrowed his at her. “Ruth Anne Wannamacker, you will not step one single toe out of line today. There will be no crazy chatter about Gaia or the Great Stream of Life. You will not try to soul-cleanse your daughter’s new boyfriend. In short, you will behave with all the good manners I know your mother raised you to have. Are we clear?”
I knew I was gaping at the two of them, but I couldn’t help myself. My father had used my mother’s given name to bind her into behaving appropriately. I smiled, pride warming in my chest.
Dad had gone badass.
She hissed at him. He’d laid one hell of a binding spell o
n her if she couldn’t even protest. Hope and Tolliver would want to see this firsthand. And then I’d call Matt so he could see, too. Hell, I almost wished there was a way to set up a webcam to capture the rest of their visit.
I pointed absently toward my bedroom. “I’m going to go… ”
“Call Matt and take a shower,” my father said. “Meanwhile, your mother and I will sit here and enjoy the silence.”
Chapter Twenty-three
“She’s so quiet,” Hope whispered as she and I walked into Primanti Brothers for lunch. We stopped to stare at Mom, who was silently seething alongside Dad. “It’s spooky.”
“But nice.”
“It is,” she agreed.
I slipped my hand into Matt’s, lacing our fingers together. I’d like to lie and say it was to reassure him, but he seemed perfectly calm. The bastard. Why wasn’t he a nervous wreck about this like I was? Didn’t he realize the consequences would be severe if this little meet-and-greet didn’t go well?
“We have a reservation under Morningstar for eight,” my father said to the hostess. I had to physically restrain myself from stomping on his foot for sounding so damn calm. He was about to play high inquisitor on the object of my affection and he didn’t appear distracted.
“Have I mentioned I’m sorry about this?” I whispered to Matt.
He smiled and tightened his fingers around mine in a brief show of comfort. “Maybe a few times. Six or so over the phone, about ten times in the car, and just now. It’s cool.”
This? This was definitely not cool. “No, it’s not.”
“It’s good he’s so concerned about you.” He kissed my cheek. “He’s your dad.”
“Are you coming?” the dad in question bellowed.
We immediately unlinked our hands and wiped them on our pants legs like a couple of junior high school kids worried about cooties.
“Yes, Dad,” I said, and followed him to the table.
He sat down at the head of the table, and motioned for me to sit next to him. Matt helped me into my seat, and sat in the one beside me. He laced his fingers with mine underneath the table, and we waited for Hope, Tolliver, Mom, and Lisa to take their seats. Malachai still hadn’t shown up, so we left a spot for him next to Mom, who sat at the opposite end of the table from Dad.
My father took my other hand, glaring possessively at Matt. None of us spoke or moved, waiting for Hell to break loose.
This was cozy. Not.
“Isn’t this nice?” My father smiled broadly, showing a mouthful of brilliant, perfectly straight, bright-white teeth. Hell has an amazing dental plan. “This is probably my favorite local restaurant. There are four or five of them, and each looks like a hole-in-the-wall neighborhood joint, but they’re always packed. Just absolutely packed.”
Hope, Tolliver, and Lisa nodded with almost robotic movements. Mom’s lips scrunched. She looked around and sniffed at the various bits of sports memorabilia on the wall.
“It is.” Matt returned Dad’s smile and squeezed my hand. His hand wasn’t even sweaty. How could he be so cool about this, when I’d rather dine in Purgatory? “I’m honored to finally meet the man behind the legend.”
“I would say the same, but Faith here is notorious for trying to keep the rest of us out of her life. I know very little about you, son.”
Danger! Danger! The warning bells in my head blared like a submarine warning system. Abort conversation! Abort conversation!
“Dad—”
“I don’t blame her,” he continued. “Before now, I imagine it was a bit awkward to bring young men home to meet her parents. My guess is it won’t be much of an issue for you, however.”
“No, sir,” Matt said, his voice not wavering even a little, “I don’t think it will. Since we come from such similar family dynamics.”
“That you do,” Dad said. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was enjoying this. And when I sneaked my foot his way and stomped on his toes, he didn’t have the decency to flinch. All he did was smile and pat the back of my hand.
A perky redhead in a black T-shirt and jeans approached, and stood next to my father. So she’d figured out right away where the alpha sat at this table. “Hello, Yinz. Welcome to Primanti Brothers. I’m Jen and I’ll be your waitress. Have you been here before?”
“A few times,” I said, trying not to gag at the anticipation rolling off of her in bubblegum-scented waves.
She thought she had three available men to flirt with, which equaled a big tip. Idiot. Her only chance was Tolliver, and he never went for redheads. Although Lisa might decide to go the hair-pulling route if Jen of the Tight T-shirt even tried.
“Very good. Can I get some drinks for everyone?”
“Two pitchers of Yuengling?” Dad asked.
“And a glass of water,” Matt added.
My father arched his eyebrows. “Water?”
“I’ve got to go back to work this afternoon, and since I’m driving your daughters home, I’ll stick with the water.”
“Excellent choice,” my father said with a wry grin. He turned to the waitress. “All right, Jen, two pitchers of Yuengling and a glass of water for the young man who will be driving my daughters home today.”
“I’ll be right back with your beers and your water,” Jen said, and smiled at Matt.
I couldn’t help but tighten my grip on his hand. Just because her primary focus was on Dad, it didn’t mean I would let her try to steal Matt when her first plan fell through.
Matt’s breath tickled my ear and he chuckled. “Down, tiger. I haven’t forgotten your castration policy.”
My father relaxed somewhat, but didn’t loosen his grasp on my hand. “So, Matt, how are things? How’s your father? Bassano, right? Still carrying around the harp and wearing a toga?”
“Dad!” My face flushed at his lack of tact.
“No,” Matt said, his voice calm. “We persuaded him he would spend less time in the county lockup if he were more discreet. Unfortunately, he thinks discreet means red leather pants and karaoke at the local honky-tonk.”
I didn’t dare laugh. Still, my lips quivered until I had to bite them to make them behave.
A tiny Japanese woman took the seat between Tolliver and Hope and shot me an exaggerated wink. Malachi had definitely gone over the top with his getup this time. “I’m going to see it. Would you like to join me, Your Majesty?”
“Malachi,” I growled.
“Yes?” The demon in a female disguise leaned forward and rested her chin on her upturned hand before batting her eyelashes at me. She was cute, in an anime baby sort of way, and damned if she didn’t know it.
“Be good,” I said.
“Now, what would be the fun in that?”
“Faith is right, Mal,” Dad said. “Please try to behave discreetly. But I would love to join you.”
“We should make an evening of it,” Matt suggested. His palms were damp with sweat. He was trying to play along and let my father think he wasn’t rattled, but I could tell the last thing he wanted was any of us near his family. If even one person slipped up and told them where we lived, the Angale would be on us—and him—like flies on a dead body. “It does only seem fair. I’ve gotten to meet you. Faith should get the chance to put me on the hot seat with my family.”
“That’s okay. I think I can go without seeing Bassano and his off-key singing,” I said quickly, shutting down the idea before anyone pushed it. Besides, meeting the parents was something I definitely did not want to do. We had years before we reached that step. Didn’t we?
Jen returned to our table carrying Matt’s water and a tray of empty glasses. Another waitress followed with the pitchers of beer. With a thousand-watt smile, Jen placed a glass in front of everybody and poured the beer before handing Matt his water.
“I’ll be right back to take your orders,” she said, and scurried off.
“Bassano’s not so bad,” my father said. “His singing is a bit obnoxious—he goes on and on about his abilitie
s as a lover—but he’s basically harmless. Let your hair down, honey, and he’ll be a total sweetheart.”
“Uh-huh.” I glared at my father and shot Matt the stink eye. “Order your food and we’ll discuss the family road trip later.”
“Spoilsport,” Malachi said, reading the menu. “What looks good?”
“Hush, you,” I said.
While everybody else was able to read their menus, my hands were held hostage by the two men in my life. I sighed. At least I knew what I wanted already.
Jen returned with her order pad and a pen, and smiled at my dad. “What can I get you?”
He stared at his menu, biting his lower lip and frowning. “You go ahead, Faith.”
“I’ll have the cheesesteak,” I said.
“Make that two,” Matt said.
“I’ll have the same,” Dad said, and squeezed my fingers.
“We’ll have the same,” Tolliver said, and motioned between him and Lisa. He was ordering for her now? This was serious.
“Me, too,” my mother muttered and fell silent again, chafing under the force of Dad’s binding.
“I’ll have the sweet sausage,” Malachi said loudly, and nudged Hope with his sharp little elbow. “So will she. God forbid, she needs it!”
I jerked around in time to watch my sister hurl a bitch-slap at the dread demon sitting next to her.
The waitress coughed. Apparently, we were more trouble than she’d expected from a routine lunch table.
“They’ll both have the cheesesteak,” I said quickly, and tried my hardest to get her to focus on me and not the two demons facing off across the table.
“O-o-okay,” she said, turned her back on us, and scurried away.
“Will you two please knock it off?” I hissed.
Malachi batted his bejeweled eyelashes. “What?” he asked sweetly. “I was simply stating the obvious.”
“Malachi.” Dad’s voice was low.
The enthusiasm dropped off the dread demon’s face. “It was funny, Majesty.”
“Malachi.”
He held up his thumb and forefinger in a pinching motion. “A little funny?”
Luck of the Devil Page 21