Not Your Average Hot Guy

by Gwenda Bond

  The throne room erupts into cheers.

  Whatever Callie has planned, it better be as speedy as this trial was.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CALLIE AND LUKE

  The clock’s ticking down in all sorts of ways. Mom is making her way home through a traffic jam. The front door has been locked to slow her down a fraction if she makes it here before we finish summoning a demon.

  I might be the proud owner of a grimoire, but I never imagined actually using it.

  Standing here, in the dim light of the Chamber of Black Magic, small candles burning at the points of the pentagram, with Mag and Jared forming my call-and-response circle, my hair lifts at the back of my neck as I say the words in the Grand Grimoire. Porsoth is in the corner, observing.

  If there was any other way, I’d stop talking, blow out the candles, and leave.

  But I have to try. For Luke. Because of what Luke did.

  Because I’m no longer the kind of person who can walk away.

  I speak the last words, no doubt mangling the French pronunciation. Do you have to get it right for the spell to work? I hope not.

  The room is absolutely still, and then a wind rushes around us, fluttering the candle flames.

  So it did work.

  Maybe.

  “I don’t like this,” Mag says.

  Porsoth says, “It’ll all be over soon.”

  Which might be comforting. I guess.

  I’m banking that the pentagram will serve as a trap, the same way it did for Luke when he responded to the Order of Elerion’s summoning. That the demon being caught up in it means there’s no way for any of us to get hurt.

  I hope I’m right about that.

  Rofocale is suddenly in the center of the pentagram and he’s angry.

  “I should’ve known it was you,” he says. His eyes glow from fires within. “What do you want?”

  I swallow. Mag’s and Jared’s faces reflect the same terror I feel. Luke was a hot guy in a leather jacket. Sure, they saw Rofocale and other demons outside earlier, but there’s a difference between breathing the same air and breathing the same air in an enclosed space.

  Rofocale is monstrous, and not in the cute sort of way that Porsoth is.

  “What do you want?” he repeats, enunciating slowly.

  I can’t let Rofocale see that I’m afraid too. My palms are sweaty and my heart thumps in my chest like I’m running a race (and I hate running). No, Rofocale can’t see that weakness. Neither can who I really want to talk to …

  “The boon I seek is an audience with Lucifer. Call him here, now.”

  Rofocale rolls his pinpoint red eyes. “Not likely. Name another.”

  “Can you save Luke?” I ask.

  “No one can.”

  I cross my arms. “Except Lucifer.”

  Rofocale waves a hand. “Not likely. What else can I give you? Riches? Power?”

  I stand tall. “You are trapped here, until I release you, correct? We’ll charge admission to see you, here, near the site of the mass hallucination that some people claim was real. A live demon, captured.” I shrug. That’s the official story, according to Mag and Jared: mass hallucination. Lots of people dispute it. The fire and brimstone seem to have disappeared without causing much actual damage—Solomon must not have been specific enough in his command, mostly for show—like historical reports of storms of falling frogs and all the other things I always assumed were fake but might have been real. It turns out most people are all too glad to have a lie that’s easier to believe than the truth. “Given the nature of our business, no one will think you’re truly real. So unless you want to be a sideshow attraction, I suggest you try to get Lucifer here.”

  Rofocale stares at me. Smoke rises around him. He shifts and he finally sees Porsoth over in the corner.

  “Get me out of here,” he says.

  “I can’t interfere,” Porsoth says in his demon voice, staying put. Mag and Jared flinch at hearing it for the first time, but they hold position.

  “You’ll regret this.” Rofocale spits it. “All of you.”

  I shrug again. “Not your problem.”

  “Fine.” He tosses the word like a knife and closes his eyes.

  After a long moment, he opens them.

  “Well?” I prompt.

  Jared whispers, “Is this going well?”

  “Depends on what you mean,” Rofocale says.

  The room begins to heat and there’s a glow below us. Rofocale steps to one side, still trapped, to make way.

  Lucifer ascends through the floor until he’s in the center of the pentagram.

  He has Luke with him, holding him by the arm. Seeing him is good, even in these circumstances. We weren’t too late. He’s still breathing.

  Luke asks me, “What are you doing?”

  “Why, son,” Lucifer says, unfurling his wings, “obviously she didn’t want to miss the show.”

  “I, um, wanted to talk to you,” I say. “About Luke.”

  Lucifer gives me a lazy smile. “Too late for that. And after this stunt from you, I don’t see how I can do anything less than unmake him. You can watch.”

  * * *

  I never thought Callie and I would be in the same place again, able to look each other in the eye. I want to say so many things to her.

  But that’s not to be.

  Father will consider the interruption of his grandstanding as the ultimate insult. Whatever leniency I might have gotten due to Mother’s presence, that is gone now. Porsoth may think he’s hidden in the corner, but he’ll be lucky not to be unmade himself.

  I’ve seen unmakings before. A being exists one minute, then is unraveled piece by piece, cell by cell, atom by atom, until nothing whatsoever remains. I hate the idea that Callie might have my dissolution in her head, an ugly memory.

  I don’t want that to be the way she thinks of me.

  “Wait,” I say.

  “What’s this?” Father asks. “You feel like answering questions without being forced? All I ever asked of you was that you fulfill your duties, learn your trade. Giving Rofocale a deadline to report on you started as a way to motivate you to do your best. And instead, here we are. I’m about to lose my son and it’s all your fault.”

  “Mother’s about to too. She won’t be happy.”

  Father says nothing. Then he says, “Last words? Do you have them?”

  I consider the tactics available to me. What story could I weave to make him forgive me? I could promise to do better, to become so good at soul-gathering that I’ll be ready to inherit in no time. I could volunteer myself to be publicly tortured for humiliating him.

  I face Callie. “I’m not sorry I did it,” I say. “I’d do it again a thousand times. Good-bye.”

  I close my eyes and wait. And wait.

  I open them.

  Father is gathering his power, which means he’s planning a spectacular show of my demise. Callie interrupts him.

  “Lucifer, now that I’ve got you here, you can’t leave without my, um, leave … correct?” she asks.

  His seething is answer enough. Her shoulders relax a fraction—she wasn’t sure. My brave Callie.

  “You’re trapped in that pentagram,” she continues. “So stop whatever you’re doing. Don’t do a thing to Luke. If you want out of there, you have to hear me out.”

  My heart in my chest has never felt so much like it belongs to someone else.

  * * *

  Luke’s looking at me like I’m a star in the sky, something to wish on. He’s the only one.

  Lucifer growls. “That both of you put me in this position will not be overlooked,” he says, training his gaze on first Rofocale and then Porsoth. Porsoth raises a wing.

  “You wished an audience? You want me to hear you out. Talk, human.”

  Behind him, Mag and Jared grip hands like their lives depend on it. I can’t afford for this to turn worse than it already almost did. I have to do this. Make my case.

  “Explain
to him, Callie,” Porsoth says, and I don’t know if that means he’s given up on getting out of this alive himself or that he’s filled with courage and not willing to let Luke go either.

  “Explain to me,” Lucifer says, heavy with irony.

  “I also want to hear this,” Luke says. No snark, completely sincere.

  I’m making my case to Lucifer, I know that, but once I decide to talk to Luke it gets easier. “You wanted Luke to prove that he could get a soul—first it was nonspecific, but then you changed the game for it to be mine. I agreed,” I say. “I told him if he helped me stop the world from ending—which he did—then I’d let him have my soul. Just as you said.”

  “I know this.” Lucifer motions for me to speed it up.

  “I made that promise believing that he’d follow through. That he’d take my soul. I was willing to give it up for something bigger than me.”

  “What a hero you are,” Lucifer says.

  Rofocale snorts, and Lucifer quiets him with a glance.

  Luke simply watches and listens, riveted.

  “Imagine how surprised I was when he decided to back out of our deal.”

  “Another strike against him to be sure.” Lucifer sighs. “How long is this going to take? We left a throne room full of demons.”

  “As long as it has to,” I say. “Now, here’s where things get interesting. You wanted Luke to learn how to get souls, right?”

  “Yes, it’s a bit essential for a demon,” Lucifer says. “Keeping the universe in balance.”

  “But you’re always hoping for humans to surprise you, too, right? Luke told me that.”

  “They rarely do,” he says. “You’re an exception there, and I forget why I ever want it at the moment.”

  “I think you want more than humans to surprise you. Why else would you leave Heaven?” I take a breath. “For a while I wondered if maybe it was Lilith, something to do with Luke’s human half, and then I remembered Porsoth saying she’s immortal now. And I don’t think it mattered anyway. I realized that Luke being more than what you want him to be has nothing to do with either of his parents. Maybe in spite of you,” I say, pushing it.

  Lucifer’s eyes narrow.

  “I always hate in books when a big deal is made out of someone being half demon or half this or that. That’s not how being a person works. Luke isn’t just a part-demon, part-human, or all-demon. Just like you’re not only an angel or a demon or whatever. He’s a person.”

  “Does this have a point or is it intended to bore me out of my anger?” Lucifer truly does look about to go to sleep.

  Luke has a concerned expression, but he’s still listening.

  “Luke’s a good person,” I say. “You know how I know?”

  Luke’s mouth drops open. “I’m not that good…”

  I shut him up with a look. “Good isn’t something you are. It’s something you do. And I submit Luke’s behavior over the past forty-eight hours—most of it, anyway—as proof that he’s good.”

  Lucifer gives me a look like I’ve lost my mind. He turns to Rofocale and Porsoth. “Are you hearing this? I don’t think she understands that being good isn’t on the menu.”

  “Ah,” I say, “so you don’t like being surprised, then?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Lucifer counters.

  “And wouldn’t you say it’s surprising that Luke did get a soul this weekend?”

  “Whose?” Lucifer demands.

  “His own.”

  * * *

  After dropping this stunning revelation, Callie steps inside the pentagram, and she must know that will break its hold on us. She’s risking everything.

  She walks to me, and she places her hand over my heart. It responds by beating a symphony, serenading her from within my chest. I lift my hand and put it over hers.

  “Luke has a soul. And he let it guide him. He did the right thing, even knowing this might happen. That you might unmake him for it.” Callie angles her head toward Lucifer. “He’s exceptional at being Luke. You should reward him for it. You can’t claim he didn’t surprise you.”

  Father’s lips gather. I can practically see the wheels and gears—think torture rack—turning in his head.

  “You’re saying,” he says, finally, “that my son is exceptional. That I should pardon him because he did obtain a soul. His own.”

  Callie takes a moment, maybe making sure that’s the size of it. “Yes,” she says.

  Father’s attention wanders to each and every witness in the room. Mag and Jared, who wisely look down to avoid meeting his gaze. Porsoth, who stares back encouragingly. Rofocale, who might have indigestion, it’s hard to say with him.

  Then he settles back on me. One elegant shoulder lifts. “All right, you convinced me.”

  In a puff of smoke, he’s gone.

  “You didn’t deserve that reprieve,” Rofocale says and adjusts his suit jacket. “I’ll see you at the office tomorrow … once I figure out what you’ll be doing from now on.” Then he disappears too.

  “I’d better get back and begin recording these events,” Porsoth says. “I’m proud of you, Prince. Until next time,” he says to Callie, and he leaves.

  Callie and I stare at each other. I rest my forehead on hers. Our hands are still gathered at my chest. My heart beats for her.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I say.

  “I did.”

  “No,” I protest. “Having to do things is very rare. I’ll give you an example,” I say, my lips tilting in a smile that she matches. “This is something I have to do.”

  * * *

  Luke presses his lips against mine and my body lights up like a fuse, but it’s my heart that goes off like fireworks, bursting with happiness.

  I can’t believe it worked. I can’t believe he’s still here. I gather the fabric of his shirt in my hands and keep on kissing him for as long as I can. Until Jared’s voice interrupts from right next to me. “Callie, um, bad news…”

  “Hello, everyone,” Mom says.

  We pull back. Luke blinks as if dazed, and I stiffen because we are so busted.

  Mom bustles into the room, stopping to pick up a votive and blow it out, set it back down. She repeats the task.

  “You must be Luke,” she says over her shoulder.

  “Er, I am.” Luke looks at me, then at her with panic. “You’re Callie’s mom. Should I be going?”

  “Probably in a bit,” Mom says.

  “Mom,” I say, ears burning, “how did you know Luke’s name?”

  “Oh, right,” she says. “Did I forget to tell you guys our security system means I can get all the video feeds on an app on my phone? No need to fill me in. I know just about everything.”

  She knows just about everything.

  “I’m proud of you, Callie.”

  She’s proud of me. I didn’t mess up. I saved the damned day.

  Luke tightens his hand on my side like he senses how much that means to hear.

  “It’s a good thing our insurance covers acts of god.” Mom sighs. “I am going to miss our painting of Tesla’s pigeon. Congratulations to you two, by the way.” She points between Mag and Jared. Jared beams, Mag smiles shyly.

  Luke steps away from me, not far, but I feel it. Sure, it feels too far after not knowing if I’d be able to save him, but I don’t freak out. We made it through this. We made it to heart fireworks. No way am I letting go of that anytime soon. I don’t think he is either.

  “Let me take care of that,” Luke says.

  And he produces an exact copy of the painting of the pigeon with gray-tipped wings, missing only the hole where Mag planted it on Solomon Elerion’s head. He presents it to my mom with a bow and flourish. Charming her already.

  “That’s handy. Thank you.” To me, she says, “And yes, before you ask, we’re keeping Cupcake. It would break Bosch’s heart if we didn’t.”

  We all look at each other. Mag and Jared break first, then Luke and I.

  We’re laughing together,
and, somehow, that feels like the best possible way this weekend from Hell could end.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  PORSOTH

  SOMETIME LATER

  I finish brewing the tea for Rofocale ten minutes before he arrives. He’s still angry at me for siding with the humans, even after I explained it was for Luke’s sake.

  This is the first time he’s agreed to get together since all the excitement.

  Luke caused a sensation on his first date with Callie. They went to Lexington’s Comic Con and he won a costume prize just by leaving his wings out. He’s changing, but not that much. I’m proud of him. I can lure him into the library much more easily, now that Callie has dispensation to come and go. She only has to present the young master’s handkerchief for her toll these days.

  Lucifer’s growing to like her. Or Lilith is making him play nice because she was upset he didn’t bring her along to the Great Escape to see Callie’s performance. She’s since seen a rendition of it—heavily edited to make Lucifer look like the hero—in one of our own demonic repertoire theaters.

  “Is that tea cold?” Rofocale asks when he enters.

  “Rather,” I say. “It was warm when you were meant to be here.”

  Rofocale picks up the cup and heat radiates from his hand as he warms it back up.

  “It’s still more polite to be on time,” I tell him.

  “Sorry,” he says. “Luke’s fault. He and Callie have hatched this plan to offer souls here on lesser infractions second chances on Earth. I told him Lucifer will never entertain it, but…” He shrugs.

  “I think it’s sweet,” I say. “You never know. Have they figured out yet?”

  “About Callie?” Rofocale grins. “Not yet.”

  Callie isn’t entirely human herself anymore. All that traveling back and forth combined with the extended contact with the Holy Lance.

  But we’ve agreed not to spoil the surprise. We’ll leave that secret for the two of them to discover.