by Melody Rose
“What if I just want to go home?” I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from him.
“You know I can’t let you do that,” Lucifer replied, still cool as a cucumber. “But I acknowledge that the room you were in isn’t appropriate for long-term, and I can see you are being stubborn. It may take me some time to get my answers. In the meantime, you may as well be comfortable. I did what I could to make that happen.”
Lucifer swirled the wine in his glass, watching it thoughtfully, took a slow, appreciative sip. I was acutely aware that all of the trouble he had gone to meant that there was no leaving here any time soon. Annoyed, I thought back to how I had left. An Amazon package was due to arrive the next day. It had me wondering if it was sitting on my front porch right then, getting cooked in the sun.
I then realized that this wasn’t a major issue. One abandoned package wasn’t the end of the world. That simultaneously depressed me and gave me a reason to stay. I wanted to solve this mystery, too, even if it meant I had to hang out in this dreary place while we did that. My new cookbooks would just have to wait on my porch.
My salad finished, I moved my salad plate to the side and reached for the slotted serving spoon to my right, helping myself to a heaping pile of rice and beans that took up half of my dinner plate. That was always a go-to side dish in my family growing up, and I was happy to have some tonight. Before grabbing some of the shredded chicken that sat on the tray next to it, I picked up my fork and threw a forkful of rice and beans in my mouth.
I immediately spit it out. “What the fuck!” I shouted in disgust.
Lucifer looked offended and horrified at once. “What happened?!” he exclaimed.
“What did you do? Cook this and then drench it in oil?!” I tilted the serving bowl to see the inside, and sure enough, it was swimming in oil. That certainly explained the slotted spoon.
“I had never made rice and beans before, but I wanted to offer something familiar.” He seemed annoyed. “You could be a bit more polite.”
“Polite to the Devil?” I retorted. “Next time, cut the oil. All the oil. You don’t need any of it.”
He squinted his eyes a bit in displeasure. I could tell he was not thrilled to be getting lectured by anyone. When I reached for some chicken, though, I saw him pull a pen and notepad out and jot something down.
“What are you writing?” I pressed, hand hovering over the tongs.
“Nothing,” he mumbled and quickly slipped the little notebook back into his pocket. “Eat your food.”
We ate in silence for a while, Lucifer picking up his fork for the first time since I had arrived. The only sounds between us were clinking utensils and the splashing of wine against the insides of our glasses.
The wine was exquisite. The dark inky color set my expectations up nicely. There were deep fruit notes with a hint of spice, and I savored each sip, unsure when I would have another opportunity to enjoy something so simple. I made a mental note of the label to look it up later, if and when I was allowed to go home. It was a deceptively simple label, so I was not expecting it to be such an intense wine based on the bottle alone.
After a while, I decided to take advantage of this unique position I was in. Dinner with the Devil. I had yet another moment of disbelief at my current situation before refocusing my thoughts.
“So, what’s the deal with Asmodeus? First, he forces me to crochet some bullshit in the dark while he taunts me from my own chair. Next, he is bringing me to a room filled with my own stuff. What exactly is he supposed to be accomplishing?” I fired off these statements impatiently and, I’ll admit, a bit rudely. Dinner or not, I was still being held hostage. I thought back to what Asmodeus told me about getting under Lucifer’s skin. Pushing buttons was certainly a skill I had refined over the years, and I was more than happy to put my skill to use here.
“Asmodeus is currently responsible for making sure you have all the creature comforts of home during your stay here,” Lucifer responded smoothly, placing his fork down onto his plate and sitting back into his chair. “He is following my orders. Don’t take it for granted, though. I can have him revert back to the beginning of your arrangement if I so desire.”
I got the impression that it was a mostly empty threat. He didn’t seem to want to scare me. Rather, I got the distinct impression he wanted me to feel comfortable. Why else would he go through all that trouble to attempt one of my favorite dishes? I ran my tongue over the roof of my mouth. The nasty aftertaste of oil lingered, coating the insides of my mouth, even after multiple forkfuls of chicken and many lingering sips of wine.
“So, you cooked all of this food yourself?” I asked as I put all of my focus on the chicken. It wasn’t so bad. A bit dry, but the flavor was all there.
“I did,” Lucifer replied, as he swirled his wine in his glass and looked down at it absentmindedly. “I have a Costco membership.”
I almost choked and forced myself to swallow the bits of chicken that I had just shoveled eagerly into my mouth. “You what?”
“Or maybe I had a demon run my errands,” Lucifer grinned at his own joke as he took a sip of his wine.
“A Costco membership,” I muttered to myself, imagining the Devil buying paper towels in bulk.
“Hey, they have some great prices,” he responded with a grin. “And the meat selection is always unbelievably fresh. Don’t knock it.”
“Did you buy your oil in bulk, too?” I jabbed, and he narrowed his eyes at me.
“Of course.” He watched me carefully. “Hell is big. We buy everything in bulk.”
“Well, that makes sense.” I smirked at him. “You know, this is actually a semi-normal conversation.” I tapped my fork on my dish lightly as I thought. “It’s kind of nice.”
“I’m glad.” The thing was, from the way his eyes searched my face, I could tell he meant it.
“What’s next in store for me, then?” I said because it was the million-dollar question. “What’s on the agenda for tomorrow? Or the day after that? Or a thousand years from now?”
“Slow your roll,” he said, resuming his previous demeanor with an amused smirk. “One day at a time.” He poked at his mashed potatoes. “You should try them. I used my patented special ingredient to make sure they were extra fluffy.”
“Is it mayonnaise?” I asked as I scooped up a forkful. “Because my grandmother used to do that all the time.” I put them in my mouth and chewed thoughtfully. They were actually quite good. And very fluffy.
“No,” Lucifer said as he savored a bite. “The secret is adding clouds.”
“Clouds?” I asked in confusion.
“Things in the sky? Big, fluffy, and white?” He gave me a concerned look. “Sometimes look like animals, and whatnot?” He watched me carefully. “You have heard of them.”
“Do you mean like actual clouds?” I asked as I looked at the potatoes. “Because it sounds like you’re talking about actual clouds, and that’s impossible.”
“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” And his self-satisfied grin made me wonder if he was just fucking with me.
By the time we finished the meal, he seemed much less like the King of Hell and a lot more… human.
I stood up at the end and thanked him for the meal, and then Asmodeus led me back to my room. I found myself asking him one question after another on our trip back through the maze of hallways.
“So does Lucifer cook often?” I blurted.
Asmodeus laughed. “Hardly ever!” He looked to be deep in thought for a moment before adding, “He always manages to mess something up.”
“Does he have guests to dinner on a regular basis?” I was curious about how special this dinner was. After all, it’s not every day you get invited to eat dinner with the Devil.
“Every once in a while,” Asmodeus replied thoughtfully. “If he needs to discuss something or gather information, or if he needs to get someone on his side, he will usually set it up. I’m not sure what the specifics are with this particular meal
, but he must want something from you. Otherwise, he would not have me going through the motions of getting you set up comfortably down here.”
“Does he always wear a suit to dinner?” I thought back to my first impression upon entering the dining room.
Asmodeus gave me a knowing look. “Yes,” he said with a smirk. “Every night.”
We finally arrived at my doorway. Asmodeus nodded silently before he turned away, leaving me alone in the hall. Once inside my room, I immediately went looking for my favorite pajamas. They were here, as I expected at this point.
The soft baggy pants and the worn-in t-shirt were ratty but incredibly comfortable. The light blue shirt was my favorite one. I had scored it when an old boyfriend left it at my house several years ago. He never asked for it back, so I declared it mine and kept it. The relationship fizzled out, but this shirt was still holding strong.
It was amazingly soft from being washed so many times. The print on the front was faded, and could barely be made out, but the Tootsie Pop owl was still on there, licking his lollipop. The plain black pants came from a clearance rack at the mall. I grabbed them because, hey, three bucks for pajama pants is amazing, and I’m a sucker for a great deal. I had no idea at the time that they would become my favorites. They were incredibly soft and lightweight, and I found myself reaching for them constantly because of that.
I started to reflect on the dinner conversation I’d had with Lucifer. He struck me as someone who had seen a lot and was hard-pressed to find something that would surprise him.
I got the impression I was throwing him off his game. And secretly? I think he liked that. With that thought swirling around in my brain, I curled up in my recliner and pulled my basket of yarn up to me. Focusing on a new project was the perfect way to clear my head.
Starting the first row of any project is a bit tedious. I had to count the slip stitches and then double back with a single crochet stitch to set myself up for the rest of the blanket.
Once I dove into the body of the blanket, though, I let my mind wander. I found myself focusing on Lucifer’s furrowed brow and the way his dark eyes looked directly into my soul.
That shiver ran down my spine again, and I couldn’t ignore it this time. Was that attraction? Could I possibly be attracted to… Lucifer? The one who kidnapped me and brought me down to Hell? I crocheted faster. This blanket was going to be done in no time at all if I was going to use it to avoid certain thoughts.
9
Lucifer
Play nice. That was what Lilith had said yesterday.
Play nice.
Isn’t that what I did? But it didn’t feel like playing at anything. I found I actually wanted to be nice to Evelyn last night at dinner. She was easy to talk to, even with her snappy attitude. I found I enjoyed her sarcastic comments, which was odd. I’d tortured souls for less than that.
I stood in front of my throne, looking down at the expanse of dark tile below me. Cerberus had left his blood-soaked paw prints all across the floor. I could see the path he’d taken and the sudden leaps he’d made as he pounced on his new toy. Hitler’s femur lay abandoned on the floor now, as Cerberus helped himself to some well-deserved water.
I took my seat as I waited for the clean-up crew I had called, noting that my throne was becoming more and more uncomfortable as each day wore on. I needed to spend time troubleshooting it. Making minor adjustments here and there was not helping. As I was standing over it, hands on my hips, thoughtfully looking around for yet another quick fix, I saw one of my demons walk by out of the corner of my eye. I turned to face the entrance.
“Stolas,” I stated, and he returned to my doorway. “Send Lilith to me.”
“Yes, sir,” the tall, thin, wide-eyed man responded, and he hurried on his way, pushing his oversized round metal-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose as he went.
The pleasant company from last night’s dinner gone, I found myself thinking back on the evening again. Conversation flowed easily, I laughed more than I had in quite some time, and I wished it hadn’t ended so soon. My mind wandered as I paced, thinking of ways to spend more time with Evelyn. I may have been looking at my throne and the surrounding skulls, but my mind was elsewhere.
Perhaps setting up another dinner date would be in order. I would need to focus a bit more on the menu, though. I hadn’t dared mention it to Evelyn, but I had also noticed an obscene amount of oil in the rice and beans. I needed to dial that in before serving it again. Moreso, I needed to ensure that the next meal was a tried-and-true recipe that had previously been a big success.
I thought of my signature baked ziti. That would definitely be a surefire hit. Looked like I would need to send another demon out on a grocery store run.
It wasn’t long before Lilith found me.
“You made it back in one piece!” I heard the chipper tone in her voice before she entered the room. She came around the corner, hair whipping behind her, her fancy blue pumps and fitted dark gray dress looking amazing as usual, and she was grinning ear to ear.
“Yes, it went better than I had expected.” I gingerly took my seat and stretched my arms out along the armrests. I watched as she followed her usual route over to the bar.
The dark gray dress was made out of a soft-looking, lightweight fabric which hugged every curve and hit just above her knee, allowing the well-defined muscles in her legs to take center stage. The back of the dress was virtually non-existent, the sinewy muscles in her back and shoulders dancing with every movement she made. Her blue heels looked to be made out of suede or something similarly soft. She was always a welcome sight, but today more than usual.
“Any more insight into where she comes from or what’s going on?” Lilith walked behind the bar and bent at the waist to pull a cabernet out from the wine cooler. I hesitated for a moment in thought as she placed it on the bar, reached blindly for her faithful bottle opener, and started opening the bottle. Did Evelyn and I get sidetracked yesterday in our conversation? It seemed that after she got defensive and argumentative, I never brought the situation back up. That seemed remarkably unlike me.
“I, uh, no.” Lilith caught me stumbling on my words, pausing mid-pour and looking up at me through her eyelashes.
“No?” She looked at me with confusion, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed. “Did you get anything at all? How is the answer no?”
I paused. I took a deep breath and stretched my arms out further, letting my fingers stretch out and curl one at a time in succession over the edge of the armrest. It was a show, a bid for time as I collected my thoughts as quickly as I could.
“She had a pretty sour attitude about it all,” I replied simply, my head cocked to one side. “I think this method of yours will take a bit more time.”
Yes, that’s it. I’ll put it back on Lilith’s shoulders. This was her idea, after all.
Lilith looked at me and squinted her eyes in suspicion. “Are you developing some feelings for this girl or something?” She took a large sip of wine, keeping her eyes on me the entire time. I saw her glance down, no doubt noticing that my hands were empty.
“No!” I replied a little too fast. “No, I don’t have time for all of that. I’m simply trying to play this right. She’s too smart, she will see right through it if I try to rush it.”
She shrugged in agreement. “You’re right. We can’t be transparent about it.” I could swear I saw relief in her eyes. She turned back to the bar, grabbed my cognac glass, and started pouring me a glass of Louis XIII.
“In related news,” Lilith continued as she sauntered up to my throne, “I did some digging, and I actually found some useful information using her dad’s name.”
“Oh?” I wasn’t expecting results so soon. “What did you find out?”
“So, okay.” She handed me my glass, reached behind my throne, and pulled out a folding chair. She always kept it tucked back there for sessions like this.
When I had originally asked about it, she gave me an in-depth story about
how a woman’s feet feel after wearing high heels for long periods of time. She told me how important it was that she got the opportunity to sit down, and I don’t remember agreeing to leave the chair there for her, but she decided she was going to, so I just went with it.
Lilith sat down, crossed her legs, and leaned forward, clutching the stem of her wine glass with both hands, as if getting ready to divulge a secret. “I was able to track down her father. He is in Heaven. Obviously, I don’t have access, but I didn’t want to send you on a useless mission, so I kept digging, and I was able to trace the lineage back to Evelyn’s great-great-grandma.”
She smiled with satisfaction of her success so far. “Her name is Filomena, she is also in Heaven, Section 105-FA-908-LP. She had a son, only one son, who was Evelyn’s great-grandfather. That son shows no father on his birth certificate. Long story short, after doing all this family tree shit, that is the one hole, the one missing piece to the puzzle, that may give us some insight into who she is. Let’s find out who her great-great-grandfather is. And to do that, I think you need to go to Heaven.”
Heaven. I hated it there. My brothers talked about how great, how miraculous, how perfect it was. And it was perfect. Too perfect, and worse, free will was frowned upon there. They were God’s perfect army, a bunch of agreeable little soldiers, and I was the black sheep.
Now, theology textbooks will tell the average human that I’m not allowed back into Heaven. That isn’t true. Sure, they don’t welcome me with open arms there, but they will never lock me out. That isn’t God’s way. Michael certainly went out of his way to make me feel unwelcome, as did about a third of the angels there, but most didn’t have a strong opinion one way or another. They may not have agreed with my choices, but they did not care to stick their noses in my business. We both went our own ways. I certainly didn’t go up there unless I had occasion to, so for the most part, I wasn’t on their radar.
I guess I had to change that if I wanted to continue down this rabbit hole.