“She’s upstairs, guarded by both Dee and Ramiel, so don’t get any ideas,” Jerry said, as if reading his mind. “Just because I’m the one who thought you should come in doesn’t mean I trust you. I thought you and I should talk before the others get involved.”
“Fine. What do you want me to say, Romani?”
“Let’s start with why you’re here.”
Marc slapped his knee and coughed out a single, huffy laugh. “I was pretty sure you knew.”
“You could be an asset for us, but I’m banking on assumptions. I need confirmation, and until I get that, it’s just you and me. Now, spill. What do you want?”
“Your wife.” Marc cocked his head, taking in with joy the anger boiling behind Jerry’s eyes. “No? Okay, let’s start with you teaching me how to use angel magic.”
“Why not ask one of the Fallen?”
Marc rose to his feet. The simple movement put Jerry on edge.
“And let the cat out of the bag? You didn’t exactly openly share with the others what you understand, and I’m willing to bet that’s because you knew the Fallen were also in the dark on that. The only advantage we have right now is that fact.”
“We could keep up this verbal poker match all night, Marc, but sooner or later, one of us is going to have to lay down his cards.” Jerry seemed amused. “Be a good boy and tell your big brother so we can just get on with it.”
Marc stood erect. “You need me, and the power I hold. Just like I need you, and the knowledge you have on how to use that power.”
“A power I spent two eons studying,” Jerry confirmed. “So what? You want me to make a deal with the devil, is that it?”
Marc bowed, low to the ground, his arms spread wide on each side. “In the flesh.” He rose with every bit of devilishness he could muster fueling the grin on his face. “I need you to help me take Hell from the Grigori.”
Jerry pondered that a moment. Finally, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. “It was supposed to be me, you know. That’s why Azazel created me, only I never drank his Kool Aid on the whole overthrowing-Lucifer-and-becoming-the-Satan thing. I wondered why he didn’t throw a hissy fit when I was resurrected. Because he already had you on the back burner. Literally. If Lucifer had known...”
“Lucifer did know,” Marc cut in. For the first time, he’d found words that reduced Jerry to silence. “He didn’t know about Michael’s involvement, but he wasn’t exactly dumb to Azazel’s schemes and progeny. He knew all about you, he knew all about me, and I’m pretty sure, he knew about Riona.”
“He knew about...?” The hamster in Jerry’s brain jumped on its wheel and began marathon training. “That’s why he wanted her so bad. Lucifer knows when one of his Fallen bear children; I don’t know how. He somehow knew she was half-angel, but knew it wasn’t one of the Fallen’s. All this time, Luc knew Riona was a...”
“Wait, what?” Marc felt anger curl his hand into a fist. Romani knew something. Something critical. “Come on, no family secrets.”
“Just because we’re related, don’t mean we’re family, Angeletti,” Jerry spit back. “Fuck a chimney with a brick, Lucifer knew this whole time. Az thought he was just getting comfy and lazy in his old age, but he was helping set up the next stage of the realms.” Jerry turned fresh eyes on the man, a rival for his wife’s love, before him. “Fine, I’ll help, but don’t think for a second this is any sort of favor to you. I’m going to need Ramiel’s help. I might have the knowledge, but it takes someone feeding directly off heavenlight or hellfire to perform this sort of magic.”
“You assume the liaison to the Pure Souls is going to hear this and just be like, ‘Ok, cool. No problem. I’ll totally help Marc understand how to fully bring the demonic capabilities of hellfire under his command.’”
“Actually, yes.”
Marc’s hearty laugh echoed in the hall. “You have too much faith in the goodness of archangels.”
“Faith, shmaith. Teaming up with the devil was actually his idea. The key will be getting him to understand why that now means you.”
The house shook with Ramiel’s rage. Usually the cool cucumber of the Council of Seven, the temporary loss of shit from the archangel took the Pure Souls aback.
“Jerry, I said we needed to team up with Lucifer,” he bellowed, making the glass in Riona’s bedroom windows hum. “Not some newbie demon who barely knows where the ice maker in Hell is located, let alone how to use angelic, hellfire-fed magic.”
“Right, but I felt at ease replacing ‘Lucifer’ in that statement with ‘the devil.’ And that’s what we got.”
Riona played the compliment to Ramiel’s reaction. Since Jerry had asked them all to come down and join Marc and himself in the dining room, she’d gone as quiet as a field mouse in a bucket of moonshine. Finally, after several stunned minutes and confused glances at the newly arrived demon, her tiny voice emerged.
“Let me get this straight, Marc.” She pressed a red fingernail to the spot between her eyes and pushed. “You used my father’s heavenly blade to kill Lucifer, but only because he asked you to, in order to trigger some sort of golden parachute package whereby he got to choose his own successor, and for some reason, he chose you. You’re telling me after four thousand years of ruling the Underworld, he just up and decided to call it quits and hand control over to the demonic equivalent of a first-term freshman?”
A twitch in Marc’s cheek matured into a smirk. “Your faith in my abilities overwhelms, Keystone. And why so surprised? My killing Lucifer was the whole reason you gave me the blade to begin with.”
“Wait, but you told us...” Dee’s ashen face looked at the witch, reassessing her. “I thought that you gave the blade to Marc because you thought he was Jerry. You didn’t know until we showed up in Olympus that Jerry had his own body back.”
Marc hissed out his frustration. “I’m a demon, but not an asshole. I would never trick Riona into thinking I’m someone else just to take an advantage.”
Four sets of accusatory eyes forced him to fess up on that one.
“I mean on my own,” he continued. “That whole thing after the wedding... That was Michael’s idea, and Azazel commanded me. I had no choice.”
The Welshie at the corner of the room huffed. “And how are we supposed to know you’re not under his command now, that you’re not doing all this as a distraction to ferret out our plans and let your dear old Da know?”
“Anwen’s right,” Ramiel said. “First, I don’t believe this at all. Lucifer had a choose-your-own-successor clause in the accords? I’ve never heard of such a thing. And second, even if there was something like that, you’re still a demon. Azazel created you, and he still has the ability to control you. Plus, I still don’t buy that Lucifer isn’t somehow part of Michael and Azazel’s plan. He’s too smart to be overthrown that way.”
Shifting his body in the angel’s direction, Marc fixed a glare. “You’ve known me for seven years. When our last Keystone fell, you did everything short of offering to blow me to get me to step up as one, because you said your instincts were telling you I was supposed to lead. I told you to go fuck yourself, that I didn’t want that kind of responsibility. You honestly think I would claim something like this or take on this burden as part of a ploy? Forget the fact that I’m a demon for a moment.”
“I can’t just forget you’re a demon,” Ramiel answered, appalled. “That’s kinda a critical part of your nature now.”
“I’m still the same guy,” Marc insisted. “The only difference is I’m no longer controlled by my vows to the church. You know me. I’m telling you, you can trust me. Riona,” he turned to the couple seated on the opposite side of the table, “when you visited me in Hell, you told me you still trusted me to do the right thing. And that’s why I’m here, to do the right thing. Trust me, and let’s find a way to defeat the Fallen together. Please.”
His hand found its way across the table and to hers before anyone else could blink. Riona fix
ated on their joining, and Marc knew he wasn’t alone in the sensation their contact caused. Immediately, her pulse spiked, and a flush of red spotted her cheeks.
“I may not be the devil you expected, but I’m the devil you know,” he continued, working his thumb over the flickering vein in her wrist. “Trust me.”
The next thing Marc knew, his body had flown across the room and he hung two feet off the floor, his back pierced by a nail lodged into the drywall. The pain didn’t bother him; his demon body would heal. He looked up from his confusion, expecting to see a fuming Jerry or even Ramiel with a curse on him. When he saw instead that it was Riona, that’s when the pain hit.
“Never touch me!” she demanded. Her outstretched arm acted as a virtual remote control for his physical being. As her cupped hands constricted, he felt it as sure as if her fingers had weaved about his throat, choking him. “We’ll work with you to defeat the Grigori, but touch me again, and I swear that we’ll be serving satanic shish kebabs at the afterparty, capice?”
“Si, mia bella. Non vedo l’ora di sentire le tue labbra sul mio ... kebab.” He’d never had the chance to speak Italian to her. Given the way she relaxed her hold and ever so slightly licked her lips at his suggestive comment, Marc guessed Riona liked it.
Jerry crossed the room and walloped Marc in the stomach. “You offer up your kebab to my wife’s mouth one more time, and all you’ll have left to your sandwich is pita.”
Marc collapsed to the ground as Riona released her hold and left the room. Anwen followed, running to catch up in the way women do, and Dee followed suit.
Because... Dee.
Ramiel looked to Jerry. “We have three days, I figure, until we have to move. You going to be able to teach him what he’ll need to know in that time?”
“I spent two thousand years studying Fallen magic and the rules of the devil’s hand, and you think I’m going to be able to communicate that in seventy-two hours? Hell, no. But, given the alternative, I’m going to teach him everything I can.”
The angel patted the Pure Soul on the shoulder. “Good. Get him caught up on what happened on Olympus, and get going. You might want to start with that move Riona just used. Very effective, not to mention, entertaining.”
Chapter 15
She avoided being around him every way she could. Spending most her time in her room, prepping tax statements for the winter quarter (she still couldn’t believe there wasn’t a charm or better yet, counterhex to solve that problem), having Anwen go downstairs with her to have breakfast... But somehow, Riona’s don’t-be-alone-with-Marc strategy finally proved less than foolproof.
The flaw made itself known the second evening after their untimely houseguest had shown up. Jerry had put in a twelve-hour shift with the new devil, using his old bedroom in the basement as a private classroom. When he’d come upstairs, her husband had mumbled something about “not enough jars of Vaseline” and collapsed on the bed. Ramiel had zapped out of the house to do some recon, and Anwen and Dee were in their room... given the lack of dust falling from the quaking ceiling, sleeping. She thought she’d be safe, running downstairs to grab herself a slice of pizza from the leftovers the day before. When Riona closed the refrigerator door and turned to put the box on the counter, she instead slammed right into a brick wall.
“God damn it.” The pizza box went vertical, and four uneaten cold slices plopped on the linoleum below. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that. You almost gave me a heart attack.”
His hand raised to move a strand of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear. “It’s not the first time I made your heart go crazy.”
She flipped the box back horizontal, creating a boundary between them. “Stop. Just stop, okay? I’m married. Happily. And FYI: the sex is great. Mind-blowing. Like, porno stars should look to us for lessons. So don’t think anything is going to happen between us.”
“Good to hear. I want you to be happy.”
She looked at him like he’d just presented her an origami Pokémon.
“What? I do.”
“It’s just...” She paused for the words as she picked up the pizza slices and took them and the box to the counter. “You’re right about one thing. You really haven’t changed much. Not your personality, I mean. The Marc I knew was always a sarcastic twat with me. Maybe that’s why it’s hard to believe it when you say something like that.”
“I am the Marc you knew. Only now, it’s like I’m bonus Marc.”
“Ah, yes. Marcello Angeletti, the devil incarnate. From a man of the faith, to a man of the fire.”
He looked disappointed with her. “I still have my faith, Keystone. Why do you think I was willing to take on this roll? Because I needed the money? Craved career advancement?”
“Or wanted a better chance at having phenomenal magic that could possibly be used to corrupt me?”
He chuckled a laugh, using the moment to slide closer to her. Suddenly, Riona found her back to the counter, and her hips pressing into Marc’s pelvis. He didn’t lean in to kiss her, but somehow she felt at that moment every nerve in her body wishing he would.
“I took a vow to serve the needy,” he said. His eyes settled on her lips. “And although there’s a number of things you need, you’re not the only one I was thinking about when I accepted Lucifer’s proposal.”
He reached behind her, and Riona felt herself swoon. His arms wrapped around her, her breasts pushed into his chest, and she felt her control begin to slip. Only, he didn’t slide in after it. Instead, a moment later, the cool air on her skin told her he was no longer near. She opened her eyes to find him a few steps away with a slice of pizza hanging out of his mouth.
“I was also thinking about myself,” he said, winking at her. “Disappointed?”
No. Yes. Both, in so many different ways. “Not in the least. Illuminate me.”
“Asking me to light you up? Tempting, but... Your husband is upstairs, and I did promise him I wouldn’t touch you while I’m under this roof.” He leaned in, brushing his lips over her ear, making her gasp. “We’ll have to leave this house eventually though, won’t we?” She bucked up and left his implied invite unanswered. “Do you think I’m a bad man, Keystone?”
“Well, you’re not really a man anymore so...”
“When I was alive then.” He turned to open the fridge, grabbing out a tall bottle. He opened it by mere will, barely even touching the cap before it slid off. “Did you think I was bad?”
“Of course not. You were a Pure Soul. A little bit annoying with your attempts at humor, but hardly evil.”
“And yet... I ended up in Hell.”
He watched as all the color drained from her face. “For me. You sacrificed yourself for me and... now you’re the devil, and it’s all my fault.”
To her surprise, he held out a finger, stopping her. “I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty, Riona. It’s not always about you. You see, I had a lot of time to think, while my soul was boiling on the fires. Why me? How was that fair? I sacrificed my life to save someone I love, and because of that, I was the one in Hell, just because the Church decreed that suicide was a sin punishable by damnation? And that got me thinking, how many of those people boiling in pots around me ended up there because of a technicality? How many had been in situations where any decision they made by necessity would have been one to send them under? What is the point of an afterlife, if it means you can never learn from your mistakes.”
“So you’re saying you were... meant to fall?”
“Exactly. I haven’t lost my faith or my calling. I’ve just been put into a situation where I have to use it a little differently, with a group of people who given their postmortem situation, might be a little more open to hearing it. All I have to do is deal with the group of fallen angels who are currently trying to destroy civilization, and then I can get to work.”
Her smile beamed. “So really you should be thanking me.”
“No, what I really should be doing is fu
cking you on this countertop and making you scream.” He shrugged, as though he’d just offered her a disagreeable weather forecast instead of a suggestion of coitus. “But as I said, I promised your husband.”
Riona didn’t hesitate this time. The moment she let her guard down and treated him as a man, he had to remind her of what he actually was. She took two steps forward and let fly her hand. Marc caught her by the wrist before she managed to recover herself, and used it to pull her forward. The wind rushed out of her when she found herself chest to chest with him.
He ghosted a kiss over her lips, coming as close as he could without actually touching her. “Fire feeds fire, Keystone. Just think how well we’d burn together. And you don’t have to die. Now we both have the ability to port, we can commute for a while.”
She turned her hand over in his grasp, framing the ring in his sight. “Married.”
“Riona!”
The sound of Jerry’s voice calling from upstairs put a mile between them in 1.8 seconds flat. Riona tried to blink away the confusion of being pressed to Marc one moment, and him being seated at the small table in the kitchen the next, the clear bottle in his grasp. What was Jerry screaming about? Had her husband been spying on them? Oh my God, did he know what had just almost happened?
But when the ex-demon rounded the corner of the kitchen door holding her cell phone with the heel of his right hand over the receiver, her train of thought switched tracks.
“Jerry, what’s wrong?”
He handed her the phone. “It’s the nursing home. Riona, baby, your mother, she... They think it’s time.”
Jerry opened the door and examined the street like he suspected snipers would be mounted on the roofs of all the nearby buildings. No sharpshooters today. To any mere mortal walking up the street, it would appear as though nothing was out of place. They wouldn’t notice the man in a black trench coat leaning against a light pole across the street, “reading” a newspaper that was upside down.
When Spell Freezes Over (All My Exes Die From Hexes Book 4) Page 13