The Flame Game

by R. J. Blain

  “You have done nothing wrong. You didn’t steal anything, as I gave you my phone willingly, and you did nothing more than issue a challenge. It is my fault I will play the game.”

  The Devil showed up, and he wore another one of his beautiful suits. Smiling, I kissed his cheek, as I’d learned he liked affection almost as much as archangels, gorgons, and the other oddities in Quinn’s family. “You need to stop wearing suits I want to see Sam wear. When you wear suits, I wonder if Sam will wear it better.”

  “This one he’ll be spectacular in, especially if he’s displaying his wings for you.”

  My eyes widened at the thought of my husband wearing a suit while in his gorgon-incubus doohickey form. “Oh. Oh, my. Please?”

  “Invite my wife over for some of your coffee. Coffee is life for her, and she likes it iced with cream and sugar.”

  “I make a mean iced coffee.”

  “That was a factor in establishing this bargain with you.”

  Oh, well. I’d just cope with the scolding when Quinn found out I was making deals with the Devil to get him in a wickedly sexy suit. “I hope she likes kids, because we’ll be outnumbered and surrounded.”

  “She loves children.”

  Well, then. “Deal. Bargain struck!” I held out my hand to seal the deal. “I’ll even give her back sometimes, although with the number of kids we have around, you may have to bargain with me to get her back.”

  The Devil frowned.

  “You lost that one, my dear brother. Now, for the matter of the roses.” Sariel pointed at the one with the best blossoms, big, red, and delicious. “This one is her favorite, and it is the first she sampled when she came home to my little grandson for the first time, so it is quite special for them both.”

  The Devil crouched beside the roses and touched the charred branch. “Did you see?”

  “I did. She heard the description already.”

  “It’s totally something my asshole father would do, and he’s not smart enough to do the job right. I mean, the house is made of brick.”

  “And has been fireproofed to my little grandson’s standards,” Sariel added.

  I wrinkled my nose. “Yeah, that didn’t help matters for that asshole at all. Now I’m wondering if we can fireproof our poor roses.”

  Valorie emerged from her house, and it amused me how the cops scrambled to make sure the older woman didn’t fall making the hike over.

  “I love that old woman,” I confessed.

  The Devil chuckled. “She loves you as though you were hers. She is a sweet woman who has no place in one of my hells, although don’t tempt me into bringing over one of my devils. He might be able to keep up with her.”

  Sariel smacked the Devil with his wing. “Do not play matchmaker right this moment. She is slated for elsewhere.”

  “But she’d make such a fine little demoness,” the Devil complained. “Don’t ruin my fun.”

  “If you hurt my roses even more than they’re already hurt, I will teach you both the true meaning of pain and fear,” I warned.

  To my amusement, the archangel and his brother turned their attention to the poor plants. Aware I might eat snow or bruise my ass again, I slid along the sidewalk.

  Chief Barfield intercepted me at the end and kept me on my feet. “Your husband would kill me if I let you fall. Stay in the snow and off the ice, you.”

  “Valorie!” I waved at the old woman, eyeballing how to reach her. I opted to take the long way around, crunching through the snow until I reached the street, which had been questionably salted.

  “Welcome home. How did you enjoy your trip?” she asked, coming towards me. I met her at the halfway point, and accepted a hug from her, as she’d trained me well. “Your poor roses.”

  “They better be fine,” I hollered at the archangel and the Devil.

  Valorie held up my phone. “This looks a lot like him, yes. Who is he?”

  “The shitty father. It turns out I have more parents than normal, and the Gardeners are the shit ones. The other pair is far cooler. I’ll bring them over so you can meet them. Was there a woman with him?”

  “Yes. She was driving the car.”

  I took my phone and pulled up a picture of my mother. “Her?”

  Valorie huffed. “Looks like her to me.”

  I stomped through the snow to Chief Barfield. “It’s a case of the asshole parents trying to make my life miserable yet again. My mother was driving the car while he was trying to torch the house. And since they’ll lie their asses off, I’ll just request an angel now to verify their guilt, just in case there was some practitioner up to some pretty bad tricks. I can email you information on them, once my roses are taken care of.”

  The chief chuckled. “I can tell where your priorities are. Still, until we bring them in, it’s not going to be safe here.”

  “We were just swinging by for some things before resuming our vacation,” I admitted.

  “That will work nicely. Check in with us daily. Normally, I wouldn’t ask such a thing for a pair on vacation, but Dowry is concerned for your safety.”

  Wrinkling my nose at the added complexity, I thought about it for a few moments before nodding. “Sure. We can do that. Just let you know if there’s anything weird and call if we find anything amiss?”

  “Exactly so. Dowry will want you to check in with him, too, but since you live in my jurisdiction, I’d like you to keep in touch with me, too.”

  “Sure, I can text you both or call as needed.” My husband came out of the house, and I spotted several large ceramic pots in the entry. “He’s being excessive again.”

  “He is so good at being excessive,” Valorie commented. “When it comes to you, he takes the little things to extremes.”

  “He really does. He looks really good in that jacket.”

  “And that’s my cue to go warm up in my house while you admire your scenery. Send over some hot cops to question me,” she ordered before heading home.

  I bit my lip so I wouldn’t laugh until she disappeared into her house. “Did you hear that, Chief Barfield? Send over some hot cops to question her.”

  “I’m not sure I have any sufficiently hot older cops capable of withstanding her wily ways.”

  “Sacrifice one that deserves a good woman before the Devil starts sending his minions over to seduce her. He really will, too.”

  “I might have an older gentleman who has been a widower for a while, and I’ll send some of the young, fit men to learn how to question a friendly old woman.” The chief snickered. “You’re going to turn Manhattan upside down.”

  “I really will.” Aware I would fall on my ass again if I got anywhere near the icy sidewalk, I trudged through the snow and observed my husband, his uncle, and his grandfather conferring over the roses. To my shock, Sariel manifested a shining sword out of the air and eyed the ground. “Don’t kill my roses! Swords are for stabbing. Don’t stab them, they’re already having a bad day.”

  All three shot glares at me, and I stomped my foot. “No traumatizing my roses.”

  The archangel sighed, flicked his wrist, and turned his glowing sword into a shovel. “I’m not going to stab them, my little granddaughter.”

  “That poor sword is going to file for its retirement or put in a request for a new owner.”

  “It’s a sword, not a living thing,” Sariel stated before going to work digging up the abused rose plant. Once freed from the ground, he handed it over to the Devil. “He will whine sufficiently less should you be the one abusing your holy fire.”

  More fire? I crossed my arms over my chest and kept a close eye on my uncle.

  “Your cindercorn is positively cranky this morning,” the Devil said, taking the rose bush and walking to the house, completely ignoring the ice. The ground steamed in his wake, and I realized he cheated, melting it so he wouldn’t slip and slide.

  “What did Chief Barfield have to say?” Quinn asked, examining the gaping hole where the rose bush had been. “Can I h
ire you to be my gardener, Grandfather? That would have taken me an hour to dig out.”

  “No. I’m only doing this because my little granddaughter would cry if her roses couldn’t be saved.”

  “Her roses?”

  “She loves them more than you do, so they are hers, and you just get to enjoy them, too.”

  Hah. I slated that as my victory, and I pointed at the Devil, who worked at putting my poor plant in one of the pots. “And that one is my favorite.”

  “The roses will be fine, Bailey.”

  “I showed pictures to Valorie. Of my asshole parents. She thinks it was them. I already told Chief Barfield to request an angel for verification when they’re brought in for questioning. Practitioners could trick people with their likeness, and I’d rather have the truth than jump to conclusions. But, let’s face it. My asshole parents would do just that. Maybe we should ask the uncle over there about adding some extras to their future accommodations.”

  “I could work something in with roses,” the Devil replied, coming out of the house and brushing his hands together. “I’ll take the roses home with me while you’re vacationing and care for them until your return. That will prevent any future trouble, and my wife enjoys caring for the underdog.”

  “I’ll call her over for coffee when we’re back, and I might even give her back,” I replied.

  “You’re evil,” the Devil informed me.

  I giggled.

  My husband regarded me with narrow eyes. “What have you done, you sneaky woman?”

  As I looked forward to whatever punishment my husband would concoct, I announced, “I cut a good deal with the Devil, so I get to invite his wife over whenever I want, and I might even give her back.”

  “And you yell at me about bargaining?”

  “But she likes coffee, and I make the best coffee. And she likes kids.”

  “She wants you to have another one of my suits, and I may have told her this specific suit works very well with wings.”

  It didn’t take my husband long to figure out what I had in mind. “I’m going to let this slide once, Bailey.”

  Victory was mine. “Okay. What do you want to do about my asshole parents?”

  “I’ll let Barfield deal with that problem. Once we get the roses moved inside, we’ll gather what we need for our trip and resume our vacation.”

  “I can go start the packing while you manly men—and angel—handle taking care of my roses,” I offered.

  “I’m going to need your coffee for this,” Quinn announced without any shame. “I have gone weeks without your coffee, and I will surely perish if I do not get any.”

  I loved him so much it hurt. “I’ll make extra coffee just for you.” As I’d get scolded if I fell again, I waddled to the door, gave my favorite rose’s new pot a fond pat, and began preparing for our adventure to Vermont.

  I did my best work on making coffee while my eager husband hovered, the equivalent of an excited puppy while observing me make his precious brew. As such, I went to work scouring the house for clothes suitable for a hike into Vermont, discovering I needed to do a better job of shopping for winter clothes. As promised, I snagged the lacy black bra and panties Quinn loved best, and I dug through my box of spare clothing to retrieve several other sets just like them I’d found in different colors.

  I grabbed enough clothes for him, selfishly selecting what I enjoyed him wearing the most.

  Once we had what we needed for the trip, I went into our home office, which had our filing cabinets, book storage, and a small table two could work at when necessary. Fortunately, Quinn kept immaculate records, and he had receipts from the day he’d turned eighteen. Not only did he have his old receipts, he labeled them by type and month, making it easy to sort through. As I had no idea when he’d married Audrey, I started from the very beginning, rummaging through his life before we’d met.

  The receipts told a startlingly sad story of him working and doing little else. I found the title and purchase agreement for his car, discovering he’d bought it used and had financed it for five years. It hadn’t had many miles on it when he’d gotten his hands on it.

  It cost significantly less than I’d expected it to.

  I would have thought his promotion would have earned him something better—or at least with a much higher price tag.

  Once Audrey came into his life, his spending habits changed—and his work hours increased a terrifying amount. Then, starting shortly before he’d come storming into my life, his financial story changed again.

  He established a budget for coffee, and he established folders dedicated to his coffee habit.

  Most of the receipts came from my work.

  “What an obsessive man,” I murmured, making sure I put everything back exactly as I found it before eyeballing the filing cabinet Quinn constantly glared at. It took some trial and error, but one of the keys he’d given me for the cabinets opened it.

  Apparently, Audrey McGee hadn’t bothered to claim her financial records following her divorce from my Quinn. Unlike my husband, her records were haphazardly kept, marked only by tax year, which would make life interesting for me. Like Quinn, she’d kept records from when she’d turned eighteen.

  I bet he had a lot to do with that, as he hated sloppy records, and he’d insisted I gather as much of my records as I could, although napalming my apartment had given me a clean start.

  The most current filing cabinets blended our lives, and the rift between Quinn and Audrey became more apparent every minute I snooped through her life.

  I grabbed my new leather travel totes designed for hanging file folders, unwrapped them, and lined four of them up on the table. I had no idea why Quinn thought I would need ten of the damned things, but they were the same as his but in a different color.

  As my gorgon-incubus doohickey might burn his when he found out Audrey’s files had contaminated them, I loaded her entire filing cabinet into them, discovering I needed all ten to fit her messy paperwork. Wrinkling my nose, I hauled the whole lot downstairs to discover the Quinn family had gone and done something excessive again.

  Instead of the ten planned rose bushes, a collection of thirty took over our living room, meaning the archangel, the Devil, and my husband had rescued every damned rose plant we owned, including the six he’d planted when married to Audrey and the ones from the back yard.

  Men.

  “You three are excessive,” I announced.

  The Devil grinned at me. “He began to fret you might miss the other roses, so we rescued them all. I recommend you build a greenhouse in your next home specifically for your roses, and then you can plant new roses outside to add to your collection.”

  Oh, I liked that idea. “Please tell my husband all roses are edible roses.”

  “They are. You can even eat non-edible ones to your heart’s content. That is one of the benefits of your line. You could chug nightshade without issue. Sure, you’d get one hell of a high and an even worse hangover, but it’s not going to kill you.”

  “No, you may not chug nightshade,” Quinn stated, and according to his tone, we would have an epic fight if I even thought about it.

  “Cut me off spaghetti, and we will have problems, you.”

  The Devil laughed. “Your tomatoes are safe, and so are your greasy fries.”

  I glared at my husband until he threw up his hands. “Bailey, I’ll have a heart attack if you start fiddling with poisons.”

  “Stay away from my sauce supply, you.”

  The Devil chuckled, and he slapped his hand to the side of the pot containing my favorite of the roses. “I’m going to head home. Enjoy your vacation, and when you decide on where you’ll live, I’ll bring your roses back.”

  “Thank you.” I crouched next to my roses and patted them. “Be good until you come back.”

  Before I could make even more of an idiot out of myself, the Devil disappeared and took the roses with him. Sariel straightened, stretched his wings, and rubbed his hands to
gether. “With that handled, I shall head home as well. Try not to get into too much trouble, you two. I’ll be in the heavens for a while, so I might not be readily available. Reception is questionable depending on His mood.”

  Before I could thank him, the archangel vanished.

  Quinn closed the door and heaved a sigh. “That was exhausting.”

  “Physically or emotionally?” I could fix the physically exhausted aspect. Gorgon-incubus doohickeys responded well when showered with affection, and mine particularly enjoyed when I showered him with affection in the shower.

  “I’m going to say both.”

  Score. “You can tidy the bathroom while I finish what I’m doing, then we can catch a short nap before we head off.”

  “I won’t need a nap at that point, you saucy woman.”

  “Well, I will!”

  “You can nap in the car.”

  Double score. “Find us a rental SUV so we can leave your precious car in the garage while we’re gone. We won’t have the space in the trunk for everything I’ve packed.”

  “Okay. I’ll take care of that and pack.”

  “I already packed for you. Selfishly.”

  I loved his dark, sinful chuckle. “You’re something else.”

  That I was. “Just hurry it up. We don’t have all day, and I forgot to schedule in time for a shower.”

  Eight

  I hate the stupid.

  Life never went to plan.

  The shower revitalized my husband, and I admired him while he strutted around the house, waiting for the rental company to pick him up so he could finalize the rental and bring the vehicle back so we could hit the road. I made his coffee, chuckling at his restless energy. “Be careful driving.”

  “I will,” he promised, accepting his travel mug and giving me a kiss. The doorbell rang, and he grabbed his wallet from our coffee table. “This could take up to an hour, but hopefully not that long. If the assholes come back, remember you are a meat-eating, fire-breathing unicorn and act appropriately.”