by Emma Scott
“Is nothing heroic. I merely grow tired of feeding the fire of rage and pain. I’m tired of the endless hunger. The death.”
My gaze dropped to the gash on his arm, hidden by a sleeve. “If we succeed, will Ash…will your commander let you go?”
“We have an agreement. Eleven days. No more.”
It wasn’t an answer to the question, but my head was already murky, and Cas was hailing the bartender again. A third round of drinks was set before us.
I took a deep pull of mine, letting the whiskey fortify me.
“I’m sorry about your family, Cas,” I said. “My mother died when I was too little to remember her but losing my father… It’s been the hardest thing. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”
“It was a long time ago,” he said into his wine.
“Your wife…” I cleared my throat. The unwarranted little pang of jealousy seemed to be attached to that word. “Do you remember loving her?”
He whipped his head to me. “Why do you ask me this?”
“You said there was no love left in you. But if you loved her once, maybe it’s still there. Maybe—”
“There is none left,” he gritted out, as if each word cut him like knives. “Because I refuse to allow it to infest me like a sickness ever again.”
“Love’s not sickness. It’s—”
“Lucy,” he snapped. “Leave it. I have no patience for greeting card sentiment.”
“I know you’re angry,” I said after a moment. “God knows when I’m really missing my dad or thinking about how he suffered in the last weeks of his illness, I don’t want any grace or trite sentiment either. I’d burn it all to the ground to have him back.”
Cas wasn’t looking at me but seemed to be listening with his entire being.
“But sometimes, not very often, the grief kind of mellows,” I said. “The sharp edges soften for a little bit, and I feel real beauty in it. I know that might sound crazy, but it’s true. Beauty in his life, who he was, and who we were to each other. How much I loved him. In those times, the grief still hurts, but instead of getting angry or mad or scared, I feel grateful.”
“Grateful?” he asked, disbelieving.
“Yes. Grateful that I had the privilege of knowing him. That this pain I’m feeling is strong because I loved him. I wouldn’t trade it if it meant not having him. The bad stuff…it hurts. Sometimes, it hurts so much, it’s almost impossible to see the beauty in life. But if we just take a deep breath and get really quiet, we can feel how alive we are. We’re here, experiencing it all, and the good stuff is all the more precious if we understand it might not stay as long as we want it to. My loss is not the same as yours, but that’s how I think about it, and it makes me feel better. Maybe it would make you feel better too.”
Holy moly, I didn’t know what it was, but something about Cas got me talking more than my shyness usually allowed. He was watching me with a strange expression on his face. Maybe later I’d blame it on the booze, but I reached to take his hand. A scar sliced across the back that I hadn’t noticed before. He stiffened at my touch, then softened into it. His fingers—a warrior’s fingers, rough and calloused—curled around mine. Light at first, then tighter. He was pure power—masculine and hard and dangerous but not to me.
My hand belongs in his.
My thoughts, greased by whiskey, skidded off into slippery territory. How it would feel to have more of his skin touching mine. How other parts of us might fit together as perfectly. How there might be a kind of bliss waiting when the size and shape of every scar on his body was no longer a mystery to me.
For long moments, we sat together in that crowded, noisy pub, an oasis of silence. Then he gave my hand a final squeeze and let go.
“Your capacity for love is bottomless, Lucy Dennings,” he said in a low voice. “I know what might help me.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “Earlier today, I wasn’t moved to offer that homeless man money or clothing, and it wouldn’t have occurred to me that he needed human contact. But it occurred to you. You saw that man’s plight and felt…what do you call it?”
My lips quirked. “Empathy?”
“Yes, that. And empathy cannot be taught. Neither can charity or compassion. Not to someone who has lived in darkness for centuries—and certainly not in the few days I have left.
“This puts us in a bit of a tough spot, Cas,” I said, taking another pull of my whiskey.
“Indeed. Helping me is a waste of time. The key to my redemption lies in helping you.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” I said. “But love has to factor in somehow.”
The alcohol was hitting me hard; my head felt like it was floating off my neck.
I giggled as a stray thought skittered across my boozy mind. “A fake relationship.”
“Come again?”
“The ‘fake relationship’ is a trope in romance books where two people pretend to be together in order to achieve separate goals, like earn an inheritance or make someone jealous.”
I didn’t add that in the books, the fake relationship always turned out to be real in the end. Because that was impossible. Aside from the fact he was a demon, Cas was only on This Side for a handful of days. The fake relationship idea was too silly anyway, but he was rubbing his chin, wearing a thoughtful expression.
“Go on.”
“Well…there’s this guy at my work. I started to tell you about him earlier. I’ve had a major crush on him since forever, but he doesn’t know I exist.”
“Why not?”
“Well, look at me, for starters.”
“I am looking at you.”
He was. Cas’s guarded, hard expression softened in the dim light of the pub, and his gaze roamed my face, drinking me in like wine, devouring me like the food he ate with bottomless hunger…
Silly Lucy, you’re just drunk.
“I’m not exactly a super model.”
“No, your body is fuller than the images in your magazines.”
I hunched over my drink. “Gee, thanks. As if I’m not bombarded with that fact every day of my life.”
“I have offended?” He frowned. “You are healthy and strong. Is that not valued now as it was in Sumer?”
“Yes and no,” I said blushing up to the roots of my hair. “I don’t know what they thought in Larsa, circa 17th century BCE, but in this era, the standard of beauty is not me.”
“Then it has no standards,” he spat.
I blinked, warmth flooding my chest. No one had ever said something like that to me before.
“Does this guy at your work subscribe to the same shallow perceptions?”
“Um, no, he’s not shallow or superficial,” I said. “To him, I’m just the quiet girl in the corner. But if you showed me attention, it might make him curious.”
“He’ll want what he can’t have, you mean,” Cas said sourly. “I may not have read your romance novels, but I’m familiar enough with male pride.”
“Guy isn’t like that,” I said. “He’s not a possessive jerk, but I think if he got to know me, he might see we have a lot in common.”
“He is a good man?”
“Very. He works tirelessly on ocean preservation and always has good ideas. He’s very popular around the office. He loves dogs…”
I dove back into my drink to stop rambling.
“And you believe if he sees you as the object of another man’s interest, he’ll grow interested himself.”
“Maybe.” I let my hair fall over my face. “Maybe not. No, definitely not. It’s too risky and not monumental enough. We need something else—”
“How does this work, then? I pretend to woo you in front of this man…what’s his name?”
“Guy.”
“His name is Guy?”
“Yes…”
“Rather redundant.” The demon smirked. “Is his last name Human?”
I giggled. “Guy is a real name. It�
�s cute and it suits him. He’s fun, easy-going…has a great laugh.”
“Thank the gods for that.” Cas rolled his eyes. “Very well, what do I do? Show up at your place of work and shower you with affection? Drop to my knees and beg you to stop toying with my heart and choose me to be your one true love?”
That didn’t sound bad, honestly. I imagined the looks on everyone’s faces, especially Abby Taylor, who always seemed as if she’d just finished talking about me behind my back.
“Nothing so dramatic but in that ballpark.” I glanced down at my drink. “I haven’t told anyone about my crush on Guy except for Cole and he’s too far away to make me do something about it.”
“But now we are doing something about it.” Cas’s voice turned low. “Will it make you happy, Lucy Dennings? To have the love of this man?”
I plucked my napkin. “Well…yes. Being in love and being loved by another in return is what we’re here for, isn’t it?”
“I’m here for you. This plan will benefit us both,” he added quickly.
“But demons can’t make anyone do anything,” I said. “You told me that and I wouldn’t want anything that wasn’t real, anyway.”
“I can’t make Guy fall in love with you,” Cas agreed, gritting out each word. Then his voice softened, turned gruff. “But if we guide him to you, I don’t see how he could help it.”
The words hit me hard and then sank in softly. The most romantic thing anyone had ever said to me. I basked in the feeling. A moment that could’ve been pulled from one of my romance novels.
Get real. This is real life, not a story with a guaranteed happy ending.
Still, it felt nice. For a little while.
I turned to the demon with a soft smile. “Thank you, Cas.”
“For what?”
“It’s been fun fantasizing about this, even if it’s all make-believe.”
He frowned. “Make-believe?”
“Well, yeah.” I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “Nothing is going to come of Guy and me, but what you said felt good. Like having someone on my side. To have someone pretend that I’m…”
“Worthy of this man’s love?” Casziel’s expression was serious and grim—like what I imagine he must’ve looked like before going into battle. “I am on your side. And there is no pretending.”
I shook my head, wishing I hadn’t drunk so much. “No, no. This is not a Big Idea. It’s not enough to save you.”
“Probably not, given the depth of my sins. But it’s the best hope we have.”
I stared. “No, Cas. It won’t work. It’s…”
“Silly?” Casziel shook his head, his eyes like molten gold in the dimness of the pub. “Drawing a man to your light is a worthy cause, Lucy Dennings. Your happiness is a worthy cause. I can think of nothing worthier.”
At those words, my heart beat hard, as if for the first time.
As if it’d been still and gathering dust in my chest until that night. With Cas.
Nine
I was drunk.
Like, whoa.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been smashed.
“No, I rem’mber,” I slurred, leaning heavily on Casziel as he maneuvered me and our packages from our shopping excursion out of the pub and into the night. “High school graduation. My frenn Sarah n’ I got into her mom’s stash of Southern Comfort. Bad idea. Do not recommend. Zero stars.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
I peered up at Cas, shutting one eye to keep from seeing two of him.
“Not that two Cazzezz’z is a bad thing.” I gasped and clutched at his arm. “I keep saying stuff out loud, don’t I?”
His smirk deepened. “You do.”
I scowled. The beautiful bastard was completely sober, despite matching me glass for glass. I vaguely remembered it was Cas who kept ordering the cocktails—which I then paid for.
Gotta get this boy a job…
I snickered and then slugged his arm, my fist bouncing harmlessly off the hard muscle of his bicep. “Why’d you lemme get so drunk?”
“You needed it,” he said. “Not the illness tomorrow perhaps but to be out in the world. Your own neighborhood, at the very least.”
“Pfft,” I scoffed. “Just another step in your gran’ plan to…what? Make me not be an introvert? Good luck, pal.”
“I’m not trying to change you, Lucy Dennings.”
“Then what’s the dealio?”
He glanced down at me. My vision was blurred with whiskey, but I could’ve sworn there was longing in his eyes, as if he were waiting for…something. For me to say or do something he couldn’t. But I couldn’t guess what, and I was too busy drinking in his handsome face anyway.
God, he is really, really beautiful. For a demon.
But it was nearly impossible to think of Casziel as an infernal creature of the underworld. Or that I had two demons of my own, plaguing me. Now that I was three sheets to the wind, the whole situation was ludicrous again.
I giggled.
“Something amusing?”
“I have two demons and one of them is named…Deb. Short for Deborah? Debbie? What is K short for? Karen?”
“Their true names are Deber and Keeb.”
I burst out laughing. “Stop it. Do they make cookies and live in a tree?”
He stared at me blankly. “They’re quite infamous. Not many demons have been referenced in the Bible by name.” He tilted his chin. “Although there are whole chapters dedicated to me in various grimoires. I’m mentioned several times in the Theurgia Goetia alone…”
I couldn’t stop giggling. “It’s just that Kee—”
Cas put a finger to my lips. “No true names. Not unless you want to summon them or bind them tighter to you.”
“All it takes is speaking a demon’s true name to summon’em?”
“Rituals are sometimes required. The more powerful demons, such as myself, take a great deal of wooing.”
“I never wooo’d you,” I said and my face got hot. “I mean…I din’ summon you.”
“Of course, you didn’t,” he said disdainfully. “I don’t come at a human’s beck and call like an obedient cur. I chose you.”
“You chose me,” I said with a smile. “You know, Cas, sometimes it feels like you and I…”
His arm under my hand stiffened. “Yes?”
“Like we—”
“Ssssh,” Cas hissed and froze.
We were almost at my building. The shadows seemed thicker that night. In the alleys between buildings, the darkness felt alive. Breathing.
You’re just drunk. Waaay drunk.
But Casziel’s sharp eyes were narrowed, and he muttered a curse in his own language.
Sumerian, I thought. His language is Sumerian because he’s almost four thousand years old…
The surrealism of my situation washed over me again, and I was glad for the booze that let me take a vacation from having to make it all make sense. I was too drunk, in fact, to pay attention as Cas hustled me off the street, around the corner to my back lot where I’d found him, and up the stairs. I managed to retrieve my keys from my purse but getting the right one in the lock was beyond me.
Cas juggled me, the packages from our shopping spree, and the keys, and got us all inside. He dropped the bags, then kicked the door shut. I clung to one arm as he raised the other, palm facing the door.
“Zisurrû,” he murmured.
I could hardly keep my head level or my eyes open, but there was no mistaking the thin light that outlined my door, glowing green in the darkness.
“Okay, so that happ’ned.”
The light faded and Cas helped me to my bed. I crashed headfirst into my pillow but managed to snag the cuff of his jacket. I tugged him until he sat stiffly on the edge beside me. The exotic scent of him was as intoxicating as whiskey, conjuring images of flat land under a bright sun, cradled by two rivers…
“Wait.” My brows furrowed as I tried to think through the drunkenness. “Wh
at is happening, Cas? Tell me the truth. Is this…?” I flapped a hand. “Is this all real? Or am I imagining you?”
“Would you prefer if it weren’t real?” His voice was low. Gentle. “Do you want to wake up tomorrow with no memory of these last two days? Of me?”
My grip on him tightened. “No. I…I don’t know. I can’t think. Something happened tonight. You were afraid but I can’t…”
“I fear nothing,” Casziel said. “Not for me. But if you’re frightened, Lucy. If this is too much…”
“You’ll go away?”
I felt more than saw him nod.
“And I won’t remember you?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“What about your redemption?”
“My only peace is knowing that you are safe and happy.” He stroked my hair; his soothing touch was driving me down, down… “Don’t be afraid, Lucy Dennings. Nothing will hurt you. I won’t let it.”
The safety promised in his deep voice fell over me like a heavy blanket. Like an incantation lining me in his protective light.
I smiled and sighed as I sunk into sleep. “I believe you, Casziel.”
But I don’t know who you are. Or do I…?
Another voice answered, sinister and crawling with shadows.
I’ll show you who he is…
A battlefield.
Bodies lie in pools of blood, soaking the dirt. The smell is unbearable. Nothing moves but ashy clouds that broil across the rust-colored sky.
And the flies.
Flies buzz over the dead like a living fog, their hum loud in my ears and growing louder. I look for an escape, but there’s nothing in any direction but the dead. I brush the flies away from my face, out of my hair. But still more come and I have to run.
Blindly, I trip over motionless limbs and still the flies come at me, covering my eyes, their legs and wings tickling my skin.
And when I open my mouth to scream, they pour in…
I woke up with a scream on my lips. The dream faded and reality—searing to my aching head—rushed in. I was in my bed, in my apartment, and Casziel was nowhere to be seen.
“Just a nightmare. That’s all.”