I fall asleep after Julia Roberts eats and prays but before she loves. Bishop is behind me on the sofa and I’m leaned against his warm, shirt-clad chest. I wake up when Mona and Giselle come back in with Baron – all three of them drunk out of their minds.
“Aw,” Giselle tries to coo quietly, but I think the people downstairs can hear her, “Don’t they look sweet?”
I can feel Bishop stirring beneath me and I raise up off of him, but he pulls me back down, “You’re warm,” he whispers sleepily, “They’ll go in the bedroom soon. Go back to sleep.”
But I can’t. I have to use the rest room and my arm is asleep, shoved in between his body and the backrest. I pull the cashmere throw from the back of the sofa and tuck it around him when I get up.
“Aw,” Mona giggles, “Get a room. Oh wait – you already did,” she giggles harder, leaning on Baron and making him stumble a bit.
“Got her here in time for her fight – flight,” he slurs, “As promised. Giselle, my love, I’ll take you home.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” I start pushing all three of them into Mona’s room, “You’re all drunk as Lords. Right to bed for all of you.”
“Well, good thing I am one, then,” Baron laughs and the girls giggle at him. The three of them bang around for a while and finally, it’s quiet. I turn to thank Bishop and let him go home, but he’s asleep again on the sofa. I pull pillows and more blankets out for him and turn off the TV.
By eight, I’m up, clean, changed and completely packed. Bishop is sipping coffee and reading the newspaper and there’s still no movement behind Mona’s door.
“Let them sleep,” he tells me as I pace, “Mona will be ready in thirty seconds and they will appreciate all the sleep they can get. Come, sit,” he pats the chair next to him.
I sit and pour myself a cup. Like everything else on the continent, their coffee is far stronger than I’m used to too. A tiny demitasse cup is enough caffeine to get me through the day ahead.
“I’ve given you all our numbers, right?” he asks me, flipping over to the financial section, “And our emails?”
“Yes,” I nod, “I’m going down to get my shoes.”
“Good idea,” he nods, “You should probably check out too. The suite has been paid for by Philippe. You shouldn’t owe anything.”
I go down and retrieve my shoes. As I turn from the counter, case in hand, I sense an arch-demon and see Philippe walking through the doors to the lobby.
“Claire,” he greets me, “As radiant as always. Are you ladies ready to go?” He air-kisses my cheeks.
“Philippe,” I smile and take his arm. I would never imagine this with Darius, “I am, but I’m afraid Mona is still asleep. I was just checking out.”
“Well, let us go wake her up, no?” he smiles, “How do you like my city, Cherie?”
“It’s lovely,” I tell him. It is. If you at least try to master please and thank you in French, everyone is very friendly.
“Giselle is most fond of you,” he tells me, calling the elevator, “And I am too. Mona visits at least twice a year and Baron and Bishop are here quite often. Once your duties are over, would you consider moving and working with me?”
“Oh,” I really wasn’t expecting that, “Um, that’s very generous of you, Philippe. I just, uh, don’t really know where I’m going to land after everything is sorted out. I would hate to make you a promise that I wouldn’t be able to keep. Can I – uh – have some time to see how things play out and let you know? And I think I would need to clear it with the Church and probably with Darius too.”
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Sinners and Saints
FantasyHell has demons, imps, succubi and incubi. Not to mention Don Lucifer and Doña Lilith. What does Heaven have to combat that nefarious, meticulous bureaucracy? Overworked priests mired in scandal and an outdated rule book and angels as disassociat...