Olivia Chase, a successful woman who sold her soul to the Devil in exchange for a baby, is offered a second deal of a lifetime after her daughter dies: she must harvest Lucifer a series of souls he claims belong in Hell in trade for her daughter's m...
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I stood in the driveway under a sky full of melancholy clouds to wave at Shawna as she drove away. It had felt good for me to see her; I'd forgotten my anguish for brief periods while she visited. But now? Now I found it hard to breathe, and tears threatened to fall as they swelled, making the world out of focus and watery. I sniffled, and, magically, a handkerchief appeared in front of me, held by a now-familiar well-groomed hand.
Lucifer. He'd been with me almost as much as Shawna in the last several days, though it wasn't clear if it was for my benefit or Shawna's. The two of them flirted incessantly, but when I overheard Shawna ask Lucifer out, he'd declined. She was very disappointed but accepted the rebuff in stride. That was how Shawna worked. I was unlikely to hear about him again; she was of the opinion only stupid men said no to her.
I dabbed my eyes, took a deep aching breath, and sighed. The ocean was fragrant; it had rained in the wee hours of the morning, and now the scent of wet sand and low tide permeated the air. Deirdre.
I sniffled again, wiped my nose, and, frustrated, shoved the cloth in my pocket. I was tired of being tired, tired of my heart throbbing in my chest, tired of how much energy it took to live my life. It was time to look to put some of it behind me. I didn't expect it all to go away, but I knew it would lessen as the months wore on.
"Let's grab George and Angel and go for a walk," I suggested before heading back into the cottage. Lucifer followed close.
"I think that sounds like an excellent idea," he proclaimed. "We can look for nice seashells! They always get washed up during a storm."
I glanced at him, puzzled. "Why would you, of all people, care about seashells?"
"Oh, my dear Olivia, you have no idea the value of such small things when it comes to torturing souls." His tone was solemn yet wistful.
I rolled my eyes. "I still don't know if you're teasing or serious." I was having a hard time imagining Lucifer as anything other than what he presented me; a thoughtful friend. Yet, I knew he exacted punishment for a living. It was a conundrum.
"Perhaps I will show you sometime."
I looked at him and involuntarily shivered. I couldn't tell if his low and weighty voice held a promise or a threat. Either way, Lucifer was different, and I knew, without doubt, while what he shared with me was a genuine part of himself, it wasn't the whole of who, or what, he was.
"I'm... not sure I want to see." I opened the door and scooped up George, who had run to greet me.
"You might, given the right circumstances."
I decided to ignore him and changed the subject. "Where's Angel? I haven't seen him for a few days."
As soon as I mentioned him, a bark echoed from the deck.
"I leave him at home when having him with me would be inconvenient. My assistant adores him, so he's in good hands."
I carried George through the house, but she jumped out of my arms as soon as we got outside, wanting to explore. Angel was gentle in his greeting, and soon, they trotted off together as if they'd been best pals forever.
