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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Lucifer kissed me, smiling, then snapped a portal for me, and I went through it. When it closed, I collapsed onto the couch. The adrenaline of the situation was wearing off, and I was on the edge of tears. I breathed large breaths to steady myself and gain some composure.
My phone dinged. Finding it still on the bar, I examined it. It was still only at twenty percent, but it was enough to check on Shawna. Swiping it on, I had a whole slew of texts from her.
Damn. I missed John's funeral. I did the only thing I could think to do: I played sick.
~
Me: Hey. I'm sorry. I've been so sick!
Shawna: I was wondering! You missed the funeral.
Me: I've been in bed. Get your flu shot. This sucked.
Shawna: You got time for lunch? Feel up to it?
Me: I don't know. Lucas is coming home today.
Shawna: I won't see you for a few days then. 😉
Me: 😆 No, likely not.
Shawna: Check on lunch. Egg drop soup = chicken soup, right?
Me: Yes! I'll get back to you.
~
Honestly, I didn't know what I'd talk to Shawna about. We'd grown apart since Deirdre died. Or, more precisely, since I'd been working on the second deal for Lucifer. It had forced me into a mindset where judgment had become a part of my world. Instead of looking past, or ignoring, what Shawna was doing, the situation compelled me to look at it, and it didn't show me things I liked to see.
But now I had a pragmatic reason to keep in touch; I wanted to know what was going on with the case and Jillian. I had no choice but to say yes.
~
Me: Hey, yes to lunch.
Shawna: Yay! Will order when you arrive.
Me: Leaving now.
Shawna: Ta!
~
I sighed, feeling a headache coming on. It'd been a hell of a morning. I rubbed my temples, suddenly tired. I would much rather have had a nap, but I'd committed. I called for the car, grabbed my things, and made my way to the garage.
I checked in on Jillian on the ride over. She was occupied with Frances. While they did their thing on the couch, I looked around Jillian's office. Her desk was clear, a neat-freak's paradise. I gave up.
When I arrived at their building, I texted Shawna so she could order the food. My phone dinged as I got on the elevator; I assumed it was her. It surprised me it wasn't. Instead, an unknown number had sent me a text. I opened it to find it to be Azza.
