On Saturday morning, I stand at the edge of the counter and do everything but a tap dance. My arms are folded, body tight with tension. My posture screams, “I have to get going—you KNOW this,” and yet my mother is taking her precious time photographing the group of four teenage girls who just successfully completed the Chamber of Black Magic in front of the lock-shaped metal GREAT ESCAPE sign to post on our social media.
We do it with everyone who manages to beat our escape rooms in sixty minutes or less. And I’ll give her one thing: they are cute.
Meanwhile, my brother, Jared, and best friend forever, Mag, are holding back my freckle-nosed dog, Bosch, and our knob-kneed fainting pygmy goat, Cupcake—it’s a long story, he used to be a human cult leader—so they don’t crash the photo.
A girl with deeply cool oversized glasses asks, “But can’t they be in it too?”
Little did we know that Cupcake would turn moderately famous and bring in new customers enchanted by the magical friendship between him and my rescue pup. Mom nods. Jared and Mag both shoot me apologetic looks and release the creatures. Who canter over and, I swear, strike poses.
It’s adorable, as are the squeals of the girls, but I still want to growl with frustration. Today is the day. Our audience with Lucifer, followed by a big date. Not the stuff legendary dates are usually made of, except this time I’m hoping it is.
And I’ve spent the last three days working nonstop here. Which means I’m more eager than ever to get to Hell to see Luke.
The girls finally finish the photo op, and drop to pat an appreciative Bosch and Cupcake.
“All right, gang, I need to get moving,” I say, as sanguine as possible.
My mom gives me a look that lets me know she’s fully aware and refusing to hurry. The other day she came this close to questioning what kind of future I could have with a demonic crown prince.
It’s not like I haven’t caught myself wondering the same thing. But … then I firmly cross back into denying-it’s-a-problem land.
“I’m going no matter what,” I add. I’m not about to miss this chance. I can only imagine what it must have cost Luke to arrange it. And then there’s Agnes.
My words apparently get through. Mom nods to Jared and Mag again, who surge forward to keep Bosch and Cupcake clear as she herds the customers to the front door and out.
After she waves good-bye, she turns to me.
“You know you are scheduled to work here today?” she asks, leveling a carefully neutral expression at me. “Even with the extra folks I’m bringing in, I need you.”
At twenty-two years old, the effects of disappointing my mother should be waning, but, alas, her guilting still works gangbusters. Yes, I spaced that I was working on Saturday when Luke secured the audience.
“I promise I’ll be back in time to work our station. With Luke in tow.” A weird date all around, but that’s us.
I glance at Jared and Mag for support. Jared is so clean-cut his polo and jeans might as well be a uniform, and Mag is dressed in their usual casual weekend flare in glittery lip stain, swirly Doc Martens, and a rainbow T-shirt that says Y’ALL MEANS ALL.
Mag chimes in to answer Mom. “We’re here to help,” they say. “It’ll be fine.”
Jared loops his arm around Mag. The two simply work as a couple, despite their surface differences. Not that I understood that right away. At first, the two of them dating freaked me all the way out, mainly because they kept it secret from me.
“This is to make up for the repair bills, you know.” Mom has a small frown.
Jared coughs. “Did Mom tell you we helped her write the clues?”
Mag can’t keep in a laugh. I could hug them both for the distraction attempt.
“You’re all so funny,” I say. “I can’t wait to see how specifically the mockery targets me.”
“Oh, and Luke too,” Mag says, still laughing. “The answer is very.”
“Wonderful.” I shake my head. “But I really do have to go.”
“Good luck,” Mag says.
Mom cuts in. “I hate to say this, Cal. But this is your job. This is a big day for us.”
The mood in the room changes in an instant. Her face is as serious as when they killed off Wash in the Firefly movie.
I should’ve helped more than just the past few days. Instead I was busy inhaling Hell’s library. In my defense, I’ve been catching up on millennia of history normally forbidden to mortals in an attempt to change it. But suddenly I feel like the crappiest daughter and employee of all time.
“Callie, say something,” Mom says.
My mind whirs at top speed. We’re a tight-knit family unit, always have been, and I know everything she does comes from a place of love. And anxiety for me.
I’ve admittedly been a mess ever since I graduated and discovered no jobs exist for history majors. Pitching in at the business is the one thing I’ve always done well. Now I’m making a mess of that too. But my relationship with Luke, the possibilities that have opened up … I can’t turn my back on them either.
“I have to go,” I say. “Luke’s waiting. I promise I’ll be back as fast as I can … I’m sorry.”
She leans in to hug me. “It’s not you I doubt,” she says in my ear. “It’s the devil.”
“Fair,” I tell her.
I release Mom, scratch Bosch and Cupcake each behind their fuzzy ears, wave to quiet, sympathetic Jared and Mag, and then I leave.
I make my way around the back of our building to where there’s a new, permanent long rivulet of water running down the alley. As I stride along it, I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the handkerchief with the monogrammed initials L. A. M.
Luke Astaroth Morningstar.
In a few more feet, a large gate made of knobby, charred bones emerges out of sudden mist. If only we had special effects that looked this good at the business. Not that ours aren’t great, they are. But this gate is real. When I reach it, I cover the back of my hand in the cloth and trace the solid lock made of finger bones linked with brass.
The gate creaks open. I step through—
And almost barrel into Luke’s solid chest, where he stands waiting for me.
My body transforms to electrified anticipation between one heartbeat and the next.
While I know technically my blood still pumps at roughly 3 to 4 mph, walking speed, just like anyone else’s, it doesn’t feel that way. Right now I’d clock mine at more of a sprint.
Luke’s insanely handsome face lights from a fire within when he sees me. He reaches out like he needs to touch me to be sure I’m really here and settles a hand on my shoulder.
“Am I late?” I ask.
“Never,” he says, and gently tugs on the end of a strand of my hair. “I just couldn’t wait to see you.”
His hand slips around the back of my neck and we exchange a soft kiss, a simple touch of lips on lips that deepens into something that could get out of hand in moments. Am I on fire or is the prince of Hell just happy to see me? I could swear I’m burning from the inside out. Melting, even. It’s hard to remember what I’m here for.
Oh right, it’s this.
Us.
We’re an us. A new, fragile us.
I push back. Can this work out? I keep asking myself the question, even though Luke and I are good together. This feels right.
I want to blurt out the news that Mom is even more upset with me. That it’s time for me to finally get my act together. I shouldn’t even still be living at home. I’m twenty-two. But … then he’ll want to talk it out or race back home reporting for duty. Something has to happen right today.
Luke tilts his head in question. “I must be losing my touch. I can see the wheels turning in your head. What about?”
That obvious, huh? It’s like he can read my mind. (Thanks to the universe, he can’t do that. No demon or angel can.)
“Nothing.” I reach down for his hand. “We should go. We can’t keep your dad waiting.”
Luke lifts one shoulder in elegant fashion, folding both his hands around mine. “You’re technically incorrect. We could keep him waiting for hours. I’m sure I could find a way to entertain you.”
My mouth goes dry. Yes, please.
I manage to say, “We have to get back for the big game.”
“As usual”—he draws it out, grin widening—“you’re right on the metaphorical money. We should go.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Charmer.”
“So they tell me.” He drops his lips softly to my cheek, which basically combusts in response, then puts his hand into mine. “You’re sure everything is okay?” he asks. “You’re not nervous about today?”
“Of course not,” I lie. I plan to stay with Luke. All night. For the first time. Oh, wait, he probably meant about proposing a huge change in Hell’s protocols to his dad. It’s a yes to both.
He accepts my answer and we pick our way across the charred landscape of bushes with vicious thorns. They now part for us and avoid sticking me like they do Luke; since they’re familiar with me they no longer view me as torture-bait.
After a short stretch, we reach the chasm that separates the giant tree-shaped castle known as the Gray Keep, the heart of Hell, from the rest of it. I can’t deny that even though traveling here has become slightly familiar, the castle never fails to impress. The stories those walls could tell …
I’m glad they can’t speak.
“Let our big date begin,” Luke says.
He waves his fingers and a bridge forms and drops from what was solid stone moments before and we walk inside the shadowed entrance.
Flickering candles against obsidian stone create the perfect ambiance for the kingdom’s brooding master, Lucifer. We make it halfway up the first dark, empty corridor before a familiar clatter of hooves rushes out of the library to meet us. Agnes follows, her expression unreadable.
“Are you two prepared for the meeting?” Porsoth hurries to catch up to us and then continues speaking without waiting for an answer. “You realize this would be unprecedented.” Porsoth makes a worried tsking noise. “I’m not sure it’s possible, that kind of permission from him.”
Luke snaps his fingers. “You’re supposed to be on our side.”
“Oh, right!” Porsoth flutters his wings and the hands at the ends of them. “Pardon. My apologies, master! I am!”
Luke winks at me. “It’s okay.”
Porsoth lets out an audible breath, relieved.
“Wings out, Prince,” Porsoth says as we approach the wide entrance to the throne room. “It reminds him how far you’ve come.”
In a blink, ebony wings stretch tall from Luke’s back. I’ll never get so used to his wings they don’t inspire awe. They’re stunning. They catch shadows as well as light, gleaming like a beautiful oil spill filled with rainbows even in the dim castle. He folds them in close behind him so we can continue up the baroque nightmare corridor.
“And Callie,” Porsoth says, “I’m not asking you to be meek, but could you be a smidgen meeker? You and I may not stand on ceremony—as dear friends—”
I bite the inside of my cheek lightly to keep from laughing. We’ve gone from friends to dear friends like that.
“But the sire does very much like it when people seem afraid of him. You’ll try?”
“I’ll do my best.” I turn to Agnes. “We’re going to convince him. I swear to you.”
Agnes shrugs.
In reality, Lucifer terrifies me. I’m only human. But the way Lucifer whips out his overblown masculinity and plays the bully with Luke makes me never want to give an inch in his presence. I also have a theory it’s why he seems to semi-respect me.
Or maybe I’m fooling myself.
“You should also remember that he has eons of experience manipulating … er, mortals,” Porsoth says.
“Thanks, Porsoth, got it.” Live human walking.
“Hey,” Luke says, sensing my change in mood. He squeezes my fingers lightly in his. “This is going to be a good day.”
Luke can be distracted by his own good looks. I count on it. I admire his wings. “You’re cute.”
“Cute?” he sounds scandalized. “Cute is what Cupcake is. Cute is what kittens are. Cute is … an apple-cheeked cherub. I am…”
I smile at him. “If you say it, then you’re definitely not…”
“Smoking hot,” he says, and extends his other hand with a, yes, smoking ball of flame hovering above it.
“Show-off,” I say.
He lifts a lazy shoulder and then tosses the ball of fire from one hand to the other. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it.”
I consider my options and reach a hand around the ball of fire, going for his rib cage. Time to find out if Luke is ticklish.
“Luke, Callie.” Porsoth’s tone is a warning.
“Playing games, I see,” Lucifer says.
The warning was too late. Lucifer appears beside us, next to the entrance. His wings take up every inch of space, blocking our view of the hall behind him. His brows are lifted above his ice-chip eyes.
This would be the one time he decides to enter the throne room from the main doorway. I wonder how much he’s overheard. The problem with having bluffed that this immortal being doesn’t scare me is that I have to stick to pretending it’s true in public.
“Father,” Luke says, recovering and getting rid of the flame.
I straighten and do my best to get my voice to sound casual. “Lucifer.”
“Shall we?” Lucifer gestures.
He’s reminding me of my position in relation to him. Thanks to Porsoth’s lessons, I know enough to drop to a knee instead of taking the bait and entering in front of him. He’s the one playing games.
What a good omen for the conversation we’re about to have. Sarcasm alert.