I can’t catch a break. The courtyard buzzes with intrigue as a veritable horde of Italian police in blue uniforms rushes in. They’re not alone either. They do their best to keep a quartet of paparazzi clicking the shutters of long-zoom cameras from pushing in alongside them.
After a few moments, my fear is confirmed. They’re definitely headed our way, pointing up at us as they weave through the tables toward the stairs to the upper level. The waiter who brought our wine is attempting to stall them by asking questions.
Why on Earth are they here for us?
Oh, wait, Callie did pull quite a showstopper back there. Technically, we’re supposed to keep it more low-key on Earth—not go in with our demonic super-guns blazing, not so flamboyantly, not where the whole world will see the echoes of any event on smartphones. Not after stealing a car belonging to the Vatican.
I may only be human at the moment, but no way is Callie going to jail or, worse, becoming an Insta-celebrity who has to go into hiding for using my powers without the lifelong tutorials I’ve had. Whether I pay enough attention to them or not.
“On your feet.” I stand and reach over to grab Sean by the back of his stolen jacket.
He’s already up and sporting a self-satisfied smirk.
Callie has done the same math in her head that I did. “I shouldn’t have made the car fly?” she asks with a wince.
I shrug. “I wouldn’t say that. But it obviously got some attention.”
Before I can protest that zappitying us out the back way would be ideal, my gleaming black wings extend from her shoulders. Around us, the flash of cameras and the volume of excitable Italian increase. We’re far past what-in-unholy-hell-do-we-do-now territory.
“Sorry,” she says in near-panic. “I didn’t mean to.”
“We should go,” I say. “Now.”
I turn and notice that Sean is gone. I search faces and exit points and consider darting into the trees that are the only place he could disappear without passing us. “We have a problem. Sean’s not here anymore.”
Callie absorbs this with a quiet nod. That distance in her gaze comes back, and then she flickers back to here, now. “He’s in … Spain.”
We exchange a wide-eyed look. That’s a shocker.
Callie clocks the progress of our pursuers. The police and paparazzi with their flashing cameras are getting closer and closer, on the steps now, headed right for us. She raises her hand and points down, to where the doorman who greeted us—greeted Mr. Sean—is smiling with the satisfaction of a man who made this happen.
The waiter is still in front of the police and the paps when they hit the top of the stairs en masse. Callie scowls at him. “He had you make a distraction? The doorman called the cops?”
He blinks at her wings. “Yes, yes, we assist Mr. Sean when—”
Callie sighs as a gendarme pushes past him.
“Nothing to see here,” Callie says in vibrato and it stops everyone in the courtyard in their tracks. The command will wipe every mind in this place clean, probably of this entire day. She likely has no idea.
“Might want to blank out the camera memories too,” I suggest.
“Done.” She nods and then extends one wing and folds it around me. “Hold on,” she says, and I paste myself to her side as we rise.
We fly instead of zappitying, and I’m glad for my leather jacket as we travel up, up, and above the clouds, Rome reflecting the night sky in its lights and romantic buildings. I wish this was the evening for exchanging newfound commitments we had planned.
“We’re headed to Spain?” I ask.
She hesitates. “Yes. But how did he make it so fast?”
The only answer is that he can travel in some fashion akin to ours. “Father only knows. Maybe he gave him the ability to make our lives harder.”
“Seems like him.” Callie bites her lip. “I don’t want him to have too much of a head start. Luke, what happens if he finds the Holy Grail? Who is this guy?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I wish I did.”
“He has to be redeemable. Otherwise, your father is cheating, right?”
“I assume so.” Who knows what Father is capable of?
“Anyone can be better. Can do good. They can change. I have to believe that.”
I hope she’s right about the existential stuff; I still don’t know. “I never thought I had a soul, so I say trust your instincts.”
She speeds our progress across the sky, and I can sense her frustration at the relatively slow pace of travel. “Do you mind if we … we can go this way, I like flying, and it almost feels like an actual date, but … we have a timetable and…”
What Callie is actually asking is if it’s okay to drag me to another new country, traveling through the borders of Hell by zappitying, singeing me the entire way. “Do your worst.”
I don’t scream. I suppose I’m getting used to my human limitations.
We alight in an evening city with bustling sidewalks shadowed by the gothic edifice of a cathedral. There are more intimidating statues in robes—I’m beginning to wonder if they outnumber living people in this region—but this church features far more gargoyles and imposingly stiff flourishes. The kind of building meant to remind humans of their place.
My breath comes back much faster, so wherever we are in Spain must not be that far from Italy’s Hotel de Russie and the blanked minds and cameras we left in our wake. Callie retracts her wings before they draw more attention.
“Where are we?” I ask. First things first.
“Valencia,” she says. “Specifically, that’s the Valencia Cathedral, which contains a little something called the Chapel of the Holy Grail and a supposedly legit relic to go with it.”
“Ah,” I say. “Why do you think he wants the Grail?”
Callie continues to stare at the cathedral. “I can’t imagine for any good reason. He doesn’t remind me of Solomon Elerion, exactly. But in some ways that’s worse.”
Worse than Solomon? Given the ways he threatened Callie, attempted to use the Holy Lance to bring about my father’s kingdom on Earth, and almost wiped out us and most of existence in the process, I can’t agree.
“Why?”
“Because with Solomon, his motives were painfully obvious. Sean’s a mystery.”
She has me there. “I guess this means the Grail is real?”
“It’s hidden from me.”
Definitely real then.
“Did Porsoth ever talk about it?” she asks.
I’m sure he did, but I remember none of it. “I think I skipped that day. What does your—my—magic brain say?”
“Lots of stuff I already know. Lore, legend.” She gives a tight nod to the church. “Valencia’s entrant into the possibly-the-Holy-Grail sweepstakes has been used by popes for Holy Mass. It’s been dated to the time of Jesus. We have to assume he’s here for it.”
“What are we going to do?” I ask.
Callie looks at me. Her muddy, stormy eyes are wild with her current state and what it means. “I’m obviously not going in.”
She does a fair job hiding how that must shake her. But I know. “I’m sorry,” I say.
“Blame your father. I don’t like the idea of just cooling our heels out here. You okay with going after him solo? We haven’t even told him he has a chance to change.”
I don’t suppose I can say no. Although, matter of fact, the idea of crossing that threshold freaks me out entirely. The dangers inherent in trespassing on a sacred space are drilled into the heads of Hell’s children early and often. One of our few true vulnerabilities, one not to be flouted.
The last thing I want is her contemplating the downsides of my demonic nature. “Why not?” I toss out.
She nods. Before I can change my mind, I dash up the steps and through the heavy wooden front doors.
I don’t burst into flame or begin to writhe in ecstatic pain so those are positive signs.
The massive interior seems empty of people, but that must be an illusion if the doors are open. I suppose they have proper names, the various parts of the inside of a church. Not being able to physically enter houses of worship means demons aren’t even assigned to learn the lingo.
The church itself is impressive. I assume it is, anyway. Tall paintings filled with suffering take up wall space. I spot what I recognize as art—one of the few subjects I did pay attention to—from Goya, a crouching demon over a body in the darkness. Some of the other pieces must be of saints proving their mettle: gut extractions and lying on metal bars over flame and so on. Another thing the godly and the hellacious have in common is a penchant for scenes of torture.
The ceiling is high and domed. I walk by long wooden rows of stiff-backed seats.
“Gah!” I jump gracelessly at the unexpected sight of an arm behind glass, dark and mummified. The plaque identifies it as Saint Vincent’s left. Another relic. How rustic.
Suddenly I’m glad I’ve missed all this grotesque grandeur up to now. Home has plenty of severed arms, if fewer glass display cases.
The church’s design steers me ahead into a second chapel, as festooned with sinister finery as the first. Ahead, another relic sits, this one elevated on a platform inside yet another glass case. It’s a reddish-brown stone cup with a tacky bejeweled gold base with curved handles.
Looks Holy Grail–ish to me.
Sean sits halfway between the back and the case in a row all by his lonesome.
He turns his head at my approach. “That didn’t take long.”
“I could say the same.” I enter the row to take a seat beside him. “How are you traveling?”
“I have my ways. Less painful for humans than yours, I presume.”
“I can’t really know unless you tell me what they are.” Is it part of being on the loose from Hell? Is he a ghost of sorts? I should pay more attention to Porsoth’s lessons.
I drum my fingers on the wooden seat, which is even more uncomfortable than it looked. I won’t pretend I’m not nervous being in here. Lingering.
But I should take advantage of this opportunity. “Want to tell me anything? We want to help you. Callie won’t want me to explain without her, but … we’re on your side.” I remember her question about his motivation and create some wiggle room. “I think.”
“For your own reasons,” he says. “Reasons I’m curious about. I didn’t expect you to be able to enter here.”
“It’s been a surprising day.” And I’m not quite myself. “Why do you want the Grail?”
“It’s a very shiny object.” He holds up his far hand and brandishes what looks to be an identical copy of the cup in front of us.
I swing my head between it and the one on display. “Is that…”
“The chalice there, it’s old, but it’s not magic. If it had been, I was going to swap this for it—it was made by some jewelers I know here. The best copies available.” He sighs. “But it turns out that’s only a shiny object. Another to cross off the list.”
I try to corroborate what he’s saying sans powers, about the lack of anything supernatural. “I don’t feel anything, true. We should head out. We have places to be.”
He doesn’t make any move to get up. “Sit back,” he says. “Don’t you feel that?”
I settle back, but my muscles are tense. I don’t like being in here.
“I feel the readiness to get out of here.”
“I used to feel that.” He slants a smile at me. “I mean the calm. Don’t you feel the calm?”
I humor him and give it a try. My eyes drift closed and I soak in the feel of the place. Until I peek out of one and find him watching me. “I imagine the calm will only last until some priest arrives and tells us to get out or tries to make us confess,” I say, honestly.
“When’s the last time you came to a church?” he asks.
“Haven’t had the—pleasure—before.” An overstatement, calling it a pleasure. “It’s fine, but not for me.”
“It scares you.” He lifts one shoulder. “It scares me too.”
That’s enough male bonding and effort to draw him out by myself, I decide, and stand.
Callie rushes forward as we pass the doors, but catches herself and stays on the sidewalk to wait for us.
“Don’t vanish again,” she says to Sean.
Good luck getting him to agree.
That’s when she spots the fake cup in his hand. “Did you steal that? Is that it?” But as she squints at it, I can tell she feels the truth. “It’s a fake,” she says.
Sean sets it down on the ground by his feet. “Which you could determine by giving it a close look,” he says. “I’d like to know exactly who you two are.”
“Likewise,” Callie says. She rushes on. “But for you. You’ll have to wait though.” She waves us forward and once we’re on the sidewalk, she says, “Brace yourself. Sorry, Luke. But the time difference—we have to get back.”
“Back where?” Sean asks. “Hell?”
She ignores him, waiting for my response. “Get it over with,” I say.
Her wings—my wings—stretch around us and Sean curses and then we’re traveling again and I fully suspect I may vomit when we stop …
… back on the cobblestones of the Lexington park we left from. Sean and I cough the envy of death rattles while an astonished crowd of onlookers admires Callie’s widespread wings.
“Go with it,” I manage to tell her.
Picking up on the advice, Callie struts. Preening, she makes her way over to the two skateboarders, who I can’t believe actually stuck to their assignment. There are a few other people nearby in costumes. She almost blends in.
Except for the fact she’s magnificent. That would be true even without the sheen of my powers and the shine of my wings. But the sky is only beginning to darken here and she radiates like the moon.
Callie speaks louder than she needs to, still playing to the Saturday night park crowd. “Pretty realistic, aren’t they? These are the kind of effects you can expect at the Great Escape every day.”
She walks close enough to let the assembled people ooh and ahh, but steps back and snaps them behind her when a girl in a Taylor Swift T-shirt reaches out to touch her wings. Instinct kicking in.
I could tell her that’s intrusive—unless it’s someone you want an intrusion from. I only like it when Callie touches my wings. She has no idea how it feels, the intimacy of allowing it.
The memory of the sensation brings me back to my feet. I catch Sean by the elbow, in case he’s contemplating taking off on us. Seems like his usual move.
Our task is made more complicated by this Holy Grail business and whatever abilities allow Sean leeway to travel freely. Father must be standing at the World Watcher and laughing with satisfaction at our dilemma. That thought makes me burn with the need to show him I’m more than he assumes.
I march Sean closer to Callie. “Where do we go now?”
“The Great Escape.” Callie is hesitant because it’s a terrible idea. “I have to show my face to Mom.” She shoves cash as discreetly as you can shove a wad of bills to the two kids. “Good job. Put your number in my phone if you’re up for the same tomorrow.”
The bony boss kid does that and passes back her phone. Callie waves them away.
Sean puts his hands in his jacket pockets. “The Great Escape, hm? Sounds like my kind of place.”
“It’s not,” Callie says. “When we get there, you’ll behave or…”
“Or?” Sean lifts a brow in challenge.
I hate that the two of us have so many of the same go-to moves.
“Or you’ll never escape from anywhere again.”
I half expect an argument. It’s a gamble and a challenge. Instead he nods, giving in with ease.
“Interesting,” Callie says.
Callie must sense I can’t withstand another quick trip so soon or maybe she wants to add a slight delay to seeing her mom. Whatever the case, we set off on foot.
“It’s time we come clean with each other,” Callie says to Sean.
“You first. I assumed you were both demons, but he came inside the church.”
Callie checks cautiously over her shoulder and in front of us and disappears her wings. My wings.
Mine. Woman and wings both.
She wants this to work out. I have to make that happen.
“I’m Luke Astaroth Morningstar,” I say and bow, even though technically it should be the other way around.
Sean absorbs this information. I suppose if he’s been in Hell for five years, he might’ve heard of me.
“And she is?” He nods to Callie.
“May I present Callie Johnson, the most beautiful being I’ve ever met.” I wink at her, and know her ears turn scarlet. Temporarily human or not, our chemistry remains.
Sean eyes us both. “I thought it was you,” he says to me. “But then you came into the church.”
I bow again.
“But I’ve never heard of her unless…” He snaps his fingers. “You’re the one who ruined all the battle plans. They did not call you Callie or beautiful, not in my part of the pit.”
Hearing that sends a spike of angry heat through me. “They will before long.”
“Luke, it’s okay,” Callie says, with affection. “I’m not going to spend a lot of time worrying about what the gossiping Real Housewives of Hell call me.”
Still, hearing demons are cursing your name can’t be the easiest thing. Not when you’re good. Demonkind might love those shows, but they would cringe at the nickname she just gave them. I feel the scales balance.
“Your powers,” Sean says. “They’re his. Not yours.”
“Yes.”
“I wondered,” he says. To me, “I didn’t think you were human.”
He sounds apologetic about it. As if I’m likely to be offended. The person I esteem most in all the worlds is human.
Sean isn’t done with his interrogation. We pass out of downtown, the sidewalk bordering stately residences and a wide, busy highway. “So, Lucifer has sent you after me, but you didn’t take me back there, why?”
Callie and I exchange a glance. She says, “Lucifer has given us three days to prove you can be redeemed.”
Sean scoffs.
Callie ignores him. “And if we manage it, then we get to give more people in Hell who deserve it second chances. Including an eleven-year-old girl we’re—not fond of exactly, but that doesn’t matter—she deserves a chance. You’re the key to it.”
He tilts his head at me, asking if there’s more.
“That’s about the size of it.”
“Your old scratch handpicked me, I take it,” Sean asks. “Wily bastard.”
“You can say that again.” I’m surprised to be agreeing with him, but oh well. Stranger things will probably happen before the three days elapse.
The light of the shopping center where the Great Escape is comes into view in the distance.
“Why did Father pick you?” I ask.
“I think we’ve established that.” Sean keeps walking.
“That you’re a pain in the ass, yes,” I say. “But I’m assuming there are more specifics.”
“Are you up for it?” Callie asks. “Letting us try to redeem you?”
She stops on the sidewalk and I do too. Sean has to come back, but he only takes one step in our direction.
“Here’s the thing,” he says, raising a hand to scrub his eight-o’clock shadow. “If you help me get the Grail, sure, maybe. I can’t promise anything without that.” Callie is going to argue, but he rushes on. “It has that power.”
That’s the most direct thing he’s said so far.
Callie considers him. “There’s another reason you want it. And I’m going to find out what it is.”
Sean’s lips quirk. “Spoken like a true demon.”
“Oh, you have no idea.” I grin. “She’s way more dangerous than one of us.”
Sean waits, forcing our full attention on him. He grins back. “I’d think so, since the inspiration for pursuing the Grail came from the both of you.”
He hums as he strides ahead, leaving us to rush to catch up. It’s turning into a familiar feeling that I could do without.