Who would need to be prepared for the realities of death outside of those in the medical field? While law enforcement had some need of resilience, especially among homicide detectives and medical examiners, Alec hadn’t expressed any interest in joining those fields.
He enjoyed numbers. He appreciated the thrill of the chase, too. Those traits made him ideal for law enforcement. Working with financials would become a daily part of my life in the near future, once I learned more tricks of my trade and dealt with an investigation requiring me to examine every element of a victim’s life—or a suspect’s life.
Alec’s financials might be in my future if I couldn’t find the missing link in his case.
I hadn’t even been promoted for a week, and I already understood the haggard appearance of the detectives in my former precinct. An easier case, one with fewer moving parts, possessed the potential to drive me insane. The requirement to keep company with our witness, who stood a high chance of witnessing even more death in the upcoming days, tested my patience, forced me to question my profession, and resulted in a rather strong dislike of the Devil’s meddling ways.
A knock at the door offered a welcome distraction from the relentless papers also waging war against my sanity. Jacobson got up and answered it, and when he opened the door, the Devil strode in wearing a suit and masquerading as a human—mostly.
The diminutive horns peeking out of his flaming hair gave him away.
“You’re not going to lose your virginity if you don’t stay cuffed to your witness and get rid of the sidekick,” Lucifer announced.
“If my virginity was of any importance to this case, I might be concerned, but as it isn’t, I’m not,” I replied, making a mental note to never again welcome distractions during a busy and stressful day.
The Devil might show up.
“She’s already ahead of the game,” the Devil informed Jacobson. “Imagine if I had said that to Bailey.”
“She would have fainted from mortification, even after having kids,” my co-worker replied with a grin. “Once she got off the floor, she’d remember she isn’t a virgin thanks to her gorgon-incubus doohickey, resulting in even more chaos, as she would do her best to convince her gorgon-incubus doohickey to keep her around.”
“Pardon, but did you just say gorgon-incubus doohickey?” I asked.
I’d heard the phrase before, but I hadn’t thought anything of it. I’d been aware both chiefs could transform into cindercorns, but what did gorgons and incubi have to do with Samuel Quinn?
“Sam has diverse genetics,” the Devil replied. “His primary shapeshifting form is a hybrid of a gorgon and an incubus. He needs every advantage he can get herding his cindercorn. Bailey is a genuine cindercorn, where Sam uses his shapeshifting talents from his incubus genetics to cater to her species. You’ll get used to it.”
“I will?” I blurted, horrified that I would adapt to the strange and the stranger.
“You handled my brother sucker punching you quite well. I see you have figured out the general loophole regarding the handcuffs. You’re ruining my fun.”
“Your fun was barring us from making any progress,” I replied. “How can we help you?”
“I come bearing a gift of information.”
After my first and brutal brush with an archangel, I’d learned gifts could hurt—or came at some price. “Is this information a double-edged sword?”
“Absolutely.”
Damn it. “Okay. Is the double-edged sword lethal for anyone in this room?”
“Not necessarily, although you may find yourself inconvenienced and at risk of death if you decide to indulge in acts of blatant stupidity. As you’re not the kind to indulge in acts of blatant stupidity, you should be fine.”
“Should be fine is not the same as will be fine,” I pointed out.
“Humans have an unfortunate tendency to indulge in acts of blatant stupidity, resulting in the deaths of others. As you aren’t the kind to indulge in an act of blatant stupidity, you won’t end up offing yourself as a result. I cannot promise that another human indulging in an act of blatant stupidity won’t get you killed. This is humanity’s nature—and its curse.”
No kidding. “All right.” I snagged a notebook, grabbed a pen, and prepared to take notes. “I’m ready.”
“Before I begin, how familiar are you with continental drift?” the Devil asked.
“You mean the idea that the world used to be essentially one massive continent and drifted apart into the continents we know today?” I asked.
“Yes. For you to follow this, you need to accept that this theory is fact.” The Devil shrugged. “It is, by the way. Just because He created the planet does not mean He created the planet in the time frame humanity prefers to believe in. He merely began the process of evolution and allowed nature to thrive. He is not a fan of unwarranted devotion, and He cares about deeds rather than any pleas for forgiveness. After all, someone who apologizes for a wrong but does nothing to change hasn’t really apologized sincerely, right?”
Ouch. I’d believed similar things in my life, especially when it came to supposed believers claiming they were devotees. Without fail, they turned around and made snide remarks about people they disliked solely based on their appearance. “Right. I follow.” I made a note about the Devil’s observation and His general tendencies, curious to see where the information might lead us.
“Humanity did not pop fully formed from the ground as the sentients you know of today. Humanity had several stages. Before the first humans came along, whom society dubbed Adam and Eve, there were several species vying for superiority. One would become humans. The rest would become extinct without rising to their full potential. Unlike the whole snake in the tree with an apple nonsense people like to believe, sin has existed all along among mortal beings. Until I came around, sin among His divines wasn’t possible. We didn’t have free will.”
“But mortals did.”
“Somewhat. He did not feel like overseeing every last breath on the mortal coil. View the mortal coil as a giant terrarium, and the terrarium’s owner prefers to observe unless something is going to break the whole ecosystem.” The Devil shrugged. “He enjoys watching His creations grow. In reality, before my fall, free will was a future shadow. Everything had a set destiny. He knew every choice to be made, and He willed these choices to be made. My fall enabled true free will—or the ability for all things to fight the fate predetermined for them. Do all things fight their predetermined fate? No. But some can—and do. Your investigation needs to delve into the depths of predetermined fate and the requirements needed to fight it.”
I jotted down notes on his commentary, reviewing what I had written while considering the implications of his words. “The requirements needed to fight it?”
“Yes. Essentially, the curse on your companion involves predetermined fate—events that have been decreed to happen, unless someone puts in a great deal of effort to change it. Then you will need to decide if the predetermined fate should be changed.”
Having participated in the debate over fate versus free will before in school, far more times than I cared to count, I caught onto what the Devil meant, although the reality of the situation annoyed me. “Because not all predetermined fates are bad things. The consequences of those fates may be necessary.” I guessed.
“No matter what you decide to do, there will always be a consequence. Sometimes, there are many consequences for a single action. For example, your decision to work without being handcuffed made you more efficient at your work. That is a consequence. Defying me also has consequences, although they are not negative ones. I appreciate when mortals think for themselves.”
“But what does that have to do with Mr. Mortan’s situation?”
“All of the deaths he has witnessed were predetermined fates; without major effort on the victim’s part, their deaths were inevitable. The curse seems to implant either a compulsion or suggestion he should go where the death will take place. For example, if there will be a fatal car crash, he would unconsciously select the route that would put him in the wrong place at the wrong time,” the Devil explained.
I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t need to be handcuffed to him at all?”
“Technically not,” he admitted with a grin.
I snagged my handcuffs from the bed beside me and flung them at the Devil.
To my amusement, he didn’t bother to dodge, and I managed to smack him in the shoulder.
“For some reason, the women in my life keep throwing things at me. At least you’re not like my secretary. She likes throwing vases at my face lately.”
I scowled. “And the incident that landed me in the hospital?”
“Yes, the curse influenced that, in the form of the chosen hotel; it doesn’t just influence him. That the curse can influence my nephew is impressive—and part of the reason I’ve decided I am interfering. It is not originated from my pantheon—or our allied pantheons.”
“Christianity is allied with other pantheons?” I asked, frowning.
According to the Bible, the Christian way was the one true way, and no other divines were invited to the party.
“Yes, of course. You must remember, the Bible is a book by humans for humans—it is not truly His word. His words were twisted, corrupted, or mistranslated over thousands of years. Some of the stories are true—at the core. But outside of a few notable exceptions, the words are no longer His. Can you guess which ones?”
“I could make a guess at which one I hope is the truth,” I replied. “But I’m not a Christian. I’m not anything, really.”
“He doesn’t care about that in the slightest. He is all about deeds. I don’t care what religion someone was before they come to my hells. And my hells aren’t just limited to the beliefs of one pantheon. It’s all connected. Right now, the Greeks and Egyptians are leaving soul rehabilitation to me. They had their time in the sun and deserve a break—and I enjoyed my rest for the years they ran the hells. But, which words do you hope are true?”
“The ones about the walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Death is scary enough without having to go at it alone. Companionship seems like something that would ease the way.”
“And that’s why many cling to their religions. It is that fear of death that so often drives them. But yes, that part of the Bible is true enough. The curse is not originated from any of His religions, nor is it Greek or Egyptian in origin,” the Devil announced.
“He has more than one religion?” I blurted.
“Humanity structures religion,” the Devil chided. “He is the soul of quite a few religions. Humanity has just given Him a different name. They’ve also given me a different name. Really, it doesn’t matter in the end. All souls go to the same places when they’re done on the mortal coil. If I’m not sleeping on the job, I handle it. If I am sleeping on the job, the Egyptians, Greeks, or one of the divines handles it. Usually, I take care of it. Why waste the effort when my system works well for rehabilitation? There were a few instances I slept for a few months and nobody noticed I wasn’t doing anything. I’ve organized my many hells to continue on without me as necessary. But things happen. Sometimes, a divine will ask for a soul for personal reasons. I’ll often toss those sinners over to the requester. If one of the other divine comes out of retirement because someone offended them that much, it’s not worth the fuss. I’ll check to make sure the balance won’t be disturbed, but as long as that criteria is met, the soul earned its fate, and penance can be done in many ways.”
I would need a lot of time and copious amounts of alcohol to think through the ramifications of his words. “So, you’re saying we need to look at other religions to find a divine who may have cast this curse on Mr. Mortan?”
“Precisely.”
I eyed the man, who listened to the Devil with a raised brow. After a few moments, he said, “I don’t think I have done anything to deserve the attention of a divine from any religion.”
“You haven’t, but one of your ancestors did. Or more than one. I’m truly not sure. I haven’t looked deeply into it. What I have gleaned, I did to balance the scales on behalf of some of my devils and demons with the NYPD. It’s a good arrangement. But long-term consequences happen. Take my little cupcake of a daughter. Everything she is is a consequence, mostly of those long gone. Her other father regrets some of the consequences she faces, but he has always done what was best for her despite the pesky predetermined fates surrounding their bloodline. Some of them were changed for the better, but some are predetermined for a good reason, so we let those continue unobstructed—and at times, we protected them.” The Devil shrugged. “You aren’t even an intentional target, although there are those who have taken notice of how death has changed you.”
Alec turned to me. “Tell me something completely inappropriate but funny, please. I think I’ve reached my general threshold for this.”
Inappropriate but funny? I considered his request, eyed the files taking over most of the bed, and replied, “I bet I could have the best closure rate for murders if I followed you around for a few months. I’d be able to chase down the killers right at the scene of the crime and have fresh material to work with—all without the crime scene being polluted before I arrived. I may not be an experienced detective, but I’ve heard that complaint enough to understand it’s a problem I will face in the upcoming years.”
Alec blinked, and his eyes widened. “That’s brilliant. You could apprehend these murderers better if you happened to be there when the crime occurred.”
“That wasn’t funny, though. Useful, but not funny.” I frowned. “I don’t do funny all that well, I guess. I turned down an incubus to work. Now that’s funny.”
“No, that’s just sad,” the Devil muttered. “And, honestly, impressive. You really turned down one hell of a ride so you could work for somebody who treated you like shit just because you have breasts rather than balls.”
Well, I could trust the Devil to be upfront with his thoughts at least. I shrugged. “I love the job but dislike the former boss. But my job is worth dealing with a bad boss. It seems I now have better bosses.”
“I could hire you,” the Devil said, narrowing his eyes.
“No, but thank you. I will take my chances with the unicorns, however crazy they may seem.”
Jacobson snickered. “Wise decision, McMarin. Just wait until you get a chance to meet his secretary. It’s a coin toss if she tries to murder him. She never succeeds, but it’s a treat watching her try to eliminate him. She gives it her all, too. If Bailey tries to take him out, it involves ineffective flailing. Samuel tried once, but he got his ass kicked so Bailey could nurse him back to health.”
The Devil sighed. “Why do I shower those two with favor? Oh, right. The one is my nephew, and I have to be nice to my nephew. He whines if I’m mean to him, and I hate the whining. He whined for a month after I reminded him who and what I am. The other is my prized cindercorn, and I can’t just let my prized cindercorn suffer.” Heaving a dramatic sigh, the Devil regarded me with a pout. “But I like feisty women working for me.”
I understood Alec’s desire for humor; a break from the relentless bullshit plaguing my life would be appreciated, but I foresaw many frustrating days ahead of me.
“I don’t care,” I informed the Devil. “I enjoy my job.”
Well, I did when I was allowed to do it, rather than having to deal with hovering busybodies. It would take approximately ten years to go through all the files and start making sense of the crimes at the rate I worked.
Jacobson snickered. “I am telling Bailey you told the Devil no, and she’s going to be delighted. She’s going to make sacrificial offerings to you for months once she finds out.”
“Just like my wife, she really does enjoy when people tell me no. She enjoys cultivating bad behavior. Your resilience is rare—and enjoyable. So, you want to ask me about why I’m interfering with your investigation,” the Devil prompted.
I stared at the ruler of the many hells, blinking as it occurred to me he was being rather helpful—frighteningly so. “Why are you helping with this investigation?”
“I said interfering, not helping.”
“I require help, not interference,” I replied, adopting the neutral mask I used on my ex-captain. “Interference is typically not beneficial, and this investigation is warped enough.”
“Would you accept ten percent malevolent and ninety percent benevolent?” the Devil asked in an exasperated tone.
“That depends on the nature of the malevolence.” Did the Devil really believe I would accept any form of malevolence? I’d already landed in the hospital once trying to change a drug addict’s fate. My tolerance for any additional negativity hovered at zero.
“You amuse me. Would it help if the malevolence was generally directed at criminals?”
“It would help a little,” I admitted.
“How about ninety-nine percent benevolence? I could swing ninety-nine percent benevolence, assuming you don’t tell my wife or my secretary. You do need a challenge.”
I sighed and regarded my new co-worker with a scowl. “Is this normal?”
“Usually, we get told we’re getting fifty percent malevolence, and if we’re smart, we’ll like it. One percent is a good bargain. The last time I had to deal with him, I got twenty percent benevolence, and I was told I’d like it. The next offer would be five percent. I decided twenty percent benevolence beat five percent benevolence.”
The last time heaven had helped me, I’d gotten sucker punched by an archangel, and my ribs still protested the general abuse. “Okay. I accept ninety-nine percent benevolence,” I replied, already regretting my decision.
The Devil laughed. “You’ll be all right. It’s only one percent malevolence. How bad could it be?”
As I didn’t want to know the answer, I refused to ask. The damage, however, was already done.
How bad could it be?