Noah
Whatever that bastard did to Keira, he’s going to pay. I swear it. If he thinks I’m going to be his minion, he can shove it up his ass. But I’m playing it smart. I’m going to beat him at his own game. I’m done being fucked over.
My parents did it. My so-called friends did it. I will not let it happen again.
I slouch back against the leather seat in my father’s Beamer. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the car with them. The last time was Grace’s funeral, before I knew all about the afterlife, when I was still upset and shocked at her sudden death. Then our parents made it crystal clear which child they really cared about by treating me like I was the dead one.
They’re quiet, which is fine with me. I’d rather plot my revenge on Lucifer than have to listen to some fake chitchat anyway. We’re headed for downtown Seattle—somewhere near the waterfront from the looks of it. Must be some fancy therapist to have scored an expensive office like this. I’m not surprised. Nothing but the best when it’s all about Gracie.
I wince, picturing the last time I saw Grace. We may have our differences, and she may be a stuck-up, self-aggrandizing snob, but she’s still my sister, and she never actually hurt me out of spite. I guess I know that much. Lucifer was wrong to think I’d enjoy watching him humiliate her. I just wanted her out of my life, not tortured and in it.
We park, and my mother attempts to make a light comment about the weather, which dies on the wind. Yes, it’s overcast but not raining yet. Great convo, Mom. I can really tell how much you care about me.
We trek upstairs to a swank office with a giant view of the water, just like I predicted. It’s a female therapist: a lady in her fifties with dyed blond hair and small, plastic glasses. We make nice with introductions. She asks some questions that I tune out while my parents talk and weep, then she asks Dad and I to leave. She wants time alone with each of us.
Great. That means I’m stuck with Dad for at least twenty minutes.
I plug in my earbuds, indicating I don’t feel like trying to talk, and stretch out my legs. I’m pretty intent on my fingernails, which I’ve bitten down to stubs, when I get that feeling someone’s watching me. I glance up, figuring Dad doesn’t get the hint, only to find Grace staring at me with her big brown eyes. Only…they’re different. It isn’t the faint tinge of red around the irises—that was there last time I saw her. It’s the dark sunken skin around them.
I jerk up in my seat, but Grace’s gaze darts over to Dad, who leans back in his own chair, eyes shut. She rises and leaves the waiting room. This time I’m not furious at her presence. Maybe I’m getting used to her. I’m curious as to why she’s here. So I mumble something about using the restroom and follow her out into the hall.
“Grace?” I call when I see no sign of her in either direction.
“I’m here,” she answers after a pause long enough to make me doubt my sanity. She’s propped open the door to some tax consultant’s office.
I follow her into the empty office. I guess it’s off-season for this guy. I stop just past the threshold and wait.
We stare at each other for awhile before she speaks. “You aren’t going to send me away again?” she asks with some edge.
“That depends. You going to start lecturing me?”
Her shoulders droop, and she deflates like a balloon, shaking her head. “I’m not going to try and make you something you’re not. Maybe I’m nuts. I don’t know. Maybe Lucifer’s finally gotten to me. But I do want you to know that I don’t blame you. I did this to myself. I get it. And I’m about to get it even more when I leave you.” She laughs at some private joke, but it doesn’t sound very funny. “Anyway, I just have a question for you. All I want is a truthful answer. Can you do that for me? For old time’s sake?”
I cock my head, purposely not answering. That, dear sister, depends on the question.
She sighs, nodding. “Well, I’ll ask anyhow. Is this really what makes you happy? Being the Antichrist? Following Lucifer?”
I can tell she’s trying not to let her emotions show. “It seems you’ve been misinformed,” I say, stuffing my hands in my pockets. “I don’t follow Lucifer. I’m his hand on Earth. I am his equal.” I know full well he’s listening, and I’m pretty sure I just pissed him off.
Sure enough, the lights flicker, and thunder shakes the foundation of the building. Grace squeals and falls into one of the empty seats. I frown. She never did “get” me. I’m not trying to be a dick to her. I’m talking directly to Lucifer.
“See?” I say, undeterred. “He doesn’t like it because it’s true.”
“Why are Mom and Dad here?” Grace asks in a small voice. A voice much more like her old, patronizing tone, the one she always used when she expected me to confess some wrong I’d committed, like breaking the dining room light when I was seven. Her presence is starting to annoy me again.
“Therapy. They need to get over you. I’m just along for the ride since apparently I’ll never actually be rid of you.”
Lucifer appears next to Grace. He snaps his fingers and she falls to her knees from the chair, apparently out of pain and not obedience.
“Cut it out,” I say.
Lucifer’s eyes narrow, and Grace remains on the floor, gasping for breath. “This is none of your concern. You’ve made it clear you don’t want her. I will do what I want with her.” Lucifer hisses at me, sounding remarkably like a snake, and yanks her up by her hair.
If he’s trying to throw me off balance, it’s working. I grind my teeth together and clench my fists in my pockets. Stay cool. That’s how you win.
“I have an appointment.” I turn around and step outside, where I catch the door just before it closes and press my ear to it.
Lucifer’s rage is focused on Grace, so I know he isn’t paying attention to my whereabouts. He can’t take it out on me, anyway. My stomach sinks, but I scold myself to toughen up.
“I have a new assignment for you, Gracie.”
“I thought you were going to punish me now,” she says without much emotion.
“Who says I’m not?” Lucifer cackles. “Remember your friend? Rhett? His real name is Corbin Treymark, and he’s your next target.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Be yourself. You’re good at putting nice young men over the edge.”
I nearly yelp when my mother puts her hand on my shoulder.
“Noah? There you are. Dr. Morris is waiting for you. It’s your turn. Are you okay?” Her eyes narrow in concern. She hasn’t looked at me like that in years. Resentment wars with sorrow inside of me. Why now? I want to scream.
“If you thought I was, you wouldn’t have brought me here.” I force a grin and brush past her into the office.
The therapist waits, cleaning the lenses on her glasses. “You aren’t going to fix me,” I offer, sinking into the chair. “But I guess you get paid either way.”
“I’m not here to fix you, Noah. I’m here to help you, and my time is worth money, so I should at least try.”
“Mine is, too. But you aren’t paying me.” I fold my arms across my chest and sit.
“You aren’t here because of me,” she says. “You’re here for your parents who are concerned about you, Noah.”
I laugh.
“You don’t believe that? Then why would they bring you here?” She leans forward over her enormous desk and stares me down.
“I don’t know. Maybe they think it’s what they’re supposed to do. It took them long enough to remember I exist.”
She stares at me.
“It’s been almost a year since the accident, and they’ve barely said a word to me since then.”
“And have you said anything to them?” she asks in an infuriatingly reasonable voice.
“I’m the kid. They’re the parents.”
“They’re human. Losing a child is an unbearable loss I hope you never experience. I’m not minimizing what you’ve been through, but I’m wondering if you’ve bothered to consider what they have? I’ve dealt with selfish teenagers before, but according to your school records, you’re an exemplary student. Graduating early? I’m surprised to find you here with a chip on your shoulder.”
Good grades? Oh. Lucifer did that. “I’m smart. So what? Does that mean I’m supposed to be an emotional robot? Or let everyone walk all over me?”
She taps a long, fake fingernail on the desk. “Do you have a girlfriend, Noah? Or boyfriend? What do you do in your free time?”
“Her name’s Keira,” I say.
She smiles. “Your parents have no idea she even exists, you know. I think you should introduce them. You may be surprised at the outcome. It’ll be good for you to be open with them, and it’ll be good for them to see that you’re moving on past Grace’s death.”
I wonder what would happen if I blurt out what I really am and all that I’ve seen and done. She’d probably try and lock me up, but Lucifer would get me out. He’d have to. I consider it just to wipe that smug look off her face.
“I guess it would be pretty interesting to see their reaction if I introduced them to Keira,” I say instead.
“Give them a chance. They may be more interested in your life than you give them credit for. In any case, that’s all the time we have for today. I prescribe time together as a family. An hour a day—dinner, at least. And I expect a full report this time next week.” She starts tapping at her laptop keyboard in dismissal.
“Wait a second. I never agreed—” I start.
“You’re a minor, Noah Howard. You don’t get a say in whether you come here or not. I will see you next week with your parents, and I will ask them what they think of Karen.”
“Keira.” My vision nearly turns red, and I notice I’m trembling.
She smiles and repeats the name, then goes back to her keyboard.
I wonder how Lucifer would feel about me committing another murder.