Daddy's Little Angel (4 page)

Only I looked at Mom. She looked petrified. Whatever was happening had to be real.

I took a step out from behind Buddha. I felt like I was in a trance, like some mummy out of a horror film.

My father!
Was that really him?

The man turned toward me. My mother grabbed his leg. “Stay away from her.”

He took off his hat and bowed his head at me. When he looked back up, I saw his eyes for the first time. They were a translucent green—a color as unique as it was familiar. I felt my chest contract. I was staring into my own eyes. This was impossible.
My
father was dead. Or . . . something.

I felt tears well up. Then he smiled. He had my dimples. Or I had his. Whatever.

“Dad?” I took a step forward, shuddering a little. I felt like there was an army of ants crawling over my body.

“Angel, don’t,” my mom cried out. “He’s the devil.”

I shook my head at her. “Stop.” He seemed normal enough.

“Actually,” he said, raising one eyebrow. “Your mom’s telling the truth.”

My heart sunk to my toenails. What was he talking about? I mean, there’s no such thing as the devil.

Right?

The next thing I knew, I was rubbing my eyes and pulling my iPod and a handful of coins out from underneath me. I was going to have to stop leaving junk on my bed. I now had various shapes indented on my arm, but I didn’t care. I was relieved. It was all just a dream—well, a nightmare, to be more exact.

I got up and stubbed my toe on a black combat boot buried under a heap of clothes.
“Owww,”
I shouted. I kicked it to the other side of my room. Stupid boot.

“Angel,” my mother called out.

A second later, her face was in my doorway. Then she made her way into my bedroom, stepping over my black hoodie, my water bottle, a bunch of hangers, a
Friday the 13th
DVD I wasn’t supposed to have, my laptop, and an assortment of other goodies before she reached my bed. She sat down and gestured for me to join her, which I did reluctantly.

“I want to talk to you,” Mom said, looking nervous. “I know this is a lot to take in, but we’ll get through it. You’re going to be okay.” She placed one hand on my knee.

I looked away from her and grabbed hold of my pillow. I squished it tightly to my body. No. I wasn’t getting sucked in to any weirdness or conversations about mysticism and spells. I turned back and smiled. “It’s fine. I didn’t really want to go to the concert, anyway.”

Her face scrunched up. “Sweetie, this isn’t about the concert.”

“Whatever. I’m going for a bike ride. I’ll see you later.” I stood up and headed for the door.

“Angel, wait. We need to talk about this. It’s not going to go away.
He’s
not going to go away.”

I could feel her eyes burning into the back of my head. “Who’s
he
?” I asked.

“Your father,” she said softly.

I heard a small blast. It sounded like someone blew up a paper bag and popped it right in front of me. It came from my doorway—just four feet from where I was standing. The next moment, a spiral of dark smoke emerged. I was sure it was going to fill up my lungs and suffocate me. But it disappeared as quickly as it came.

In its place was the man from the kitchen. “You rang?”

I screamed. Screamed like someone shaved off my hair while I slept. Screamed like I was dropped off in the tiger’s cage at the zoo wearing a suit made of meat. Screamed like I just found out the devil was real—and to top it off, he was my dad.

I screamed, because there was no denying it any longer.

My mother grabbed me, hugging me as tight as she could. I felt myself being dragged back to my bed. “How could you?” she shouted at him, her voice almost as loud as mine. “You had to go for the drama? Even today?”

The neighbors must have thought my mom was sacrificing me to the gods. We were making more noise than the fans at an Ultimate Fighting Championship battle.

Then everything went silent, but not because I stopped screaming. I was still shrieking at the top of my lungs. It’s just that no sound was coming out. My voice was gone. For real. Mom’s too. She let go of me, and her arms gripped her throat.

It was normal for Mom to talk with her hands, especially when she got going. But when she was angry, you had to watch out. Get in her way, and she could accidentally slice off your head.

Mom took a step toward him, her arms moving like mad. The devil smirked—but he backed away from her.

Was Lucifer, the Prince of Darkness himself, afraid of my mother?

He put up his hands. “A truce. I’ll give you your voices back. But . . .” He paused. “The yelling must cease.”

Mom’s hands flailed around again.

“Come now. We don’t need some overzealous neighbor—or, worse, the police, breaking up our little family reunion. How would you explain that one at the precinct? ‘Really, officer, he’s
El Diablo
.’” He laughed.

Mom crossed her arms in front of her, pressing her mouth into a thin line. She wasn’t pleased, but she also wasn’t talking anymore.

“That’s better,” he said. He waved his hand.

I cleared my throat. My voice was back.

“Now, let’s all sit down and talk,” suggested the devil as he took a step inside the room.

“Do
not
come any closer,” I said.

“I just—”

I cut him off. “No. There’s nothing to talk about. I don’t need a dad. I don’t want one. And if I did, it certainly wouldn’t be you. Go back where you came from.”

He leaned against the frame of the door. “I only want to make things right.”

“Then leave,” I said.

“I can’t do that.”

“Yeah, you can. Just turn around and walk away. Or do one of your smoke tricks. I don’t care, as long as you’re gone. The last thing I need is the devil for a dad.”

This was stretching my mind to the limit. How did I get stuck with Beelzebub for a father? Of all the fictitious characters to turn out to be real, it had to be the champion of all evil? I couldn’t get Zeus or Batman? I’d also have taken Robin or that butler guy. I was so desperate, Krusty the Clown even seemed like a better option.

“I am not evil,” he told me. “I just have a gift for bringing it out in others.”

I glared at him. “Same difference. Why are you even here now?”

“For you.”

“A little late,” I said.

“I’ve always been watching over you. Well, from below that is.”

And I thought my mother was overprotective. “You
watch
me?”

“Not all the time. I give you your space.”

“How considerate,
Devil
,” I spat.

“You can call me Dad.”

“Well, I can. But I won’t,” I snapped back.

“Touché. How about we start with Lou?”

Lou? The devil goes by
Lou
?

Mom saw the look on my face. “It’s Lou Cipher. Get it? Lou Cipher. Like Lucifer. He thinks he’s clever.”

“Well, it has been proven time and time again over the centuries,” he added, fixing his handkerchief.

“Tricking those who are down on their luck does not mean you’re clever. It means you’re ruthless,” Mom interjected.

“You know better than that. I only give people what they want. Some practically beg me to help them. And most are not good souls looking to catch a break. They’re power hungry and vengeful.”

“Maybe they wouldn’t be if you—”

“Enough,” I yelled. “I can’t take this. I want everyone out.”

“Angel,” my mom said.

“No. You too. I want to be alone. Please.”

“Okay,” Mom said softly. She turned to
Lou
. “You have to give her some time to absorb this. Leave her alone.”

There was a moment of silence.

Lou looked at me now huddled in a ball on my bed. He slowly nodded and, with a snap, he was gone. No smoke. No fanfare. He just vanished.

But I knew it wasn’t over. No way was I that lucky.

He’d be back.

Finally, I was alone. And yet, it wasn’t a relief. Actually, once I had a few minutes to think about things, it was all kind of . . . scary.

I was Lucifer’s spawn. A princess of darkness. No matter how I said it, it was downright freaky. And completely unfair. Courtney was getting boobs, and I was getting horns? Life was cruel.

I touched the top of my head. No pointy things yet. Maybe they were a myth. I hadn’t seen any on Lou. Not that it mattered. Horns, a tail, a bright red face—bring it on. What did I care? I was never going to leave my room again, anyway. Ever. Who knew what I was capable of? I was at least half-evil, genetically speaking, that is.

I’d become like one of those Tibetan monks who live alone on a mountaintop without any earthly possessions or human contact (except, without the Tibetan mountain, and possibly with a magazine or two. I mean, a girl needs something to keep her mind off of her messed-up life).

I sat down on my bed and closed my eyes. I wasn’t going to think about anything, at least nothing that had to do with the devil, or evil, or me accidentally cursing the entire eighth grade. But my mind wouldn’t stop.

Twenty-three minutes went by.

Twenty-four minutes.

Twenty-five.

I tried counting all the squiggles on my comforter, picking up all the loose change in my room, alphabetizing my band T-shirts, but nothing, not even imagining my wedding to Cole, made the time go by faster. I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt like a sea monkey trapped in a plastic tank. Who was I kidding? There was no way I could live like this. Yes, I’d been in my room for longer stretches of time. But this wasn’t the same. This stretch had no end in sight. I wanted to break out. No. Make that, I
needed
to break out.

I locked my door, turned on the radio, and went hunting through the mess in my room. I needed supplies.

Four-leaf clover. Check. Aventurine Sacred Spiral pendant (Mom said the stone was supposed to bring boundless chance and luck). Check. Rabbit’s foot, Mood Mist in calming lavender, and Deluxe Two-Story Child Safety Escape Ladder stashed away in my closet. Check, check, check.

You don’t have a mom like mine without having her put an arsenal of protective keepsakes and emergency escape equipment in your room. She always said, “It’s better to be prepared.” Now I knew what she wanted to prepare me for.

I flung the ladder over the window and carefully made my way down the side of the house. Looking both ways for signs of Lucifer or worse, Mom, I darted to the garage. I knew that if she had caught me, she would have wanted to have a long talk about my feelings. And I wasn’t ready to deal with that right now. I grabbed my bike, threw on my helmet, and pedaled as hard as I could.

Gabi’s house was only a five-minute bike ride away, but even that was too long. I just wanted to be there already. I thought about how the devil’s smoke trick would sure have come in handy. I bit my lip.
Just kidding
, I thought. I hoped no one was reading my mind. I didn’t want
anything
from Lucifer.

I worried from that point on I’d have to watch everything I said or thought. What if the devil was just waiting for a moment of weakness on my part to turn me evil? Maybe that was why he came back—he was getting tired of ruling the underworld and wanted me to take over. Was I his heir to the satanic throne? Did that mean I was just seconds away from crossing over to the dark side? I did sometimes wish that Courtney’s hair would turn puke green, she’d grow a hump and third nostril, and that the basketball team would elect her their deranged mascot and make her run around the auditorium sucking up to the crowd for the way she treated Gabi. But everyone had daydreams like that. I think.

I just needed to clear my head. I pulled over to a big oak tree and sprayed my Mood Mist on my pulse points. I breathed in and out. In and out. When was the soothing feeling supposed to start? I sprayed again, this time on my face. Nothing. Okay, one more squirt. I sucked in a big gulp of air . . . and had a coughing fit. Calm, my big left toe. That junk didn’t work. All it did was make me reek.

I got back on my bike, held my breath, and headed to Gabi’s.

Some birthday. The year was off to a fabulous start.

The front door to Gabi’s house swung open. I didn’t bother acknowledging Rori, Gabi’s eight-year-old sister. Not even when she held her nose between her thumb and forefinger and yelled, “P.U.” as she pointed at me with her free hand. I just raced up the stairs and ran right into Gabi’s room.

“What’s wrong?” Gabi asked, wrinkling her nose.

I didn’t answer, and not just because I was out of breath. How was I going to tell her without coming across as crazy?

“Well?” she prodded.

I paced back and forth. “You’ve got to promise you won’t tell anyone.”

“I swear,” she said, holding up her right hand. “If I’m lying may Courtney Lourde be my gym partner until we graduate from high school.”

“Okay.” How was I supposed to say this? I decided to just spit it out. “My dad’s alive. And he’s the devil.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, biting her lip.

I walked over and sat on the edge of her bed. Gabi followed me. “I mean, my father, the devil incarnate. I mean: The. Actual. Devil. Incarnate, showed up at my house today to tell me that he wants to get to know me.”

Gabi wrung her hands together. “Whoa. I can’t believe he’s here. How could your mom lie to you all these years? Why would . . . ” Her voice trailed off when she caught me staring at her. “I bet your dad isn’t so bad once you get to know him better. There’s probably a good reason he stayed away for so long. Maybe you should just give him a chance.”

Give him a chance?
Had she not heard a word that I said? I told her my father’s deranged secret and her response was that I should go easy on him? What was wrong with her? Then it hit me. She didn’t understand. “Gabi, I don’t mean my father’s a jerk. I mean he’s
the devil
. Literally. Like the ruler of all things horrible in the world.”