Luck of the Devil (11 page)

My father’s voice resonated over the sound of the door clicking open. “Who are you?”

“I’m Matt. I’m here to take Faith to lunch.”

“That’s nice. Why don’t you come in and we’ll talk while Faith finishes getting ready?”

No. I silently begged my parents to act at least somewhat normal around Matt. Like that would happen.

“Sure,” Matt said.

“Sorry, I held Faith up asking her for a restaurant recommendation, and now she’s running a bit behind. Why don’t you come on in? Do you want something to drink?”

Oh, fuck. Now came the
Come to Jesus
talk with Matt. Not good. Satan’s
Come to Jesus
was a nasty affair to begin with, and considering the bombs Hope had dropped on him, I expected this to combust. I might as well start looking for new cities to move to.

I scurried into the living room, still adjusting my dress, and stopped at the sight of my father sitting across from Matt, acting cordial, while my mom slammed dishes into the sink.

“Hi,” I said, putting on my
Everything is Completely Normal Here
smile.

My dad, who I’m sure appeared completely normal to my innocent date, rose from his seat. “There you are, sweetheart. I just told your friend, Matt, I held you up.”

“Thanks.” I kept up the act and turned to Matt, who sat on my couch in a pair of khakis and a white button-down. Judging by his expression, I figured this hadn’t been the worst
Meet the Parents
he’d been to.

I chose a red wrap from the closet and swathed it around me. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” As if he’d been dying for me to ask, he rose and stuck his hand out for my father to shake. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bettincourt.”

“Morningstar.”

“My apologies, sir.” His throat bobbed when he swallowed, and I swear he paled just a bit. Matt was right—he was not the type who could handle meeting the parents on a first date.

“Faith uses her mother’s last name,” my father said, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “Here, do you need any money for a taxi or—”

“I’m fine, Dad. Thanks.” I patted him on the shoulder and took Matt’s hand, dragging him out of the apartment.

When we stood safely outside, he said, “That wasn’t awkward at all.”

“Yeah, you sort of walked in at the tail-end of a fight between my parents and my sister. My brother and I got caught in the middle.”

“Ouch.” He offered me his arm, and walked me down the stairs. “I heard the yelling and someone running up the stairs, so I gave you all a few minutes.”

“Things are too intense, and I can’t deal with all of them right now.”

“That’s got to be really rough, what with your entire family coming to visit and all of them fighting. Especially in your place. That makes it hard to escape.”

“Tell me about it,” I said.

We reached the first floor, stepped out of the building, and entered the parking lot. I glanced upward and noticed black clouds amassing. Apparently, Dad wasn’t handling Hope’s tantrum well. At least it hadn’t started to rain. That was good. Surprising, but good.

“I can imagine it’s even worse,” Matt said, opening the passenger door for me, “when one of your parents is the Devil.”

With that, he shut the door while I sat gaping at him. As if he hadn’t just dropped a nuclear bombshell, he strolled to his side of the car and climbed inside. He stuck the key in the ignition and turned it over, then shot me a devious grin. “What? You thought I didn’t know?”

Chapter Twelve

Words failed me the entire trip. I sat there, silently freaking out about what he’d just said. How the Hell did he know? More importantly, what did he know? Or what did he think he knew? Oh shit, who had he told? He got us a table, ordered drinks, and listened to the specials while I tried to regain my composure.

Sighing, he put down the menu and stared at me. “So? You don’t have anything to say?”

My mind replayed the events of the last couple of days, hell
months
, pinning down every red flag I should’ve caught: his freaky amplified touch, for one. I cleared my throat, frowned, and decided playing it cool was out of the question. So was lying. “So, you’re telling me you know my father is the Devil?”

“Didn’t I say so in the car?” He relaxed in his chair, smirking.

“I spent the entire ride here processing that so it made sense. The problem is, it doesn’t make sense, so you’re going to have to break this down for me. You’re telling me you—a mortal—know my father is the Prince of Darkness? And you’re okay with that?”

The waitress chose the most inopportune moment to take our orders.

Matt waited until she moved out of earshot before answering. “No, what I said is I know your father is the Devil and I’m okay with it.”

“That’s exactly what I said. You know—wait, are you saying you’re not mortal?”

His lips quirked into a conceited smile. “Give the lady a gold star. She’s figured it out.”

“But you give off energy,” I said “You feel all sparky, so that means you aren’t a nephilim. What are you? Some sort of fairy? A vampire? What?”

Matt laughed. “Fairies? Vampires? You don’t really believe in those, do you?”

“Well, I don’t know what to believe in now, do I? You’re not a demon, or an angel, or any sort of nephilim because my gifts don’t work on them and they work on you.”

“So you can read my thoughts? See my life when our hands touch?”

“No, well, I haven’t really tried because it’s a nuisance to go through the day without shielding myself, but you give off the same energy humans do. So you’re not a nephilim, and you’re not human, so what are you?”

“Maybe you should tell me. Try to read my mind.”

“What?”

“Go ahead, poke around in my brain.”

“But—”

“Go on, I promise not to think anything too dirty while you’re poking around.”

“Okay, but remember, this was your idea.”

I shut my eyes and let my mind relax, releasing my tight mental restraints. Voices from the Southside Works neighborhood flooded into my head: kids playing in the fountain across the street, people in their cars, clerks in the retail stores surrounding the square, all of them holding conversations inside my head. I took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on finding Matt’s voice in the commotion, weeding through the voices one by one. But he wasn’t among them.

Frowning, and a little more than irritated, I opened my eyes.

He smirked. “See anything useful? My entire life story, perhaps? Why don’t you try focusing harder?”

I’d show him something hard. I grabbed his hand and squeezed, surprised that it was rougher than I had expected from someone who sat behind a desk every day. Large and warm, it was the perfect size to hold mine, and even though a tiny spark of life shot between us, I didn’t sense anything else. Touching his hand filled my mind with snowy static, like a TV between stations.

When we broke the connection, I studied him, flabbergasted. “How do you do that?”

“That’s part of how I block my brain,” Matt said. “It’s more convenient for me if other immortals can’t find me, so I’ve found a way to be completely disregarded when they’re near. If I appear human they barely realize I exist.”

My face heated and I clenched my fists in my lap. “
I
don’t forget humans exist.”

“But they aren’t likely to raise your suspicions, either.”

“No, but why are you concerned about raising suspicions? I mean, surely, as demonic offspring you know my father would have welcomed you home.”

“Except—”

“You’re not demonic. Are you?”

He shifted nervously. “Not precisely, no. But, I’m not one of them, either.”

“One of them? One of whom?”

“I’m not like the rest of my family.”

“Your family? What do you mean your family?”

“Surely you’ve heard about us? The fearsome angelic army bent on the ultimate destruction of your kind?” He clenched his hands together on the table and I struggled not to reach out and grab one.

“You’re one of the Angale?” I was stunned. No one had ever publicly acknowledged the existence of the Angale. Not outside the scary stories told to keep young demons in line. I had always thought they were nothing more than a fairy tale.

“Not by choice.” He shifted again.

“So are you a… ” I struggled to think of the best way to phrase what I was about to ask.

“I’m a purebred.” Matt’s intense gaze held mine and didn’t let go as the waitress returned with our beers and sandwiches.

“So your father is an angel?” Beer. Beer would be a good idea. I lifted my glass and took a healthy gulp as I digested this morsel of news.

“Bassano.”

I choked on my beer, dissolving into a major coughing fit. When I recovered, I wiped my mouth with my napkin and tried not to gape too much. “As in, Bassano the cherub?”

“Couldn’t you tell? I mean, the charm, the looks… ” He wiggled his brows and bit into his sandwich.

Squinting at him, I tried to picture it. “You’re quite a bit taller than your father.”

“And I can’t understand how your dread demon is supposed to be useful at only three feet tall.”

“Malachi is travel-sized for convenience. Or so he claims.” I was just as baffled about Malachi’s size, but I’d never gotten a straight answer out of him about why he’d chosen to manifest himself in such a compact shape.

“Really? Huh. Dad is just short.”

“Okay, moving on, you’re a nephilim who has moved in next door to the Devil’s youngest daughter. What are you planning? Please don’t tell me this is a bid to try to control my powers. I’ll be really disappointed if it’s something that obvious. Besides, I’ve got enough hassle in my life right now. I don’t need to squash you like a bug for trying to steal my powers.”

He looked at me like I’d just wandered off the crazy train. “I don’t like
my
powers. Why would I want yours?”

“You’re not trying to Fall, are you? It’s complicated, but trust me when I say that Falling is not in your best interest right now. Dad’s a bit touchy this week, and you don’t want to bring up something that sensitive unless he’s in a real good mood.”

“I’m not trying to Fall, either. I’ve always been confused about anyone actually choosing to Fall. In either direction.”

“So, what then?”

“I wanted to control my own life. Be my own man and not just another faceless soldier.”

“And you moved in next door to me?”

“If you were a nephilim who didn’t want to be found, where would you hide?”

“Not next to another paranormal being,” I said. “That’s asking to be found.”

“Wrong. Hiding next door to you is the perfect solution.”

“How so?”

“Because, anyone looking for me thinks the same way you do. What nephilim moves in next door to Satan’s youngest daughter? Everyone knows you live in the building so ‘sensing paranormal activity’ is expected. I can slip by unnoticed because your powers are so much stronger than mine.”

I let the flattery about my powers slide. On a demonic scale of one to ten, with ten being Dad and one being a mortal, I was only about a four. “Okay, but I still don’t understand
why
.”

He studied his beer for several moments before he returned his attention to me, his eyes grim. “Have you met my family?”

“Until a few minutes ago, I didn’t really believe they existed.”

“Oh, trust me, they exist, and they’ll crush you underneath the weight of their Divine Purpose if you give them half a chance. Just like they wanted to crush me and every other nephilim child they got their hands on.”

“Their Divine Purpose?” I asked.

“Building an army to overthrow your father and forcing God to allow them absolute dominion over the Earthly realm.”

“Damn, that’s one heck of a purpose. What’s your part in all of this?” I bit into my sandwich and chased it with my beer.

“Foot soldier, blindly following orders and acting as stud on request.”

“Excuse me?” I stuttered, choking on my beer.

“That was the last straw. I mean, first off, I’ve never really had a problem with your father or your kind.”

“Well gee, as your landlord, it’s good to know you don’t intend to declare war on me from across the hall. I’m sure the cleanup necessary after I kicked your ass would have taken up your security deposit.”

“Glad we cleared that up. Anyway, my biggest problem was the arranged-breeding bit. Not to sound like a girl or anything.”

“Oh, Heaven forbid that should happen.”

“Not to sound like the more rational and clearheaded gender,” Matt said, drinking from his beer, “but the idea of being paired up with someone because our genes would provide the optimum chances for desirable characteristics in a child was a little off-putting.”

“I can see that.”

“I want to control my own life. And breed—or not breed—with whomever I want. So, instead of sticking around for my own wedding, I struck out on my own. I was in my last semester of law school, and it didn’t take much legwork on my part to find out where you lived.”

“You’re joking.”

“Never underestimate the power of a nephilim with Google. Like I said, it didn’t take much to find out where you lived, and it was a simple enough matter to find a job in Pittsburgh. Then, all I had to do was make an apartment in your building open up.”

“And you did that how?”

“I may have persuaded a few people to, you know, give your neighbor the drama student her first big break.”

“You got Bianca on that soap opera? Really?”

“Really,” he said. “How does she like it, by the way? I’ve heard rumors they’re in talks to make her a series regular.”

“I haven’t heard. So you got her on television so you could what? Move in next door to me?”

“That about covers it.”

“Now what? I mean, surely you had some sort of plan before you moved in?”

“Not really. Now I’m just going to lay low, not attract attention, and sort of wing it, I guess.”

I groaned. “Wing it?”

“Look, all I really wanted to do when I moved in was live my life quietly, not bothering anyone, and asking the same in return. I chose you because you seemed like the best camouflage.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Don’t be like that. Once I met you, I had the hardest time keeping this a secret from you. So I revised my plan and decided to be honest. All I can hope is that it won’t get me deep fried in a lake of fire for my troubles.”

“We don’t use the lake of fire to cook things anymore. We have kitchens. Why didn’t you just tell me what you were doing? I would have helped. If anyone understands what you’re trying to do, it’s me.”

“When would have been a good time? The night your brother pushed me down the stairs?”

“I knew it. He’s such an asshole. Why didn’t you say something?”

“You think I wanted to tell you what I was with a heavy box of books immobilizing me? Everyone said you were Satan’s nice daughter but, for all I knew, that could have been a relative statement. Being nice in comparison to Hope would have meant you killed me quickly instead of in some sort of humiliating and painful display.”

“But Hope enthralled you.”

“And you tried. ‘You spent all night working and you’re just exhausted, Matt.’ I didn’t know which one of you was worse—her bossing me around, or you trying to manipulate me with a demonic version of the Jedi Mind Trick.”

I narrowed my eyes, pressing my lips together. “You were faking it.”

“Um, yeah?” Matt looked at me as if I’d just told him two plus two equaled four. “And?”

“I’m just trying to understand what this means.”

“Okay, I don’t want to play stud to some nutty second-generation nephilim, so I decided to hide out with you. Because I didn’t know if you were going to kill me, I decided to feel you out before making any big announcements. I know how to fake a spark when I’m shielded, so I made sure every time you were around I kept my true nature hidden and you thought I was a mortal. You were happy. I was happy. I thought it was a good way to keep things going.”

“You’re right across the hall from my entire family. What are you going to do now? You’ve got your family’s sworn enemy within striking distance.”

“Telling my family where you are would just bring them down on me. And I care more about my own hide than I do about their war with him.”

“Him?”

“You know,” Matt said, and squirmed in his seat, “your father.”

“You mean the Devil?” I had to tease him. Mentioning my father made nephilim nervous, and most of them couldn’t say his name without stumbling over it.

Ironically, it isn’t an issue for demonic nephilim. We can say Satan and God in the same sentence without flinching. We can even pray if we really wanted to. But what’s the point? There’s no need for faith if you know beyond a doubt what exists and what doesn’t.

“Are you afraid of him?” I asked, intrigued by the idea of another immortal being afraid of my father.

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, because he’s the Devil?”

I frowned. “But I’m not afraid of God.”

“But—wait. Huh? You’re not afraid of God?”

“No, He’s really a nice guy. You should know that, though,” I said. Actually, I’d never heard of the Alpha officially recognizing the offspring of angels and mortals. “You’ve never met Him, have you?”

“He doesn’t interact with us like your father interacts with the Children of Darkness.”

Wow, talk about awkward. Time to change the subject, and now. “All right. First rule: if you don’t want me to dump my beer on your head, we don’t really like the whole
Children of Darkness
thing. We’re nephilim, just like you, but with cooler superpowers.”