Heartless (The Heartless Series) (20 page)

"Scared…" I draw it out. Why am I feeling so happy and lighthearted? Maybe because I just don't care anymore.

"Hardly." I so don't believe him.

"Hmph." I take a big swig, and he laughs.

"That's all I get is Hmph. Come on, sweetheart. It's me. It's your boyfriend. I've seen you naked."

"We never had sex." I remind him.

"Oh you don't have to tell me that. I remember quiet vividly. You have no idea how hard—pun intended—it was to keep my hands off of you." He takes another drink, and I swear he looks even more human than he did before.

"Right. Like I'm supposed to believe you had a hard time keeping it in your pants. We kissed." I shiver. Here, the whole time, it had been a lie. Two years of lies. Two. I take another drink because I need it. I look down, and my glass is entirely empty. How in the world did that happen?

Hart doesn't even ask. He just fills my cup back up to the brim and sets the wine glass back down.

My phone vibrates. It's Lucien. Now he wants to talk. When we were together, and he actually had a chance to talk, he didn't. Just poof. And now he wants to talk to me? I hit the end button and refuse to answer. I may not be in the safest place ever, here with Hart, but if he had wanted to hurt me, he would have by now. Besides, he's providing me with alcohol, and that seems pretty good to me.

"Teen Angel?" He smirks and downs the entire contents of his glass.

"I don't think he's a teen." I laugh. I actually freakin' laugh. Sitting in my kitchen with a demon in my boyfriend's body, and I laugh. Maybe I've cracked. That's it. I've finally cracked, and this is all just how it ends. I'm probably sitting in a mental ward right now, a padded room. I'm probably talking to a wall while doctors shake their heads at me.

But since I can't prove that, I might as well enjoy my wine. I take a big sip. Hart smiles.

I love this wine. Way back in the day, when I used to take swigs of wine from my aunt's bottle in the fridge, it tasted exactly like this. I'd never found a bottle that tasted the same since. And I've tried. Even got the same brand, but nothing. Not one thing that tasted remotely like it. It has a sweet taste. I guess most wines do, but this one. I can't exactly put into words how it makes me feel. How it makes me feel on the inside. When I'm around Lucien, and yeah he's on my bad list right now, but still, I feel warm. And warmth is something I don't normally feel. But this… this is different.

It tastes like home.

"How screwed up does it have to be for wine to taste like home?" I ask because my head actually is feeling pretty good right now. I relax and lean back in my chair. I'm not happy, but I'm not too far from it. Wait… how drunk am I?

"You have no idea how much of an accurate statement that is." He pours me more, and I hesitate, looking at the dark red liquid.

"What's in this?"

"Wine." He says almost too quickly. "Why?" His eyes narrow over his plastic cup. "What else would be in it?"

I don't even want to think of an answer to that. Oh, I'm sure there could be lots of things he could've put in there. He's a demon after all. He's a demon that's been living with me. Who knows what he's done to me?

"You look worried." He sighs and throws his boot-covered feet on the table. "Think I've done something to you? Think I've drugged you? Don't you trust me?"

"You're a demon." Like I have to remind him. Like I have to remind myself.

"I've never lied to you, angel. Never. And unlike Lucien, I won't try to hide anything from you. I know how he is. How they all are… angels. How they think they are helping by not telling the whole truth. Do you think people would make better choices if they were well informed? If they would know all the facts beforehand, and not what some higher power thinks they can handle? How they can contort the truth to fit their needs?"

"Isn't that what you're doing?" I know better than to keep drinking the wine. I know it. But there's something about it. The way it makes me feel. Like I'm gaining strength. What the heck? It's like spinach for drunks.

I've officially lost my mind.

My muscles have never felt stronger. My body has never felt more alive.

I drink more because I like it. I drink more because of how it makes me feel. I drink more to forget that I'm sitting here talking to a demon like he's my best friend.

"I'm not lying to you. I'm not hiding anything from you, nothing important anyway."

"See…"

"See nothing. They are the bad guys here, love. Not me. Not the demons. Them. They are hypocrites. Plan and simple. They claim they do what they do for God, but let me tell you, they don't. They are as selfish as we are—as demons are. Power does that to a person—to anything. Everything craves power. Angels are things. They do what they do in the name of holiness, justice, and what's right, but do you know what I see? A bunch of bullies who don't know when to leave well enough alone."

"Wow," I hiccup. "Tell me what you really think."

"You don't want to know what I really think." His eyes turn dark, not red or black or whatever color his eyes turn as a demon. They were human eyes. With human hurts and fears and anger. For the first time, I see Hart as person. This was probably a very dangerous thing to think. Sympathy for the devil.

Hart pours more wine in my glass. This is officially more than I'd ever drunk in my life. Probably in my life total. Like… completely total. Funny thing, I don't feel drunk. I've been drunk once in my life—with Sam—guess with Hart—but I don't feel like I did then. I feel… good. Really good. Normal. For the first time ever. I feel, I don't know… whole, maybe? That probably makes me either crazy or a drunkard. Or a crazy drunkard. Whichever.

"Sure I do. What girl doesn't want to know what the demon who lives in her head and has pretended to be her boyfriend for the last two years is thinking." I meant it to sound sarcastic. I end up sounding tired. I am tired. Just way too tired.

"I don't live in your head. That's weird. I live in Sam's body. I can get inside your brain."

"Because that's less weird?"

He glares.

"Whose body were you in before?"

"I've always had to keep an eye on you. I've watched you grow up. I've watched…"

Suddenly, the wine doesn't appeal to me. "You've watched me grow up… how… wait? I don't know if I want to know."

"You're a very special person, Gracen. You should know that. Very special. None of this could happen without you. If you weren't born, if your mom had done what she wanted to do—well, things would be totally different."

I don't say anything because I have no idea what to think. Everything is jumbled in my brain. If I think really hard, I know I can make the connection. Thing is, I'm not sure if I want to. I've always known certain things about my family. My mom was a single mom. She got pregnant when she was nineteen. I don't know my father. Her sister helped her raise me. Her sister who…

"She miraculously came out of a coma." I don't mean to say it out loud.

Hart cuts his eyes to me. I think he's a little proud of me for figuring that much out on my own. More he doesn't have to tell me. "Car accident. When you were a baby. Just a little thing. Your mother freaked out because she wasn't sure she could take care of you on her own. And she prayed, Gracen. She prayed and prayed for the angels to help. But the angels… God… was too busy. See they didn't know about you then. They didn't know what you were. They thought you were just an innocent little baby. A nothing. A human just like all the other billions of humans. But I knew. I knew exactly what you were."

"How?"

"Doesn't matter."

"It does. It does matter. I need to know these things. All I know is the word abomination, and that could mean a lot of things. Please. Lucien won't tell me, so I'm asking you. I need to know what I am!"

"I think you already know." His eyes narrow, searching me. "I think deep down you've always known in some way. You know you aren't normal. You know there's something wrong with you."

"Yeah, I keep having nightmares about a demon eating my body parts and telling me I don't have a heart." I crumple up the plastic cup and slam it on the table. My muscles twitch from the power I suddenly feel. That was unexpected.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" He smiles into his own cup. "I guess I should start at the beginning. The very beginning." He leans back in his chair. Much more relaxed than I feel. I take deep breaths to keep the anxiety—the hate—in check. I've never felt anxiety this strong before. I hate it.

"It's not anxiety." Hart says. "It's your body… changing." He says it like it's a good thing.

I raise my eyebrow, sit up in my chair, and play with my hands. I push my thumbnail as hard as I can into the meat of my pointer finger. The pain does nothing to center me.

Hart rolls his eyes and sets his cup down on the table. He folds his hands in his lap and looks at me. "In the beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth. Then all these other things happened, and things were good. Then things weren't so good. You know, Adam—Eve—the apple? Sin came into the world. Sin came—the world fell apart. Cain killed Abel. Angels fell. Demons were made. It's all very interesting, and they teach it in Demon Sunday School. But the thing you need to know is that some demons were humans, souls who went to Hell and for whatever reason, either couldn't let go or were tortured so long they decided to do the torturing. Some souls get recruited."

"Who recruited you?"

He lowers his eyes. "None of your business."

"Hart." I say his name gently. It's so strange to hear his name come out of my lips when I'm talking to Sam. Then again, I suppose there never has been a Sam.

"I'm growing on you, Gracen. Admit it."

I admit nothing. He's not growing on me. He's… I'm just tired and full of anxiety and this stinking ton of bricks on my chest.

"Anyway, back to what you need to know. Not all demons were humans like I said before. Most of them sure, like 99 percent of them were souls, but every once in a while something happens. God's little surprise, let's say. A demon who was never a damned soul. A pure demon who was born into the world as pure as the driven snow. Who has to stay that way."

"Why would God make a demon? Why would He allow a demon to be made?"

Hart shrugs. "Why does He do anything? For fun? From boredom? It has to be boring being that old. To only get attention when people are in pain. Hell, I'd make people always hurt if that were the only time they talked to me."

"You do."

"See… I'm like God." He puffs his chest out like he's somehow proud of that.

"You do. You hurt me so I'll talk to you. In my dreams."

His lip twitches, and the happiness fades. His dimple flashes. "You've got me all wrong. I'm just doing my job. It has nothing to do with any sort of feelings I might have for you."

Feelings? Feelings? Who said anything about…

He clears his throat, like he didn't mean to say that last part, and keeps going with his story. "Can you imagine Hell on Earth?"

"Wait? What?" This conversation keeps going back and forth. I can't seem to catch up. My heart pounds in my ears, and I really want some more of that wine. I'm craving it.

"Hell on Earth, Gracen. All those demons. All those damned souls out in the fresh air of Earth. Can you imagine it?"

No, I can't. I don't want to. "Sounds like a nightmare."

He gets up and gets another plastic cup. He pours the wine until the stream cuts off and hands me the glass. I don't want to drink it. I don't… My hand takes the cup, and I pour the red liquid in my mouth. Heavenly.

"You won't think that in a few minutes."

"Why?"

"You know… you've asked all the relevant questions of a good reporter. Who, what, where, when… but you haven't asked how. Don't you want to know the how?"

Do I? I'm not sure. All I do know is this wine makes me feel warm. Makes me feel whole. Makes me feel normal.

"Like I was saying, most demons were souls at one time. Like me for instance. My brother killed me. I killed him. I turned. Simple. But there is a rumor, a myth you might say, about super rare demons who, through no fault of their own—just God being—God—are born demons. Pure. One hundred percent demon. They have powers, but they don't know it, you see. Because being a demon isn't just about the blood or the dark soul. It's in their DNA. It's in their body. I still have a soul, Gracen. It's just dark and slimy, but it's still there. Still inside." He points to his chest. "Pure demons… they don't have a soul. They don't…"

"They don't have a heart." My fingers refuse to hold on to my cup anymore, and it falls to the floor. Deep, red liquid splatters everywhere. Much thicker than wine.

"Exactly. They don't have a heart. You see, sweetheart, this is what Lucien didn't want to tell you. He didn't think you could handle it, but I know you can. I can tell you what an abomination is—what you are. See, I was there when you were born. Your father wasn't an extraordinary man. In fact, your mother forgot all about him after their one night stand. But the man… the man never forgot about her. Not really."

"He was a demon."

"No, he was an angel."

"Wait…" How in the world?

"An angel from God who had sex with a woman and created a baby. Angel blood can't be tainted by human blood… or by demon blood, truth be told. It contaminates it. It—"

"Makes a demon." I'm numb. I register what Hart is saying, but I can't feel anything. Not inside me.

"Exactly. An abomination. A pure blood demon. Good plus bad equals incredibly bad. Your mother was young. She wanted to abort you, but I stepped in and stopped her. In the form of a sweet little church lady, I told her all lives were worth living. I told her it wasn't your fault she got pregnant. I told her not to punish you. I told her whatever I needed to tell her."

"Why?" Tears stream down my cheeks. Imagining my mother even thinking about aborting me… I didn't know that part of the story. I knew it had been hard on her, but I didn't know… I didn't know how hard.

"Because you had to be born, Gracen. Do you have any idea how rare you are? How special? You're the only one who can do it. You're the only one who can open it. Just you. And, to get what I want, it was my job to take care of you. Watch over you. Get inside your brain. Make you question everything. Keep you pure. Keep you good. But all the while, feed that demon part within yourself, which hasn't been hard. I never tortured you, not intentionally. You made me do it. You put yourself on that table all because you knew… you knew you deserved it."