Straight to Heaven (8 page)

Second amendment? As I struggled to recall which one that was, J.T. continued, “The press blows a lot of this stuff way out of proportion, you know? So when something happens, they do everything they can to stir up trouble. Like with Hutaree. Or that incident last year, when that nutcase from the upper peninsula shot the police officer who had come onto his property? Yeah, a few reporters came sniffing around, trying to link him to us.”

Then, suddenly, I remembered the second amendment was the right to bear arms. And that Hutaree was the name of a religious group of separatists from Michigan who had planned to kill several police officers…

Cautiously, I said, “So you’re a member of a gun-rights group or something?”

“Or something.” He stroked my hair, and I could sense him fighting an inner battle as he decided whether or not to let me in on his secret. Luckily for me, my succubus was better than truth serum because he finally relented. “We’re more of a citizens’ army. Maybe you’ve heard of us. The Great Lakes Militia?”

The Great Lakes Militia? As in the group whose former member had plotted to blow up a federal building two years before? As in the group who’d been rumored to mail envelopes of white powder, presumably anthrax, to senators and representatives whom they disagreed with? Oh, yes, I’d most certainly heard of them.

Suddenly, I felt like I’d accidentally kicked over a wasp’s nest, and all I wanted to do was run like hell.

Chapter Six

I left the bar so quickly that I nearly crashed into William on my way into Hell. His mouth was twisted in that familiar, sardonic smile I so hated. “Got you again, didn’t she?” he asked.

“Get lost,” I muttered as I edged past him. It was bad enough that he’d witnessed my first epic fail. Having him view my second – especially after the bedroom fiasco – was more than I could bear. My face felt hotter than Hell’s furnaces.

He grabbed my arm, keeping me in place. “Not until you tell me what the hell was going on between us tonight.” Anger flashed beneath his smirk.

I yanked myself free. “I drank too much, and my succubus got the better of me. That’s all. I’m sorry I put you out.” And I was. Deeply sorry. I should have sent him packing the minute he stepped into my living room.

Unfortunately, his temper didn’t cool. “I hate a woman who sends mixed messages.”

“You should talk!” I shot back. “I hate a man who worries about my wellbeing one minute and wants a romp between the sheets the next.”

“I was never worried about you,” he snapped. “I always let people worry about themselves. Makes my life much easier that way.”

“So why the lecture about not drinking alone?”

He frowned, but it was more thoughtful than angry. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Somehow, you always sneak behind my defenses.”

“I wish I could get past that damned angel’s defenses,” I said. I’d now botched two assignments in a row. Miss Spry’s patience was bound to run out sooner or later. “Any advice?”

He shrugged. “Try harder next time.”

“Thanks,” I said sourly and continued down the hall. I didn’t want to visit Miss Spry, but hearing about the Militia had frightened me. Getting mixed up with that crowd could be dangerous, and I wasn’t about to risk my life for an assignment. I wanted to put in a request for a bodyguard.

William followed me to the door of Miss Spry’s office. “Was it really only your succubus who wanted me tonight, or did you want me there as well?”

I squirmed, remembering how much I had longed to be in his arms. “It was all her,” I lied. “I don’t need the heartache.”

“Then neither do I.” He walked away with his hands in his pockets and his head down.

Predictably, Mr. Clerk was in Miss Spry’s study. The two of them were sitting on a couch drinking tea. Mr. Clerk looked freshly showered and had changed his clothes while Miss Spry wore a velvet dressing gown and a pair of embroidered slippers. If I didn’t know I was in Hell, I might have called this a cozy scene.

Deciding that the direct approach was best, I said, “I got closer tonight, but I didn’t entirely succeed.”

“You failed, Lilith,” Miss Spry said tartly. “Call it for what it is.”

“Okay, I failed. I’m really sorry, and I swear I’ll try harder next time!”

Her eyes went hot, and I tensed, sure she’d turn into a beast and eat me alive. To my relief, however, she regained control of herself. “I appreciate your enthusiasm,” she finally said. She picked up the teapot and poured me a cup. “I must admit, your disguise is wonderful.”

“Thanks to my tutelage,” Mr. Clerk said proudly.

I took the cup she offered and sat down on an ottoman. My carefully-molded body loosened back to my familiar shape. Although this meant that I was now wedged into the ridiculously tight clothing, resuming my real form was still a huge relief, like taking off a pair of pinching pumps after a long day on your feet.

“Your tutelage didn’t help me win my client over, though,” I told Mr. Clerk. I took a sip of the tea. It was as fantastic as I remembered, smoky and rich. Once again, I wondered if I could get some of it for my father, the tea expert. “You could have at least warned me about him.”

Mr. Clerk frowned. “Warned you about what?”

“That he’s a member of the Great Lakes Militia.”

The two demons stared at me.

“And why would that matter?” Mr. Clerk asked.

“Why? Are you kidding me?! The man is a member of a secret paramilitary organization.” When they still didn’t respond, I grew frustrated. “Those people are dangerous! They make plans to blow up government buildings! They kidnap police officers and hold them hostage! If I’m going to be around my client, I’ll need some protection.”

“Really, Lilith. Don’t be so dramatic. Patrick and I knew all about the man’s affiliation with that group.” Miss Spry poured herself more tea and used a pair of silver tongs to add a cube of sugar.

“Besides, you were perfectly safe in the bar,” Mr. Clerk added.

I wasn’t surprised that they took the matter so lightly. After all, Miss Spry hadn’t shown much concern for my safety before. Still, I had to make them understand. “Listen,” I said. “These people are survivalists, okay? They think the world is going to end very soon.”

“It isn’t,” Miss Spry said.

“Well, this man believes that it will, and so do his friends. They think once civilization falls, they’re going to have to battle to the death for every graham cracker and pack of matches.”

Mr. Clerk suddenly snorted and set his cup down to avoid spilling his tea. His face went red from suppressed laughter. Miss Spry chuckled like a woman who’s just read a lovely bon mot in the
New Yorker
.

Mr. Clerk wiped his face. “Do they really think that there will be something left to rescue when the world ends?”

Miss Spry shook her head. “Graham crackers. Imagine.”

A few months before, I’d experienced a taste of the worst Hell had to offer, and true, graham crackers were the very last thing on my mind. At the same time, I understood how terrifying it was to be out of control. Everyone needs to cling to the illusion that they have a safety net. Even if the holes in it are so immense that they’ll tumble straight through.

“These militia types are serious,” I said. “They’re paranoid and very suspicious of outsiders.” My wrist still hurt where Craig had grabbed it. “They’re also prone to violence and very trigger happy.”

Even while dressed for bed, Miss Spry wore pearls, and she tugged on them now. “What do you think, Patrick? Perhaps Lilith is right. Maybe we underestimated this militia thing.”

Mr. Clerk shot me an angry look. “I’m a hundred percent confident that the man’s paramilitary affiliation did not impact tonight’s assignment. I know my job, despite what Ms. Straight thinks.”

Miss Spry nodded. “That’s good enough for me.”

It wasn’t for me. Mr. Clerk could claim to be an expert on human behavior, but I had a feeling that he didn’t get out of Hell very often. “Well,
I
think the information is important, and I want a bodyguard.”

Mr. Clerk rolled his eyes. “A
bodyguard?
I assure you that’s completely unnecessary.”

I rubbed my sore wrist. “I’d say it’s very necessary.”

Miss Spry shook her head. “Lilith, you wouldn’t need to worry about the Militia if you hadn’t let that guardian angel get the better of you.”

Mr. Clerk sighed in exasperation. “Angels aren’t that difficult, Lilith. Trust me.”

“This one was! Well, okay, not difficult, but sneaky.”

“You’re right. They are sneaky,” Mr. Clerk admitted. “One angel can bring randomness into the equation and wreak havoc on my calculations.” He glanced at Miss Spry. “What I don’t understand is why the other team is wasting resources on Lilith’s victim. From what I can tell, this Craig Fuller is not that important.”

Miss Spry sipped her tea.

“I mean, he isn’t a committed believer,” Mr. Clerk continued. “He follows his girlfriend to church, but he falls asleep during the service. So why is
He
,” Mr. Clerk rolled his eyes upward, “making all the fuss?”

“Honestly, Patrick,” Miss Spry finally said. “Isn’t it obvious? Someone is interceding on his behalf. Get his girlfriend to stop praying for him, and
He
will stop protecting him. Do I have to do your job for you?”

Mr. Clerk flushed angrily. “Of course not. I know what I’m doing, despite what you two think!”

Miss Spry’s eyes went hot. “Are you being insubordinate?”

He withered under her glare. “No.”

“Then I suggest that you get back to work and figure out another meeting.” Her voice lowered an octave, becoming dangerous. “Right now.”

Mr. Clerk set his teacup aside and retreated from the office with his head down and his shoulders slumped. He looked like a little kid on the playground who hadn’t found the courage to stand up to the bully.

Miss Spry patted the spot on the couch next to her. “Let’s have a little girl-to-girl chat, shall we?”

I moved closer, pleased that whatever she was about to say was not for Mr. Clerk or William’s ears.

“Your current job is very important, but it’s also very challenging. Even William would be hard-pressed to complete it, I think.”

Aha! That put a smile on my face. For all William’s bragging, even Miss Spry had doubts about his abilities.

She went back to tugging on her pearls. “I want this done and I want it done quickly, so I’m prepared to make you a deal.”

I sucked in my breath. “What kind of a deal?”

Miss Spry smiled unpleasantly. “Patrick’s been telling me that I need to stop threatening my staff and start motivating them instead. I’m inclined to agree. Therefore, I’m offering you an incentive to finish the job quickly.” She took one of my hands and imprisoned it between her own. Her skin was hot and dry, like a lizard that’s been sitting under a heat lamp. “I know how much you love your little girl.”

My stomach tightened. “Of course.” Please don’t take my daughter again, I begged mentally. Please! I couldn’t bear it.

“Good. Then, Lilith, if you complete this assignment, I’ll make a slight adjustment to your contract. I’ll amend it so that your succubus status skips a generation before moving on.”

My jaw dropped. Skips a generation? I didn’t dare believe it. “Does that mean that you won’t take Grace on as a succubus?” My voice was hardly above a whisper. If that happened, my daughter wouldn’t share my fate. She’d never become a succubus. And if I could convince her to not have any children, then the lineage would be entirely broken. The curse would end with me.

Miss Spry nodded.

“Are you serious?” I hardly dared to ask that, but I had to make sure.

“Completely.”

“Then it’s a deal,” I said. I somberly shook her hand, but grinned like an idiot on the inside. Not only had I been given a chance to rescue my daughter, I could once and for all prove to William that I was the more capable seducer.

Before I went home, I checked on Mr. Clerk. Now that I knew Grace’s future was riding on this job, I was more eager than ever to make another appointment with my client.

I softly knocked on his office door, and when he told me to come in, I did.

This room was the polar opposite of Miss Spry’s lavish study. The carpet was threadbare, and several ceiling tiles were missing. The overhead fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered. The room contained a draftsman’s table, a battered metal desk, a lopsided office chair, and a few dingy cabinets. The whole place smelled of ink and paper and duplication fluid, like the workroom at the school where I used to teach.

I took a seat on the wobbly desk chair. “Miss Spry needs to give your office an upgrade.”

Mr. Clerk remained stubbornly silent. I’d stepped on his toes by second-guessing him, and he wasn’t about to forgive me. He went to a cabinet and pulled out a large tube of paper. He unrolled it and spread it out on his desk.

“This is your man’s blueprint,” Mr. Clerk said. Sure enough, the name ‘Craig Fuller’ was written at the top in precise draftsmen script. “These are all of the important decisions he’s made over the course of his life.” On the paper was an intricate pattern of lines, arrows, and words.

I couldn’t make heads or tails out of the chart. Mr. Clerk, however, had no problem navigating it. He tapped a tiny ‘X’ near the left-hand side. “See this? Mr. Fuller once stole a handful of candy bars from a drugstore and sold them to his friends.” He smiled. “The clever boy never got caught.”

“Amazing,” I said, marveling at the diagram’s complexity.

Mr. Clerk thawed a little. Using his index finger, he lovingly traced a complex pattern of swirls. “Right now, your Mr. Fuller is experiencing a psychic storm. His life is becoming quite complicated.”

“He lost his job today,” I said.

“And his girlfriend, too, from the looks of things.”

“Really?” I tried to find the event on the blueprint. “When did that happen?”

“A minute or so ago. They argued over you, of all things.” Mr. Clerk looked pleased. “It’s a good thing they did because the more chaotic his life becomes, the better chance we’ll have of convincing him to join our team. Although,” he tapped the document thoughtfully, “there’s an equal risk that the stress will guide him into the enemy’s camp.” He shook his head. “This is a very dicey situation.”