The Devil's Wife (11 page)

      I couldn't help it. Seeing Azazel sucking on his alcoholsoaked shirt made me double up in laughter. I held my stomach as I laughed, feeling a stitch form in my side.

      The other Demons relaxed, really laughing. Leviathan told me centuries ago that they were all really getting worried about me. It was startling how much they cared about me. I just hoped they'd now turned their concerns to God instead of me.

      "So love has returned to you?" Beelzebub asked and the rest of the Demons trailed off their laughing to listen.

      All of us Demons lived forever separated from our wives. There was no way for us to return to our wives and our sisters in Heaven.

      Hell, I hated God for what he did to all of us.

      I was the only one to spend all my time away from Hell, instead haunting the Earth and living close to Sera. I kept the gravesite clear of buildings and such, keeping her grave itself clear of plants that could overtake her. I'd built my house nearby, keeping the grave on my land—no one would ever be able to cover her with a building or destroy the peace of the clearing in the middle of the forest.

      "Yeah, but not as an Angel. Clarissa fell into my life at the hands of a man about to kill her. When I stepped in to rescue her, I realized that she would need help, and I did all I could to save her."

      "Very gracious of you, Luce, saving a lady you didn't know." Leviathan looked impressed.

      "Thanks, Levi." I sat back on my throne, and gestured.

      In Hell, my realm, anything I could think of could be created. I was Hell's God, when I showed up to work. At any other time, Beelzebub, my second in command, had the place running like one giant party. It was his way of dealing with the pain of missing his wife Tara, after all, so he extended the party to all the humans who had ended up in my Kingdom, and they all messed about eating, smoking, and drinking, and avoided any form of work. After all, it's not like it could kill them.

      A large mahogany table, covered by a magnificent feast, appeared in front of me. I gestured for my family to take their places at the table. The thirteen Demons happily sat down, leaving me to sit crookedly in my throne at the head of the table. I had my chin in my hand, watching and thinking.

      I put a single drumstick on my plate, gesturing for the others to feed themselves.

      "It's great to have you back, Luce," Leviathan said, taking a whole fish from the serving platter in front of him and putting it on his plate to claim it.

      "Yeah, the food's always better when you're here, Luce." Beelzebub glanced at Azazel and stole the bottle of Wild Turkey from him, passing it along the table to Baraqiel who passed it to Ramon and out of Azazel's reach.

      "Hey, get your own booze!" Azazel cried, standing up to chase his bottle.

      Baraqiel pulled him back down into his seat, and Azazel sulked.

      "Seriously, Azazel," Belial said, piling a half-dozen baked potatoes onto Azazel's plate, "you've got to lighten up with the drinking. Even if only while Luce's here." He smothered the potatoes in gravy, handing Azazel the fork. "If Lucifer becomes preoccupied with his new woman, we might not even get our semi-annual visits and good feeds."

      I laughed, shaking my head. "I can't forget you guys! You're family, remember?" I chewed on the chicken leg. "What kind of Demon would I be if I forgot my friends?"

      The thirteen Demons looked at each other.

      "The Devil," they said as one, then laughed.

      "Yeah, well, the last thing I'm going to be is that creature," I said with a grin, throwing the bone back on my plate and reaching out for the pitcher of port in front of me. "Who wants to swap the port for their scotch?"

      "Depends," Jaquie said, looking in his own pitcher. "Do I get the boats as well?"

      There was a second of silence around the table before we all realized the joke. I laughed and handed the pitcher to Beelzebub, who passed it to Azazel. Azazel looked wistfully into the pitcher and started to lift it to his mouth. Baraqiel grabbed the pitcher from him before he could drink from it, making Azazel huff and sulk. Baraqiel handed it along to Ramon. As Ramon handed the pitcher to Jaquie, I waved my hand vaguely, as though shooing a fly from my face.

      Jaquie poured himself a glass of port and found shipwrecks in the bottom of his glass. He stared at it for a second, and I winked. A small tugboat chuffed around on top of his drink, letting out little peals of smoke and tooting its miniature horn.

      We all laughed. Jaquie thought it was funny, and passed the pitcher of scotch back around the table to me. Azazel didn't even bother trying to drink the scotch—he hated the taste—and handed it to Beelzebub as soon as he could. I laughed as I took the pitcher from Beelzebub, pouring myself a drink.

      "Why aren't you eating, Luce?" Leviathan asked me, pulling a fishbone out from between his teeth. It was wider than his mouth, making me stare.

      Beelzebub looked at the single chicken bone on my plate, then the glass of scotch in my hand. "Don't tell me we're sharing the Last Supper," he said, then chuckled to himself.

      Everyone's a comedic genius tonight, I thought and rolled my eyes. "I'm cooking dinner for Clarissa tonight. I don't want to eat too much now and not be able to eat with her later."

      "Who's Clarissa?" Azazel asked from the foot of the table, his plate piled up with a rack of American Marinade ribs.

      "My new girl." I smiled at the boys.

      "Nice name," Baraqiel said from the end of the table.

      I laughed again, drinking half the glass of scotch in a single mouthful. "Thanks, guys."

      Beelzebub smiled. "It'll be nice to have a woman around here who isn't dead," he said wistfully.

      "We're happy for you, boss," Ramon said, filling up his glass from the pitcher of Jack Daniel's in front of him. "May you finally drag your ass out of its funk and join the rest of us in enjoying still being alive. I mean, God could have wiped us out, if He wanted to. He didn't have to give us our own realm."

      "Hear, hear!" Belial called, filling his glass from the pitcher of Bloody Marys and handing it to Beliqiel sitting

beside him. "To the new Queen!"

      I could feel myself blushing, though I knew that no one would be able to tell aside from me.

      "C'mon guys," I said as they all filled their glasses and toasted. "I don't even know if she is going to stay my friend. I have a lot to deal with, what with Sera and our daughter's death."

      All of the Demons dropped their drinks, even Azazel, who was sipping absinthe. The alcohol spread across the dirt, turning it into sweet-smelling mud. Not even Azazel mourned the dropped alcohol. Beelzebub, who had just taken a mouthful of vodka, spat it across the table. Leviathan, the recipient of the clear spray, was staring at me and didn't notice. Kokhabiel choked on his piña colada and turned to the side of the chair to avoid spraying the food as he took ragged breaths.

      "She was what?" Belial asked in shock as Beliel thumped the choking Beelzebub on the back. "Why didn't you tell us?"

      "The five thousand years of melancholy make sense now," Jaquie whispered, and the sound of his feminine voice could be heard over Beelzebub's gasps. "You weren't just mourning Sera, you were mourning your child." He looked at me carefully. "I assume it was yours and not—"

      "No, she was mine. My daughter." I nodded. "I didn't tell you all because you'd lost so much of your own lives because of me. I didn't want to make it worse for you."

      "But we didn't lose as much as you, apparently, Luce," Leviathan said, frowning. Then he smiled at me, his eyes twinkling. "I should have known that if anyone could have single-handedly destroyed God's plan, even from Hell, it would have been you."

      "Does Clarissa know you had a wife before? That she was pregnant when she died?" Beelzebub asked, ignoring Leviathan.

      I nodded. "I told her everything. Except the real reason behind the Fall. I told her I refused to sleep with God, not...not the real reason."

      "How did she react, Luce?" Leviathan asked, frowning. He finally noticed the vodka on his face and wiped it off daintily with a serviette.

      "She took it pretty well," I said, frowning to remember. "She just kept asking questions. Nothing seemed to faze her."

      "You let her ask you questions?" Azazel asked, shocked. "What did she ask?"

      "Mostly stuff about the Fall," I said, thinking. I drank the rest of the glass and filled it again. "She asked some stuff about you lot—"

      "Like what?" Belial and Jaquie, ever the vain Demons, asked at the same time.

      I shrugged. "Who you are, what you're like, what you'd done to deserve to go down with me—"

      "She doesn't sound like someone you'd find worthy of befriending," Belial grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Sera wouldn't assume that we'd done something wrong."

      "What world are you living in?" Baraqiel asked Belial as the others laughed. "When you got drunk, threw up on Raphael and ended up standing guard at the Gates for a century in punishment, what was the first thing Sera asked when you complained?"

      "'Well, what did you do to deserve it?'" Belial quoted, sulking.

      "Exactly." Leviathan turned to look at me. "If you're cooking dinner for your new friend, you'd better get back and get ready now, Luce. I think that you would also be wise to get some sleep tomorrow, mate. Those bags under your eyes don't add to your appearance at all."

      I laughed, pouring myself another drink and stood up. "Feel free to continue eating until sundown," I said with a smile. "Then it vanishes."

      "And the alcohol?" Azazel asked before anyone could stop him.

      I laughed, releasing my wings. "Just for you, Azazel, I'll leave the alcohol here until it's all gone."

      Azazel smiled. "Thanks, Luce!"

      I laughed again, opening my wings. "Anyone else want anything?"

      The Demons shook their heads, raising their glasses to me in a silent toast.

      "See you around, guys."

      "Don't forget to bring Clarissa around sometime!" Belial called as I flapped my way up to the tunnel to Earth.

~ * ~

      When I got home, I was too excited to sleep. I paced around the living room for a while, having cleaned up the couch from my night's sleep and straightened up my bedroom. I'd tried sleeping, but there was no way I was going to be able to achieve that today. I was too happy.

      I gave up pacing and headed into the kitchen, looking through my fridge. There was a lot in there, but I had no idea what I was going to cook for Clarissa, so I flicked through my cookbooks, looking for something special.

      I passed through the fish dishes and moved to the pork, but quickly gave that up, not liking pork all that much. I skipped the chicken and poultry dishes, which left me with two options: lamb and beef.

      Well, she liked the spaghetti, I thought, landing on a page for a delicious-looking lasagna. I looked at the recipe. It was complex, but not too bad. I could cook it easily. She should like this as well. All I need is ground veal and pork. I think that's easy enough to get.

      I wrote out the list of ingredients, thinking over what was in my cupboards. I wouldn't need the dried pasta—I could make it fresh myself—but I was out of tomatoes, and I didn't have the mozzarella cheese.

      I grabbed a handful of hundred dollar bills from the container on the entertainment unit in the living room— money I'd gathered from the bodies of the Hellraisers when I'd gone out for painkillers for Clarissa—and put my boots on.

      Holding my white shirt, I leaped from my deck, flying toward the shops a few blocks away. It was easier and faster than walking.

~ * ~

      I returned to my house yawning, weighed down by the large bags of food I'd bought. Besides the ingredients for the lasagna, I'd bought some things for Clarissa that, in my short visit to her apartment, I thought she'd need, including a large amount of chocolate.

      The first thing on my list, though, couldn't be bought at a grocery store. I wanted to get rid of that bastard cat of hers and get Clarissa a real pet, like a puppy, but I realized that there was no way that a puppy would take to me any better than the ginger furball had. All animals had an instinctive desire to avoid me as much as possible. That's why we in Hell had created our own race of animal companions, ones that wouldn't shy away from us: The Hellhounds.

      I placed the six bags of groceries on the counter, rubbing at my hands. The plastic of the bags cut into my finger joints while I flew. There was no way I was going to carry those bags all the way to Clarissa's apartment on the other side of the city.