The Girl and The Raven (31 page)

I should be annoyed Jude took it upon himself to buy my dress. What if I already had one? But even if I did, there’s no way it would compare to this dress.

Bernard calls my name. I race from the bathroom to the living room.

“You’re home!”

“Whoa!” Sheldon laughs, pulling off his tie. “What’s this?”

“It’s gorgeous, Lucy. Absolutely gorgeous.” Bernard takes off his suit coat, eyeing me curiously. “But…”

I twirl around, unable to get the idiotic smile off my face.

My uncles exchange a look.

“Lucy, that dress looks pretty expensive,” Sheldon says carefully.

“I didn’t buy it. It was a gift.” I can’t make eye contact. I’m about to lie to them for the first time in my life. “Didn’t you see the big box?”

Bernard glances at Sheldon and shakes his head. “Honey we’ve been gone—the dress rehearsal of Figaro at the Lyric Opera, remember? What box?”

A chill runs through me. Jude was in our apartment? Thank goodness my uncles weren’t home.

“It’s a gift from Mr. and Mrs. Douglas, thanking me for my help over the summer.”

Sheldon whistles softly. “Very nice of them.”

“Yes, quite generous.” Bernard nods at Sheldon. “It seems they’re trying to make up for nearly working her to death. Where’d the pendant come from?”

I finger the amulet resting against my chest, playing it casual. “Persephone gave it to me. It belonged to Gram.”

“It’s unusual, but then your grandmother liked unusual things,” Sheldon says.

“Can you believe Homecoming’s in three days?” I hope I won’t burn in hell for lying about the dress. If my demon father keeps sending me gifts, I may have to consider Catholicism after all. I may need that confession thing. “Are you still planning to go to the Homecoming game Friday night?”

“Absolutely. Wouldn’t miss it.” Bernard grins.

“I think this calls for a celebration!” Sheldon heads to the kitchen and returns with a takeout menu. “How about Asian for dinner?”

“Actually, I’m having dinner with Marcus.” Should I wear the dress? Let Marcus see it before I return it. I look up in time to see Sheldon’s face fall. “He’s cooking for me.” Sheldon presses his lips into a thin line. “Um, at his place.”

“Nice to know where we rank with you.” Sheldon tosses the takeout menu on the coffee table. Bernard shoots him a nervous glance.

I stand there speechless. After an awkward pause, Bernard suggests I take off the dress so nothing happens to it before the dance. I return to my bedroom and close the door, not understanding Sheldon’s sudden bad mood. I’m having dinner with Marcus. What’s the big deal?

Hearing a noise at my window, I turn, expecting to see Marcus. “Speak of the devil—” My smile falls away when I see the large crow standing on the ledge, its red eyes trained on me. I race across the room to close my window. I jump back as something large and furry slams against my screen, growling viciously as it tackles the bird. I slam my hand over my mouth to cover my shriek.

I take a step toward the window and raise the screen, so I can peak outside. The spotted cat. The same one I saw lurking in the front bushes before. He looks up at me and—
ugh…gross—
his face is matted with blood. He’s ripped the bird’s throat open.

I pull my head inside and close the screen, the window
and
the blinds. Is it possible Jude sent the bird to see if I liked the dress? I told him to stop spying on me!

I carefully peel off the dress, replacing it with jeans and a blue button down shirt. Then I take a deep breath, paste a smile on my face, and head for the kitchen. Bernard’s there, stirring a pitcher of iced tea. Sheldon’s gone to pick up dinner.

My shoulders slump. “Why does it bother him so much that I’m having dinner with Marcus?” I lean against the counter. “He’s a great guy. You both know that, don’t you?”

“Of course we do, but Luce…” He looks at me, his voice gentle. “Sheldon has suffered a lot of loss, too. You’re here with us, finally, but you’re growing up fast, you’ve got a boyfriend and you’re always busy. He’s afraid of losing you now, too.”

“But he won’t! You’re both stuck with me…for a really long time.”

“I’m just telling you where he’s coming from.”

I’ve been so wrapped up in my own issues that I never really considered that Sheldon and Bernard have lost a sister, a nephew and a niece. Now I feel worse.

When Sheldon returns home, I hug him and plant noisy kisses on his cheeks and forehead until we’re both laughing. After I’m sure he’s feeling better, I head to Marcus’ apartment.

At the top of the stairs, I stop short. Marcus’ apartment door is open several inches. I smirk. What’s he up to? I knock and wait, but there’s no response. I push the door all the way open. “Hello?”

I smell food cooking. Marinara sauce? I enter the apartment. Everything looks the same as the last time I was here, except the stack of Neil Gaiman graphic novels scattered on the coffee table. I jump at the sound of the icemaker kicking in, then exhale, feeling silly. I peek into the kitchen. Two pans on the stove, but no Marcus.

“Marcus?”

No answer. A bad feeling gnaws at my insides. I check the balcony. No Marcus. I reach in my pocket, but realize I left my cell phone on my desk. Maybe he ran up to Persephone’s?

But why wouldn’t he have turned off the stove before he left?

I turn off the burners and search through several drawers to find oven mitts so I can move the marinara to a cool burner. Tucked in a drawer with the dishtowels is a photograph of a woman with white hair straddling a motorcycle, her pose seductive. I squint and take a closer look. Something about her seems familiar. Wait—the woman with Jude at the ice cream parlor. I turn the photo over.
Daphne - the biggest mistake of my life
. The writing isn’t Marcus’, so I’m guessing Daphne is Aiden’s mistake. But what was Jude doing with her? I put it back in the drawer and toss the mitts on top of it. I need to focus on finding Marcus.

If he’s not in his bedroom, I’ll go back downstairs and text him.

I turn around and collide with the gray-haired demon.

“What are you doing here?” I gasp as I shimmy to the left and back out toward the living room. With a trembling hand, I touch the stone resting against my chest, beneath my shirt and hope it works.

“You’re Lucy Walker, correct?” I’m not sure what I expected, but the kind expression and gentle voice were definitely not it. “I’m Seamus. Seamus McAllister.”

He extends his hand. I ignore it and take another step backward. “What do you want?”

He flashes a sympathetic smile but makes no move to approach me. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m an old friend of your grandmother’s.”

“I don’t think my grandmother would appreciate you breaking into my bedroom in the middle of the night. Twice. What do you want with my mom’s old letters anyway?” I take a quick look behind me.
Where is Marcus?
“And what’s the deal with you and Jude?”

“Jude.” He nods, his posture drooping. “I was afraid he would get to you first.”

“First? You could’ve introduced yourself anytime, instead of sneaking into my room while I slept.”

His expression is pinched, as if he just ate something awful. “Jude is evil. You know he’s a demon?”

“So are you.”

“But very different than Jude.”

Marcus told me his evil detector didn’t go berserk when Seamus was around. My spider senses aren’t sounding the alarm like they do with Jude, either. “Different how?”

“My powers are likened to those of parlor tricks. Invisibility and illusion.” So that’s why Persephone and Henry’s spells don’t work. “However, Jude is evil of the highest order.”

“What do you mean?” Is he trying to scare me? Because it’s working.

“Jude is your father. You know this?”

“Yes.” I shake my head in frustration, not wanting to get sucked in by his stories. “I don’t understand. What do you want?”

Seamus leans in, his eyes narrowing. “Did you ever wonder where your name came from?

I slide my foot backward. “I…I assumed from my mother.”

“Jude holds the rank of king among demons, and he is said to have been created second only to Lucifer.”

Nausea swirls in my belly. “No, that can’t be…” No wonder Marcus can’t fight the change when Jude is nearby. No wonder Momma went insane.

My chest tightens. I struggle to breathe.

“Jude idolized only one man. Or should I say, demon. And you’re his namesake.”

“Jesus,” I whisper.

“Not quite.” He smirks, then turns and walks into the kitchen. “I need a drink. Do you want something?”

There’s something knowing in his gaze. The room is too hot all of a sudden. I swallow and almost choke. My throat is dry, but there’s no way I’m accepting anything from him. “No, thanks.” Why would Momma allow Jude to name me? She hated him. Then again, maybe he hypnotized her.

Seamus returns a minute later with a glass of orange juice. My throat burns with thirst and I want to rip the glass out of his hands. I try to focus. What did I ask him? Oh yes, the letters.

“Did you know my mom? What…what did you plan to do with her letters, anyway?”

“I met her a couple of times.” He takes another drink from his glass, studying me over the rim, as if he’s waiting for something. A revelation of some kind? I stare at his glass and struggle to swallow, my dry throat making it difficult. I want to open the windows, but am afraid to turn my back on him.

A bead of sweat glides down my back, leaving an itchy tickle in its wake. “I think I will grab something to drink.”

I maneuver around him into the kitchen. I open one cabinet door after another, searching for a glass. Where the heck is Marcus? Did Seamus do something to him?

I stand with the refrigerator door open, fanning myself as I down most of my juice. Lucy. Lucifer. I’ve never given my name a second thought before. It just was. Like my hair is black and my eyes are green. Now it seems like an omen. I refill the glass and bring it with me to the living room.

“What was the truth you wanted my mom to uncover?”

“Your grandmother refused to have another child with Jude. She discovered the depth of his evil shortly after the birth of Zackary. She broke off all ties with him.”

“Uncle Zack?” My voice trails off. I press my hand to my temple, fragments coming to me.

“Your grandmother blamed Jude for Zachary’s death. Despised him for it.”

Pain rips through my belly. The glass of juice slips out of my hand and crashes to the floor as I fall to my knees. “What did you do to me?” I claw at my chest for the amulet, clutch it between my fingers. It’s not helping.

“Zachary was destined to die.” Seamus sighs. “He was the product of evil.” Wait…is Seamus admitting he killed Uncle Zack?

The pain unknots leaving me shaky. I struggle to my feet. My palms start to burn and for the first time, I’m grateful. I turn to face him, ready to turn him into a human fireball. I need to get to Persephone’s. Another blast of pain tears through me and I double over.

“He that is unjust, let him be unjust still.” His monotone voice is hollow and raspy like ancient paper, as if he just aged a hundred years. “And he which is filthy, let him be filthy still.”

I take a step back on unsteady legs and then another. “You’re insane!”

“And he that is righteous, let him be righteous still.” His dead eyes stare at me as I stumble away from him. All kindness is gone. By the time I reach the door, everything starts to spin. I see two of everything. I take an exaggerated step, unsure where to set my foot. My hands splay out as I try to catch myself.

“And I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see,” Seamus calls out urgently.

My face connects with the floor. Pain shoots through my skull while the room swirls around me. I call for Marcus, but it comes out a groan.

“And I looked, and behold a pale horse; and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him."

I curl into a ball as my stomach convulses. I writhe and whimper. The pain is horrible. Like shards of glass cutting, cutting, cutting inside of me.

Then everything goes black.

Moonbeams shine through the window, illuminating the room in a soft glow. I hear a noise and turn to see Marcus slumped in a chair next to me, snoring softly.

I want to reach out to him, but don’t have the energy. Sleep pulls me back under.

* * * *

The next time I come to, the sunshine is so bright, it casts a heavenly glow around the room. I test out my limbs, stretching and extending them. I feel good. Incredible, actually. And everything around me looks
beautiful
. I study the unfamiliar comforter, beige with blue coneflowers, and run my fingers along the scratchy fabric. An orchid sits on the bedside table. White with pink veins running through its delicate petals. Beyond the plant, dust glitters in a ray of sunlight.