Page 23 of Burn for the Devil
“You’re asking me to dismantle a major operation,” Matthew protested.
I spoke up. “Would you rather find yourself under a federal investigation, weak and powerless, attempting to draw on your gifts and finding your resources have escaped you?”
A deep sigh left his chest. “I’ll let you know what I decide.”
“You’re going to do this; it's already been decided,” Ilya stated with finality.
“My kind has never associated with yours,” the archangel spat.
Pushing my chair back, I rose from my seat. “We all share those sentiments.”
Vampires, angels, and demons were uneasy bedfellows. Historically, the three types of beings either fought or gave each other a wide berth. Alastair had been my friend for years, but I was not ignorant of the fact that no one in the room beside me wanted him here. Adding an angel, anarchangel,made this moment unprecedented. The chances of this transition remaining without bloodshed were slim.
If I was the devil’s son, Matthew was nearly the equivalent of the Creator’s. The angels considered themselves superior solely based on association, and we considered ourselves supreme because we were honest about our compulsions.
“You’re dismissed,” I announced to no one in particular. A wave of homesickness washed over me, the longing pinging back and forth between the Second and Fourth Realms before settling on the Fourth. I missed my flower garden, the clearing under the moonlight full of night blooming gardenias. I missed my collection of esoteric tomes I kept there. I even missed the infernal creek Kiara had been so fond of.
After I poured a generous helping of more whiskey, I turned around. “I said you aredismissed.” A thin iridescent strand of ether wound around the angel before retracting. I had to wonder if he could see me in the same manner, see my tells and emotions. He must’ve been able to. His eyes met mine, bitter and full of anger, his irises crackling. He spun on his heel and stormed out of the office, with everyone except Ilya following him out seconds later.
“Why are you still here?”
Ilya pressed his lips together and then answered, “We should have fed on Matthew.”
“Is that possible? I’ve never read an account of that.”
He leaned against the doorframe. “Something to keep in mind.” He pulled the door shut behind him.
Would Matthew have an advantage over us? It seemed unlikely he’d cease the riskier ventures he was involved in, and due to Ilya’s bargain with the man, we’d had to bring him into our inner circle. We were all ignorant to the extent of his power, though I’d had some insight from Alastair.
The vampire had informed me that Matthew’s trafficking victims were willing, due to manipulation magic, but that fact wouldn’t dissuade authorities even if it could be explained. Also, it appeared it may not have been trafficking but rather something else involving women, and he’d allowed others to believe it was the worst possible situation, for some reason. Too many factors were outside of my direct control for my comfort.
Dumping the remaining liquid in my glass, I decided to go shopping. Changes had to be made in my life and they would start with formally asking my love out on a date.
14
Samantha
Marshall, one of our part-time employees, showed up with a take-out tray of coffee. “You are an angel,” I thanked him, snagging the paper cup with my name in wide black marker scribbled on the side.
“It was the least I could do. Where did all these people come from?”
When I said our shop was busy, I didn’t mean the old school black Friday kind of rush from internet videos. Rather, having more than two people checking out our stock was an anomaly. There were currently five potential customers wandering about and two more had just sauntered in. Much of our business came through our internet shop, which kept us afloat, but it certainly was fun to have individuals beside each other to chat with.
To think this was all because of the rumor I’d witnessed a murder. That was fine, I’d take it. I’d stopped correcting people after the first few days due to both exhaustion and the realization it was better they thought I’d had a front row seat.
My father now had a compelling platform from which to gather sympathy and attention and my mother was calling memultiple times a day to make sure I was okay. I was fine. Yes, it was disturbing but it was also something one was bound to stumble on sooner or later living in the city. Chad wasn’t the first person to die in the middle of the street. Where my parents had lived in fear of negative public associations because of my sister, they now almost reveled in it, weaponizing it. Instead of society villainizing my family, we were now heroes, survivors.
An image of the tall, beautiful man with the shiny hair entered my mind. What had he been doing there, and on the wrong side of the police tape? My face flushed with heat, remembering how I’d been stunned speechless by his eyes when he’d come in here asking for a book. So unprofessional. He probably thought something was wrong with me. Still, I’d hoped he’d stop by again. Maybe this time, I’d talk.
“I can’t believe how many candles we’ve sold,” Toni remarked. “I guess it's good I accidently ordered too many.” She referred to a time when she’d added an extra zero to one of our stock orders. They were popular, especially with the embellishments we added. We etched designs into the wax, dyed the outer cores, fixed fragrant herbs around the bases, and added many other small flourishes that made them a favorite.
I smiled at her. “Add that extra zero again for our re-stock.”
Toni smiled brightly at me while I picked up my coffee cup. Marshall was out on the floor helping a customer, gesturing with his hands, explaining... something. He had more knowledge of the occult than Toni and I put together. One would think I’d study the subject more, but I stuck to herbal remedies and essential oils. The most interesting thing I knew was that rose quartz attracted love—beyond that, not a whole lot. Still, I collected rocks and crystals, other small curiosities, and had them displayed around my home.
“Jesus. Who’s that?” I looked up after Toni’s admiring tone snagged my attention. The man I’d danced with for a coupleminutes the other week was walking straight toward the counter, his light blue eyes sparkling at me. Uncertain what to do, I just stood there waiting.
“Samantha,” he greeted me and then glanced around the store, pausing to send Toni a small smile. “Forgive me for interrupting but you’re not answering your phone.”