Luck of the Devil (12 page)

“I should call you nephilim?”

“No you should call me Faith. We’re not fond of the ‘N’ word, either.”

“How do you refer to yourselves as a group?” he asked.

“We’re not a baseball team. We’re a group of immortal beings trying to live our lives. If we have to refer to ourselves in plural, then it’s just ‘us.’ Got it?”

“Yeah.” He took a drink of his beer and shook his head. “So anything else I’ve been taught all my life that’s completely wrong?”

“My dad doesn’t actually own stock in Fox News?”

“Really?”

“A certain network personality may hear voices, though. It’s just not God.”

“You’ve got demons feeding false information to cable news broadcasters?”

I nodded. “Yep. Archnian has a rather juvenile sense of humor.”

His head fell backward as he laughed. “Oh shit, that’s priceless.”

“We thought so.”

“So what else don’t I know about what goes on behind enemy lines?”

“We’ve got a second lake full of melted Valhrona chocolate?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Dad’s a bit of a connoisseur. Oh, and like I said before, we’ve got cooler superpowers.”

“Like what?”

“Like this,” I said, and concentrated on being somewhere besides Flannigan’s patio.

Chapter Thirteen

“Holy shit!” Matt lurched for the nearest trashcan while reality stitched itself up behind us with a quiet
pop
. He gagged on the lingering odor of burnt fragments of time and his fingers clutched the rim as he bent forward and heaved his lunch. Poor guy.

Nearby, a street vendor who sold pastries and drinks was packing up for the night, so I ran to him, snagged a bottle of cold water, and wiggled my fingers so he didn’t notice I was walking away with his merchandise.

“Here.” I handed Matt the bottle of water and watched him put it against his forehead, still gasping, before standing up and draining it. “Better?”

He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, nodding. “Warn me before we do that again, okay?”

“Sorry, I forgot it’s a bit disorienting the first time or two.”

“Disorienting doesn’t begin to describe it,” he said, and threw the bottle into the trashcan. “So where are we?”

“Take a look around and you tell me.” Unable to stop myself from smiling like an idiot, I watched him study the park full of people. He took his time, absorbing every detail. The moment he spotted the landmark above him, I stifled a giggle at his obvious shock.

“We’re in Paris?”

I tried to appear disinterested. Which would last all of a second. “Well, it’s not Las Vegas. Much too green for one thing. More French people, too.”

He lowered his head, fixing me with a mystified stare. “You just transported us to Paris?”

I clasped my hands against my chest, desperate to not make myself look like an ass. “Yep.”

He gestured to the massive structure behind him. “And this is the Eiffel Tower?”

“Once again, that would be a yes.”

“Your side definitely wins,” he said, shaking his head and chuckling.

“Are you saying you can’t fade in and out of major European cities on a whim?”

“No.” He took my hand and pulled me in front of him so we could stare up at the Eiffel Tower. I’d been aiming for the top of the tower itself but this was probably better. There was less chance of making a spectacle out of ourselves down here than up there. His arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me against his chest. I tried my best to act cool and not snuggle up against him like a cat.

“So, wanna wander around Paris? Maybe get something to eat? Wait, I’ve got a better idea.” I decided to go for it. “Would you prefer to check out the view?”

I focused on making us not only phase, but also disappear. After all, we might have gone unnoticed in the self-absorbed crowd of tourists underneath the tower, although up top, things weren’t so hectic and people would notice.

We reappeared at the top of the tower. Matt’s face turned white, with a slight tinge of green. The tiny tear we’d created in the barbed wire surrounding the top of the tower closed with a quick
snap,
and I was glad no one had accidentally followed. That would have been awkward.

“Can you,” he said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath through his nose, “warn me before you do that again? Please?”

“If it helps, most demons don’t even notice after the second or third time.”

“Good to know.” Matt pulled me toward the protective fencing and the two of us took in the scenery. “This is really amazing.”

I nudged his shoulder. “Want to learn how to do it?”

“Really? This is something I can learn without tapping into your powers?”

“Not at first. But once you’re comfortable doing it on your own, you can fly solo. Sort of like a kid learning to ride a bike.”

“You’re comparing teleporting two people from Pittsburgh to Paris in the blink of an eye to riding a bike?”

“It’s relative,” I said. “But the process is like riding a bike. You know how kids use training wheels or their parents to hold the bike when they’re first learning?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s what you’d have to do. At first, you’d have to use my powers to balance you. Then, when you figure out the process on your own, you tap your own powers and do it without me.”

A wicked glint glimmered in his eyes. “And I’ll be able to freak people out and transport them to Paris?”

“Maybe. It’ll depend on your level of power. The more power you have, the further you can fade without it draining you. But if you reach too far, it can be disastrous.”

“What happens?”

“I’ve only done it once, when I was younger, and it went really screwy. I ended up in Cheboygan instead of Los Angeles.”

“Cheboygan?” He laughed. “What did you do?”

“Luckily, Tolliver was with us. He already knew how to phase to where certain people were, and not just locations. So he came back and transported me to where Hope waited. It drained me for the rest of the day, though, and I had absolutely no power. It was almost like I’d blown a fuse.”

“That sucks.”

“It could have been worse. I’ve heard of nephilim reaching too far and getting lost.”

“Lost?”

“Completely gone,” I said.

“You mean they just disintegrate? They disappear in one spot and don’t reappear anywhere else?”

“Exactly.”

“What about Hell?”

I shrugged. “What about it?”

“They don’t show up in Hell?”

“Nope. And when angels do it, they don’t end up in Heaven, either.”

“And what does your father have to say about it?”

“It’s just one of those things. Everyone knows you always phase with someone else flying copilot, and you never go farther than one of you has already been. First basic safety rule, unless you’re going to Hell, of course. That’s a simple hop between planes.”

“Good to know,” Matt said and tugged on my hand. “Come on. Let’s wander around instead of sitting up here looking down at it like a couple of birds.”

“If you want to look like a couple of birds… ” I let my suggestion trail off. That could be arranged, after all.

He raised his eyebrows at me and pulled me toward the elevator. “No way. No wings.”

“Spoilsport.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

“You better believe it. We’re going to be the very definition of low-key. There is no way I’m letting my family hear I decided to go on a mid-evening flight through the City of Light with the Daughter of Darkness.”

I snickered at the idea. That would go over well.

“Irony aside, they’ll be on our doorsteps, armed to the teeth and ready to rip me out of your evil clutches by all the force they can muster.”

“My evil clutches, huh?”

“And it’s right back to Biloxi with me and straight into Brenda’s arms.”

“Wait. Hold up, who’s Brenda?”

We stepped into the elevator and he pulled me close. “Brenda would be the woman my mother is determined I should mate with.”

My lips tugged into a grimace. “I thought you were joking. You mean your mother is actually picking out your girlfriends for you? Does she wear a cheerleading uniform so she can stand by the end of the bed and—”

His hand covered my mouth. “Let’s not finish that thought or I’ll need years of inpatient therapy to get over that mental picture.”

When he uncovered my mouth, I smirked at him. “Does she have a signal in her room or something? Does it sound like a submarine warning system? ‘
Meep, meep, meep
, conception taking place! Conception taking place! Get out the bean dip and the beer to celebrate!’”

“Ugh.” He shuddered, shooting me a bitter scowl. “You’ve got a really twisted mind. You know that, right?”

“Daughter of the Devil,” I said, pointing to myself. We exited the elevator and walked across the park, toward the pathway that allowed visitors to wander along beside the Seine.

He draped his arm over my shoulder and kissed the top of my head. “How could I forget?”

“Okay, so if we get caught, she’s going to want you to come home?”

“Want? My mother doesn’t simply
want
things. She determines something is going to happen, and she connives, schemes, and outright bullies others until she gets her way. And she’s not above using violence if she thinks that’s the only solution.”

“I bet she was just the life of the PTO meetings, wasn’t she?”

“She was PTO president for twelve years at my elementary school.”

“Twelve years?”

“They were so terrified of her they just kept letting her run unopposed even though she didn’t have a kid in the school.”

“Damn.”

“Mother is a formidable woman.”

“I will keep that in mind. Next question: Biloxi?”

“Biloxi.”

“The Angelic version of the Militia Movement is headquartered in Biloxi? As in Mississippi?”

“The Devil’s oldest female child ran a cult in Idaho. It’s discreet and no one bothers us down there. Besides, if you were looking for an army of insane, immortal beings intent on overthrowing the Devil and wresting control of the Earthly realms from God, would you think of Biloxi?”

“I would now. But before? I’d think somewhere a little more, more—”

“Metropolitan? People would notice them in a big city.”

“Point taken. But I’d have thought something a little more centrally located. Of all the things you could have told me, that wasn’t in my top million guesses.”

“Don’t say anything, okay?” He stopped and turned to face me, tilting my chin with his index finger so we looked each other in the eye. “We’re not on good terms, but they’re still family. If your father and God find out where they are, I can’t imagine they’re going to ignore the possibilities.”

“The Angale are in Bismark, North Dakota?” I widened my eyes and tried to appear slightly addlebrained. “I would have never expected them somewhere so cold. Or was that Bentonville?”

“Thanks.” We wandered along the Seine in silence, his arm around me.

“Can I ask what the problem with Brenda is, though? I mean, besides the arranged marriage?”

“Oh.” He swallowed and focused elsewhere, his cheeks turning a deep red. “It’s… ”

“What?”

“Well, she’s a seconder. And they’re known to go a bit nuts over the length of a couple centuries.”

“A seconder?”

“It’s what we call someone who’s the child of two nephilim.”

“A crossbreed? Those really exist? I’ve heard about them but I’ve never actually seen one. I shouldn’t be surprised, though, should I? Until an hour ago, I didn’t know the Angale existed, and now I’m wandering Paris with one. I’m probably a bottle of wine and a brick of cheese away from a full break with my previous view of reality.”

“So you don’t have crossbreeds?”

I wrinkled my nose and pulled away from him. “That would be disgusting.”

“Disgusting?”

“We’re raised to see each other as family―cousins, you could say. If two nephilim mated, it would be like incest.” Ugh, mating with another demon. Seriously was not about to happen. Even I wasn’t that desperate. Especially with Mr. Hands-on and his love of snuggling walking beside me.

“And what about demon-nephilim purebreds?”

“They happen, of course. I mean, Hope isn’t the only nephilim to marry a minor demon, but it isn’t common, either. Most of us just lead normal, mortal lives. Is that what you are, though? A purebred? Your mother was a nephilim and your father was an angel?”

“Yeah.” He looked at me and shifted his shoulders slightly.

“Okay, so your mother thought that because you’re a purebred, or whatever it’s called, and this Brenda was a seconder, that the two of you should get married?”

“Pretty much. She claimed it would help strengthen that family’s bloodline and allow stronger soldiers to be bred from the union. And that’s why I decided hiding next door to the daughter of the Devil was preferable to hanging around Biloxi.”

“Can’t say I blame you.” We walked up a set of white marble steps and found ourselves standing in the main courtyard of the Louvre. “I bet you’d be willing to be roommates with Hope before going home again.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” he said. “But I might have to consider it. Speaking of your sister, though?”

“Yeah?”

“I overheard a little bit of your argument this afternoon.”

“Uh-huh?”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything.”

“It wasn’t like Hope was worried about whether or not she let the whole building know how she was feeling.”

“I might have heard what she said about you and your ex-husband.”

“Boyfriend,” I corrected. Sadness weighed on me, taking me back to a time I didn’t want to revisit. “We didn’t make it up the aisle before… well, before.”

“Ouch. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Do you want to talk about it? We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want, but if you ever want to, I’m here. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

“Not particularly, but thanks.” I shifted from underneath his arm and grabbed his hand, pulling him away from the Louvre and toward the Boulevard Saint-Michel. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“I know this place that makes amazing crêpes. You’ll love it.”

“Sure, I could use something sweet after the shock you just put me through. Don’t they say sugar restores your equilibrium?”

“Something like that.”

Matt stopped. “Is that your dad?”

“Where?” Shit. I spun around, trying to sense my father in the crowd. I felt the tug of a few random immortals, minor demons probably, in the neighborhood. But not my father’s presence.

“In the fountain.” He tilted his head and I followed his gaze to a statue.

I had to laugh. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“But isn’t he supposed to be
under
the guy with the sword in his hand?”

“Well, theologically, yes, he would be the one on the ground getting his ass kicked.”

“But that sculpture of St. Michael is him. It’s a picture-perfect likeness.”

I led him away from the fountain and further into the thriving warren of streets that housed Paris’s student population.

“I know. Apparently, he decided to have some fun and did the whole
Pretend to be an Angelic Vision
thing. The next thing you know, his face is chiseled into the marble as St. Michael.”

“What did God say?”

“Meh, He had a good laugh about it. Especially since Michael is still technically in the sculpture.” I pointed to the fountain, prepared to be amused by his reaction.