Once You Go Demon (Pure Souls) (27 page)

A glamour. Yes, that could do it. It was demon magic, of course, but then again, he came fully equipped with that, didn’t he?

“Okay. But what about a location?”

“We could have a small ceremony here at the house!” she suggested. Her face fell. “Only our magic doesn’t work inside the house, so your glamour wouldn’t exactly do the trick. Oh, maybe Steph would let us use the Grotto?”

“Married in a nightclub?” Jerry tried not to sound too much like an ass. It was, of course, unnatural for him. “How romantic.”

“Hey, it’s the best I can come up with with seventy-two hours’ notice! Given that it’ll be Christmas Eve, I don’t think we’re likely to find a church that isn’t already being used and city hall will be closed. Oh, please, Jerry. Say you’re willing to do this with me? I can’t lose Ditter’s business. He’s the only client I have left.”

“Wait, what?”

As though realizing she’d given away too much, Riona smashed her palm to her forehead and huffed. “Okay, fine. The truth? In those few weeks after Marc died, I had made up my mind that when he came back as a demon, if he showed any indication that he still loved me, I was going to give up my life and go to Hell with him. Then you told me what it would be like if I was a demon, how much it would torture him when Lucifer used me for his ploys, and I’ve been realizing how short sighted that was. I loved Marc. I
love
Marc. But you were right last night: I have to stop focusing on something I’ve already lost. He’s gone. Whatever there is left of him, I can’t be selfish enough to torture for all of time by being one of the Underworld’s jezebels. If I truly want to respect my memory of Marc and the love we could never share, I have to keep myself this side of damnation. I have to remain a Pure Soul.”

He wanted to take her into his arms and spin her in circles. He wanted to kiss her dizzy and congratulate her on finally removing her head from her ass. He wanted to thank her for making all his fuck ups in the past mean something by being a lesson to her. But most of all, he wanted her to connect the dots.

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“I … gave up my other clients right after Marc died. I … I thought I wouldn’t need them, since I was going to be dead. But Ditter’s always been good to me, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to keep working for him right until the end. And now that there’s not going to be an end, at least anytime soon, I really, really need his contracts. Jerry …”

It took him a moment to figure out what in the hell she was doing as she sunk to one knee and took his fingers between her hands.

“Gaius Gallicus, will you fake marry me?”

He twiddled his fingers. “Where’s my ring?”

“Jerry!”

“Okay, okay! No ring.” Jerry turned over his hands and grasped her, pulling Riona to her feet. “I will fake marry you, but I want something in return.”

Her eyes rolled. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“Yet, you mean.” His grin actually coaxed a complimenting smile out of her. “No, not that. Don’t think I haven’t been watching the calendar just as closely as you have. We both know what Friday is.”

“Christmas, Jerry. Anyone who’s come within thirty feet of a shopping center since Thanksgiving knows that.”

“Don’t mock me, I’m serious. Christmas is the first day that Marc’s window opens to come back to Earth. You know he’s going to be on a mission to find you. I know that eventually, he will. But you’re not ready to face him. I don’t care what you say, you’re still going to be too tempted by his memory. It’s only been two months.”

She withdrew her hands and anchored one on her hip. “Did you not listen to my whole little ‘I want to live’ spiel?”

“I did, and I believe that. I also believe that it might not be as easy as you think.”

She stared at him confusedly. “What exactly is it you want, Jer?”

“An escape. Just you and me. Let’s get away for a while until you’re in a better position to take him down.”

“But what about Dee? He’s my pillar. If we’re separated for too long, it will hurt us both.”

Jerry tried to not look like a know-it-all. Extremely difficult, as he actually did believe he knew it all. “There’s spells to help with that. What, you think I dragged my pillars all around the ancient world with me when I was hunting down all I could find out about demons? C’mon, they would’ve cramped my style. They were both old hags, anyways. Didn’t like to travel.”

She seemed unwilling to yield. “Where would we go? You know how hard it’s going to be to get flights on Christmas Eve? Magic is useless against the airline’s blackout periods.”

“Let me take care of that,” Jerry assured her, pulling her face to his lips for a quick peck on the cheek which, to his delight, she didn’t try to stop. “But right now, there’s a fake wedding to plan. Just one other thing? Can we agree to no tongue when the minister tells us we can kiss? I think it’s crass in public.”

“Like you wouldn’t have me naked and writhing on the altar if you thought you could get away with it.”

True, but he still wouldn’t kiss her with tongue. Not in front of a man of any particular god. Even a bastard like him had limits.

Chapter 29

“I don’t type, file, fax, take dictation, or deal with members of the public. I can’t start before 9 A.M., and I’d
prefer
to leave no later than 4 PM on Thursday and Fridays. Oh, and I don’t do weekends.”

Dee tore his eyes away from the equally impressive resume of Miss Tiffany Delange and looked over the edge of the paper. Both the type before him and the type of girl in front of him led him to believe the only thing she was qualified for was to pose for Webster’s as an example of “bimbo.”
Maybe
cross-referenced with “trust fund baby.”

Still, she had showed up for the interview, so he felt he owed her some small degree of respect. He set the resume aside and folded his hands on the desk. “Miss Delange, the posting listed the working hours for this position as 6 A.M. through 3 P.M., Monday thru Friday. There’s no weekends, but why would you apply for a position requiring hours you’re unwilling to work?”

Tiffany grinned and leaned in over the desk, her conspiratorial voice barely more than a whisper. “I know what the position really entails. I thought you might be a little more flexible with the schedule, if the applicant was a little more flexible, you know,” she winked, “in other areas.”

Clearing his throat, Dee slapped down the animal part of his brain shouting out, “She’s hired!” Instead, he took back up the piece of paper and held it up like an omen that would shoo her away. Luckily, even more effective for clearing the air and giving him a chance to clear her out of his office, was the knock and the set of earthen eyes that peeked through the doorway.

Dee leapt to his feet and circled around his desk, holding out a hand. “Thanks for your time, Miss Delange. I’ll be in touch soon. If you wouldn’t mind emailing me a list of your references as soon as possible …”

“Wait, do you mean references for the customer service thing or the servicing customers thing?” she asked between smacks of gum.

Persephone made way when Dee opened the door to push the applicant out. “Whichever would give you the better recommendation,” he said.

The last thing he saw of Tiffany was the side of her overly-made up face as she turned the corner, saying, “Right. The
serving customers
thing.”

He met Persephone’s curious eyes with a look of his own that begged her not to ask. Like that would stop his sister.

“Suzette’s last day is tomorrow,” he said as he closed his door behind them and took his seat again.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. Tough break. She was good. She’s been with you for, what, three years?”

“Four.” His red pen etched out a
no
on Tiffany’s resume that could likely be seen from space. “I don’t like the term,
with
me. She was my employee.”

“Under you then?” Persephone labored to suppress a chuckle. She’d walked in to them almost going at it on his desk a few weeks ago. 

“She was a fine woman, and a fine employee, and she left with a glowing recommendation from me, so can it.”

Persephone held up her hands in surrender. “My bad. So, you wanted to see me?” He nodded. “About?”

“Yeah, we’ll get to that. I was going to ask you this yesterday, but the Riona-Ramiel-Michael show sort of distracted me. What the hell was that at dinner? Why the jim dandy fuck were you scared shitless by that knife?”

She examined her fingernails. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s amazing how many times when people say that, what they really mean is fuck you and mind your own fucking business.” Dee chewed his words like leather. “Why is it everyone else seems to know, but jolly old Dionysius isn’t game? I got anything to be afraid of?”

“Not unless you piss off Riona.” Crossing her legs, Persephone eased back into her chair. “Look, it has some power, but it’s not really meant for demigods, so chill. You are in no further harm than you were before your Keystone turned into a turkey-hacking Rambo. Though I’m not sure that’s saying much. Now, is that all you called me down here for, because I have something I need to talk to you about as well.”

“No, there is one other thing.”  Now they switched rolls, Dee feeling like he was the one being associated with something secretive and not meant to see the light of day. “I have an upcoming event, sort of a last minute type of thing, and I want to know if I can host it at the Grotto.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Good-bye party for Suzette?”

“No, a wedding.” Dee swallowed. “For Riona and Jerry.”

“No, really?” Persephone deadpanned. But when Dee held is tongue, she coughed out, “Get the fuck out. Well, I guess Hell has finally frozen over, ey?”

“It’s not a real wedding,” Dee clarified. “It’s too stupid to explain, but if they don’t do it, Riona’s going to lose face with what turns out is her only remaining client. We just need a place the day after tomorrow for a few hours. I didn’t think you’d be open on Christmas Eve, but maybe I’m wrong. Listen, if it’s too much to ask, it’s cool. I could always decorate the yoga studio.”

“No, no problem. Um, yeah, the club is closed for the next few days while it transitions to new management, so …”

“Wait, new management?” Dee threw his pen down on his desk and sat back. “You sold it?”

“Are you kidding? I make enough off the sale of hard alcohol in a month to underwrite the Boston city budget. I’m retaining ownership, I will just be out of town for a while. All the staff are staying on, all the contracts for suppliers are still in place. I just need someone to sign off on the checks and be a point of contact for the next six months until I get back.”

“Six months? Where are you going for six …” The words died on his tongue as the pieces fell into place. Two days from now was Christmas Eve, but today was the Winter Solstice. The old pagan holiday didn’t amount to a hill of beans in most of the world anymore, but wiccans still held it in high regard. Solstice was also a date on which many older societies pegged the start and end of contracts and treaties. “You’re going back to him, aren’t you? You’re going to the mountain.”

She didn’t even bother to deny it. “I’m obligated. You know the drill: six months to him, six months of my own. Been doing it for thousands of years, Dee. It’s really no big thing.”

“Oh, yeah. No big thing to watch my sister head back to Zeus’s palace where her husband will intermittently rape her and humiliate her while the rest of the family pretends like they’re temporarily blind, deaf, and dumb.” His fist pounded the desk. “Well, dumb isn’t so much pretend.”

“It’s not
rape,
Dee. I am his wife. He has the right given to him by the ancient laws to take of me what he wishes.”

Dee’s eyes bulged. “Do you have the right to refuse him?”

“No.”

His head bobbed. “Then it’s rape. Y’all can go fuck your old law for all I care. Most of mankind left behind this kind of chauvinist, sexist thinking before the invention of the restraining order. You’re better than that, Steph. You’re better than him. Stand up for yourself, for once. Stand up for yourself …” A jagged breath broke his outburst in two. “Stand up for yourself, the way you used to stand up for my mother.”

“Dee, that’s different.
She
was different. It was unfair of them to subject your mother to that kind of existence. I would have fought to the death to free her, if someone else hadn’t beaten me to the sacrifice.” Uncrossing her legs, Persephone reached into her pocket and pulled out a set of keys. They landed with a clatter on the corner of his desk. “I’ll be fine. There’s nothing Hades can do to me that he hasn’t already done. And I’ll be back in the spring. Until then, can you handle the Grotto for me? Don’t worry, Chipper is staying behind. He’ll handle most of the day-to-day affairs. You’ll just need to stop in once or twice a week to sign off on some papers.”

“So me, Chipper, and a bar full of booze, huh?” Dee stared at the keys with contempt, then looked to his sister’s pleading, begging expression. “Fine, yes. But I want to go on record here saying how much I despise you doing this. You’re too good for the lot of them. I hope you wake up soon, Steph, and realize that you will not, in fact, live forever. There’s no Heaven for you. This is all you get, and it’s precious. You’re precious. I hope you find someone who truly appreciates you, and treats you like the goddess you are.”

Reducing his sister to tears had not been his intention, but as he saw that traitor rivulet glistening over her cheekbone, he hoped it was because she agreed with him. Dee extended his arm out and reached across the desk, turning his eyes on the target, the keys.

“When do you have to leave? Steph?”

Dee looked up to find nothing across from his desk except an empty chair.

Chapter 30

There would be a blizzard the day of her fake wedding, wouldn’t there?

Riona’s insides felt as blown around and drifting as the snow outside her bedroom window. Her father was late. No, correction, her father was
missing.
He’d taken off yesterday morning, saying that he owed some time to his duties as an archangel now that he wasn’t cutting out on Heaven. The Pure Soul house had been without an angelic host since. No one had seen hide nor perfectly-coiffed hair of Ramiel since the night her father had come flying back into her life.

A tap on her door drew her attention away from the snowpocolpyse.

If she had known all it would take to strike Jerry dumb was putting on a wedding gown, she’d had done it ages ago. He muttered something she suspected to be his own native tongue as his mouth made a beeline for the floor. She only hoped it wasn’t something about wanting to remove said dress from her body with his teeth. She knew from experience he was more than capable of pulling it off.

Riona smoothed her lace-gloved hands over the form-fitting bodice, inspecting the clearance rack find for snags. “It was the only one the department store had on sale in my size. Did you know wedding dresses are non-refundable? No way was I plopping down five thousand bucks for an explosion of silk and muslin, not even for Ditter.”

He stumbled for words, flopping his jaw like a beached fish, before finally letting out his breath in a gush. “You look … heavenly.”

He knew she wasn’t exactly still all prim and peppy about the result of her DNA test. “Not funny, Jer.”

“I’m not trying to be funny,” he assured her as he came in through the door, wearing a not-too-shabby tux he’d managed to scrounge up from a second hand store. A day of hanging it in the crisp Boston air had successfully rid it of any remnants of eau d’ moth ball. “You are beautiful. Riona Dade, you have absolutely knocked my socks off. And you know how attached I am to my socks.”

Everyone had a quirk, even a former demon. For Jerry, it was an obsession with socks, particularly loner socks.

“Um, thanks.” She hunched a shoulder before jerking her head in his direction. “When are you going to, you know, throw on your old Jerry skin?”

“At the Grotto. I did a test yesterday when I was out to make sure I could still do it. Yup, I can, but it takes a lot more energy and concentration to wield hellfire through a human body. So, bad news, babe: Keeping that glamour up might knock me off my ass. Not sure I’ll be able to consummate tonight.”

They both laughed at the quip.

Jerry continued, “It’s almost time to go. You ready?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Riona grasped the fabric of her dress, just long enough that she was going to trip on it without her heels on, and lifted the bottom from the floor. Her shoes were already downstairs by the front door. As she shoved her size eight feet in to the size seven-and-a-half—the shoe department’s clearance rack had been not as accommodating—she prayed that whomever Dee had found to stand in as a fake officiator wasn’t of the long-winded and rambling persuasion. After a few hours standing around in these things, her feet could probably be marketed as sausage. She started her way out the door, but Jerry caught her by the arm.

“I want to tell you something before we go.” His eyes flickered up to meet hers.

“Crazy tales from the bachelor party?”

“Yeah, the Cheez Whiz and crackers were sinful. But, all kidding and smart assing aside, I want to say, I wish this was real.”