The Devil's Wife (14 page)

      "Oh. Where should I put this?" she asked, gesturing to the bullet.

      I held my hand out, and she put the bullet in it, moving to look at the hole in the center of my chest. She kneeled between my legs, pushed the tongs into my chest and watched my face. I smiled at her, and she grabbed the bullet, pulling it out. My expression didn't change.

      "That's so weird," she said as I pinched the edges of the holes together. They stuck, already healing. She put the bullet in my hand and looked me over.

      "Thanks. They're the only ones left. I couldn't get the angle of the tongs right to pull those two out." I stood up, taking the tongs from her.

      I walked into the kitchen and dug through the green bag, pulling out my jar of bullets. I put the latest two in, and Clarissa snatched the jar from my grip.

      "You've been shot this many times?" she gasped, shaking the jar.

      "Plus a few that I removed and left at crime scenes, and the ones that pass through my wings." I smiled at her. "I'm not an Angel anymore, Clarissa. I do occasionally get into fights. Usually involving guns."

      "What did you collect before there were bullets?" she asked. "Musket balls?"

      I nodded, ignoring her scornful-turned-incredulous look. "And before that, crossbow bolts, darts, arrows and spearheads."

      "Right." She looked me over. "So what's for dinner?"

      "Dinner is whatever I cook," I said with a grin. "I'd better get it started. It'll take a while."

      Clarissa laughed. "Okay. Do you need any help?"

      I smiled at her. "I'm always willing to teach someone to cook, Clarissa."

~ * ~

      It was fun cooking with her. I directed Clarissa on what to do, putting her to work on the sauce while I made the pasta sheets. She was cutting up onions and crushing garlic, her hands unsteady on the knife, when I glanced at her.

      "No." I frowned and stepped behind her, taking her hands in mine. "You cut up vegetables and other things like this." I adjusted her grip on the knife and the onion, smoothing her cuts. "You looked like you were trying to cut your finger off or something. I don't think my magic will fix that as easily as the stab wound."

      Clarissa's face was red, and I realized how close to her I was standing. I let her hands go, stepping back.

      "Sorry."

      Clarissa shook her head, continuing to cut the onions, though in a less-damaging way. "It's okay. I've never been a very good cook anyway. I appreciate the help." She smiled at me.

      I smiled back, heading back to the pasta dough and checking its elasticity. "Any time."

      Clarissa abandoned the onions, and I thought I'd said the wrong thing, somehow. She stopped at the fridge and reached up to a small iPod and its speakers. She played around with it for a few seconds before some old 80s music echoed around the room. With another smile at me, she returned to the onions, chopping haphazardly again.

      I sighed, and split the dough up, wrapping it up to keep it moist. I stepped up behind her and rested my chin on her shoulder again. "I'm going to teach you how to cut these onions properly if it takes all night and the entire bag," I said with a grin, adjusting her shaky grip on the knife again.

      "Sorry," she said, biting her bottom lip and blushing.

      I shook my head, kissing her on the cheek. "Relax. Cooking should be fun."

      She laughed, her blush visibly darkening, and tried to relax. She didn't do very well.

      I laughed, taking the knife from her hand and put it on the counter. She turned her head to frown at me, and I kissed her on the lips. I pulled back when I felt her relax again, laughing as one of my favorite songs echoed around

the kitchen.

"Come on!"

"What—? But, dinner—"

      I laughed, spinning her around. "Forget dinner. You can't cook when you're tense. It ruins the flavor."

      Clarissa looked at me as though I'd lost my mind. It probably seemed that way. "What?"

      I laughed, spinning her around and dancing to the song. "Dance, Clarissa!"

      I heard her bastard cat object from the bathroom, but I ignored him.

      Clarissa turned red again. "I can't!" she cried, her body following my silent motions and dancing anyway.

      "Nonsense!" I laughed, pulling her into my arms and doing a fake waltz with her, too fast for the music. "Have some fun!"

      "No, really, Lucifer, I can't." She tried to pull away from me, but I didn't let her go, holding onto her hand.

      "Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong," I sang along to the up-beat recording of the famous song. "Under the shade of a Coolibah tree..."

      Clarissa laughed at my horrible singing, starting to relax, though she was still blushing. "That's terrible!"

      "I bet you can't do better!" I retorted, spinning her around the small space between the living room and kitchen.

      "I can too!" she answered, laughing. The chorus started up and she sang along with it. "Who'll come awaltzing Matilda my darling, who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me..."

      I laughed, joining in and leading her in a quick tango to the song's beat, making her laugh.

      "Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me? Down came a jumbuck to drink at that billabong..."

      I turned Clarissa around so she had her back to my chest, and breathed across the back of her neck, making her shiver and giggle.

      "The entire Australian population would be furious to hear you singing their national song so badly," Clarissa laughed. "They'd go to Hell just to beat the crap out of you for it, you're that bad. Of course, once they're all there they'll sit about drinking beer and singing like the Irish, but

still..."

      "Well, you sing with your American accent," I retorted, laughing as I spun her around. "They'd come after you for that too, you know. Aussies are very protective of their national song. Especially against Americans."

      "You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me. Up jumped a squatter, a-riding on his thoroughbred. Up jumped the coppers, one, two, three. 'Whose is that jumbuck you've got in your tucker bag? You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me..."

      "Your singing really is terrible," Clarissa laughed as I spun her again.

      "Maybe," I allowed with a grin, "but it's got you relaxing."

      Clarissa laughed and spun back into my arms. "And you managed to get me dancing."

      "As graceful as a butterfly," I said with a laugh. "You haven't trod on my foot once."

      With an innocent expression on her face, she stood on my right foot as hard as she could.

      I laughed. "That's my girl!"

      "But the swagman, he up and jumped in that billabong, drowning himself by that Coolibah tree, and his ghost may be heard as you pass by that billabong, 'Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?'"

      Clarissa rolled her eyes at me and we danced around the living room until the song was finished. I led Clarissa back to the counter, standing behind her to make sure she cut the onions properly.

      "All relaxed now?"

      She laughed, slicing the onions easily.

      "Excellent. Never cook when you're tense, upset, or angry. You either burn the food, or you get something that tastes terrible, no matter how closely you follow the recipe." I headed back to my balls of pasta dough, testing them. They were ready to be rolled.

      "I don't suppose you have a pasta roller?" I asked Clarissa, then shook my head, laughing when she lifted her eyebrows at me. "Silly question." I thought for a second. I could go out and buy one, but that would take too long.

      It was true that in Hell I could make anything I

wanted. I snapped my fingers, thinking. "How would you like to meet Leviathan?"

      "Isn't he a sea-monster?" she asked, then blushed.

      "He is sometimes." I grinned at her. "Mind if I use your phone for a second?"

      Clarissa nodded, washing as much of the onion smell from her hands as she could. She pulled a cordless phone from the wall beside her and handed it to me. "Who're you going to call?"

      "Ghostbusters."

      She laughed as I smiled at her. "Really?"

      "Nah, Beelzebub should still be up dancing at this time of night. Hell's like a nightclub," I said with a smile. "All Beelzebub does is party. Silly me left him in charge. I shouldn't have done it, but..." I shrugged with a smile.

      "If it's any more than a local call—"

      I laughed, dialing a three-digit number. "The telephone companies can't pick up calls to Hell—Oh, Belial." I smiled at Clarissa, heading out into the living room.

      "Hey, boss. I didn't realize you knew our phone number." There was loud dance music playing in the background.

      "Of course I do, I'm the one that installed it, remember?"

      "Sure, boss."

      I rolled my eyes. Belial was only concerned with one thing anymore. "Is Levi there?"

      There was relative quiet on the other end of the phone for a second. I imagined Belial waving off a couple of the females he lusted after, looking around the dance floor that was still in full swing, despite there being only one person who could be calling Hell.

      I should make it a new rule that they all shut up when I call, I grumbled to myself. I can barely hear Clarissa in the kitchen, the music's so loud!

      "I think he's at the bottom of the Frozen Lake again, boss," Belial answered.

      I sat down on the couch, leaning back. "Go get him for me."

      Belial sighed. "Is it okay if I send someone else to find him, boss? It's just there's this woman I was planning to

dance with—"

"Just get him from the ice to the phone for me, Belial."

      "Righty-oh, boss." Belial's voice faded slightly. "Oi, Baraqiel! Go get Leviathan for me! The boss wants to talk to him!"

      I could just imagine Baraqiel squashing out a cigarette, one of his unending supply, beneath his foot, and glaring at Belial. Sure enough, a second later…

      "Why do I have to go?" Baraqiel's voice demanded from afar.

      I could only just hear it over the music as it jumped to country. I could imagine the people of Hell suddenly collecting into groups, line dancing. The choice of the song made the idea even funnier: The Zorba.

      "I'm not your frigging messenger, Belial."

      "No." Belial's voice was much closer. "You're a secondtier Demon. I'm a first-tier. I gave you an order."

      "Oh, shove it, Belial. Go back to your whores." I could hear the sneer in Baraqiel's voice.

      "Sounds like the kingdom's falling apart without me," I said, smiling at Clarissa. She was dancing in the kitchen, browning the meat for the sauce.

      "Why're you so chipper, Luce? You with the missus?" Belial asked.

      "Of course," I said, laughing. "She's dancing while she cooks."

      Belial sighed. "You're gonna make me jealous." There was a pause while I laughed. "Here's Levi, boss."

      There was the sound of the phone changing hands and Levi's more cultured voice asked, "What can I do for you, Luce?"

      "How would you like to meet Clarissa, Levi?"

      "And what would be the occasion?"

      "I need you to bring me the small bag of things that should be appearing beside your foot as we speak." I thought for a second, and winked.

      Clarissa caught the wink. She thought it was for her— it was, sort of, but not intentionally—and blushed, making me laugh again.

      "All right, Luce. I have the bag. If you would be so kind as to give me the address, I shall head on up now."

      "Excellent." I gave Leviathan the address and hung up, heading into the kitchen again.

      "Levi's on the way with the roller." I smiled at her. "Belial's quite interested in meeting you now." I hung the phone up on the wall and wandered over to see what she was up to.

      Clarissa was chopping the tomatoes roughly, humming along to the song. There were already some tomatoes in the blender, being turned into tomato paste. I stood behind her, leaning on the doorframe with my arms crossed, a half-smile on my face. I was trying to be charming, and I hoped I was getting it right.

      After a second's thought, I crossed my ankles, watching her, and pulled my hair down so that it covered my left eye, the one closest to the doorway. I also undid the shirt, untucking it and baring my chest, folding my arms back over it again. I was directly behind Clarissa, so she wouldn't be tipped off by the movement. I wanted to see what kind of effect I had on her.