Personal Demons 2 - Original Sin (3 page)

Frannie holds out her hand. “So, I'm Frannie and this is Luc.”

The girl takes Frannie's hand tentatively and shakes it. “Lili.” She ducks her head like it embarrasses her to be the center of attention.

“So, where'd you come from?” Frannie asks.

“Oh…um…nowhere really. I just moved here because I'm going to State in the fall. This was the closest I could afford to the city.”

“Well, I'm next door, so if you need anything…,” Luc says as he and Frannie move toward the door.

“Thanks,” she says, and runs a hand through her hair, pulling the damp strands off her sweaty forehead and giving me a brief glance at her face.

It's a good thing I'm invisible, because as the demon and Frannie disappear down the hall and onto the stairs, I find myself rooted to this spot. I can't stop staring at her. She's unlike anyone I've ever seen before. Or felt. There's something completely foreign about her soul. I can't read her very well; I get only snippets—fleeting sensations. There's a dark side to her, and her soul is already tagged for Hell, but there's also a wounded side, begging for help. And something in those green eyes makes me want to be the one to help her.

I'm so mesmerized by her that I forget myself and don't get out of the way in time as she moves to the door to lock it. As she passes through me, I feel a rush of…something.

Desire?

I think so. I shiver as an electric tingle shoots through me, then spin and watch her shut the door and twist the deadbolts.

It suddenly occurs to me that I'm on the wrong side of the door. Those locks are meant to keep others
out.
I back off, but hesitate before pushing through the wall out into the hall. Those eyes. There's something in those eyes.

I step closer and reach out for her face, feeling like a moth drawn inexplicably to a flame. I
need
to touch her. But just before my hand makes contact, she spins away and moves toward the stack of boxes.

Sweet Heaven above. What am I doing?

I shake my head, then push through the wall and just stand in the hall for a long minute, trying to get myself together.
What was that?
I've never felt need like that before—raw desire, stirring something feral inside me. Breathing deep, I jump up and down a few times to shake the tension out, but I'm still not quite myself when I phase into Frannie's backseat. I stay invisible as she pulls out of the parking lot, and it's not until we're halfway down the street, me in the back of the convertible, the wind clearing the fog from my head, that I fade in and allow Frannie and the demon to see me.

“Nice of you to join us,” he says as I reach for my seat belt and fasten it around me.

I slouch back into the seat, still feeling a little shaky from whatever just happened with Lili. “So…what do you think of that girl?”

The demon shoots me a sidelong glance. “Well, I think she's a girl.”

I scowl. “Ha, ha. I mean did she seem, I don't know…like she needed help or something?”

Frannie glances into the rearview mirror at me. “Maybe. She seemed really shy and sorta scared. I'll keep my eye on her.”

So will I.

Frannie

By the time I get home and change into my ultratight Ricco's T-shirt, I'm late for work. And Ricco isn't gonna let me forget it.

My sister Maggie's best friend, Delanie—busgirl extraordinaire—stands next to Ricco at the register, her long black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and a sparkle in her smoky gray eyes. “Hey, Frannie,” she says, then glances sideways at Ricco and gives a small cringe before heading to the soda tap.

Ricco scowls at me, his Italian features drawn and dour. I don't take it personally, though. I've figured out that Ricco hates all his employees. He's convinced we're stealing him blind. “You get the three thirty birthday party,” he says.

Great. Kids from hell and no tip.

He looks over my shoulder, and a grin explodes across his face—a mouthful of crooked, coffee-stained teeth. He holds his fist in the air, exposing large yellow stains in the pits of his white chef tunic.
“Un toro!”
he says to Luc, waiting for a knuckle bump.

Guess he doesn't mind Luc hanging around after all.

“Un toro?”
I say.

A cynical smile quirks Luc's lips and he shakes his head.

I look back at Ricco, and he's still grinning at Luc, but he doesn't answer me. It's probably something to do with chicks diggin' on him. Which they are. As I watch Luc make his way to his regular booth in the back, I see the only other people in the place—a group of four junior high girls in the arcade at the back corner—make a beeline toward the booth next to him.

I realize I'm staring at Luc and smiling dopily when Ricco's voice interrupts my musing.

“You look happy about that party. Maybe I'll give you all of them.”

“Whatever,” I say, and head to the counter, where Dana, the only other waitress Ricco hasn't driven out of here, shuffles past with a pitcher of soda.

I take a deep breath and try to clear my head. “No pizzas on the floor today,” I say out loud, making a pact with myself. I have to stay focused. But I already know it's useless. My heart is aching and it's almost impossible to get Gabe out of my head. I can't believe he's really gone…but I know it's true. I can't
feel
him. I didn't realize what a big piece of me he'd become till that piece was missing. I take another deep breath and blow out a long sigh, turning to where Luc sits. I immediately feel guilty again.

“You're smart to keep an eye on him.”

I tie my short black apron on and turn to face Delanie where she stands behind me. There's a mischievous grin on her face as she inclines her head toward the booth next to Luc's. Dana drops the pitcher of soda on the table as the junior high girls argue over who has to sit with their back to Luc. Three of them cram into one side, leaving a pouting blonde with acne and braces to slide into the seat backing up to Luc's booth.

Delanie shrugs and heads over to wipe Luc's booth down with a rag.

Luc

I haven't decided whether to tell Frannie she's working for an Imp. I've been watching him carefully, and so far he seems harmless. I'm not sure he even knows what he is. Like their angelic counterparts, the Nephilim, Imps are mortal, so if they don't inherit any noticeable power from their demon parent, they may never know. But there are some telltale signs.

Imps always smell subtly of sulfur. Not really noticeable to the human nose, but mine still picks it up.

Hanging around Matt, I've discovered Imps aren't the only ones with telltales. Angels don't cast a sharply delineated shadow. Their shadows are always a little fuzzy around the edges. So, unless it's pitch dark, they're easy to pick out. Demons are even easier. They can never completely hide the glow of their eyes. There's always a hint of it that's easy to spot with practice—which I've had.

I slide into the corner of the back booth, my back against the wall, and kick a leg up onto the seat. Delanie comes over and wipes my table with a dirty rag, leaving it worse than it started.

“Hey, Luc. You guys coming to Gallaghers' to hear us play tomorrow?” she asks, sliding in across from me.

“Wouldn't miss it.”

“Good. There's supposed to be a scout there. If anyone asks, tell them you're there to hear us.”

“You guys going big-time? Will you remember all your old fans when you're playing for packed stadiums?”

A sarcastic smile lifts one side of her mouth. “I wish.”

Frannie saunters over with her pad and pen in hand. “What can I get for you, sir?” she purrs.

Delanie grins up at Frannie and slides out of the booth. “See ya.”

“What I want—” I rub my foot along the outside of Frannie's thigh. “—isn't on the menu.”

She scowls but doesn't pull away. “Where was this an hour ago?”

“I was thinking of a cheeseburger,” I say, and fight to contain the chuckle when she rolls her eyes.

“One slice of cardboard cheese pizza, coming right up,” she says, scribbling on her pad with a flourish.

I can't stop the smile that pulls at my lips as I watch Frannie walk back to the counter. I breathe deep, force my eyes away from her, and scan the restaurant.

From this vantage, I can see the entire place clearly—including the Imp behind the counter. I take the opportunity to study him while Frannie clips my order up in the window to the kitchen. He's busy messing with the cash drawer, the unchecked avarice clear in his eyes and all over his face. He pushes the drawer closed just as the door opens. He looks up expectantly—but then his face turns to a mask of fear.

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. A second later, I know why.

Rhenorian.

Maybe a thread of my sixth sense followed me into humanity after all.

Even to an ex-demon, he's intimidating. Seven feet tall and a mountain of muscle, he's got to scare the Hell out of most humans. He rakes a hand through his longish dark auburn hair and steps casually through the door. When he sees me, his eyes narrow and a sneer spreads across his large round face. The girls in the booth next to me go suddenly quiet as he strides over and folds his stocky frame into the seat across from me.

“Lucifer. What a pleasant surprise.”

I fight the urge to grab Frannie and run. It's too late for that. Security roams in packs. I'm sure Rhenorian has some of his lackeys stationed outside. And I need to know what he knows—why he's here.

“Rhenorian.” I nod at him. “I hardly think this was a surprise.”

An enormous grin spreads slowly across the big demon's face. “So, how is this going to go?”

“Well, first, you take a look at the menu,” I say, sliding one across the table, “and when you've made your decision, the waitress will come take your order.” I glance up at Frannie and Dana, who are staring from behind the counter.

All the humor leaves his face, but the grin doesn't. “You've always been quite the comedian, Lucifer, but you can't joke your way out of this.”

“Okay, then. You tell me: How is this going to go?”

“Well, it depends. Easy: You get up and walk outside with me, where we phase back to Hell for your trial. Hard: I pick you up and drag you outside, where we phase back to Hell for your trial.”

“Hmm. I see only one flaw in your masterfully devised plan.”

He leans toward me. “Such as…?”

“What am I thinking?”

His face darkens to a brood. “I don't know. You've got some Hell-forsaken field or something.”

“Think bigger, Rhen.”

I glance up and see Frannie behind the counter across the room, straining against some unseen force.
Matt.
I breathe easier knowing she's in his field. Even still, her eyes are trained on Rhenorian, her jaw set and muscles tense. I know that look. She's working out how she's going to take him down. I catch her eye and shake my head almost imperceptibly. Rhenorian's focus is on me, and I want to keep it that way. He seems totally unaware Frannie is the bigger target.

Frannie glares at me, and when I turn back to Rhenorian, a frustrated scowl has passed over his features. “I can't read anything. It's almost as if you were human or something.”

I tip my head toward him slightly and raise an eyebrow.

He stares at me for a second with a quizzical look; then his eyes widen as he bounds to his feet, knocking the table into me and sending the menus flying.
“What the Hell?”

I glance at the girls in the booth behind Rhenorian, who've been watching cautiously.

“Down, boy,” I say quietly.

He slides tentatively back into the booth, straightening the table. For a long time, he doesn't say anything. He just stares, as if trying to see through me. “How did you do it?” he finally manages.

“I didn't. It was done to me.”

“Someone else turned you human? You found a…what? A conjurer?”

I realize that I've probably said too much. To bring the conversation back to me, I say, “So, you get that I'm not
phasing
anywhere. You could just kill me and take my soul back to Hell, if it weren't for the other thing.”

He tents his fingers on the table in front of him, and his eyes narrow. “What other thing?”

I fix him in a hard stare, and can't stop my lips from curling into a smile when understanding dawns on his face.

“Unholy Hell! You're tagged for Heaven!” he says, leaping from the booth again.

“So, you see, Rhen, if He wants me back in Hell, it's going to take a little more planning and forethought on your part to figure out how to get me there.”

“Why the Hell wouldn't He tell me?”

“I don't know. Maybe He thought, with your limited intellectual capacity—”

He shoves the table up against me, then glares and mutters, “Go suck angel face.” He spins on his heel and storms out of Ricco's, leaving the faintest hint of rotten eggs in his wake.

I look up as I push the table away from me and see all four of the girls in the next booth scamper away. And when I glance at the counter, Ricco, Dana, and Delanie are gaping, openmouthed.

Ricco seems genuinely shocked and a little scared. I'm sure I detect a shake in his small frame as he hovers protectively over his cash register. But there's no suggestion of recognition or understanding in his dark eyes. I don't even think he knows demons exist. So, apparently, the demon half of his parenting team didn't hang around. Not surprising. Demons aren't big on the whole nurturing concept.

My gaze shifts to Frannie as she runs across the room toward me.

“It's fine, Frannie.”

“What did he want?”

“Rhenorian is head of Security. He's been sent to bring me back. But it seems he wasn't filled in on the details of what that would entail.” I look her in the eye. “And I don't think he even knows you exist, so we're okay.”

She leans closer, panic still clear on her face. “We're
okay
? We are so
not
okay! He can't have you.”

“He can't take me as long as I'm tagged for Heaven,” I reassure her.

I consider that while Frannie stares at me. It makes sense that King Lucifer would come after His pound of flesh, I suppose. That would explain why Rhenorian came up to
me
and didn't even seem to notice Frannie, but…

“Why would Lucifer send Rhenorian after me and not tell him I was human?” I wonder out loud. “Unless…”

And then it hits me: He might not know. My boss, Beherit, was the only one who knew what I was. The only one who witnessed my humanity. If he didn't tell for some reason…

But He'll know now. Rhenorian will report back. Then what?

The door swings open again, and every head snaps around to see who it is. When Frannie's grandpa steps through, everyone breathes a collective sigh.

Grandpa walks up to our table. Picking up on the tension in the room, his brow knits. “What'd I miss?”

Frannie shoots me a warning glance as her grandpa slides into the booth across from me. He knows what I am…or was. We told him because we needed his help. But he doesn't know how immediate the danger to his granddaughter is. The fact that Rhenorian was here for me, not her, would do little to assuage his concern.

She pastes on a big smile that shines like cubic zirconia.

“Nothing, Grandpa,” she says, dropping my plate on the table in front of me. “What can I get you? The usual?”

His expression is guarded. “That'll work.” When Frannie heads to the kitchen with his order, he glowers at me. “What's goin' on?”

“Nothing, really.”

“That demon bullshit might work on Frannie's parents, but I know a load of crap when I see it.”

I draw a deep sigh, and my eyes wander to Frannie, at the soda tap. “It seems that Hell's not thrilled about my defection.”

His glower becomes a full on glare. “If you're puttin' Frannie in danger by bein' here—”

“Then I would leave,” I finish for him.

He glares a moment longer, then pushes deeper into the booth. “Ya said before that it was Frannie that changed ya.” I can see the question perched on his lips, the concern in his eyes.

My gaze drops to my hand and I spin my plate on the table. “I don't know how it works,” I say in an attempt to preempt his question with a half answer.

“But you said that however she did it, it's why Hell wants her.”

I raise my eyes, but not my head. “Yes.”

“So, what are we gonna do to keep them from gettin' her?”

“I'm still working on that.”

“This Gabriel guy…”

God, how much did we tell him that night? “He's an angel, and he's helping out.”

“Did he tag her soul like you wanted?”

This time I lift my head and smile. “Yes.”

“And you said that'd keep her safe.”