Delaney felt the light pressure of a hand, strong and sure, stroke the top of her head, erasing the agonizing throb of her head. Then her chest heaved, filling with air. Without warning, she was no longer looking down at Clyde and Lucifer, but up toward the disembodied voice of a being who apparently held Lucifer effortlessly in his grip.
“Dude,” its voice chastised, the tone rock steady and melodiously calm. “Chillax, horn dog.” When the voice took shape, it was in the form of a young man who didn’t look much older than eighteen. His hair, almost shoulder length, clearly kissed by the sun, swept over his forehead in a snaky wave of golden brown. The white puka shell beads around his neck enhanced his Hawaiian flowered trunks and golden berry tan.
He looked down at Clyde, who, shallow of breath, had wrapped protective arms around Delaney and he smiled—angelic and boyish. “Oh, dude! I’m so glad I found you. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you? Like, totally what seems like forevs. I’ve been all over New York, trying to fix this. Man, when you go for cover, you go deep—niiiice work, sensei.” He bowed with a wink.
Satan, with blazing crimson eyes, struggled against the force this boy had created. He peered back at Lucifer with wide, childish innocence, giving him a stern shake. “Man, you need to chill. You are up-tight, my friend.”
Delaney lay speechless on the floor, every nerve ending wracked with pain, but she grabbed for Clyde’s hand and gave it a weak squeeze. His big body shook from the effort it’d taken to get out of that bed. “Who are you?” Clyde asked.
The young man cocked his head to the left and held up a finger to quiet Clyde. His soft eyes then captured Satan’s. “Ya know, man, you’re always all het up. Can’t be good. So I have some advice—hear me out, Your Evilness. While I was looking for your hostage, I saw some pretty cool shows—even a coupla musicals—which mostly ain’t my thing. Bet if you caught, like, The Lion King you’d totally give up this evil gig and quit stressin’. Must suck to be you, all angry and ragin’ all the time, huh? So can’t be good for your cholesterol. Bet those levels are off the charts. Oh, and dude, you should totally check out Coney Island hot dogs. This close to heaven with sauerkraut on them.” He smiled a smile of benevolence, rubbing his stomach with childlike glee.
Satan writhed in his grip, yet he held on to him like he was holding up nothing more taxing than a helium balloon.
Now revived, Delaney struggled to sit upright, but it made her dizzy. She opted for vertical, slapping Clyde on the forearm with a weak hand and a shallow breath of her own. She ignored the strange man-boy, deciding to take the opportunity to give Clyde the hell he deserved before it was snatched from her again. Frustration welled in the pit of her belly. She was going to lose Clyde again, of that she was sure. Whoever this guy was, he had some serious power, and he was no friend of Satan’s.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? I was dead. Dead was good, Clyde. It meant you’d have to forfeit all those flowers and text messages, you geek. If you’d have just left well enough alone . . . and now look. You’re right back where you started. Why didn’t you just go into the light, for God’s sake? The plan was for you to cross. How the frig did you manage to summon the kind of will it must’ve taken to get out of that bed? And do we have to do this all over again?” she almost sobbed. “ ’Cause I gotta tell ya, I don’t think I have it in me to yank that plug again. Which, by the way, smart guy, you weren’t a whole lot of help with. I was supposed to turn off the ventilator switch.”
Clyde gave her a weak, sheepish smile, kissing the hand that had swatted him, closing his eyes, and inhaling. “I know . . .”
The young man leaned down, holding Satan at arm’s length, and eyeballed Delaney, interrupting the rest of the rant she wanted to stick to Clyde. “My man, that was some rockin’ heroics on your part, gettin’ up out of that bed like you did—suh-weet. Totally impressed me with your dedication, and how you’ve been looking out for the wahine here.”
He stuck out his brown hand to Clyde to shake. “Okay, so here’s the deal. First, I’m Uriel, ya know, archangel? I’m the dude the big guy’s gonna be amped with when he finds out about this mess. I so owe you a mondo apology, boss. I should have been here to pick up your soul when you popped free of your body. But, my friend, the surf was rad in Big Sur that day, ya know? I mean, outrageous. Because you were a surprise, I didn’t get the word about you until too late. My supreme bad. But seriously, who knew? Souls don’t just pop free every day of the week. That happens almost never. But it made ya free game for Mr. Evil here, and that makes me total slacker material—sooo sorry.”