“You mean forget it? Just like that?” Marcella snapped her slender fingers together. “Um, no. You were freaked out on the phone last night, se?orita. You said Clyde had come to collect you and bring you back to Hell, something I don’t get because he can’t get you there without whacking you and he can’t whack you, according to the rules of Hell—unless he wins your favor by deceit, which will never happen with someone like you. Though, he can definitely freak you the fuck out—make you see and do horrific things as a result if your will is even a little weak, but that ain’t you, guapa. Regardless, that’s not something I’ll ever let happen if I can prevent it. But it’s a statement I still don’t understand because you’re hardly presenting a problem to Lucifer. Most of the spirits you cross over know exactly where they want to go, and it ain’t down below. So no go. Call me curious, but I’m in it for the long haul.”
Delaney rolled her tongue in her cheek. Fuck. She had said she was a little freaked in her voice-mail message when Clyde claimed he was sent to take her to Hell. But wasn’t that a demon’s goal to begin with? To drag your ass back to Purgatory by hook or by contract? “Well, take your curious ass home. All demons make threats, and you know it. I’d never had a direct hit like that before that was so personal, so I got a little hinky. But I’m over it. Now, I appreciate the duct tape and the circle of death constructed in salt, but I think I know exactly what to do.” Which was an utter and complete lie. She didn’t know much more about expelling a demon than nuns knew about riding cowgirl, but if it meant keeping Marcella from hacking off Lucifer, so be it.
Marcella’s dark head tilted to the left, the sleek strands of her hair almost brushing her elbow bent at her hip. “Ah, no. I went to a lot of trouble to anchor our compadre’s ass to your radiator—a lot—and not without risk to my personal well-being. I deserve some answers. Besides, you do realize, if Lucifer sent him, and we manage to get rid of him, which isn’t looking like a problem seeing as I wrestled him with only duct tape, that that chicken shit will just send someone else in his place. Maybe someone who’s bigger and badder. I say we deal with the wussy demon just for fun, because he has to go no matter what, and while we’re at it, we get the 411. Know what I mean, ghost lady?”
She knew exactly what Marcella meant. Delaney’s thoughts raced, her hands becoming ice-cold. If Lucifer wanted her and this demon didn’t nab her, there’d be more to follow. But that still didn’t mean Marcella had to be involved. And she definitely didn’t want Marcella to know why the devil had come calling via Clyde. The less she knew, the better off she was. “I know just what you mean, but I also know you don’t need to be involved. It’s like you said—he’s clearly not a very powerful demon. I just got all whacked when he said he wanted to take me to Hell. But again: so over it now. So go on—get to gettin’. Isn’t there a sale at Pier 1 today? I bet they have pillows on sale . . .” she enticed with a smile and a singing lilt to her voice, running a hand over her robin’s egg blue nightgown. Which was just a little skimpy to be prancing around with in front of a demon.
“May I say something here, ladies?” The silent, studious Clyde suddenly drew the women’s attention to him.
Marcella leaned down and put a finger to his lips. “No.”
“But—”
She pressed more firmly. “Shhhh. Just be pretty.”
Clyde shook her finger off with a rough jerk of his head.“Enough!” he shouted, seemingly surprising even himself with his commanding tone. He paused only for a moment before adding, “If you women would stop yammering like I’m not even in the room with you, I can explain.”
Delaney’s eyes narrowed while her heart raced. “No, no, no. Whatever you have to say, I’m not even a little interested. Demons are all liars.”
Marcella gave her a hurt look, her exquisitely plucked brows furrowing, her lips forming a glossy red pout.
She shot her an apology with her eyes, then threw her gaze at Clyde. “Sorry. Except you, Marcella. You, Clyde, on the other hand, can forget it. I wouldn’t believe a word you said even if you conjured up the Big Kahuna to back you up. Now, for the very last time, I want you—”
“If you two would just shut up, you’d see I could care less if you go back to Hell with me or not, damn it, because I’m not going back!” The muscles in his neck bulged, his tightly bound arms and legs strained against the restrictive silver duct tape, and his glasses wobbled on his nose with his explosive statement.
Ohhhh. He looked pissed. Which was hot on a guy who exuded the epitome of calm. Even if that calm fa?ade was more than likely bullshit. But he’d managed to pique her curiosity. The women exchanged confused glances, but Marcella was the first to speak. “See? I told you we needed to hear what his story was.”
Yet Delaney remained skeptical. “Demons are liars. Who knows that better than you?”
“Excuse me,” Clyde intervened, his hard face clearly outraged, as the widening of his eyes and the granite set to his jaw showed. “You don’t even know me and I don’t mind saying, I’m a little hacked off myself now. I’m no liar. I was sent here to bring you back to Hell—”
Delaney pointed a finger under his nose. “You see? You admit it!”