“Clearly. But there’s more . . .” she coaxed. Because there always was with Clyde.
“Uh, I blew myself up.” He held up a hand to stop her from what he must have known was coming next. “I know, I know. The particulars of what I was researching are probably far more detailed than you’d care to hear and about as evil as a newborn kitten. Just know I did something unbelievably stupid, and I should have known better. I was always careful, if not about my paperwork, that’s what Tia was for, anyway, then definitely about my surroundings and my chemicals. But I sure didn’t intend to end up dead—so forget the suicide theory I just know is milling around in that pretty head of yours, and nothing about what I was doing for research was diabolical or important to anyone of importance, if that’s where you’re headed next. So I took this mission because it put me back here on Earth, first and foremost, but I also took it because there’s no way I’m living out an eternity down there. I don’t know that in life I was much of a believer in Heaven and Hell and everything they teach you in catechism because it just isn’t logical to me, but in death, I believe.”
Yeah. Death had a way of conforming nonconformists.
And the demon had called her pretty. Christ, was she so hard up for male attention she’d preen over it when it was served up by a demon? “And again, who says you couldn’t have made this all up? I hate to keep bringing up the treacherous deceit your kind are known for, but wellllll, I have to look out for my ass, too. Ya feel me? For all I know, this biz about me and Clyve and Chihuahuas is all just so much crap.” No doubt she wished the bit about little Katie was just that. Crap.
“And again, I’d have to agree. But if that wasn’t enough, there’s more.”
“Wow. How much better does it get than when a demon says he’s here to convince you Hell is the new Paris?”
Clyde snickered a deep chuckle. “You know, sometimes, you’re pretty damned funny.”
Delaney slapped her hands on her thighs and nodded. “Yeaaaah. I’m a fucking riot. All the demons say so. I have to have a sense of humor or I’ll go batshit in my line of work. Now get on with it before I lose my patience again.”
Again, Clyde looked around with caution as if someone might hear what he was going to relay.
Delaney’s reaction was to reassure, stemming from years of guiding spirits, a reaction she couldn’t seem to help. “It’s okay. I can feel an entity for the most part—good or bad. It’s just you and the entity you are, for the moment. No worries we’ll be overheard.”
The intake of breath Clyde sucked in was long-winded, the stiff set of his shoulders relaxing but a hair. “They talk about you in Hell—that’s how I recognized your name on the file, too. I’ve only heard short snippets of conversations, but what I heard is something you need to know. Something I couldn’t live without telling you, or not live, or whatever it is that I’m doing.”
Delaney rolled a hand in front of her. “So get jiggy wit it. And before you say anything else, I know. Will Smith—”
“Nineteen ninety-eight, from his Big Willie Style album. I’m a fan.”
Jesus. He was a veritable font of useless crap. “Fab. Now out with it.”
Clyde’s face said he was uncomfortable, but he never let his eyes stray from hers. “I was at the water cooler one day—”
“Because Hell is Africa hot and naturally they’re obligated to provide refreshment.” She let the sarcasm drip from her words with a snicker.
The joke clearly escaped Clyde. He was all business now that he had free rein. “Right. Whatever. I was at the water cooler and your name came up. The other demons said you were a real ball-buster. That they were glad Satan was finally paying the kind of attention to you that you deserved—sending in the big guns like he was. A couple of them mentioned how they’d tried to interfere in that crossing thing you do and that you’d made one too many pairs of eyes bleed. So it served you right that your head was on the block.”
Amusing shit, indeed. That she’d pissed ole Lucifer off was cause for celebration in her book. It meant breaking out her best party dress and high heels—maybe some confetti. It didn’t upset her even a little that those fuckwads were kvetching over her past expulsions when they’d interfered with a perfectly good crossing. Though she didn’t chase demons purposely. So they didn’t worry her—much.
But that joy came at a price, and clearly, she’d just been put on Satan’s clearance rack. That did worry her, and it made her worry for the few people in her life she loved. “I bet they hate my guts, and I gotta tell ya, I can live with that. So big deal. Some demons hate me. I’d slap on my sad face for you, but alas, that news makes me smile and smile. See?” She grinned wide.
But Clyde wasn’t smiling. “And still there’s more.” His tone was grim.