Again with the serious. “So get on with it already. This little interlude’s been like that song that goes on and on. Um, ‘In-A-Ga—’ ”
“‘In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.’ By Iron Butterfly, 19—”
“Enough with the useless trivia, music man. You get my drift. Now get to the ‘there’s more’ point.”
His eyes scanned her face in earnest, probing and deep. “There was another name involved when you were mentioned. Let me preface this by saying I don’t know who this person is, and I have no idea what the name means in correlation to you.”
Hackles rose along her neck, but she managed to push out, “What name?”
“I remember it distinctly because it’s a nice name. It means . . . shit, I forget. I just know it’s Irish—Gaelic.”
The air evaporated around her, stilling to a thick pea soup. The blood drained from her face. “The—name,” she prodded.
“Kellen. It was Kellen.”
She knew what Kellen’s name meant. At least in relation to it being bandied about a water cooler in Hell.
Mud.
Which meant they were toast.
six
Clyde stood in front of her in his impromptu throw blanket, his face a handsome mask of concern. “I should have known the name was important. Who is Kellen, and is another apology in my future?”
Delaney hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath, but for the hiss of air that escaped her lungs when she finally spoke. “My brother.”
“Can he see dead people, too?”
Her mouth was dry—words came at a heavy, substantial price. “No. No dead people.”
Clyde put a hand on her shoulder, obviously hoping to lend comfort, reassurance, but it only served to make her uncomfortable, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he had a demon’s hand. It warmed the cold front that had settled over her body, and that wasn’t copasetic. “So they hate your brother, too? Just because he’s your brother, I’m assuming.”
Delaney shrugged his lean fingers off, hoping the warmth that seeped through her sweater would dissipate. Yeah, they hated her brother, but it didn’t have as much to do with her and her gift as it did for her and that night.
That night.
That fucking night.
When all that had once made sense suddenly and inexplicably made about as much sense as a Rubik’s Cube. The night Satan had promised to obliterate the people she loved—the people she might potentially love—during a bitter rage filled with all the unimaginable elements most only watch come to life on a movie screen. “Yeah, I guess that’s it,” she lied with an ease she was left feeling dirty about. But she wasn’t about to tell Clyde anything more than he needed to know. First, if he was telling her the truth, her issues with Satan would only compound his. Second, this was between her and the pitchfork lover. “Because he’s my brother,” she finished.
Clyde’s eyes sought hers, darkening to a deeper blue behind his glasses. “I wish I had more to give you about why Kellen was mentioned in regard to you and Satan. The only thing I can think of is that Lucifer wants Kellen because hurting him would hurt you.”
“So there was nothing else in this file about Lucifer’s reasons for wanting me to damn myself for eternity? No specifics? Nothing about what he may or may not have planned for Kellen?” She had to know. In order to know, she had to pretend she didn’t know anything at all. If Clyde was lying, and he brought back her apparent ignorance to Satan, then all the better. Not in a mill would she let the devil catch wind of the fear she’d harbored all these years or the terror that kept her sometimes rooted in isolation.
“Nothing. Just his orders to get your soul at all costs.”
Closing her eyes, she fought to keep her rising panic at bay. She’d come across demons in her fifteen years with this gift of talking to the dead, but they’d never brought her this kind of specific information. Obviously, the time had come. Oh, but the hell she’d cower because Satan and his band of weenies had threatened her. The. Hell. She stuck her hand out at Clyde as she rose from the chair. “Thanks for the heads-up. You’re crazy swell, Clyde. Really. Now go Matlock your way out of this supposed mix-up you’re messed up in with my blessings.”
He hesitated when she shook her hand at him so he’d take it in his grip. “But wait . . .”
With a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, Delaney stuck the hand she’d offered in her pocket and shuffled to the door, unlocking it and flipping the Open sign over. She turned back to face him and his once again bewildered yumminess.