“His story’s much different than yours, Marcella. I just need you to believe that and knock the interrogation off. Please.”
“Well, his story must have some similarities to mine or he wouldn’t be in Hell. Did he fuck up going into the light, too?”
“No,” she gritted out. “And I’m not saying another word.”
Marcella flipped up her palm. “That works. I’ll say all the words. First, I’ve been hearing your name from some of the other demons I sometimes run into when I’m trying to well, you know . . .”
“Hook up?”
Marcella’s expression soured, but her eyes glittered. “Don’t hate. I’m a demon. We have needs that can’t be denied—they’re bigger than we are. It’s more of a curse than anything—so save the Bible thumping. I am what I am. I’m always careful, and I never see my prey again. That’s all beside the point I’m making here. What’s going down with you and Hell? Why are you all of a sudden prom queen there?”
Delaney tugged at her lip with her fingers. “I’m not budging.”
“Wanna know what they’re saying?”
Damn. And then it happened. She cracked—big—wide-open. “Yes,” Delaney sputtered.
“They’re saying you’re due some serious throwdown from the boss and they all seem to be getting a real kick out of it. Oh, they were having a fine time talking smack about you at this club I was in. I almost ruined a perfectly good purse, beating the snot out of one slug for it. That makes me really angry. It was a nice purse—red with gold piping. So what did you do to piss the fucker off?”
If she were truthful by omission here, she truly didn’t know what Lucifer was so het up about other than she’d beaten him to the punch. The punch that still made no sense to her. He’d still won in the end, though in a roundabout way. So she was going to lie—again. It was becoming a habit. “I don’t know.”
Marcella’s huff was harsh. “I get the feeling I’m being bamboozled here, amiga, and I don’t like it. You might not know the exact origins of Satan’s issue with you, but you have an idea what his freak is about and it has to do with Clyde . . .”
Among other things. “In a very roundabout way. Look, Marcella, I’m begging you here—stop asking me questions. When the time comes, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, but I can’t right now. Not now.”
The chair scraped the floor as Marcella rose, smoothing her short, floral dress over her legs and straightening her cropped blue denim jacket. “You do know what you’re doing is loco, right? Toying with Clyde, even if only on a sexual level, that just isn’t you, D. You’re going to get hurt. I can feel it, and I don’t want that to happen. You’re vulnerable to a man’s attention. Any man. You haven’t been even a little involved with anyone for a very long time. The last man’s name I heard you utter was the fuck who cheated on you back in college—Harry—Larry—whoever.”
“Gary,” she provided helpfully, then cringed at the mention of his name. Gary was a large part of the reason she’d had the run-in with Satan to begin with. Gary and Vincent.
“Yeah, him. So stop this now before it goes any further. You’ll only end up with red eyes and a runny nose, but worse, a broken heart.”
“Then remember the bucket of chicken. Extra crispy, no wings, please.”
Marcella tweaked her cheek, but her eyes were on fire. “If Lucifer plans to harm one hair on your head—”
“You’ll go all gangsta on him.”
She nodded her head in the affirmative. “With every pathetic fireball I’ve got. I’ll go, D, because I get now that you’re looking out for me, and as much as I appreciate that, as much as I love you to itty-bitty bits for it, I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a long time now. My friendship with you has never been a problem for Satan before. I’d have to wonder if he even knows about it. But the talk I’ve been hearing says you’re going to get yours in a big way, and it scares the living shit out of me. And for what? You cross over souls who are nothing more than disoriented. You don’t steal potential clients bound for Purgatory. Sometimes you cause a good eyeball bleed with a demon or two. Big deal.
“If that’s what Lucifer’s so pissed about, why is he taking action now? You’ve been doing it all your life. So whatever’s going on has to do with something that happened recently. Why you can’t tell me is very suspicious—especially seeing as I’m probably the best connection to Hell you have and more than likely could help you. So okay, because you keep giving me those pleading eyes and vib ing some fucked-up body language, I’ll go, but I can’t promise I’ll stay gone.”