The date from hell a nov.., p.2
The Date from Hell--A Novel, page 2
Her black skirts swirl around her, her hair an unruly tangle, her face a goth masterpiece. “Is it true? You’re ready to take the concept to your father?”
“Yes, but you know I’ll need your help. Rofocale will need convincing to even ask him.”
Mother grins. “Let me handle him.”
I don’t point out that’s the entire reason I sent for her.
“I’m impressed Callie has gotten this far. Do you think it can work?” Mother asks. She has her own opinions, always, so she’s fishing for a glimpse at my inner workings. My parents are exhausting.
But Callie and Lilith have developed something like a grudging mutual admiration society. I suspect because Callie saved my life. My mother may not be sentimental, but she likes—all right, loves, in her unique way—me enough to be pleased I still exist.
“Father is too unpredictable to say. I’m afraid she doesn’t realize how unlikely it is he’ll go for any of this.”
Mother presses her lips together. “No, I was asking about the concept itself. Do you believe these people will prove themselves worthy of redemption? If given the chance?”
“Callie believes so.”
“And you? Do you want to do this?”
“Yes.” Or, at least, I hope I can. If second chances are possible, if humans can become better, avoid their past mistakes—perhaps I can too. Perhaps I can have a life of my own choosing.
“Let’s go then,” Mother says with a practically ravenous smile.
I link my arm through hers and we make our way from my quarters to Rofocale’s office in the working wing of the Gray Keep. If he’s not at Father’s side, this is where he’s most often found—hard at work in the large, over-warm stone room. Where Callie’s passion makes observing her at a task into a wonder, Rofocale’s foul humor makes watching him a torture all its own.
With scaly gray skin, he’s in one of his usual flashy tailored suits, scratching away with his bone pen in the hide-bound ledger on his enormous wooden desk. He sees me first and the curl of distaste on his face is delicious. Even more so when he discovers Mother is with me.
Rofocale hops to his feet and sweeps into a bow. “To what do I owe this honor?”
I can’t resist poking at him. “Now this is how a prince should be greeted. Thank you. You’re finally understanding the hierarchy.”
He frowns, red pupils glowing. “You know that I was not referring to you—”
Lilith raises a hand. “I’m here on my son’s behalf. I need you to help him. I would consider it a personal favor.”
The strain on Rofocale’s face is magnificent. Truly.
Mother keeps her hungriest smile trained on him. She isn’t a legendary witch and vanquisher of men for nothing. Rofocale raises his hand to the back of his neck, as if he’s hot under the collar. Is he fidgeting?
I have to bite back laughter. “You wouldn’t disappoint my dear mother, would you?”
Rofocale remembers I’m here. He speaks carefully. “What is the cause?”
“I understand from Porsoth that you know what it’s about. We’re ready for our audience with Father.”
A burst of heat is our only warning before Father, Lucifer Morningstar himself, strides into the room, his gray-tipped white wings nearly as wide as the span of it.
“You require an audience with me, my boy?” he says.
His icy gaze drifts between Rofocale and my mother. My parents haven’t been an item for as far back as I can remember, but they do have a strange bond.
Mother raises her eyebrows to him, but doesn’t curtsey. Mother, you’re supposed to be helping.
Rofocale has gotten better control of his reflexive flirting. “Sire, I was just about to tell them that you would need time to consider your schedule and—”
“Proceed,” Father says. “I’m here.”
Oh, he’s the worst. Can’t say that, though.
“I need an audience for Callie and myself. We have an idea to present. Together.”
A slow smile crosses Father’s face. “Done,” he says. “Shall we say … Saturday? Hangman’s noon?”
That was far too easy. Lilith and Rofocale’s expressions confirm they think the exact same thing. What’s he up to? It doesn’t matter. There’s only one possible answer.
“We’ll see you then.” For Callie’s sake, I add, “Father … thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
Well, that’s never good.
* * *
I brace myself before I leave to go see Callie. I know she’ll either be waiting up or spending a sleepless night wondering. The only kind of sleepless night I want her to have is with me. But we haven’t taken that step yet, because I’d never rush her.
I’ll wait until she’s ready, and die a little every time I have to stop touching her.
No, it’s not her I’m dreading. She said she was working late with her mom.
At first, her mom seemed to be on board with the whole concept of me. Lately, I get the distinct feeling that is ceasing to be the case. I can’t truly blame her. I’m not good enough for Callie, that much is plain.
That I don’t care and want her anyway is more proof.
I let my mind’s eye find Callie, and then I zappity into the control room at her family’s escape room business.
Monitors and workstations line one wall. Callie is on the floor in front of them, surrounded by envelopes and sheets of paper. Alone.
I keep my sigh of relief inside.
“I come bearing good news,” I say.
She peers up at me without the joy I’d expect. “I could use some.”
I reach a hand out to her and she sets aside her papers. I pull her to her feet and she nestles her head under my chin against my chest. She keeps her hand in mine. The contact feels so good, so right, I don’t dare move except to ask, “What’s wrong?”
“I was late.”
“Yes.”
“Mom was already gone. Left me a note about what to do. It was very ‘not mad, just disappointed.’ I’m screwing things up here.”
Ah. “I’ve screwed up far more things than you could ever begin to. She’ll understand.” I pause. “Besides you have a few days to concentrate on things here before…”
She pushes back a bit, shaking her head at my tease. The hint of a smile appears. I made her feel better. I give myself a gold star.
“Before?” she asks.
“We meet with my father on Saturday. One p.m. sharp.”
“He agreed? Already?”
I decide not to tell her that might not be such a positive sign. “It’ll still be an uphill climb over burning mountains to get him to say yes to the ask. But he did.”
Callie’s smile widens and … changes. “I have an idea,” she says.
“Really?” I say in a mockery of being shocked. “You? An idea? Never.”
“Very funny,” she says. “I know I’ve been spending … a lot of time on this.” She holds up her hand before I can say anything. “A hundred books can’t read themselves. But, uh, what if we spend the whole day together? A big date after the audience.”
Her ears are scarlet. That’s her tell when she’s embarrassed or interested, or both. I’m too on the edge of my proverbial seat to say anything.
“And then, you know, I could stay over.” She hesitates. “If you want.”
I settle my pulse as best I can. She hasn’t yet spent the night. “I want. Oh, I want.”
As I pull her in close and press my lips to hers, we greedily melt into each other and it’s a preview of what’s to come.
Yes, Callie Johnson, I want you. Forever. I only wish I deserved it.
ANOTHER 48 72 HOURS (AND UNTOLD MILLENNIA) ON THE CLOCK
DAY ONE
A HOT DATE
“When I used to read fairy-tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one!”
ALICE’S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND, LEWIS CARROLL
Hell is empty,
And all the devils are here.
THE TEMPEST, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
CHAPTER THREE
CALLIE
On Saturday morning, I stand at the edge of the counter and do everything but a tap dance. My arms are folded, body tight with tension. My posture screams, “I have to get going—you KNOW this,” and yet my mother is taking her precious time photographing the group of four teenage girls who just successfully completed the Chamber of Black Magic in front of the lock-shaped metal GREAT ESCAPE sign to post on our social media.
We do it with everyone who manages to beat our escape rooms in sixty minutes or less. And I’ll give her one thing: they are cute.
Meanwhile, my brother, Jared, and best friend forever, Mag, are holding back my freckle-nosed dog, Bosch, and our knob-kneed fainting pygmy goat, Cupcake—it’s a long story, he used to be a human cult leader—so they don’t crash the photo.
A girl with deeply cool oversized glasses asks, “But can’t they be in it too?”
Little did we know that Cupcake would turn moderately famous and bring in new customers enchanted by the magical friendship between him and my rescue pup. Mom nods. Jared and Mag both shoot me apologetic looks and release the creatures. Who canter over and, I swear, strike poses.
It’s adorable, as are the squeals of the girls, but I still want to growl with frustration. Today is the day. Our audience with Lucifer, followed by a big date. Not the stuff legendary dates are usually made of, except this time I’m hoping it is.
And I’ve spent the last three days working nonstop here. Which means I’m more eager than ever to get to Hell to see Luke.
The girls finally finish the photo op, and drop to pat an appreciative Bosch and Cupcake.
“All right, gang, I need to get moving,” I say, as sanguine as possible.
My mom gives me a look that lets me know she’s fully aware and refusing to hurry. The other day she came this close to questioning what kind of future I could have with a demonic crown prince.
It’s not like I haven’t caught myself wondering the same thing. But … then I firmly cross back into denying-it’s-a-problem land.
“I’m going no matter what,” I add. I’m not about to miss this chance. I can only imagine what it must have cost Luke to arrange it. And then there’s Agnes.
My words apparently get through. Mom nods to Jared and Mag again, who surge forward to keep Bosch and Cupcake clear as she herds the customers to the front door and out.
After she waves good-bye, she turns to me.
“You know you are scheduled to work here today?” she asks, leveling a carefully neutral expression at me. “Even with the extra folks I’m bringing in, I need you.”
At twenty-two years old, the effects of disappointing my mother should be waning, but, alas, her guilting still works gangbusters. Yes, I spaced that I was working on Saturday when Luke secured the audience.
“I promise I’ll be back in time to work our station. With Luke in tow.” A weird date all around, but that’s us.
I glance at Jared and Mag for support. Jared is so clean-cut his polo and jeans might as well be a uniform, and Mag is dressed in their usual casual weekend flare in glittery lip stain, swirly Doc Martens, and a rainbow T-shirt that says Y’ALL MEANS ALL.
Mag chimes in to answer Mom. “We’re here to help,” they say. “It’ll be fine.”
Jared loops his arm around Mag. The two simply work as a couple, despite their surface differences. Not that I understood that right away. At first, the two of them dating freaked me all the way out, mainly because they kept it secret from me.
“This is to make up for the repair bills, you know.” Mom has a small frown.
Jared coughs. “Did Mom tell you we helped her write the clues?”
Mag can’t keep in a laugh. I could hug them both for the distraction attempt.
“You’re all so funny,” I say. “I can’t wait to see how specifically the mockery targets me.”
“Oh, and Luke too,” Mag says, still laughing. “The answer is very.”
“Wonderful.” I shake my head. “But I really do have to go.”
“Good luck,” Mag says.
Mom cuts in. “I hate to say this, Cal. But this is your job. This is a big day for us.”
The mood in the room changes in an instant. Her face is as serious as when they killed off Wash in the Firefly movie.
I should’ve helped more than just the past few days. Instead I was busy inhaling Hell’s library. In my defense, I’ve been catching up on millennia of history normally forbidden to mortals in an attempt to change it. But suddenly I feel like the crappiest daughter and employee of all time.
“Callie, say something,” Mom says.
My mind whirs at top speed. We’re a tight-knit family unit, always have been, and I know everything she does comes from a place of love. And anxiety for me.
I’ve admittedly been a mess ever since I graduated and discovered no jobs exist for history majors. Pitching in at the business is the one thing I’ve always done well. Now I’m making a mess of that too. But my relationship with Luke, the possibilities that have opened up … I can’t turn my back on them either.
“I have to go,” I say. “Luke’s waiting. I promise I’ll be back as fast as I can … I’m sorry.”
She leans in to hug me. “It’s not you I doubt,” she says in my ear. “It’s the devil.”
“Fair,” I tell her.
I release Mom, scratch Bosch and Cupcake each behind their fuzzy ears, wave to quiet, sympathetic Jared and Mag, and then I leave.
I make my way around the back of our building to where there’s a new, permanent long rivulet of water running down the alley. As I stride along it, I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the handkerchief with the monogrammed initials L. A. M.
Luke Astaroth Morningstar.
In a few more feet, a large gate made of knobby, charred bones emerges out of sudden mist. If only we had special effects that looked this good at the business. Not that ours aren’t great, they are. But this gate is real. When I reach it, I cover the back of my hand in the cloth and trace the solid lock made of finger bones linked with brass.
The gate creaks open. I step through—
And almost barrel into Luke’s solid chest, where he stands waiting for me.
My body transforms to electrified anticipation between one heartbeat and the next.
While I know technically my blood still pumps at roughly 3 to 4 mph, walking speed, just like anyone else’s, it doesn’t feel that way. Right now I’d clock mine at more of a sprint.
Luke’s insanely handsome face lights from a fire within when he sees me. He reaches out like he needs to touch me to be sure I’m really here and settles a hand on my shoulder.
“Am I late?” I ask.
“Never,” he says, and gently tugs on the end of a strand of my hair. “I just couldn’t wait to see you.”
His hand slips around the back of my neck and we exchange a soft kiss, a simple touch of lips on lips that deepens into something that could get out of hand in moments. Am I on fire or is the prince of Hell just happy to see me? I could swear I’m burning from the inside out. Melting, even. It’s hard to remember what I’m here for.
Oh right, it’s this.
Us.
We’re an us. A new, fragile us.
I push back. Can this work out? I keep asking myself the question, even though Luke and I are good together. This feels right.
I want to blurt out the news that Mom is even more upset with me. That it’s time for me to finally get my act together. I shouldn’t even still be living at home. I’m twenty-two. But … then he’ll want to talk it out or race back home reporting for duty. Something has to happen right today.
Luke tilts his head in question. “I must be losing my touch. I can see the wheels turning in your head. What about?”
That obvious, huh? It’s like he can read my mind. (Thanks to the universe, he can’t do that. No demon or angel can.)
“Nothing.” I reach down for his hand. “We should go. We can’t keep your dad waiting.”
Luke lifts one shoulder in elegant fashion, folding both his hands around mine. “You’re technically incorrect. We could keep him waiting for hours. I’m sure I could find a way to entertain you.”
My mouth goes dry. Yes, please.
I manage to say, “We have to get back for the big game.”
“As usual”—he draws it out, grin widening—“you’re right on the metaphorical money. We should go.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Charmer.”
“So they tell me.” He drops his lips softly to my cheek, which basically combusts in response, then puts his hand into mine. “You’re sure everything is okay?” he asks. “You’re not nervous about today?”
“Of course not,” I lie. I plan to stay with Luke. All night. For the first time. Oh, wait, he probably meant about proposing a huge change in Hell’s protocols to his dad. It’s a yes to both.
He accepts my answer and we pick our way across the charred landscape of bushes with vicious thorns. They now part for us and avoid sticking me like they do Luke; since they’re familiar with me they no longer view me as torture-bait.
After a short stretch, we reach the chasm that separates the giant tree-shaped castle known as the Gray Keep, the heart of Hell, from the rest of it. I can’t deny that even though traveling here has become slightly familiar, the castle never fails to impress. The stories those walls could tell …
I’m glad they can’t speak.
“Let our big date begin,” Luke says.
He waves his fingers and a bridge forms and drops from what was solid stone moments before and we walk inside the shadowed entrance.
* * *
Flickering candles against obsidian stone create the perfect ambiance for the kingdom’s brooding master, Lucifer. We make it halfway up the first dark, empty corridor before a familiar clatter of hooves rushes out of the library to meet us. Agnes follows, her expression unreadable.
“Are you two prepared for the meeting?” Porsoth hurries to catch up to us and then continues speaking without waiting for an answer. “You realize this would be unprecedented.” Porsoth makes a worried tsking noise. “I’m not sure it’s possible, that kind of permission from him.”
