Chapter 16

CHAPTER16

Azazel froze in the chair, becoming inhumanly still.

My heart skipped a beat, and I held my breath—not that I needed to breathe in my spirit form, but…force of habit.

“Azazel,” Dorothy repeated, her eyes glowing with warmth—and cunning. “You found me.”

I’d never really seen Azazel this speechless. He just stared at this frail, elderly woman he didn’t know, but who recognized him for who he was, impossibly so.

Dorothy leaned forward a bit, her shrewd eyes fixed on him. “Did I get you? Did it work?”

I blinked, dumbfounded, at the scene before me. What the fuck was going on?

“It can’t be,” Azazel murmured, still sitting so shock-frozen.

Dorothy’s eyes tracked over his shoulder and settled on me. “Is that her? Is she the one who summoned you?”

Azazel sucked in a sharp breath.

I tensed, my eyes widening. “Can she see me?”

“I can hear you, too, sweetheart.” Dorothy winked at me, then looked back at Azazel. “How did she trap you? What did she do? Tell me.” She patted his hand, her face eager.

Azazel’s throat worked as he swallowed hard before he said, “She forced me to marry her.”

“Excuse me!” I said at the same time as Dorothy cackled so hard she fell back against the propped-up pillow.

“I thought we’d been over this,” I said to Azazel, gesturing wildly in the air. “I didn’t know that I was forcing you to do anything. I just read from this book and added my own hormonal teenage drama spin so I wouldn’t end up single at twenty-five.”

Dorothy laughed so violently that I was scared she might suffocate or have a heart attack.

“Zoe,” Azazel said, his gaze still on Dorothy, his voice solemn. “Meet Moloch.”

My jaw hit the proverbial floor. “What?”

Moloch? As in, Azazel’s erstwhile frenemy? The one who’d died a hundred years ago?

Dorothy wiped her eyes, her chest shaking with her fading laughter, and looked at me.

“Moloch,” Azazel said, “this is my wife, Zoe.”

“Pleasure to meet you, darling.” Dorothy/Moloch grinned at me, then glanced at Azazel again. “I got you good, didn’t I?”

A small smile bloomed on Azazel’s face, his features softening. “Your best one yet.”

Moloch nodded with the same expression a cat might have that got into the cabinet where all the treats were kept. “It took long enough. Thought I might not see it come to pass.”

“How?” Azazel leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped.

Moloch shrugged. “Used to be, I’d get these seizures, and then I remembered. That’s when I wrote it all down. Of course, when I’d come to, my human mind refused to acknowledge what happened.” His mouth twisted bitterly. “Refused to act on it. Oh, the things I could have done if I’d been able to summon you myself.” Mischief sparked in his eyes as he looked at Azazel. “Alas, it wasn’t to be. Had to be someone else.” He glanced at me and winked. “You did good, kid. Making him marry…” He leaned back against the pillow and chuckled. “That is better than I could have imagined.” Closing his eyes, he sagged a bit, his voice becoming weaker. “Didn’t think I’d get to see it…”

Azazel reached out and grabbed his hand again.

A soft smile spread across Moloch’s face, his eyes still closed. “I win.”

“You win,” Azazel repeated, his voice hoarse.

Moloch took a deep breath, his chest rattling, and when he opened his eyes again, the milky film on them was back, all cunning gone.

“Who are you?” Dorothy asked as she stared at Azazel, her voice burdened and cracked with age.

Azazel held her gaze for a long moment, then he softly said, “Someone from a different life.”

Her brows drew together, but she nodded, her milky eyes sad. “I’m tired.”

“Then sleep.”

Nodding again, she closed her eyes. Her breathing deepened—then stopped.

I jerked forward, but Azazel held up a hand.

“Not me,” he said quietly. “It’s just her time.”

I blinked, and in the space between my lashes lowering, I saw a fast blip of light go out from her body. Her soul, I realized.

“Where…”

“She was slated for Heaven.” He set her hand gently next to her body before he let it go. “She’ll have been collected right away.”

“Collected? By whom?”

“The Angel of Death.”

I startled. “Your father?”

He nodded once, curtly, and then rested his elbows on his knees again and let his head hang. I looked at Dorothy, lying so still in death, all life and warmth gone, and with it, the last traces of Azazel’s old friend.

Sadness gripping my heart, I closed the distance to Azazel and hugged him as he sat there.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, tunneling my fingers through his hair.

How cruel life could get. How meandering. To lose someone you cared for, to mourn their passing, only to meet their reincarnation a hundred years later—moments before their final death.

I hugged him tighter, letting him know, without words, I was there for him, that I understood his pain. A few heartbeats passed, and then his arms came around me, pulling me closer. His face buried in my middle, he held me as I held him, his shoulders trembling with his silent sobs.

My throat closing up, I petted his hair and curled over him.

And through the sadness and the pain I felt with him, I knew and understood and cherished the way he allowed himself to be this vulnerable with me, broken down and bleeding from the softest part of himself.

Because I knew, without a doubt, that he’d never let anyone else see him this way.

* * *

By the timewe came back to Hell, it was already late enough in the morning over in Sydney that I could continue straight with my second visit to Earth, for which Azazel flew me to yet another demon’s territory with a gate near the city.

He’d been quiet ever since the nursing home, understandably so. I didn’t prod him, knowing he needed time to process. I remembered my own numb shock after finding out my dad had died. I wished there was more I could do for Azazel, but for now, I’d respect his renewed grief, and I’d be there for him when he turned to me for more.

Taylor was home as I’d asked her to be, already waiting with a birthday cake and a huge smile on her face. God, I missed her so much.

She jumped up from the couch at the sight of us materializing on her balcony, and her strawberry blond hair bounced around her shoulders as she clapped her hands together and hopped excitedly.

“Zoe!” she squealed.

“Tay!” I answered with a big grin.

“You,” Taylor said and snapped her fingers at Azazel, who lifted a brow at the imperious gesture. “Be a dear and hug her super tight, will you?”

He lifted the second brow and just stared at her in the most amazing silent mix of “what the fuck?” and “how dare you?”

Taylor rolled her eyes and blew out a breath. “I can’t hug her, okay? But it’s her birthday, and she deserves all the hugs, so come on.”

Azazel’s gaze swung to me, a glint of warmth in his eyes. “That she does.”

I grinned even more as he pulled me into his arms.

“Harder!” Taylor hollered. “Squeeze the ghostly life out of her. Give her the huggiest hugs of all hugs.”

“Your taste in friends is concerning,” Azazel murmured in my ear as he pressed me closer.

“She friendopted me,” I wheezed back. “I didn’t have much choice.”

“Happy birthday, Zoe!” Taylor shouted from right next to us. To Azazel she said, “You call that a hug? She isn’t a delicate flower, dude. If she can still talk, you’re not squeezing her tight enough.”

“All right,” Azazel said, releasing me. “I’m out. I’ll be back in two hours to pick you up.”

“Quitter,” Taylor murmured at his back as he strolled outside and took off from the balcony.

I reeled from the tight hug he’d given me, swaying on my ghostly feet, and turned to Tay.

“Oh, I wish I could hug you myself, hon.” She clasped her hands in front of her.

Taylor was a hugger. Obviously. In fact, Tay was everything physical, and she moved through the world with her every gesture an extension of her larger-than-life personality. I smiled and soaked up her energy, letting it pull me up as it always did.

“I know,” I said and shrugged. “Alas, this spirit form is a bit physically challenged. Best I can do is poke you.”

“No, no.” Tay waved that away. “I’ll find a dude for that, thank you.”

I snort-laughed.

“Okay, so I got you this cake.” She gestured at the birthday confection on the couch table. “I know you can’t eat it, but I thought it’d be nice to have one anyway.”

“You just wanted an excuse to eat cake.”

“Guilty as charged.” She grinned and then pointed at it. “Look, though. Isn’t it cute?”

I squinted at the cake topper, which looked suspiciously like… “Is that a basket? Surrounded by flames?”

“Yes! Get it?”

I stared at her.

She gave me an intense look. “Because you went to Hell in a hand basket?”

I covered my face with my hand. “Tay.”

She erupted in laughter, and I cracked up right along with her.

“You’re insane,” I said between giggles.

“I prefer ‘creatively ignorant of social rules.’” She pointed at me with the knife before she cut into the cake.

“Speaking of which…” I pinned her with a look. “You have got to stop summoning Belial for trivial shit like delivering your messages to me.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, but then she nodded as she ate a piece of the cake. “Oh, I see,” she said around chewing, “so you’re saying I should use him for more important stuff…”

“No.”

“I mean”—she gestured with the tiny fork—“there is this douchebag I dated a few months back who is in dire need of being taught a lesson not to cheat on his girlfriend. Belial could scare the shit out of him. And I mean that literally. How great would it be if that asshole actually shit his pants at the sight of a real-deal demon threatening to take his soul?” She snickered and took another bite of the cake.

“Tay!”

“What?”

“I mean it.” I put my hands on my hips and glared at her. “Stop summoning him. He’s pissed as fuck about this and just waiting for the chance to turn the tables and pay you back for humiliating him like that.”

Taylor appeared unconcerned. Gah, sometimes I hated how dauntless she could be.

“He can’t hurt me,” she said with a shrug. “I commanded him not to harm me, and he can’t act against that.”

“For now. What if he finds a way around it? There’s always a loophole. If he figures out how to evade that command…”

“There’ll be Hell to pay,” Taylor intoned in a deep voice and then chuckled at her own joke.

I facepalmed.

“Tay, please,” I began again. “Stop with the summoning.”

“Look,” she said after taking another bite of the cake and chewing, “the way I see it, it’s too late now anyway. The damage is already done, right? You said he’s pissed as fuck. Well, even if I stop summoning now, he’ll still be pissed as fuck. Demons live forever. I bet they have long memories. So what are the chances that he’ll just forget about the whole thing if I stop calling on him now? How likely is it that he’ll simmer down over time and won’t come for me decades from now when he figures out how to get around the command?” She shot me an arch look. “You’re the one who knows demons. Tell me—will he let this slide?”

I deflated. I couldn’t lie to her. “No.”

“See?” She gestured with the fork again. “Right now, I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. And honestly, I’d rather get some fun out of it if I already have a target on my back. Squeeze it for what it’s worth.”

“Tay, you really shouldn’t squeeze an already enraged demon.”

“Oh, right, because he’ll torture me a little less if I back off now?” She clucked her tongue and continued eating. “No, Z. Nothing I can do right now will appease that demon into not getting back at me when he gets the chance. So why not take advantage while I can?”

“Because I don’t want you to get hurt!”

Taylor set down her fork and met my gaze, her eyes gentle. “I know. I know you just want me to be safe and not take risks. But tell me, Z—have I ever lived my life that way?”

I swallowed hard. “No.”

“If I went through life always staying in my comfort zone and never daring to do anything, I wouldn’t have moved across the world to work and live in a foreign country.”

“You can’t honestly compare moving to Australia to summoning a demon.”

She shrugged and grinned. “At least half of the wildlife here actively tries to kill you, so…”

“Tay!” I focused hard, grabbed a pillow from the couch, and threw it at her head.

“Just kidding, just kidding.” She raised her arms to block the pillow missile and laughed.

“No, but seriously,” she said after settling down again, “life isn’t fun if you never take any risks. I only have this one life here, and it’ll be just a few good decades.” She gave me a pointed look. “Some of us don’t have the privilege of living forever and having all the time in the world to do all the things.”

“Tay…” My shoulders sagged.

She waved her hand in the air. “Now don’t get morose. It’s your birthday, so you don’t get to mope. It is what it is. But I’m just telling you that I’m going to live this very human life of mine to the fullest, and if I want to summon a demon to scrub my toilet, I’ll do that.”

I choked on my non-existent spit. “You didn’t!”

She snickered. “No, I didn’t. I just wanted to see your face.”

I sank down on the chair opposite the couch and laid a hand over my chest, where the ghostly echo of my racing heart was pounding. “One of these days, you’ll give me an apoplexy.”

“Is that even possible?” She squinted at me. “Like, can your body in Hell be affected by what happens to your spirit form here?”

“I have no idea. And no”—I pointed at her—“I have no inclination to find out.”

She grinned. “Coward.”

“I prefer ‘intensely focused on survival and comfort.’”

Her grin softened into a smile. “It’s good to have you here.”

“Yeah,” I said with a smile of my own.

“So,” she said and speared a piece of cake with her fork, “tell me about that last visit from Lilith. You mentioned something happened?”

I’d only hinted at it in my letter, not wanting to give away too much in a written message that might be intercepted and read by prying eyes. So now I told her all about that encounter, and when I finished, she squinted at me again, her head tilted.

“You don’t look different.”

“No, you can’t really see it.” I glanced down my front. “Azmodea recently mentioned that she senses something different about me, so it must be detectable somehow.” I shrugged. “Not that I feel it.”

“You don’t feel anything?”

I shook my head. “Whatever Lilith put inside me, it’s subtle. I’m not even convinced it does anything. Which kind of sucks.” I twisted my mouth into a frown. “I mean, if I go through having a hole punched into my chest and bleeding over everything, I’d at least want to get some cool powers out of it.”

“Maybe it’ll activate when you’re threatened? Sort of like a dormant self-defense system?”

Tilting my head, I considered that. “Maybe. It would be nice not to be dependent on others defending me anymore. I’m so tired of having to have an escort wherever I go because I’m too weak to hold my own.” I blew out a ghostly breath. “You don’t know how exhausting it is to live among beings that consider you prey.”

Tay raised a brow. “I’m a young, single woman living in a large city filled with men.”

I laughed. “There’s that. Now multiply that by a thousand, and you’ll know what it’s like not to be able to walk through your own home without a guard dog because there are beasts roaming the halls that will rip the flesh off your bones if they catch you alone.”

She grimaced. “Okay, you win.”

We continued to chat and laugh, and before I knew it, the time was up and Azazel came back to take me home.

“See you in a few weeks,” Tay said with a smile that was just the tiniest bit sad.

I nodded, my heart heavy despite my answering smile. Even though I now actually saw her more often in person than when I’d still lived on Earth—given that for the last year or so before I’d gone to Hell, she’d already lived in Australia, and I couldn’t just zip over there from the US—I wasn’t able to video chat with her in between, as we’d done before. So these brief hours every couple of weeks were the only time I could actually talk with my best friend, and I felt the strain of it every time I had to leave at the end of a visit.

But today was my birthday, and I’d promised myself that I would try to stay upbeat. And, as Tay had so aptly put it, I wasn’t allowed to mope.

“So,” Tay said before I turned away, “are you guys throwing a party today? I mean, if you think about it, you have two reasons to celebrate—technically, today’s your anniversary, isn’t it?”

I stiffened. Oh, no.

Tay took in my expression at one glance, and her eyes widened just the slightest bit. Dude, she very clearly said without saying it, you didn’t forget your first wedding anniversary, did you?

My eyes widened as well. Crap,I totally did, I said without saying it.

Tay inclined her head a little, her eyes flicking to Azazel standing behind me. Glancing back at me, she mouthed, Blow-job.

I facepalmed and then glared at her. Tay, I said without saying it.

Azazel cleared his throat. “Are you two quite done?”

“Yes, absolutely, let’s go.” I turned on my heels and marched off to the balcony.

Tay’s giggles followed me out.

* * *

I came hometo a sweet little surprise party featuring Azmodea, Mammon—whom I gave a little side-eye for getting Taylor into that whole demon summoning mess—and Hekesha and Caleb, the two half-bloods in Azazel’s service with whom I’d forged a casual friendship over the past few months.

It was quite telling, of course, that I’d felt more comfortable befriending them rather than other full-blood demons. There was an instant kind of kinship in having fewer powers—or none, in my case—compared to the demons in Hell.

Plus, Caleb wasn’t that old yet, having been born and grown up on Earth in the seventies and eighties, which meant he and I shared a lot of the more recent cultural Earth experiences. In demon terms, he was just a toddler.

Naturally, that made me an infant, but I wouldn’t dwell on that.

Though I guessed I could always tease Azazel with being a cradle robber.

Caleb had appeared a bit curt when I’d first met him, but he’d warmed up over the months, revealing more of his sometimes dorky personality. I’d never had a brother or cousin, but I could almost imagine him in that role, the way we’d trade barbs and laugh at jokes together.

Azazel had watched our friendship with a good amount of suspicion at first, but after he’d growled at Caleb one too many times—making the poor dude virtually sink into the floor—I’d verbally ripped my darling husband a new one. Because while I did occasionally enjoy his jealousy for giving me warm tingles, I would not let it dictate whom I could or couldn’t be friends with. Possessiveness was all good and well, as long as it didn’t make me feel like I had to limit my contacts to appease my partner.

He now tolerated our meetings without complaint, though part of that could be due to the renewed threat he’d made to Caleb that he’d lose any part of his body that touched mine. Not that it would have been necessary—the young half-blood practically worshipped Azazel for saving him from his abusive father. No way in Hell would he ever disrespect Azazel by straying where he shouldn’t.

Hekesha had been even more aloof than Caleb when I first met her a year ago, and I could have sworn she didn’t like me much—until that moment when she’d pushed me into that room with Azazel all those months ago, after he’d received the letter from Lucifer welcoming him to the Fall Festival. Azazel had trashed that room in his rage and had sat there for hours in the wreckage, frightening half his staff, who didn’t know how to approach him in that state. Hekesha’s solution was to get me—to make him happy, because according to her, I was good at that. That was the first time she’d shown me any indication that she kind of sort of maybe appreciated my presence here.

I’d since found out that Hekesha was the quiet grumpy type who took some time to let people in, but once she did, she was fiercely loyal. She often joined me and Caleb when we met up, and the combination of Caleb’s dorkiness and Hekesha’s grumpy awkwardness made for a lot of situational fun. Our board game nights were a hoot.

“I didn’t know we were having a party,” I now said just after we’d stepped into our quarters and I’d had a little jump scare at two full-blood demons and two half-bloods yelling “Happy birthday!” at the top of their lungs.

Azazel leaned down from behind me and kissed me on the cheek. “I know you despise large gatherings,” he murmured, referencing the annoying get-togethers I’d had to endure at his side for the past months. “But last year, you were sad to celebrate your birthday alone, and I recall you saying you wanted to have a party the next year.”

Ah, yes, my morose birthday thoughts from a year ago, when I’d lit a sad, single candle on a sad, little cupcake all alone in my new apartment in a new city.

Well, I hadn’t really been alone, after all. There had been a demon lurking in the shadows.

“You remembered,” I said softly and turned to him, my chest tingling with warmth.

And he’d been thoughtful enough to invite only those I knew well and felt comfortable with.

“Of course.” His eyes held mine as he cupped my face and stroked my cheeks with his thumbs.

Of course. Because he remembered every little thing I’d ever said, remembered all the pieces that made me who I was, from the trivial to the vital. He’d never forget a single thing about me, whether I’d said or done it in passing or revealed it to him in private.

Unlike me, who’d forgotten that his mother was “dead.”

He didn’t say it, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure it was even a conscious subtext in this little interaction. He wasn’t the type to deliver passive-aggressive jabs like this. In all our months together, he’d never shown himself to engage in this kind of relationship warfare. Whenever he had a bone to pick with me, he did so directly.

No, this humiliating slap across the face was all on my side, in my head. Because even when he didn’t mean his words to poke at the stain of guilt inside me—and I honestly believed that wasn’t his intention—I still felt it, because I couldn’t let go of that moment. Because I knew that he still remembered my blank stare when I’d asked him if he’d ever had someone close to him die and he had to remind me about his mother.

No matter how well he tried to play it off, I still sensed it looming in the space between, and in moments like this, it solidified into something insurmountable and pervasive that tainted every word between us.

I swallowed and dropped my gaze from his, shame heating my face.

Shame and anger.

If I wasn’t so terrified of Lucifer, I’d have long stormed into his palace, punched him in the throat and demanded he release me from this fucking vow.

I didn’t even know why he’d keep this from Azazel—just for shits and giggles? Given what I’d seen and heard about him, it would fit his character. Ugh.

Azmodea chose that moment to envelop me in a hug. “Happy birthday, darling,” she cooed. “I got you this.”

I peered at the gift box she’d shoved into my hands, then narrowed my eyes at her. “Is this safe to unwrap in company?”

“Oh, absolutely! It’s meant for company.”

My brain processed the underlying current in her words too late, and by the time healthy suspicion crept in, I’d already ripped off the wrapping paper—to reveal the most elaborate dildo-vibrator combo I’d ever seen.

“Azmodea!” I screeched and slapped my hands over the box in a futile attempt to shield the picture on it from the other guests’ eyes. “What the fuck?”

She had the nerve to chuckle. “Oh, that sweet bashfulness. Never gets old. Anyway”—she waved her hand—“Az told me about that cute little thing you sometimes like to use—”

I rounded on Azazel. “You told her?”

If he could have incinerated someone with a single look, Azmodea would have been worse off than Anakin Skywalker on Mustafar. “I did not,” he snarled and bared his teeth.

“Huh. Could have sworn it was you.” She tapped a finger on her lips, completely unconcerned by the homicidal pulse of power emanating from Azazel. “Oh, no, wait, I think it was the cat.”

“Mephisto??” I squealed.

She snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “That’s the one.”

I’d kill him. I’d use his pelt as a bedside rug.

“Did you honestly just confuse me with a hellcat?” Azazel barked at his sister.

She threw up her hands. “Well, to be fair, you’re both a bit surly—”

“Excuse me,” Mammon cut in, “can we get back to the part where we talk about what kind of toys Zoe likes—I wasn’t quite done taking notes.” That perv had actually summoned an honest-to-Hell notepad and ballpoint pen, holding it at the ready.

Hekesha and Caleb appeared like they were doing their best to meld with the furniture and walls. Azazel, meanwhile, looked one second away from committing a murder.

Honestly, at this point, I’d cheer him on.

It was at that precise moment that a dead hellrat dropped from the ceiling to land at my feet with a wet plop, spraying my legs with blood.

Happy birthday, Mephisto purred from up high.

I would skin that cat alive.