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“Sir?” he asks again, and I finally turn around to shake my head at him.
“I don’t think I’ve been all right my entire life,” I say.
The security guard furrows his thick brow and then coughs into his hand. “Come on inside, Mr. Waits. I’ll ask someone to bring you a hot drink and a change of clothes.”
Shrugging, I head inside, completely defeated. Unable to save the woman I love. Unable to do a damned thing about my circumstances once again. As one of the buxom secretaries rushes to throw a towel over my shoulders, an idea sparks to life like flint against tinder. If Hell is real, then so is Heaven. And I’ve never been a religious man. I’ve never even gone to church.But if a demon chose to listen to me, then perhaps someone else would, too.
“Mr. Waits?” the secretary asks, her face screwing up at me in worry. “Do I need to call someone?”
I shake my head as I stalk off toward the elevator. “That won’t be necessary, thank you. I don’t want to be disturbed for the next hour.” I press the button to call the elevator and step inside with renewed resolve. This is going to work. This has to work. It has to.
18
FAITH
The office this evening is thankfully empty, so most of my colleagues aren’t around to witness my utter humiliation as I’m lined up with three other demons who didn’t cut the mustard this month. We stand in a queue down in the Processing and Requests department office, which is as bland and boring as the rest of the building. Fluorescent lamps flicker overhead, giving me a headache between my eyes.
“Next,” a female demon croaks. I’ve never seen her before because I’ve never been down here before. She wears a bored expression on her wrinkled face, and her horns curl so dramatically they’re in her nostrils. It’s hard not to gawk at them as we shuffle forward. “Name and department,” she barks to the female demon in front of me. The poor thing seems younger than I am, with dark blue skin and an adorable, stubbed tail that twitches.
“Elysie,” she whimpers. “Marketing department.”
Oof. Even the marketing department throws its cast-offs into the Pit? As the woman behind the desk slams her stamp into a piece of paper, I let out an exhausted yawn. Elysie, on the other hand, buries her face into her palms to sob loudly. But I can’t be bothered. I always knew this day was coming. Could be worse, Iguess. I could be going to the Pit without having ever met Byron. His memory will be a comfort to me down there, if nothing else.
“Next!” the demon barks, and I step up to the desk. “Name and department, please.”
I open my mouth to respond when, behind us, the door flies open and whacks into the wall so hard it falls off its hinges. Everyone in the room jumps, including the demon behind the desk, who is suddenly on her feet and slamming her claws onto the counter.
“What the fuck is going on—” she starts, but a burst of light streams into the room, blinding us all. I shield my face with my arm and let out a strangled gasp as the headache behind my eyes instantly turns into a migraine. What now? Can’t I just go to the Pit in peace? Evidently not.
“STOP THIS AT ONCE,” a deep voice bellows.
I cringe. The only way this day could get any worse is if an angel somehow obliterated the door and stepped into this suffocating office space. And when the brilliant, blinding light finally dims down to a soft glow, I notice the feathers. The eyeballs all over the chiseled torso and hands. The perfectly sculpted facial features as though cut from marble, and the violently yellow eyes that glint in our direction.
Yup. An angel is, in fact, here to make my day worse.
“Donovan, to what do we owe the pleasure?” the demon behind the desk grinds out, clearly getting ready to hurl a book at his head.
Donovan is one of Heaven’s most annoying attorneys. He never loses his cases, and he’s basically God’s favorite child because he loves nothing more than to tattle on everyone and everything that so much as thinks about breaching the rules. In short, I hate this guy. But I’ll have to get in line, because so does everyone else.
He tucks his wings tight to his back as all seventy of his eyeballs blink in unison. I let out a dramatic gagging sound. It’s hard enough having an obnoxious attorney in the office on the day you’re scheduled for the Pit, but it’s a million times worse when the guy is out of your darkest trypophobic nightmares.
Donovan licks one of his fingers and flips open a crusty-smelling brown book. The friggin’ thing is positively ancient, like all angels. Why they haven’t embraced technology like Hell is beyond me. I go to stand beside the other demons from the queue and try to make myself appear smaller by cowering.
Donovan strides up to the desk, flipping through his book, and says, “I have it on good authority that Hell is sending demons who do not meet their monthly quotas to the Pit.”
The demon behind the desk swallows thickly, then nods. “Er, yes. That’s true. Is there something wrong with that?”
Donovan’s wings fidget as he leans over the desk, his mouth peeled back in a thin line. “Yeaaaaaah,” he drawls. “I’m going to need you to stop processing these demons immediately.”
“W-What?! Why? We’re not breaking any rules! These four demons are slated for the Pit immediately, and if we don’t get them on the next bus, Lucifer will—” the demon processing officer sputters, but is quickly silenced by a single glare from Donovan.
“I’ve already spoken with Lucifer about this breach of the rules, and he’s aware of the situation. You’re to stop processing all demons immediately and prepare for the removal of all demons who failed to meet their monthly quotas from the Pit.”
My heart leaps into my throat. Am I hearing this correctly? Did Donovan, the worst angel in Heaven, seriously fly down here today and… save my ass? My tail twitches, and he flicks his gaze over to mine. He sneers. I sneer back.
“Faith,” he says with utter disdain. “I’m not surprised to see you here. You’re a very lucky woman today, it seems.”
I narrow my eyes. “Not so lucky, if I have to see your face.”
