9
“How’s that?” Marc said, serving Amanda a plate of barbeque ribs. “Try these. They’re famous across the infernal plains and in all of the Nine Circles.”
“I had no idea you were such a good cook!”
Spatula in hand and rocking Amanda’s pink apron, the King of Hell commanded the stove as if it were an army of tiny demons. Pots boiled, pans sizzled, and a myriad of delicious scents filled the kitchen. Nobody had ever cooked for Amanda, and she had a hard time keeping the grin off her face and her heart in a calm 4/4 beat. She remembered that Marc had once written that he enjoyed cooking every once in a while, but she had no idea that he was a five-star chef.
“This is really nice,” she said, resting her chin in her hands, her elbows on the table. “Much better than a restaurant date.”
“I’m happy you like it. I rarely cook for humans.” He grinned at her over his shoulder. “But be careful, gluttony is one of the deadly sins.”
“Ha! But yeah, I’m actually starting to get quite full.”
“You know what the Vikings did during festivities?” Marc opened his mouth and stuck two fingers in, pretending to throw up. “So that they could enjoy more food.”
“Ew, that’s disgusting,” Amanda said, grimacing. “Why don’t you sit down with me for a bit? You’ve barely touched your first plate.”
“I’m trying to watch my cholesterol,” Marc said, but sat down on the other side of the table, his smoky hair flowing down his shoulders.
“Funny,” Amanda said and did her best to look unamused, but a smile still snuck onto her lips. “Why don’t we invite Don over, if you’re not hungry?”
“He’s a vegetarian.”
Amanda rolled her eyes, but then leaned forward, lowering her voice to a whisper. “You know, I think it’s really sweet of you to have one of your best men guarding me. If he hadn’t been there earlier today...”
“I’m surprised they sent Michael,” Marc said, tapping a finger on his lips. “Up there, they’ve always frowned upon interacting with humans. I’m just not sure why they think you’re tainted. I’d never touch your soul.”
Amanda shrugged and sipped her wine. Marc watched her in silence for a while.
“Unless…” he said, dragging the word out. “...you’ve been talking to someone you shouldn’t?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s just a question, Amanda. Do you have any new people in your life?”
She looked him in the eye. “No.”
Marc stood up and rounded the table. He lifted her chin. The tips of their noses almost met. His eyes flared red. “Are you sure?”
“Marc, you’re scaring me...” Amanda whispered.
She tried to look away, but he held her firmly. “You need to tell me.”
“I already did! I’ve not met any new people apart from Don. I’m not a liar!”
Amanda wriggled out of his grip and rose from her chair. She turned to storm off, but Marc caught her hand and pulled her back into an embrace.
“Hey, it’s okay, I believe you.”
His heat radiated through his shirt, melting away her icy emotions. Standing close to him was like coming inside after a cold winter day. First the wrinkles of her frown smoothed themselves out, then her tight cheeks relaxed, and finally, the corners of her mouth shyly climbed up the sides of her face. She looked up at him, smiling.
“I would never lie to you,” she whispered.
He held her tightly. “I know… I know…”
“I’m so happy to see you again,” Amanda said. “When you walked into the café… I just… my heart...”
“Yes?” Marc said, smirking. “Can you finish that thought, please?”
“You’re so...!” Amanda said, blushing and trying to look indignant at the same time.
“Devilishly handsome? Precious and adorable? Perfect in every single way?”
“...annoying!”
“Let’s just agree on ‘all of the above.’” Marc finally let go of her and moved back to the stove. “You’ve still got a plate to finish.”
“I’m full,” Amanda whined, but still put a grilled rib in her mouth.
“That’s fine; you can save it until I come and cook for you next time.”
“Does that mean you’re leaving again?”
Marc turned off the stove and rounded the table again, his face grave. “I wish it wasn’t like this. But I have to get back to the war.”
“It’s fine, I understand,” Amanda said softly. “But if you have time, please write back, okay?”
“I promise I’ll send you something. Even if it’s written on a skull, in the blood of my vanquished foes.”
***
Marc stepped out of Amanda’s apartment and met Don in the stairwell. The angel of death sat on one of the steps, leaning against the handrail, opening and closing the lighter with bored flicks.
“How do you do that?” Marc said.
Abaddon looked up, his face unreadable. “Do what?”
“How are you so comfortable in your human skin?”
Abaddon closed the lighter and put it in his chest pocket. He stood up, his gray eyes expressionless.
“What are your orders?”
“Amanda is lying. The mark is right above her left eyebrow,” Marc said dryly. “Lucifer’s been here. How come you’ve not caught that?”
Abaddon regarded Marc for several seconds, his lips perfectly even. “While I’m vigilant, no angel will go near her. I am the Destroyer, and my scythe curves around this place.”
“Are you telling me Lucifer hasn’t been here?”
“No angel, fallen or otherwise.”
Marc turned away, his forehead rippled and his eyes narrow. Abaddon wouldn’t lie to him, and his allegiance had always remained rigid. Even Michael hadn’t wanted to come close to him, and had resorted to luring Amanda away with that letter. Abaddon had been on top of that.
The steps echoed in the stairwell as Marc descended and exited the building. The spot where he’d left the monument was now just a patch of discolored snow. The air still smelled sickly of the hallowing. The Heavens had been here – convinced that Amanda’s soul was compromised. If they sent someone like Michael, that meant they were very serious about their claims. The mark on her forehead told a different story than her lips. Abaddon agreed with her lips, the Heavens agreed with her forehead.
He gazed into the hazy distance. Lucifer was winning ground on the battlefield since Marc’s best warrior was on babysitting duty. If only he could…
A thought struck him. Perhaps Amanda wasn’t lying after all. He had an idea.