Chapter 19

Lucifer

I was relieved when Beatrice didn’t push for more details about my life in the demon realm. It was easier to avoid lying to her this way. I already felt bad about the lies I was telling her. Normally, I didn’t give a damn who I lied to. Being labeled the Father of all Lies didn’t bother me. I live in Hell and deal with the worst kinds of demons and fallen angels on a daily basis. It affects my sense of morality.

Since I wanted more with Beatrice, I was trying. She wasn’t one of those witches who didn’t see the bad in the world. Many preferred to remain sheltered from anything outside the witch community. They viewed the world with rose-colored glasses and avoided any unpleasantness. Beatrice hadn’t lived a sheltered life. She’d seen horrific things, but she was still innocent in many ways—compared to me, at least.

“How was your day?” I asked. That seemed like a safe topic.

“Interesting,” she replied. “I’m still amazed that so many witches want to hire me to work with their familiars.”

“Why?” I asked. “You have a unique talent, and witches love their familiars like children.”

“That’s true, but familiars are incredibly gossipy,” she explained. “I’m mostly surprised these witches trust me alone with their familiars who could tell me anything.”

“I can see how that would be stressful. I didn’t know familiars were like that,” I remarked. My Hellhounds loved to gossip, too. Luckily, few people understood them.

“I’d expected them to worry more about me telling others what I hear, even though I’m not very involved in the witch community,” she added. “I’m sure some witches won’t bring their familiars to me because of that fear.”

“Don’t you have a confidentiality agreement?” I asked. I wasn’t certain what the rules were when it came to counseling familiars, but I knew human and witch counselors had rules about disclosing what was shared in sessions.

“Not officially,” she replied. “It’s more like an agreement between me and my patients. The familiars don’t want me to share what they tell me. While they may not care if I tell others the latest gossip they heard, they don’t want others hearing about why they’re seeing me.”

“Do you share with their witches?” I asked. “I can’t imagine they don’t ask what you discuss in sessions. Or do they stay in the room with their familiars?”

“I only allow a witch in the room if their familiar requests it. I’ve had a few witches fire me over that policy, but I have to make it all about their familiars. Most understand. They still ask what we’ve talked about,” she added. “Sometimes, it gets frustrating. They don’t get that if I start telling them what happens in the sessions, their familiars won’t trust me.”

“How long have you been working with familiars like this?” I asked.

“For about five years, but I only had a few clients until recently,” she replied.

“What changed?” I asked. “I get the feeling you didn’t suddenly decide you wanted to spend more time with witches.”

“No, but I don’t avoid them as much as I used to. I recently met a few who don’t judge me for my station,” she replied.

“Like your friend, Persephone?” I asked.

“Surprisingly, she’s done a lot to help me build my client list,” she said with a laugh.

“Why is that so surprising?” I asked. “She strikes me as a witch who talks to everyone she meets.” While I hadn’t talked to Persephone much, it had been enough to realize she was naturally open and friendly. She’d be the type to tell others about her friend’s talent, and I suspected, with her upbeat attitude, she had many friends.

“Persephone grew up away from witch society, so she knows very few witches,” she explained. “This is her first time seeing most preternatural creatures.”

That explained why Persephone also didn’t recognize me.

“Where did she live?” I asked.

“With humans,” she replied. “Her parents homeschooled her. They also handled her witch training.”

“It’s strange that her parents kept her away from witch society,” I mused. Even witches at the lower end of the hierarchy wanted their children trained at proper schools, or so I’d heard. I’d never heard of a witch being kept completely separate from other witches. There were cases of half-witch children living with their non-witch family. We had half-witches living in the demon realm, but most still attended witch schools.

“I’m not sure I understand their reasoning,” she replied thoughtfully. “Persephone doesn’t even seem to understand their reasoning. I guess they decided right after her birth to move to a small town in the middle of nowhere. They aren’t happy she’s living among witches now. Demons and fallen angels frighten them the most. I’ve been around when she’s getting a phone lecture about the dangers of fallen angels.”

That made things even more interesting, and it made me wonder if she might be the one Hades was looking for—not that I’d tell him about her yet. Having met Persephone, I wondered if I should ever mention her to Hades. She was sweet and innocent of the evils of the world. Hades was more jaded than I was. Surely, fate wouldn’t put someone like Persephone with my cousin.

“What are you thinking about?” Beatrice asked as she studied me.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. “Nothing,” I assured her, laughing at her expression of irritation. “I was thinking how odd it is that you’re dating a fallen angel when your roommate’s parents fear them so much. I’m also wondering what experiences they’ve had to make them have such negative feelings about fallen angels. Don’t get me wrong. There are plenty of reasons to fear my kind, but their reaction seems rather extreme.”

She shrugged as I parked the car. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Are you sure this is the right place?” I asked, eying the decrepit restaurant.

Beatrice laughed at my expression. “I thought you’d be happy since you get to avoid food trucks today.”

“I’m not sure this is an improvement,” I told her.

The little shack on the corner needed new paint, and the seats outside had seen better days. The inside wasn’t much better, with faded red booths and a line of people waiting to order at the counter. At least, the food smelled good, and the place looked clean.

“The food is fantastic here,” she assured me.

“How long have you been coming here?” I asked.

“About ten years,” she replied. Her smile was so bright, I found myself unable to look away. “Actually, it’s been longer than ten years. I used to come here when I was still in high school. Whenever I had a little extra money, I’d come out here for lunch. I love this place.”

The prices were on the low side, especially compared to the places I usually dined at. Still, I couldn’t remember ever finding such pleasure in food. “I’m looking forward to dinner,” I admitted, hoping to experience some of the pleasure Beatrice did in this place.

She snorted. “Yeah, right. I know this isn’t your speed. I still think you’ll like it.”

“I truly am looking forward to it,” I assured her. “Your excitement is contagious.”

She laughed and said, “I’ve never had anyone tell me that before.”

“You usually try to hide your reactions,” I pointed out.

Her smile faded. “It was safer that way when I was growing up,” she said quietly.

“Sorry,” I began. “I’m not trying to bring up painful memories. I just meant that, when you allow yourself to find joy in things, it is a thing of beauty. I long to experience that beauty with you.”

“You’re getting quite poetic, Dev,” she teased. “Way too cheesy.”

My lips twitched. “I act differently around you.”

“And I act differently around you,” she added. “So, what are you going to order?”

“I’m not sure,” I replied as I studied the menu. “What do you recommend?”

“I always get a vegetarian burrito, but you don’t strike me as the type to go without meat,” she remarked.

“There is no reason to go without meat,” I insisted.

“Try telling that to the animals,” was her response. “I’ve spoken to most types of animals, except cows. I haven’t met a cow familiar yet, so I still don’t feel too guilty eating burgers and steaks. It’s hard to eat animals who’ve told you how upsetting it is to them.”

“What about chickens?” I asked. “Surely, witches don’t have chickens as familiars.”

“I used to think the same thing,” she replied. “In high school, I met two witches with chickens as familiars. I still eat meat from time to time, but not as often. I love bacon. It’s one of my favorite foods, but I can’t stomach it since one of my patients is a pig.”

“I can see how that might make you feel guilty about bringing a BLT for lunch,” I remarked playfully.

We reached the front of the line, and Beatrice looked over at me. “Shall I order for you?”

“Be my guest,” I replied.

She placed our orders before we went off to find a table while we waited.

“Since you ordered it for me, it seems you should tell me what chorizo is,” I told her.

“You probably don’t want to know what’s in chorizo any more than I want to know what kind of meat they serve in the demon realm,” she replied. Considering what was served in some demon run establishments, I was certain I could handle knowing what was in chorizo, but I decided not to argue the point.

“Maybe we should go to a restaurant in the demon realm for our next date,” Beatrice suggested.

“No!” I replied quickly. Hell was the last place I wanted to take Beatrice before I told her the truth about who I was.

Beatrice’s brow furrowed at my reaction. “Why are you so determined to keep me from seeing or talking about the demon realm? Don’t give me the same line you did earlier. After the way you reacted, I get the feeling there’s some other reason you don’t want me there.”