Married To The Devil Bride

5.

“Pass through the Abyss. Find the other Fallen. I’d send Moloch or Malacoda, but⁠—”

Abaddon snorted. “They’re still entertaining your bride’s friends at the Bellagio, aren’t they?”

“Can’t be too careful,” I said.

“Lock and Mal always get the best jobs.” Abaddon chuckled and raised a hand to the air at his side. The colors around his fingertips faded into black and white as he opened a portal. It stretched to the height of a doorway tall enough to fit Abaddon’s frame. “I’m on it—but I’m not happy about it. You know how hard some of them can be to find.”

“You don’t have to be happy about it,” I said. “Just do it.”

“And I will.” Abaddon placed a foot into the portal. The gold on his cufflinks turned to grayscale as he passed through. “Consider it done.”

The portal closed behind Abaddon. Legion waved her hand through the place where he’d been just a moment ago, wiggling her fingers in the empty space that he’d left.

“We hate to see him go, but we love to watch him leave.” She hummed in amusement. “Do you have a task for us, Your Majesty?”

“Shopping. She’ll need new clothes if she’s going Above. Get her ready for me. She’s still my wife. She’ll need to look the part,” I said, and Legion grinned.

“Oh, you do love us, Luci, don’t you?”

“Don’t test your luck,” I said, just as the human lost his final hand of cards.

The man stared at his chips as they disappeared beneath The Fourth’s leather-gloved hands. The scent of desperate hope poured off of him as he looked up at The Fourth. The smell was fresh and green as the perfume of newly fallen rain after a long drought.

“Do you, um…can you offer me a line of credit, maybe?” The man pulled a handkerchief from his jacket and mopped at his brow.

The Fourth merely nodded and leaned forward. He reached for the man’s tuxedo shirt—then, through it.

The man shuddered as The Fourth’s fingers passed through his chest. When The Fourth withdrew his hand again, he held a single, glowing white poker chip, which he deposited into the human’s hand.

I glanced at Legion. She must have known what I was thinking.

“Don’t,” she warned me, but it was already too late.

Before the man could place the chip down on the table, I took it from him and pressed it back into his chest.

“The Chiefs are playing the Broncos on Sunday,” I whispered in the man’s ear. “The Chiefs win. Bet on it—then go home to your wife, sign your winnings over to her, and never come back here again.”

The man had been in something like a trance for all of the conversation about angels and celestial treaties. He’d been too involved in the dangerous game he was playing to even notice what we were talking about. But as I spoke to him, he came up out of it, nodded once, then hurried toward the exit as fast as his short little legs could carry him.

“Luci,” Legion pouted. “You know how much The Fourth hates it when you steal his souls away from him. Being in love always turns you so damned soft.”

“I have a different soul for you, my friend. If you would like to take it,” I told The Fourth. “Adam Barrett. Do you know him?”

Slowly and silently, The Fourth nodded.

“He’s done my wife a great wrong. I’d like for you to arrange for him to leave Las Vegas. Immediately. Permanently. Can I count on you?”

Again, The Fourth nodded—then, just as silently, he rose and left.

“You’re killing off her fiancé?” Legion let out a laugh.

“Ex-fiancé.”

“Still.” Legion crossed her arms over her chest and chuckled. “I take back what I said about you going soft. That’s positively ruthless.”

“He disrespected her. And I can’t harm him.” Not without breaking our precious treaty with Heaven, at least. “Besides. There’s war on the horizon, Legion. One way or another, you know it will reach us somehow.”

“And we can’t have any loose ends wandering around,” Legion agreed. “I understand completely.”

“Especially not the kind who will come back begging for forgiveness when he realizes exactly what an irreplaceable thing he lost.” Poor, empty-headed Adam. I’d almost feel sorry for him for always losing her to me—if he wasn’t always such an arrogant, ungrateful prick about it.

“So, what am I dressing our girl for? Where did you meet? Lust?” Legion guessed hopefully.

“Limbo,” I told her. “First floor. She’ll need something sleek and smart. Designer, obviously. Shoes, make-up, purse—the entire outfit. A day-to-night look, if you can manage it.”

“Ugh,” Legion groaned. “This is going to be a long day, isn’t it?”

“For the rest of you? Maybe.”

Make her remember. Win her back.

Evie was the only thing in the universe I loved more than winning—and she was the ultimate prize as well. I glanced down at the now-empty glass of gin and tonic that Legion had finished for me. Suddenly, I didn’t feel like I needed it anymore.

“And for you?” Legion asked.

I smiled. “For me? Not at all.”

Evie

T

he rotary phone on the nightstand crackled and sizzled when I picked it up. It was the sound of a bonfire of the vanities, a thousand banned books going up in flames.

It scared me a little.

It probably should have.

All of this—the strange hotel room, the strange man in my bed, the incredibly weird gap in my memories from last night—was scary.

But if what Luke said was true, my phone was drowning in the sparkling waters of the Bellagio’s fountain, and this weird old landline was my only way to call out.

On the phone’s dial, each number had a different word under it in thick black typewriter font.

Some were positive words. Eight was labeled ILLUSION. Seven was MIGHT.

Others were a little more nuanced, though. Number six was labeled HERESY, and four was named AVARICE…Greed.

I rolled my eyes as my finger hovered over number two. LUST.

Luke had claimed to be the Devil himself, I supposed. In my humble opinion, he was taking the metaphor a little far.

When he told me that this building was called the Inferno, I thought he was making some kind of joke about my dissertation. I was doing an entire master’s degree on Dante Alighieri and his Divine Comedy. Everyone always liked to have a laugh at the expense of us classics majors.

But if this wasn’t a hallucination, or worse, a joke…

Apparently, Luke and I had more in common than the rings on our fingers and the bed we’d both fallen asleep in last night.

He’d named every floor of this building after some convoluted concept from Dante’s vision of Hell.

It wasn’t my degree that felt like the joke anymore.

This whole f*****g racket was set up like some kind of cruel running gag—and every punchline was at my expense.

I ignored the labels on the phone’s numbers and dialed out. I didn’t know how to explain any of this to Adam yet, but I knew if I could get hold of Ava, she’d probably be able to fill in the missing details from last night for me.

My thesis might have been in the useless classics department at UCLA, but Ava was doing hers in science. Her level head would be my saving grace—and I knew she’d be kind as she explained to me exactly how bad I’d f****d up.

Then, I could start working toward getting my life back together.

Starting with finding something to wear and getting the hell out of this place. Immediately.

When I dialed Ava’s number, the phone didn’t even ring, though.