questions. Nothing seemed to faze her."
"You let her ask you questions?" Azazel asked, shocked. "What did she ask?"
"Mostly stuff about the Fall," I said, thinking. I drank the rest of the glass and filled it again. "She asked some stuff about you lot—"
"Like what?" Belial and Jaquie, ever the vain Demons, asked at the same time.
I shrugged. "Who you are, what you're like, what you'd done to deserve to go down with me—"
"She doesn't sound like someone you'd find worthy of befriending," Belial grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Sera wouldn't assume that we'd done something wrong."
"What world are you living in?" Baraqiel asked Belial as the others laughed. "When you got drunk, threw up on Raphael and ended up standing guard at the Gates for a century in punishment, what was the first thing Sera asked when you complained?"
"'Well, what did you do to deserve it?'" Belial quoted, sulking.
"Exactly." Leviathan turned to look at me. "If you're cooking dinner for your new friend, you'd better get back and get ready now, Luce. I think that you would also be wise to get some sleep tomorrow, mate. Those bags under your eyes don't add to your appearance at all."
I laughed, pouring myself another drink and stood up. "Feel free to continue eating until sundown," I said with a smile. "Then it vanishes."
"And the alcohol?" Azazel asked before anyone could stop him.
I laughed, releasing my wings. "Just for you, Azazel, I'll leave the alcohol here until it's all gone."
Azazel smiled. "Thanks, Luce!"
I laughed again, opening my wings. "Anyone else want anything?"
The Demons shook their heads, raising their glasses to me in a silent toast.
"See you around, guys."
"Don't forget to bring Clarissa around sometime!" Belial called as I flapped my way up to the tunnel to Earth.
~ * ~
When I got home, I was too excited to sleep. I paced around the living room for a while, having cleaned up the couch from my night's sleep and straightened up my bedroom. I'd tried sleeping, but there was no way I was going to be able to achieve that today. I was too happy.
I gave up pacing and headed into the kitchen, looking through my fridge. There was a lot in there, but I had no idea what I was going to cook for Clarissa, so I flicked through my cookbooks, looking for something special.
I passed through the fish dishes and moved to the pork, but quickly gave that up, not liking pork all that much. I skipped the chicken and poultry dishes, which left me with two options: lamb and beef.
Well, she liked the spaghetti, I thought, landing on a page for a delicious-looking lasagna. I looked at the recipe. It was complex, but not too bad. I could cook it easily. She should like this as well. All I need is ground veal and pork. I think that's easy enough to get.
I wrote out the list of ingredients, thinking over what was in my cupboards. I wouldn't need the dried pasta—I could make it fresh myself—but I was out of tomatoes, and I didn't have the mozzarella cheese.
I grabbed a handful of hundred dollar bills from the container on the entertainment unit in the living room— money I'd gathered from the bodies of the Hellraisers when I'd gone out for painkillers for Clarissa—and put my boots on.
Holding my white shirt, I leaped from my deck, flying toward the shops a few blocks away. It was easier and faster than walking.
~ * ~
I returned to my house yawning, weighed down by the large bags of food I'd bought. Besides the ingredients for the lasagna, I'd bought some things for Clarissa that, in my short visit to her apartment, I thought she'd need, including a large amount of chocolate.
The first thing on my list, though, couldn't be
"You let her ask you questions?" Azazel asked, shocked. "What did she ask?"
"Mostly stuff about the Fall," I said, thinking. I drank the rest of the glass and filled it again. "She asked some stuff about you lot—"
"Like what?" Belial and Jaquie, ever the vain Demons, asked at the same time.
I shrugged. "Who you are, what you're like, what you'd done to deserve to go down with me—"
"She doesn't sound like someone you'd find worthy of befriending," Belial grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Sera wouldn't assume that we'd done something wrong."
"What world are you living in?" Baraqiel asked Belial as the others laughed. "When you got drunk, threw up on Raphael and ended up standing guard at the Gates for a century in punishment, what was the first thing Sera asked when you complained?"
"'Well, what did you do to deserve it?'" Belial quoted, sulking.
"Exactly." Leviathan turned to look at me. "If you're cooking dinner for your new friend, you'd better get back and get ready now, Luce. I think that you would also be wise to get some sleep tomorrow, mate. Those bags under your eyes don't add to your appearance at all."
I laughed, pouring myself another drink and stood up. "Feel free to continue eating until sundown," I said with a smile. "Then it vanishes."
"And the alcohol?" Azazel asked before anyone could stop him.
I laughed, releasing my wings. "Just for you, Azazel, I'll leave the alcohol here until it's all gone."
Azazel smiled. "Thanks, Luce!"
I laughed again, opening my wings. "Anyone else want anything?"
The Demons shook their heads, raising their glasses to me in a silent toast.
"See you around, guys."
"Don't forget to bring Clarissa around sometime!" Belial called as I flapped my way up to the tunnel to Earth.
~ * ~
When I got home, I was too excited to sleep. I paced around the living room for a while, having cleaned up the couch from my night's sleep and straightened up my bedroom. I'd tried sleeping, but there was no way I was going to be able to achieve that today. I was too happy.
I gave up pacing and headed into the kitchen, looking through my fridge. There was a lot in there, but I had no idea what I was going to cook for Clarissa, so I flicked through my cookbooks, looking for something special.
I passed through the fish dishes and moved to the pork, but quickly gave that up, not liking pork all that much. I skipped the chicken and poultry dishes, which left me with two options: lamb and beef.
Well, she liked the spaghetti, I thought, landing on a page for a delicious-looking lasagna. I looked at the recipe. It was complex, but not too bad. I could cook it easily. She should like this as well. All I need is ground veal and pork. I think that's easy enough to get.
I wrote out the list of ingredients, thinking over what was in my cupboards. I wouldn't need the dried pasta—I could make it fresh myself—but I was out of tomatoes, and I didn't have the mozzarella cheese.
I grabbed a handful of hundred dollar bills from the container on the entertainment unit in the living room— money I'd gathered from the bodies of the Hellraisers when I'd gone out for painkillers for Clarissa—and put my boots on.
Holding my white shirt, I leaped from my deck, flying toward the shops a few blocks away. It was easier and faster than walking.
~ * ~
I returned to my house yawning, weighed down by the large bags of food I'd bought. Besides the ingredients for the lasagna, I'd bought some things for Clarissa that, in my short visit to her apartment, I thought she'd need, including a large amount of chocolate.
The first thing on my list, though, couldn't be
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