Devil Without a Cause (17 page)

“Abase this,” it said calmly, and made a very rude gesture, directly in the Prince of Darkness’s face.

It was then that Sammy saw the imp’s eyes; pale blue, almost unnaturally so. The ashy gray skin that should’ve been leathery and wrinkled was smooth and unlined, and the hair that he’d taken for dark was merely dirty, sooty, and matted with filth.

For a moment—just a moment—his breath caught, though he schooled his face to impassivity.

“Boy,” he rasped, in a voice gone suddenly rusty. “What is your name?”

The boy eyed him narrowly, but didn’t hesitate.

“Cain,” he said. “My name is Cain.”

And that
, Sammy thought,
is why I saw nothing during my search, for what I sought was merely a reflection of myself.

Chapter Twenty-­one

L
aughter woke Finn in the morning. Lifting his head from his pillow, he listened, hearing a little boy’s voice drift through the open window.

“Hurry up, Mommy! Look, there’s the beach!”

His room was on the second floor, overlooking the garden and the sea. Faith’s was on the first, and he’d taken her there himself at three in the morning. The clock by his bed showed 7:45 a.m., so neither of them had been asleep long.

Rolling over, he stretched, smiling at Nathan’s excited chatter as it faded—something about a sandcastle.

“Nice sound, isn’t it?” A woman’s voice made him jump. “When are you going to have some children of your own? This place could use a little life.”

“Trina,” he groaned, catching sight of his housekeeper, standing right beside the bed. “How many times have I asked you to knock before you come in?”

“Probably just as many times as I’ve asked you to sleep with some drawers on,” she returned, unruffled. Trina was in her sixties, leathery and tan, her silver hair worn straight and simple, a shorter version of how she’d worn it back in her hippie days. “Now get up and tell me what’s going on with our houseguests.”

Giving her a baleful look, Finn threw back the sheets and rose from the bed, uncaring if his nakedness made her uncomfortable. She did what she always did, and averted her eyes, but other than that, showed no signs of retreat.

“I told you last night,” he said, scooping up his jeans from the floor beside the bed. “It’s complicated. Just do whatever needs to be done to keep them fed and happy, while staying as far away from them as possible.”

Trina crossed wiry arms over her middle. “Are you kidding me? Did you see that little boy?” She shook her head, clearly refusing to be put off so easily. “He’s been sick—a mother knows these things—and he’s adorable, far more adorable than you or your goons, so if I’m expected to choose sides, I choose his. I want to know why you brought them here, and what your intentions are toward his mother.”

“My
intentions
?” Finn yanked up his jeans, exasperated. “What is this, an inquisition? You’re not
my
mother, you know.”

“Thank goodness for that,” she answered sharply, “or I’d take you over my knee for acting like such a spoiled brat. You can’t just drag women to your lair like a caveman, you know, especially a woman with a small child. You couldn’t choose a more vulnerable human being on the face of the planet.”

There was a brief stare down, but neither of them was truly angry. It wasn’t the first time Trina had tried to run his life, and since she did such a great job of running his house, he forgave her much. She cared about him, and he, her, and damn it all—he knew she was right.

With a sigh, he shook his head. “Everything’s going to be fine. There’s no need to worry.” The troubled look on her face sparked a few feelings of guilt, but he squashed them. “You heard the kid—he’s having a great time.”

Her face cleared slightly, so he pressed his advantage. “It’s just for a couple of days, and no one’s going to get hurt, I promise. I’d just rather you avoided Faith as much as possible. She’s, ah . . . she’s very manipulative.”

Trina gave him a world-weary look, clearly not buying it. “
She’s
manipulative?”

“Trina . . .”

“All right, all right!” She threw up her hands. “But I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing. There’s something about this one—she’s not your usual type, and there’s not a thing about her that says groupie—not with those battered old tennis shoes.”

With a sigh, Finn decided to avoid Trina as much as possible himself today—there was only so much nagging he could take, and his conscience was doing a good enough job without her.

“It’ll be fine,” he repeated. “Now how about some breakfast?”

“Fresh fruit, muffins, and orange juice in the kitchen,” she said, turning to go. “Help yourself, unless John and Larry ate them all.”

“Why do I keep you again?”

“Because nobody else would put up with you. Left you some sunscreen on the bedside table; take it down to the beach. That boy’s as pale as milk, and so is his mother.”

B
y the time Finn made it to the beach, there was a sloppy-looking pile of sand that was evidently supposed to be a sandcastle, and on their knees beside it were a windblown Faith and a very wet, sandy little boy who—when he saw Finn coming—jumped to his feet and cried, “Hi, Finn! Look what I made!”

Before he quite knew what was happening, Nathan had run up and grabbed him by the hand, dragging him toward the pile of sand. Faith rose to her feet, smiling but wary. She was still wearing the same clothes she’d been wearing yesterday, jeans and T-shirt, but the jeans were rolled up to the knee, and she was barefoot.

“That’s, ah . . . that’s a pretty impressive castle,” he said to Nathan, who beamed at his praise. “Did your mom help you with that?”

Faith’s lip twitched at his attempt to be tactful.

“She helped some,” Nathan answered excitedly, “but I did most of it myself. This place is cool—is this really where you live, all the time?”

He looked down into the boy’s face, so open, so trusting. “Yep, it is. You like it?”

“It’s awesome,” Nate said worshipfully. “Thanks for letting us come visit.”

“You’re welcome.” He grinned at the boy, who grinned back. “Gone swimming yet?”

“Mom won’t let me.” He shot his mother a disgusted look. “She says it’s too dangerous.”

Arching an eyebrow, he glanced at Faith, who hastened to defend herself. “I don’t have a bathing suit,” she said, “and he can’t go in by himself. Look how high the waves are; he doesn’t have his floaties.”

“Floaties?” Finn had never heard the term.

“Those dorky things you wear on your arms,” Nate told him disgustedly. “I have to wear them when we go to the pool.” The look he shot his mom was dark. “Not that we go to the pool that much.”

“Nathan!” His outspokenness embarrassed her, he could tell, her pale cheeks flooding with color.

“That reminds me,” Finn said smoothly, reaching into the back pocket of his swimsuit. “I brought you some sunscreen.”

Faith took it gratefully, while Nate rolled his eyes.

“Maybe your mom would feel better if I went in the water with you,” he suggested. “You could hold on to me.”

The boy’s face lit up. “Can I, Mom? Please?”

Looking alarmed, Faith glanced from Nathan to Finn, then back again.

“It’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “I’ll be right there with him.”

“Yay!” Nathan didn’t wait for his mom’s approval, tugging Finn toward the water.

“Hang on a minute.” Dragging his shirt over his head, he tossed it to Faith, forcing her to catch it. She did, and when he caught her looking at his bare chest, he gave her a wink.

“Whoa,” Nate said, behind his back. “Is that a tattoo? Is it real? Can I touch it?”

“It’s real, and yes, you can touch it.”

“I want one! Mommy, can I have one?”

“Absolutely not,” Faith said promptly. “No tattoos, unless they’re washable.”

Finn looked down at Nathan and shrugged. “Not much fun, is she?”

Nathan laughed up at him, and something squeezed inside his chest. He seemed like a great kid; no shyness or inhibitions.
What would his child have been like, if he’d had one?

He’d never know, since he had no intention of having any.

“She’s not too bad,” Nathan said loyally, in his mom’s defense. “She just worries too much.”

“Somebody has to,” Faith murmured, reaching out to touch his curls.

“Let’s go, kiddo.” Finn found himself curiously eager to get wet. “Last one in the water has to eat worms.”

“Worms!” shouted Nate, gleefully, as he took off running.

“Hold his hand,” Faith yelled, as they raced toward the water. “Don’t go in too deep!”

Too late
, Finn thought, as a wave broke over his knees. Nate’s small hand grabbed his big one without a shred of self-consciousness, and dragged him in deeper.

Two hours and half a tube of sunscreen later, all three of them were wet, sandy, and relaxed. The haphazard pile of sand had been refashioned by the scraping of seashells into a fairly decent-looking sandcastle, and Finn, having been manhandled, splashed and dunked by a boy one third his size, was feeling more laid back than he’d been in months.

“Your nose is pink.” He brushed sand from his hands, observing Faith critically, and thinking she looked rather cute that way.

“Yeah? Well, you have seaweed in your hair,” she returned, looking as relaxed as he felt. Her own hair was wild, blowing in the wind that set the waves crashing, and she was smiling.

“Do you realize that this is the first time I’ve seen you in the light of day?” he asked, reaching up a hand to find the piece of seaweed, then tossing it away.

Her smile faltered.

“The sunshine suits you. You should get out in it more.”

Nathan was throwing shells down by the waterline.

“Not a lot of time for that.” Faith sighed, watching her son with an eagle eye. “Between work and doctor appointments . . .” She trailed off, settling herself more comfortably in the sand. “It’s been a while.”

“It must be tough, having to raise a kid all by yourself.”

She shrugged. “It has its drawbacks, but I wouldn’t trade being Nathan’s mom for anything in the world.”

“Tell me more about his father.”

She shot him a glance from the corner of her eye. “Why?”

“Why not?”

Her lips thinned, but she didn’t evade further. “His name was Jason, and I haven’t seen or heard from him in five years. He’s not a part of our lives.”

“What happened?”

“Oh . . .” She shrugged again, wrapping her arms around her knees as she watched Nathan chase seagulls across the sand. “Same old story, I guess. He claimed he loved me, but when I told him I was pregnant, everything changed.” She rested her chin on a knee, not looking at him. “He didn’t want kids, pressured me not to go through with the pregnancy. Told me I had to choose between him and the baby.” Now she turned her head and looked at him, deliberately. “I chose the baby.”

He said nothing for a moment, well aware of her point.

“Did you love him?” Why the answer mattered, he had no idea.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she shook her head. “I thought I did, once, but he was childish and selfish and irresponsible—everything I didn’t need in a man. It hurt when we split, but I got over it.” She turned her head to keep an eye on Nathan. “Besides, I had a new love, and more important things to concentrate on.”

“What about your parents?” Changing the subject, he found himself genuinely curious—according to Bert’s report, she was the only child of deceased parents, but the report hadn’t included details. “What happened to them?”

She made a noise of exasperation. “Wow. You’re being awfully direct today.”

He shook his head. “I’ve been up front with you from the start, about everything. Why stop now?”

It was her turn to be silent. A few moments later, during which they both watched Nate dipping his toes in the ocean, she spoke again. “My mom and dad had me late in life. Dad died of cancer when he was sixty-eight, and I was twenty-one. My mom never got over it. She went into a depression, spent the next few years as a virtual recluse, and passed away just after my twenty-fourth birthday.” Her voice was steady, but he saw the gleam of tears in her eyes. “One night she just went to sleep, and never woke up. It was her heart, ironically enough.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, not knowing what else to say.

She sent him a grateful look beneath her lashes, swallowing hard in an effort to keep her emotions under control. A deep breath or two later, she asked, “What about you? Your parents must be awfully proud of all your success.”

He gave a snort of laughter. “Hardly.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mom’s an alcoholic, and I never hear from her unless she needs money,” he told her bluntly. “As far as my father goes, I never really knew him—not entirely certain she did, either. He left when I was small. I never heard from him again.”

“That’s terrible!”

He shook his head, not wanting or needing her pity. “Can’t say as I blame him.” A seashell near his foot caught his eye; he picked it up and threw it toward the water, as far out as he could. “You haven’t met my mother.”

“I’m not sure I want to,” she huffed, but quickly backtracked. “I’m sure she’s not as bad as all that.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her and said nothing, which pretty much said it all.

“Finn!” Nathan’s excited shout drew their attention. “Look! A shark!”

“A shark?” Faith was on her feet in an instant, but Finn only laughed.

“It’s a dolphin,” he shouted back, getting to his feet. Heading toward the boy, he pointed out to sea. “Look, there’s another one.”

“Where? Where?” Nathan was so excited, he was jumping up and down. “I can’t see! Pick me up! Let me see!”

He did, surprised it felt so natural. Nate’s skinny little arms went around his neck; he didn’t weigh much. The guilt he’d been staving off since yesterday reared its ugly head again—what if he was wrong about the clinic in Switzerland? What if Faith’s deal with the Devil was the only way out for the kid? “Look, out there beyond where the waves are breaking.” Forcing himself to live in the moment, he raised his free hand to point out where more than one fin was breaking the surface. “There’s three or four of them, I think. They travel in groups, called pods.”

“Wow,” Nathan breathed, against his neck. “Can we swim with them? I saw some people on TV once, they went swimming with the dolphins.”

“Those were tame dolphins,” Finn told him. “These are wild.”

“Oh.” Nate was disappointed. “Can we feed them?”

He shook his head. “They don’t need us to feed them; they’re getting their own food, see?”

Ahead of the dolphins, a glittering shower of small fish broke the surface, scattering like diamonds flung across the water.

“Did you see that, Mommy?”

Faith had come up beside them. She had an odd look on her face, but he couldn’t tell what it meant.