The Devil's Wife (12 page)

      After a second's thought, I rifled through the cupboards, looking for a couple of those green canvas bag things I brought from Australia a few years ago to put my ingredients in. I found two, and started to swap the bags over.

      I'd given in and bought all of the ingredients on the recipe. After all, if I didn't screw this up, Clarissa might let me cook for her more often, and having half of the ingredients there would be easier than dragging my stuff from one house to the other.

      I'd had to go further into New York than I wanted, but I got all the things on the list, from the fresh herbs to the oil and the mozzarella. I packed them all gently into the bags. I was amused to find that one bag ended up with all the ingredients for the lasagna, while the other housed only the ingredients for the cheese sauce, as well as some of the other stuff I'd bought Clarissa. The only thing I hoped she had at her house was the milk, because I hadn't bought it while I was out. It would go sour before I got to her place. I dimly thought that I should ask Clarissa for her phone number, so I could ring and ask her these things. It is something a friend would ask, isn't it?

      I looked at the clock. It was almost time for me to go off on my rounds of New York. For the first time in a thousand years, I didn't want to go flying around the city. I wanted to see Clarissa again.

      I frowned, picking the bags up off the counter. They were better balanced now, and I found it easier to carry them to the front door and set them down just inside without

doing myself an injury.

      With a glance around the house, I pulled my shirt off and put it in one of the bags. I stepped out of the door and remembered something. I removed the change from my pocket and left it on the entertainment unit in the living room, taking another hundred-dollar note from the container. I stuffed it in my wallet and put that in my pocket, and put my boots on. I did them up tightly, then looked at the pants I was wearing.

      No good, I thought to myself, heading into the bedroom. There was a full-length mirror on one of the walls, and I used it to look myself over. I need a shower. Bugger.

      I wasn't usually vain, but I wanted to look my best for Clarissa. I took my boots off again, leaving them at the foot of my bed, and headed in for a shower. I was late for my rounds, but I didn't care—it just meant that I'd have to cut them short before I met up with Clarissa.

      The thought of my new friend made me smile as I stripped off my clothes and headed for my bathroom for a long, warm shower.

Aspen Grigori

      Clarissa spent the day at home, watching the clouds fly past the window and reading a book, all the time scratching me behind the ears. I was worried about her. There was something different about her, something that hadn't been there before.

      I sniffed at her belly, where the smallest tingle of magic was sitting just to the left of her belly button. I nosed her shirt up, licking at the scar—the scar that hadn't been there the last time she left this apartment.

      "Aspen," Clarissa said, pushing at my nose, "that tickles. Your tongue's like sandpaper."

      I frowned at her, my eyes lulling closed as she scratched behind my ears again. I purred at her, content. But there was something about that magic I didn't like. There was something about it that threatened her life. No, not—not threatened... It was negating the threat to her life. As though the magic in the scar was only holding the wound together in a way that wouldn't allow it to split apart while it healed. I could tell that there was still a lot of healing to be done and I wanted to know why Lucifer cared enough about her to do it.

      I was content to lie on Clarissa's legs as the day slowly rolled by, Clarissa slipping in and out of sleep as the hours passed. I laughed to myself as I washed. She was turning more and more into a cat as she spent more time with me. The next thing I know, she'll start coughing up fur balls and grow a tail.

      "C'mon, Aspen," she said finally, waking up properly for the first time all day and pushing me off her lap. "I have to clean the house before Lucifer gets here."

      What? I demanded in yowls and hisses. You cannot seriously be telling me you're inviting Lucifer back here? I told you that he was bad news, that he'll get you killed!

      She couldn't understand, of course. She understood me well enough, but she didn't understand me that well. She took my yowling as protests at being thrown from the couch, and picked me up. I draped myself around her neck and sniffed in her ear.

      Clarissa laughed and put me down. I wound in and out of her feet as she cleaned the house, trying as hard as I could to undermine her efforts. I pulled ornaments off the shelves when she turned her back, and scattered carefullystacked magazines across the floor seconds after she tidied them up. She kept locking me in the bathroom, but I made a nuisance of myself throwing things around until she let me out.

      When she set out a blanket and a pillow on her bed, obviously meant for Lucifer, I destroyed the pillow, scattering feathers everywhere, and sent the blanket sprawling across the floor, scratching at it.

      "Aspen!" Clarissa shrieked, no doubt following the ripping sounds of my claws in the material. She looked like she wanted to kill me.

      Good. Better that she kill me than let the Devil return to her house. God would not stop Her newest attempt to destroy Lucifer, and neither would Her damn Hellraisers, just because she wasn't part of it. The Hellraisers had already proved that repeatedly.

      "Naughty boy!" Clarissa crowed, picking me up from the blanket and throwing me in the bathroom again.

      I yowled and made noises, knocking things flying again. Unfortunately, there was very little left for me to send crashing to the floor, so I settled for throwing the things on the floor all around the room, trying to make enough noise to make her let me out again. I cursed. There was no glass or anything expensive to break to draw her to open the door.

      "No, I'm not letting you out! You destroyed my only spare pillow and made a mess while I'm trying to clean up! You can stay in there until Lucifer leaves some time in the morning!"

      I meowed and hissed, scratching frantically at the door. You can't seriously be considering this, Clarissa! He's the bloody Devil, for crying out loud! That's stupider and more dangerous than calling God an asshole while stranded in the middle of the north Atlantic on a ship called "Titanic"! I climbed the door, sinking my claws into the hollow wood. He could kill you, or get you killed! Listen to me, Goddammit!

      "I don't care what you have against him!" Clarissa yelled at me, and I heard her banging and crashing in the bedroom. "I'm not letting you out of there!"

      Let me out of here, damn it! I screamed. I'm only trying to protect you!

      The bedroom became silent. My ears flicked forward, searching out any sound at all. At least she was still breathing, but she was standing rather still. I started making noises again, jumping to the ground and scratching at the door. Clarissa! Curse it, I'm trying to help you! Let me out!

      "Aspen?" Clarissa called. Her voice quaked slightly.

      Oh, so now you can understand me? I sneered. Let me out of this bathroom, Clarissa! I swear on God's name that I'm here to help you! She's the one who sent me to protect you!

      "I must be going mad," she mumbled to herself, and turned the loud noise-making sucker-thing on. "Cats don't talk. You hear that, Aspen? I can't hear you because cats can't talk!"

      I'm not talking, not the way you understand it, anyway. Just let me out! I know you can hear me, even over the noise-making sucking machine!

      "It's called a vacuum!" Clarissa corrected me loudly, then realized what she'd done. "God, this is insane! I am not talking to my useless, annoying, destructive cat, because cats can't talk!"

      Clarissa, let me out and I'll explain it all so you can understand!

The noise of the vacuum stopped.

      Oh, come on! Is this any less believable than the fact that you spent the last two nights at the Devil's house, and you invited him over to our home for dinner tonight?

      "'Our' home?" Clarissa repeated incredulously. "As far as I've ever seen, Aspen, you only sleep, eat and make a mess! I'm the one who works to afford the rent, buy you food and keep you warm!"

      Let me out of here, Clarissa, Goddammit!

      "Fine, I'm coming, Aspen." Clarissa opened the door and I strolled out of the bathroom, my tail in the air. I'd won the battle. Now I just needed to win the war. She wasn't going to make it easy, I could tell.

      Thank you. Don't throw me back in there, please. I walked sedately over to the bed and climbed up on the feathered quilt, watching Clarissa.

      "How the hell are you talking?" Clarissa asked me, edging closer to me.

      Oh, come on, Clarissa, I said with a scornful look. Is my mouth moving?

      "N-no..."

      Then I'm not talking, am I?

      "How—how can I hear you, then?"

      Well, you remember that conversation I had with Lucifer earlier, when he was sitting on the couch?

      "Yeah..."

      I could communicate with him because of the magic in his make-up as King of Hell. The same magic that, apparently, he passed onto you when he gave you that scar on your stomach.

      Clarissa sank down on the edge of the bed, watching me. "What magic?"

      Only a residual amount, but enough. I daresay that you could talk to any cat now, the same way you are to me. I licked myself clean as she gathered up handfuls of feathers. As your friend, and while I know you can still hear me—I turned to look her in the eye, standing up to emphasize my point—do not get involved with Lucifer Morningstar. It only ever brings a wealth of trouble. Especially with the Hellraisers after him too.

      "What do you mean, 'involved?'"

      Surely you can smell the stench of honeycomb on him?

      "What? Honeycomb?"

      I shook my head, stepping up on her lap and placing my front paws on her chest. Clarissa, there is a reason Lucifer, Beelzebub, Leviathan, Belial, Azazel and all the others were thrown from Heaven. And it has only a small whit to do with infidelity.

      "What are you talking about?"

      I batted her lightly on the cheek, my claws retracted. Clarissa, why do you think God chose us—those particular Angels—to target in the first place? They were the greatest threat to the Kingdom of Heaven.

      "How? Lucifer had an Angelic wife! He said that they weren't going to fight God on anything!"

      He is a liar, Clarissa. He's the Devil, for Christ's sake! Lucifer had a wife who Fell with him, who didn't stay in Heaven with the other Demons' wives. I looked her in the eye, pressing my nose to hers. I had to make her understand. She was the only female Angel to Fall from Heaven, Clarissa, and the only Angel who didn't survive the landing.

      "Sera. What does she have to do with the Fall?"

      She was pregnant, Clarissa. Angels are not supposed to breed, Clarissa. Sera was part of a strain—a family—of Angels that could breed, along with Tara, Aspha, Lora and Kirra, and many others—the wives, the sisters and the mothers of the other Fallen Angels in Lucifer's closest group. God only just realized the fault in the family, and set about correcting it with deadly force.

      "But...but Sera was pregnant..."

      And God threw her from Heaven with her husband. God saved Lucifer, holding him in Heaven as his wife fell from grace, for She needed a way to punish him for spurning Her, and let Sera fall to Earth, to splatter across the ground.

      "How do you know all this, Aspen?"

      Cats are Ethereal Messengers, Clarissa, I invented, thinking fast. Gabriel sent me down here to look after you, to prevent you joining with Lucifer and getting yourself killed! I rubbed my head along her jaw. God would have no qualms about killing you, Clarissa. You know the saying as well as I. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Especially when that woman is God.

      "Why?"

      I rubbed my head along her jaw again, then jumped from her lap. God is a spurned lover, Clarissa, willing to do— able to do—anything for revenge. You have no reason to trust Lucifer, Clarissa. Listen to the old tales, the ones from church. They tell the truth more than the Devil does.

      Clarissa stared at me, then put her head in her hands, rubbing her face. "But I think I do trust him, Aspen. He did save my life. And eternal loneliness is too high a price for a single mistake."