The truck fishtailed as I planted my foot hard on the accelerator. Red and blue lights flashed in the rear-view mirror, lighting up the interior of the cab, and I whooped in delight. This was so much fun! Gone was the old Lucifer, always doing what was expected of her: always on the job, always saving souls. In her place was hell-raising Lucifer, and I relished every second, for it let me forget, for brief moments, and I so desperately needed to forget. Even now, in the middle of a high-speed pursuit, memories threatened to consume me. Memories that wanted to drag me under into darkness and pain. I pushed them deep down inside, so far that they’d never see the light of day. I hoped.
The police car followed as I sped down the dirt backroads of Fury Island, the windows down, taking the corners at breakneck speeds while my hair whipped around my face. Glancing down, I grabbed my beer from the cup holder. How clever of the humans to design such a thing—a holder for your beverage of choice. I took a swig, swerved across the road, and then dropped the bottle back into the holder, regaining control of the truck.
The lights behind faded. They’d called off the pursuit.
“Pussies!” I shouted out the window. My cell phone rang, and the truck's Bluetooth picked up the call. “Yo?” I answered.
“Lucy.” It was Jase. Probably wondering where his truck was.
“Do you have my truck?” He asked.
Bingo.
“Maybe.” I wanted to lie and say no, but still, I had this innate compulsion to speak the truth—it was infuriating. Since leaving Heaven, I’d hidden out on Earth, subduing my angelic—or demonic—depending on how you look at it—powers by living as one with the humans. That meant no magic. The minute I used it, they’d be able to track me, for I had no doubt that Levi and Dacian were searching. Only they didn’t know what realm I was on, they may suspect Earth, but where, on this vast planet, would Lucifer, the Queen of Hell, hide?
My mind was drifting dangerously close to the one man who I did not, one hundred percent, want to think about. Levi. He’d destroyed me. The human turned fire demon had done what no one, angel or demon, had ever managed. He’d gotten under my defenses: I took my guard down and opened my heart wide for him. That’s when he struck, hard and fast. The memory of it still left me breathless.
“Lucy, we’ve talked about this.”
I jumped at the sound of Jase’s voice, having forgotten he was on the line.
“I’m just blowing off some steam.” I protested. “You’re always trying to spoil my fun.” The pout in my voice was real, for I’d discovered walking on the dark side was an enjoyable activity.
“Yeah, well, can you blow off steam in your own car? Oh, that’s right, you don’t have one!”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Jase.” I could picture the tall blonde vet raking his hand through his hair in frustration.
“Just bring the truck back, Lucy. The police rang, asking if I was aware it had been stolen.”
“The cops are as much fun as you.” I took another swig of beer, frowning when I noticed the precariously low volume left in the bottle. Reaching over to the passenger seat, I dug around in the brown paper bag, found it empty, and cursed. I was out of booze. The tires screeched as the vehicle meandered onto the wrong side of the road. I glanced up, overcorrected, and finally managed to get the thing back under control and in the correct lane.
“Lucy!”
“Fine!” I shouted back, “I’ll bring your precious truck back.” I disconnected the call, annoyed at Jase. Hell, I was annoyed at everyone these days. I knew Del and Jase were on eggshells around me; the only one who didn’t give a damn was Duke; the black lab would ignore my lousy mood and demand I give him a pat. Just like that, with my hand stroking his luxurious fur, my mood would ease. For a while, at least.
Softening at the memory, I eased off the accelerator and turned the truck back toward town. I had a shortcut the cops had yet to discover, and with not a police car in sight, I parked the car at the back of Jase’s vet clinic, with no one the wiser. It was a beautiful night; the air was warm with a slight summer breeze coming off the ocean. The moonlight was unfiltered, not a cloud in the midnight sky. I sighed. How I wished it was winter, with thundering storms and cold winds lashing my body—for that was how I felt inside. It would be nice to have the weather reflect my mood, not the romantic paradise Fury Island was exhibiting.
I stood looking at the house attached to the vet clinic. It was dark, all the lights off, and I knew Jase and Del were inside sleeping. Pushing down any errant melancholy that surfaced, I swiveled on my heel and began the walk into town. I’d had my fun with the truck, but I wasn’t ready for my night to be over, for then, I’d have to face the inevitable truth. I’d be going to sleep alone and waking up alone. Ever since fleeing Heaven, I’d never felt so utterly alone in my life.
The Elephant & Wheelbarrow—a wholly English pub on a Caribbean island—was my drinking venue of choice. Stepping through the rustic door was like stepping into another dimension, and I liked the irony of it. The pub smelled like old smoke, leather, and for some bizarre reason, freshly cut roses when there were no flowers to be seen.
Sliding on what I considered my barstool, I waved at Gloria, a well-endowed woman in her forties who had a smile for everyone and white curls that bounced in total disarray around her shoulders. Some days her perpetual happiness grated on my nerves, and all I’d have to offer her was a growl. On those days, she knew it was best to leave me alone.
“What’ll it be this evening, Lucy?” she asked, filling a glass with ice, then a shot of whiskey, and setting it in front of the man a few seats down.
“Sex on the beach?” I asked, tapping my fingers against my chin as I mentally scanned through the list of cocktails I’d made it my mission to devour. I’d been here a week, and this was my third rotation of the cocktail list.
Wiping her hands on a tea towel, she smiled, “Coming right up.”
The man who’d ordered the whiskey moved to the barstool next to mine and nudged me with his elbow. “I can help with that,” he said.
“What?” I knew what was coming. Always did. Stupid humans.
He grinned, raking his hand through his hair. “Sex on the beach.”
I glanced at him, only to be rewarded with a leer. So gross. “Not interested.” Ignoring him, I turned to Gloria, who was making my cocktail. She looked from me to the guy and back again, trying not to smile.
“No need to be rude.” He puffed, and my eyebrows shot into my hairline.
“Rude? Dude, that was not rude. Your pathetic attempt to have sex with me was declined. You take rejection as rude? No. You see, this is where human nature has gone all wrong. Men feel entitled. They feel they can say and do what they want to a woman with no consequences. When a woman says no, she’s rude, or a bitch, or frigid, or whatever other insults you think you can throw at her. But you know what? I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think. Say what you want. Honestly, I don’t care because you mean nothing to me—your existence has no meaning in my life whatsoever. I’m meant to feel privileged that you deigned to speak to me? Well, here’s some advice for you. Go fuck yourself, you pathetic twat waffle.”
Gloria barked out a laugh, slid the cocktail to me, and addressed the guy who was now flushed bright red. “You lucked out Pete, move along now, and stop bothering the lady.”
“She ain’t no lady,” he protested, grabbing his drink and scampering away. I wanted to read him, to open my magic and see if he was slated for heaven or hell, but I’d suppressed those abilities since arriving on Fury Island, and the not knowing was liberating. I got to judge every person I met on the merits of how I perceived them to be at that moment, not what I knew of their past. I’m sure many of them were sinners, some worse than others, but I enjoyed not knowing, not judging. Sweet, sweet, freedom.
