The Sinner by Emma Scott

Nine

I was drunk.

Like, whoa.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been smashed.

“No, I rem’mber,” I slurred, leaning heavily on Casziel as he maneuvered me and our packages from our shopping excursion out of the pub and into the night. “High school graduation. My frenn Sarah n’ I got into her mom’s stash of Southern Comfort. Bad idea. Do not recommend. Zero stars.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

I peered up at Cas, shutting one eye to keep from seeing two of him.

“Not that two Cazzezz’z is a bad thing.” I gasped and clutched at his arm. “I keep saying stuff out loud, don’t I?”

His smirk deepened. “You do.”

I scowled. The beautiful bastard was completely sober, despite matching me glass for glass. I vaguely remembered it was Cas who kept ordering the cocktails—which I then paid for.

Gotta get this boy a job…

I snickered and then slugged his arm, my fist bouncing harmlessly off the hard muscle of his bicep. “Why’d you lemme get so drunk?”

“You needed it,” he said. “Not the illness tomorrow perhaps but to be out in the world. Your own neighborhood, at the very least.”

“Pfft,” I scoffed. “Just another step in your gran’ plan to…what? Make me not be an introvert? Good luck, pal.”

“I’m not trying to change you, Lucy Dennings.”

“Then what’s the dealio?”

He glanced down at me. My vision was blurred with whiskey, but I could’ve sworn there was longing in his eyes, as if he were waiting for…something. For me to say or do something he couldn’t. But I couldn’t guess what, and I was too busy drinking in his handsome face anyway.

God, he is really, really beautiful. For a demon.

But it was nearly impossible to think of Casziel as an infernal creature of the underworld. Or that I had two demons of my own, plaguing me. Now that I was three sheets to the wind, the whole situation was ludicrous again.

I giggled.

“Something amusing?”

“I have two demons and one of them is named…Deb. Short for Deborah? Debbie? What is K short for? Karen?”

“Their true names are Deber and Keeb.”

I burst out laughing. “Stop it. Do they make cookies and live in a tree?”

He stared at me blankly. “They’re quite infamous. Not many demons have been referenced in the Bible by name.” He tilted his chin. “Although there are whole chapters dedicated to me in various grimoires. I’m mentioned several times in the Theurgia Goetia alone…”

I couldn’t stop giggling. “It’s just that Kee—”

Cas put a finger to my lips. “No true names. Not unless you want to summon them or bind them tighter to you.”

“All it takes is speaking a demon’s true name to summon’em?”

“Rituals are sometimes required. The more powerful demons, such as myself, take a great deal of wooing.”

“I never wooo’d you,” I said and my face got hot. “I mean…I din’ summon you.”

“Of course, you didn’t,” he said disdainfully. “I don’t come at a human’s beck and call like an obedient cur. I chose you.”

“You chose me,” I said with a smile. “You know, Cas, sometimes it feels like you and I…”

His arm under my hand stiffened. “Yes?”

“Like we—”

“Ssssh,” Cas hissed and froze.

We were almost at my building. The shadows seemed thicker that night. In the alleys between buildings, the darkness felt alive. Breathing.

You’re just drunk. Waaay drunk.

But Casziel’s sharp eyes were narrowed, and he muttered a curse in his own language.

Sumerian, I thought. His language is Sumerian because he’s almost four thousand years old…

The surrealism of my situation washed over me again, and I was glad for the booze that let me take a vacation from having to make it all make sense. I was too drunk, in fact, to pay attention as Cas hustled me off the street, around the corner to my back lot where I’d found him, and up the stairs. I managed to retrieve my keys from my purse but getting the right one in the lock was beyond me.

Cas juggled me, the packages from our shopping spree, and the keys, and got us all inside. He dropped the bags, then kicked the door shut. I clung to one arm as he raised the other, palm facing the door.

“Zisurrû,” he murmured.

I could hardly keep my head level or my eyes open, but there was no mistaking the thin light that outlined my door, glowing green in the darkness.

“Okay, so that happ’ned.”

The light faded and Cas helped me to my bed. I crashed headfirst into my pillow but managed to snag the cuff of his jacket. I tugged him until he sat stiffly on the edge beside me. The exotic scent of him was as intoxicating as whiskey, conjuring images of flat land under a bright sun, cradled by two rivers…

“Wait.” My brows furrowed as I tried to think through the drunkenness. “What is happening, Cas? Tell me the truth. Is this…?” I flapped a hand. “Is this all real? Or am I imagining you?”

“Would you prefer if it weren’t real?” His voice was low. Gentle. “Do you want to wake up tomorrow with no memory of these last two days? Of me?”

My grip on him tightened. “No. I…I don’t know. I can’t think. Something happened tonight. You were afraid but I can’t…”

“I fear nothing,” Casziel said. “Not for me. But if you’re frightened, Lucy. If this is too much…”

“You’ll go away?”

I felt more than saw him nod.

“And I won’t remember you?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“What about your redemption?”

“My only peace is knowing that you are safe and happy.” He stroked my hair; his soothing touch was driving me down, down… “Don’t be afraid, Lucy Dennings. Nothing will hurt you. I won’t let it.”

The safety promised in his deep voice fell over me like a heavy blanket. Like an incantation lining me in his protective light.

I smiled and sighed as I sunk into sleep. “I believe you, Casziel.”

But I don’t know who you are. Or do I…?

Another voice answered, sinister and crawling with shadows.

I’ll show you who he is…

A battlefield.

Bodies lie in pools of blood, soaking the dirt. The smell is unbearable. Nothing moves but ashy clouds that broil across the rust-colored sky.

And the flies.

Flies buzz over the dead like a living fog, their hum loud in my ears and growing louder. I look for an escape, but there’s nothing in any direction but the dead. I brush the flies away from my face, out of my hair. But still more come and I have to run.

Blindly, I trip over motionless limbs and still the flies come at me, covering my eyes, their legs and wings tickling my skin.

And when I open my mouth to scream, they pour in…

 

I woke up with a scream on my lips. The dream faded and reality—searing to my aching head—rushed in. I was in my bed, in my apartment, and Casziel was nowhere to be seen.

“Just a nightmare. That’s all.”

I winced as morning light pierced my eyes, as if the sun were extracting vengeance on me for some unknown crime. I lay back down and waited until the nausea faded. The dream tried to creep back into my thoughts, but I pushed it out or else I was going to be sick for sure.

When I trusted my stomach again, I got up and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Moving like an old lady, I passed the window—open a crack—and grimaced at the sight of a fly skittering along the outside of the pane.

“Stay out of my dreams, you.”

I managed to get a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap. My mouth tasted like the floor of a movie theater—I vaguely remembered the bartender at Mulligan’s had put a bowl of stale popcorn in front of us at some point during last night’s revelries.

My revelries. Despite drinking a gallon of wine, Cas had remained sober as hell.

I snickered and drank more water, facing my small, empty place. There were now several flies congregating outside my window. As I watched, one flew inside and landed on the bowl of fruit on my counter. The lone banana was about to go bad.

Another fly joined it. Then another.

“What…?”

I went cold all over to see a cloud of flies buzzing at the window, covering the pane, a writhing mass of little gray bodies. More and more…then they poured inside like smoke, swamping me. First in handfuls, then so thickly, I couldn’t see.

The water glass fell from my hands to shatter on the linoleum at my feet. I frantically—and uselessly—batted at the swarm.

This isn’t real this isn’t real this isn’t…

I stumbled and crashed into the tiny island counter. Trapped. I didn’t dare open my eyes or even breathe as flies covered my skin, relentless. The terror enveloped me, driving out rational thought. Impossible to imagine this was actually happening.

I started to sink to the floor when the air shifted. Like a current running through the apartment.

“Ma ki-ta!”

Through my fingers, I saw Casziel. The demon, Casziel. He stood in the center of my apartment dressed in his black clothing. But a huge sword was strapped between the rippling muscles of his back and shoulders, between massive wings covered in glossy black feathers that draped down on either side of him, long enough that their tips brushed the backs of his boots. Even in that horror-filled moment, the dark majesty of him stole my breath.

He thrust both pale, bloodless hands toward the window and beat his immense feathered wings, once. The gust of wind they created caught every fly and drove it through the open window. Within seconds, they were gone, again leaving my senses overwhelmed and grasping desperately for what was real.

A sob escaped me as I clutched the counter. Casziel turned his head at the sound, his black-upon-black eyes like onyx pits in the alabaster perfection of his face. I cowered at the cold dread emanating from them and sank to the floor where I curled up amid the shattered glass.

In the next instant, Cas was kneeling before me in his human form, his expression stricken.

“Forgive me, Lucy. Forgive me…”

He took my face in both hands and leaned in. For one crazed moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. But he pressed his thumb to my forehead and closed his eyes.

“Ñeštug u-lu…”

I blinked awake and a little cry flew out of my mouth. I was sitting on the kitchen floor, pressed up against the island instead of in my bed. Broken glass lay all around me in a small pool of water. I was so drunk last night. I must’ve tried to get water and dropped the glass, then…passed out?

My stomach roiled at the idea that I’d been so reckless.

Cas didn’t help.

Despite drinking a gallon of wine, he’d remained sober as hell…

“Whoa. Déjà vu.”

Gingerly, I stepped around the broken glass with my bare feet. My apartment was empty. I looked to the open window, wondering if Cas were going to fly in as a raven and decided if he was, I didn’t need to watch it happen. My poor brain didn’t need another jolt.

And there was something about the window…

I cleaned up the glass, sopped up the water, and tried again. This time, I made it back to my bed with a full glass and two Advil from my bathroom. I lay against my pillows, feeling my headache pound behind closed lids.

I’d just begun to doze when my phone rang. Groaning, I fumbled around until I found it on the floor next to my bed.

“If you care about me at all, you’ll whisper,” I said to my best friend.

Cole’s eyes widened in alarm from behind his black-framed glasses. “Are you okay? Are you sick?”

“I’m fine, just hungover.”

“You?” Cole cried and I winced. “Sorry, sorry,” he chuckled, then his concerned expression morphed into a delighted smile. “But did you get drunk on fruit wine froma local vintner who brings the musk melon goodness to his oak Chardonnay?”

“It was a lovely banana rosé.” I laughed, then winced again. Schitt’s Creek was one of our favorite shows and we never missed an opportunity to quote from it as often as we could.

“So?” he asked, reaching for his sketch pad. “Spill it. I want to hear all the dirty details.” He froze, a thought striking him. “Oh shit, are you alone? Am I interrupting the Morning After? Are you with that guy I heard yesterday?”

Yesterday? Yesterday was a hundred years ago.

“Yes. No,” I amended quickly. “He’s not here. But yeah, we went out last night.”

Cole’s eyes were practically popping out of his head, his hand working over his sketch pad. “Tell me. All of it. Who is he?”

“He’s a friend. I think.”

Cole sagged, lips pursed. “Don’t even.”

“I’m serious. He’s only in town for a few days.”

“And then what? Then he’s gone forever?”

Yes. He’s gone forever.

My heart suddenly ached as much as my head.

Cole’s hand stilled. “Luce?”

“Pretty much.”

“What’s his name?”

“Casz… His name is Cas. And you’ll be happy to know he’s going to help me with Guy.”

God, it sounded ridiculous saying it out loud.

“Okay, and how is this Cas going to help the Guy situation?”

“It’s a long story and I can’t talk right now. I love you, but if I don’t close my eyes in ten seconds, it’s going to look like The Exorcist in here.”

Oh my God, my life is all demons right now…

“Okay, okay, you can fill me in later,” Cole said. “I called to show you something.” He flipped his sketch pad back a page to show me another realistic drawing of me. “This is the one I did yesterday, remember? When your face lit up?”

“I remember,” I said softly.

Cole laid his pencil to the portrait that was lightyears from those he’d been doing lately. “Note the light in the eyes and the mouth, lips parted in a little bit of a surprise. As if a pleasant thought caught you off guard. Almost a smile but not yet.”

I swallowed hard. “I see it.”

“You weren’t thinking about Guy, were you?”

I shook my head, no.

“It was Cas. Right?”

I nodded a yes.

Cole’s smile was gentle. “So, my question is, Luce, if Cas makes you look like this, why would you need to think about Guy ever again?”