And humanity is losing its hope. It’s already lost most of its magic, and hope and magic are intrinsically connected at the root.
I’ve been trying to stop it. To find someone, anyone, who still has a spark.
And here she is.
So with a flick of my wrist I produce a parchment flowing with magic. It is already filled in with the terms of our understanding.
I roll up my sleeve and produce a quill pen, then use the razor-sharp edge to slice my arm. Lyla gasps as blood trickles down my skin. I use the pen to soak up enough to sign my name.
Then I hand it to her.
I half expect her to refuse it, to say she will not sign herself away to Satan on Christmas Eve. That the whole thing is ludicrous. I don’t know what I’ll do if she says that. I clench my jaw and wait.
She licks her lips, an action done in such an innocent way that it does not aid at all in my attempt at composure.
Finally, she takes the pen and the contract from my hands and begins to read.
I hold my breath, which is uncomfortable for me in this form even though I don’t strictly need to breathe.
“I only have tonight to ask my questions and find out the truth?” She asks, looking up.
I give one solemn bow of my head. “This is a limited time contract. Not the kind I am typically known for, but desperate times and all that. You can ask me anything tonight and I will do my best to answer.”
“And then we never see you again,” she says, flicking her lower lip with her tongue again. “At least I get to keep my soul.”
That last little bit is whispered under her breath, so I pretend to not hear it.
“That’s the idea,” I say. And why are those words so difficult to say?
She nods, then brings the pen to her arm. She pauses. “Um. I’m assuming you can’t pass on STDs or viruses? Given, you know, the pandemic and the… blood thing.”
“I assure you, my blood is the purest you will ever find.”
She nods again then doesn’t hesitate or flinch as she slices her arm.
The smell of her blood blooms in the air like a rare flower, nearly extinct. Exotic and fragrant and oh so delicious.
When she scrawls her name, I feel the magic of the contract bind us together.
My contracts aren’t usually so… intimate in a non-sexual way. I don’t typically sign up for spending time with others.
But this… this feels different. A sense of knowing settles on me and I shiver.
Tonight will change the course of both our lives.
One way or another.
5
Lyla
Mandy clambers down the stairs sounding like a small herd of buffalo despite being one tiny girl. My mouth twitches when I see what she’s wearing.
She must’ve put on all the sweaters she could find before pulling on a snow suit that’s two inches too short for her, leaving ankles and lower legs bare. She made up for that by layering on socks--which look suspiciously like mine--and is trying to wrangle her arms into the too small snow jacket.
“Mommy, I can’t find my scarf.” She finally manages to get her arm into the second sleeve and sticks her tongue out as she fiddles with the zipper.
Lucifer makes a choked sound and I look up to see his full lips fighting to stay still. I might be annoyed at him laughing at her if my daughter didn’t look like a hobo version of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. It’s rather ridiculous and I don’t bother to keep my lips from curling into a smile.
“It’s hanging up in the bathroom. Remember we had to let them dry after the snowball fight?” I watch as she gives up on the zipper and smiles. She’s still missing one of her top teeth and I’m a sucker for her smile.
“Oh yeah!” And she’s off again, another herd of buffalo racing up the stairs.
Lucifer clears his throat next to me. “Might I suggest you find some warm clothes of your own?”
I look down at the old, baggy t-shirt I’m wearing and cringe. Not only is the shirt awful, it’s the only thing I’m wearing other than a pair of panties that have long since seen their hey-day.
And it’s quite obvious that I’ve been skimping on the heat for the apartment.
“Of course, if you’d prefer to travel like that, I’d be happy to keep you warm.” His dark eyes rove over my body and I fight a shiver that has nothing to do with the chill in the air.
Just as I snap myself out of it and try to come up with an appropriate response, he lifts one hand and it fills with those magical flames. “I’ve been told I run a little on the warm side and the fire won’t hurt you.”
My blush is instantaneous. He knows exactly what I thought he meant. I walked right into his trap. I also feel certain that those flames could and would hurt me if he so desired.
“No! I mean, no, thank you. I’ve got clothes.” I take a step back toward the stairs. “I mean warm clothes. I have more clothes than this. You know, it’s not like I just wear this all the time.” I take a few more steps backward. “I mean, I wear warmer clothes than this. When it’s cold. But I was asleep.”
His knowing smile grows with each nonsensical word I utter.
“I was asleep when you broke in! I’m sure you don’t sleep in that suit!” I gesture at him and take one more step toward the stairs.
If possible, his smile grows even wider. “Me? I prefer to sleep in the nude.”
Of course he does. And boy does my imagination have a field day with this information. Lust courses through my body like a tidal wave and I feel an unwanted ache build in my body. It has been so long since I’ve been touched. Caressed. Loved.
But this isn’t the man or the night for such thoughts.
I turn to the stairs and take them two at a time, ignoring the chuckle that follows me. I can hear Mandy still in her room, so I shut my door and lean back against it. What the hell is wrong with me?
Lucifer, really? I slap my forehead as if I can knock sense into myself that way. I can’t be attracted to Satan! Wait, can I? I mean, he is Satan, isn’t temptation part of his MO?
And boy, is he tempting.
I dash to my closet and rummage around. What does one wear to deliver presents for Santa Claus? Deciding Mandy probably has the right idea, I go for layers. I shuck my shirt and dig around until I find a clean bra. It’s nothing to write home about, but it will do the job. I layer tank top over tank top, before doing the same with t-shirts and add a thick wool sweater. I pull out a pair of thermal underpants and shimmy into them before sliding into a pair of jeans.
Socks. I look at the drawer and see it’s open, socks hanging from its sides. Yep, Mandy is definitely wearing mine. I grab two pairs and shove my feet into them just as I hear Mandy scampering back down the stairs.
Rushing, I grab a pair of snow boots from my closet and chase after her.
As my feet hit the stairs, I hear high-pitched laughter from the first floor, followed by the amused rumble of a man’s voice. My feet stop and I press a hand to my heart. How long has it been since I’ve had a man in my home? A man who seems genuinely interested in Mandy? A man who isn’t trying to escape as quickly as possible once he realizes I have a daughter?
It’s nice.
Then my brain catches up with my heart and I remember it’s Lucifer down there with Mandy. I take a deep breath and slowly descend the stairs. He hasn’t done anything that should make me question his motives. In fact, he’s been protective of Mandy. Even showing up to bring her a present in case Santa missed her because her letter went to the wrong place. Really. Who would have thought Lucifer could be so… sweet?