Chapter 67
“I am who I am. No one ever told me that I could be anything else.”
—BEV KEANE, MIDNIGHT MASS
T he manor was insane. Like, absolutely bananas. I had known it was beautiful from the few times Shem and Ramel had taken me to dinner, but it was hard to take in the sights when you were constantly being fondled.
Walking through the ebony halls and taking in the incredible nighttime views without either of them to distract me was a completely life-changing experience.
The other version of me that seemed to be starting to wake up sighed happily as I floated through the hallways. My worn-out sneakers scuffed the shining black marble floors as I went.
It felt like home. There was this aching sense of familiarity budding within me, and even though I hadn’t been to the kitchens before, it was like my feet instinctively knew the way.
The kitchens were a floor below my bedroom, and my mouth nearly hit the floor when I entered. I assumed they had to be massive to be able to crank out the amount of food that always filled the dining hall, but what I found blew me away. The space was enormous and was filled with matte black state-of-the-art industrial appliances. Everything had its place, and every surface was spotless and clean.
Each station was busy and filled with demons in all-black chef coats. Everyone worked in perfect synchronization, and there was one chef who barked orders in some sort of code. The workers responded with ‘yes, chef,’ ‘no, chef,’ and ‘thank you, chef.’ No one looked up from their work when I entered, and I suddenly had the feeling that I had walked into a Michelin-starred restaurant.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” I jumped as Art approached with a smile on his face. He wasn’t in a chef’s coat like the rest of them, but no one seemed to question his presence.
I nodded. “This is amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Art grinned at me, his eyes shining at my clear enthusiasm. “Now’s not a great time for a tour. Chef’s running dinner service, but maybe if Ramel or Shem says it’s okay, you and I can whip something up in here for them to try when service is over.”
I deflated, remembering my six pm curfew. I doubted they would let me come back after service was over.
Art nudged my shoulder encouragingly. “Cheer up. If you ask them, I’m sure they’ll say yes. They both know how much you love to cook.”
I shrugged. “Sure. What should I do in the meantime?” I asked. “I have two more hours before I have to head back to the room.”
Art mulled it over, then took my hand. “I have an idea. Have you seen the cocktail bar?”
No. I had absolutely not seen the cocktail bar. I hadn’t even known we had one. Art laughed at my expression and tugged on my hand, indicating I should follow him.
“Let’s go, you’re going to love it. It puts Voodoo to shame.”
The cocktail bar here did put Voodoo’s to shame. The entire space looked like it was carved out of a crystalline cave made of obsidian. Wall sconces with emerald flames glistened and reflected out of each facet. There were cubbies and alcoves in every direction, filled with floor-to-ceiling rows of red wine.
Small, intimate circular tables filled the center of the cave-like space, each one adorned with a skull studded in black diamonds, the eyes and nose holes flickering with green light.
The black-lacquer bar at the far end of the room was empty, with the exception of a pretty female demon bartender with long red hair. She was stocking the massive liquor shelf that was built into the back wall of the bar. The shelves were made of black tempered glass, and the whole thing was backlit with a glowing violet light.
Art led me up to the bar just as the bartender turned around, and I gasped, realizing I recognized her.
“Jezebel?” I gaped, and her pretty heart-shaped face broke out into a giant grin .
“Lilith! Welcome!” she squealed, rushing out from behind the bar to hug me. I bit my lip and contemplated stepping away but decided it was okay. Ramel had said ‘ no hugs,’ but I didn’t think he meant a friendly hug like this. Jezebel had been the primetime bartender who used to work every Friday and Saturday night with Sam. I had been her replacement when she quit. Obviously, I had no idea that she had been a demon the whole time. She had always been kind and friendly to me, but I kept my distance for obvious reasons. I felt another small twinge in my chest when I realized that this was another person I likely could have made friends with without realizing it. Swallowing back the regret, I decided there was no use obsessing over things I couldn’t change and resolved to make up for lost time now.
Jezebel pulled back and held me by the shoulders, still beaming at me. “Holy hell, Lil, I’m so glad you came to visit me! I’ve been dying to come see you, but Shem and Ramel had you pretty locked up. Come sit down, I’ll make you a drink.” She grinned at Art and gestured for him to join us as well. My heart was hammering in my chest with excitement.
I was about to sit and have a drink with people! I was so happy I could burst. Crawling into one of the black velvet upholstered bar stools, I patted the seat next to me, indicating to Art that I wanted him to join. If I was going to truly submit myself to this new life, I figured I might as well try to forgive him for the whole wedding fiasco.
Now that I knew the wedding had been a way for them to try to protect me, I decided that as fucked up as it had been, I really couldn’t be that mad about it. If they hadn’t forced me through that ceremony, who knew what Rafael would have done to me before Ram and Shem realized something was wrong.
Jezebel slipped back behind the bar, pulling her long wavy red hair up into a high pony as she critically examined the liquor display.
“What do you feel like, Lil?” she asked, and I shrugged, smiling shyly.
“I don’t know, surprise me,” I said, and Art chuckled.
“I’ll just have a pint, Jez,” he said softly as she pulled a few bottles off the shelves and began bustling around to make me a cocktail.
“Voila!” she beamed, putting a delicate, smoking martini glass in front of me. The cocktail was nearly black but smelled fruity.
“What is it?” I asked, taking a sip and shivering in delight at the fruity flavors she had expertly combined.
“I call it the Silent Cemetery. Super easy to make, really. Two ounces of blackberry juice, one ounce of pineapple juice, and a squeeze of lime with a splash of simple syrup. Of course, you need a few ounces of black vodka and a little squirt from the smoking gun, and there you have it.”
Art raised an eyebrow. “I’ll give you a squirt from my smoking gun later if you keep it up, lovely. ”
Jezebel cut him a playful smirk. “In your dreams, Art. I don’t fuck Shem’s sloppy seconds.”
Art shrugged. “Your loss. I bet Shem would be down to play with us both if Lilith doesn’t mind sharing him for a night.” He winked, and I wrinkled my nose and rolled my eyes.
“Shem can do whatever he wants,” I muttered, taking another sip of my drink.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Art agreed, blowing on the foam of the fresh pint Jezebel had poured for him.
“So, Lilith, how are you liking Hell so far? I’ve seen you around a couple times but haven’t been able to come say hi. Both times, you were pretty… busy.” Her eyes shone, and my heart sank.
“Uhm… what times were those?” I asked, hoping she wasn’t referring to what I thought she was.
“Well, the first time I saw you was in the breakfast hall with Ramel and Shem, and then I saw you again later that day at the wedding. I was one of your original Watchers, so I attend most ceremonies to solidify bonds.”
My face flushed with shame, and I dropped my gaze, suddenly feeling absolutely humiliated that Jezebel had seen me be both publicly fingered and fucked. She frowned and made a soothing noise in the back of her throat.
“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. You and Ramel are hot as fuck together. Public shit like that is super common in Hell, and let me tell you, there are way less attractive couples boning each other on the regular in the dining hall. Don’t worry about it.”
I glanced up at her, expecting to see judgment in her eyes despite her kind words, but I only found concern and compassion. “Oh,” was all I said.
“Listen, we’re all just excited to have you here and see you and Ramel back together.” She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the bar, looking at me with something close to adoration on her face. “I was the first demon you gave the option to switch genders to; did you know that?” she asked, and my eyes widened. I hadn’t known that.
She nodded. “Yep. Yahweh doesn’t allow His angels to take the female form… We think it has something to do with his preference for males.”
Art’s eyes darkened at this, and I didn’t miss how his grip tightened on his pint glass. I frowned. That other version of me that was still floating under a thin veil of forgotten memories grew angry for a moment.
“I never felt right in that form. I always knew I was on the female end of the spectrum, but Yahweh would never condone a shift like that. He always said He made His creations perfect, and He knew best. You on the other hand…” She reached out and laid her hand over mine affectionately. “You always wanted us to be happy. You never pretended to know what we wanted better than we did. You always did your best to make Hell a place free of judgment, where demons could be demons, and we could explore every dark, depraved corner of ourselves without fear of punishment. You freed us, Lilith.”
Art nodded next to her, taking a grim sip of his beer. “She’s right, Lil. It’s why we’ve all remained loyal to you, even though you’ve been away for nearly five thousand years.”
“I’m glad,” I said softly, surprised at the tenderness in each of their faces. I glanced around the bar and noticed a few more female demons enter, dressed for a night out in short dresses and high heels. They grinned and waved at us before sitting at one of the tables and opening a drink menu.
“So everyone here started as a male angel?” I asked, and Jezebel nodded.
“Yep. Those girls over there weren’t part of the original sixty-six but left Heaven to join us after seeing what you had done for me.”
I smiled. Maybe Hell wasn’t all bad. These demons seemed happy and well taken care of. As twisted as Ramel and Shem seemed to be, I was beginning to understand their insistence that I would be happy here.
“Why were you working at Voodoo?” I asked.
Jezebel looked sheepish for a minute but shrugged. “I was sent by Ram to watch you with Shem. Even when he hated you, he had this obsessive need to always have eyes on you.”
I sighed. Figures.
“So what happened? Why did you quit?”
“It was almost your birthday, and Ramel was supposed to step in and get close to you and try to make your transition easier. He was meant to replace me, but that didn’t really go as planned.” She winced. “I heard he killed Sam. Sorry about that.”
Knowing that Sam had been reincarnated softened the bitterness I felt about Ramel killing him, but not entirely. Sam still had a family that I was sure mourned him. It was this constant dichotomy of kindness, love, and ruthless darkness that always left me feeling off balance in this new world.
None of this matters in the grand scheme of things. Mortals live brief lives. The world spins on.
I frowned. That thought hadn’t been entirely mine. It felt like it belonged to the other version of myself. The ancient version of me that saw a human life the way a mortal might regard the life of a mayfly. Short and insignificant.
I shook off the odd sensation of sharing my brain and took another sip of my drink to quell the thoughts.
Jezebel interrupted my internal battle with another bright smile and a question. “So, Lilith, tell me. Have you decided what you’re going to wear to the feast?”