Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Lucien
By the time I hit the crest the hill on Broad Street, my lungs were on fire. Morning sunlight cut sharply between the row houses, gilding the cracked sidewalks and broken beer bottles like they deserved a blessing.
“Come on,” I muttered to myself, hands locked behind my head as I forced air in, slow and steady. Richmond mornings always made me feel like I was running through ghosts—old brick, old sins, old stories that refused to die.
I’d woken up restless. Not the usual kind of sleepless night that coffee could fix. Something had been gnawing at me since last night’s ceremony, something I couldn’t name. The crowd had been good, the energy high, and the message solid. And yet… there’d been a face that wouldn’t leave me alone.
Golden-brown eyes, wide and wounded.
I shook my head hard and tried to outrun it.
When Sean called bright and early, asking if I could help prep breakfast for the soup kitchen up in Church Hill, I said yes before he’d even finished asking. I figured the run there would bleed off whatever strange energy still buzzed under my skin.
By the time I reached The Hill Café, sweat slicked down my spine and my heart was still racing. The place smelled of bacon and old coffee, and for a second, I felt almost normal.
Daisy spotted me the second I stepped inside. She’d been working here since forever—queen of the morning shift, curls piled high and lipstick brighter than the sunrise.
“Well, look what the devil dragged in,” she teased, grabbing a menu she knew I wouldn’t use. “You want your regular, sugar?”
I smiled. “You know me too well.”
She slid a mug of coffee across the table before I could even sit. “That’s my job, honey.”
The booth creaked when I settled into it, a comforting sound that came with a thousand breakfasts before mine. I let my shoulders drop, staring out the window as the day woke up. Kids in uniforms, delivery trucks, a dog tugging its owner down the street. The world turned as usual.
The bell over the door jingled, and I didn’t even look until Daisy called, “Morning, sweetheart.”
Then I did.
And there he was.
Jimmy.
Same lean build, same eyes—those impossibly soft brown-green eyes that looked like sunlight filtered through whiskey. He froze when he saw me, hand halfway to removing his ball cap.
Before I could stop myself, I waved. The move was pure reflex, instinct before logic.
His brows went up, surprised, but he didn’t bolt. That was something.
I gestured to the booth. “Jimmy, right?”
He nodded, hesitating like he might run off. “Yeah.”
“Join me for breakfast? We didn’t get a chance to talk last night.”
For a heartbeat he didn’t move. Then something in him softened, and he crossed the diner, sliding into the seat across from me. Daisy appeared like a guardian angel with a coffeepot.
“Can I get you something, darlin’?”
Jimmy looked flustered. “Uh, I’ll have whatever he’s having.”
“Coming right up.” Daisy winked and disappeared into the kitchen.
I studied him in the full light of day. He’d traded the starched shirt from last night for a green button-down that brought out the gold in his eyes.
His hair, a little mussed, made him look younger.
But there was something else—an unease that ran deep.
He sat too straight, like he was bracing for impact.
“You okay?” I asked.
He flushed. “Yeah. I, uh… wanted to say I’m sorry about last night. I had to—um—go.”
I raised an eyebrow, letting the pause stretch. “Had to?”
He fidgeted with his napkin, twisting it between his fingers. “Something came up.” His voice dropped. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“You weren’t.” I smiled to take the edge off. “I just figured you were allergic to red candles and free thinking.”
That earned a small, nervous laugh. Cute, really.
An awkward silence followed, thick as honey. I could tell he was hiding something—but not maliciously. The guy couldn’t lie to save his soul.
I decided to rescue him. “So, do you have questions? About the ceremony, I mean. For your research.”
He looked up through his eyelashes, uncertain. His lower lip caught briefly between his teeth before he spoke. “Actually, yeah. Just one.”
I leaned forward. “Shoot.”
“What does… Satan have to do with any of it?”
The words came haltingly, but his tone wasn’t mocking. He genuinely wanted to know. “I mean, I didn’t see anything evil. Or—” His cheeks colored, and he stopped, like he’d almost said too much.
I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my mouth.
I realized this man was attracted to me, and it hit me like a train.
He didn’t understand it, probably didn’t even have a word for it yet, but there it was in the way his pupils widened, the way he couldn’t look at my mouth for more than a heartbeat before flicking his gaze away.
And damn if that didn’t make my pulse jump.
I leaned back, watching him squirm under the weight of his own confusion. “That’s a good question,” I breathed. “And you’re not the first to ask it.”
His fingers toyed with the coffee spoon. “I just always thought Satan was… you know. Evil.”
“Of course you did,” I said gently. “Most people do. You were taught that from the cradle, right? Satan as the great deceiver. The enemy. The source of original sin.”
Jimmy nodded.
“But here’s the thing.” I wrapped my hands around the mug, letting the steam warm my palms. “If you actually go back to the text—the story starts with a question, doesn’t it? Not an act of rebellion, not some war in heaven. Just a serpent asking Eve, ‘Did God really say…?’”
He blinked, listening.
“That moment wasn’t evil. It was curiosity. It was the first spark of thought—the refusal to take someone else’s word as law. The serpent didn’t hand Eve damnation, Jimmy. He handed her knowledge. And knowledge is dangerous only to those who depend on ignorance.”
His eyes widened a little, like he’d never heard it put that way.
“Think about it,” I continued. “Every time someone in history has asked a forbidden question—why the earth moves, why the church has power, or why love between two people should be condemned—it’s been branded Satanic.
Because the people who benefit from control can’t stand truth that doesn’t kneel at their feet. ”
Jimmy’s voice was soft. “You make it sound like Satan’s the good guy.”
I smiled. “Not good, not bad. Just honest. Satan’s a symbol. A mirror. He represents the voice that says Think for yourself, even if it costs you. The first rebel wasn’t trying to destroy humanity, Jimmy. He was trying to wake it up.”
Daisy slid two plates between us—eggs, grits, bacon—and refilled our coffee without comment. I waited until she walked away before I went on.
“People fear that idea because freedom’s messy. No commandments, no safety net. You have to own your choices. That’s what our ceremonies are about—not worshiping evil, but embracing responsibility. Compassion without guilt. Desire without shame. Truth without someone else’s permission.”
Jimmy’s fork hovered over his plate. “Desire without shame,” he repeated under his breath, as if tasting the words.
“Exactly.”
He looked up, meeting my eyes. His throat worked as he swallowed. “But if that’s true, why use the name Satan at all?”
I smiled, slow and deliberate. “Because language has power. If you can take the most feared name in history and turn it into a symbol of liberation, you’ve already stolen fire from heaven. You’ve already won.”
His gaze didn’t leave mine. There was heat now, confusion warring with fascination. I could practically feel the air tighten between us.
I leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Tell me, Jimmy. If knowledge is evil, what does that make ignorance?”
Jimmy didn’t answer. His lips parted, his breath shallow.
“Exactly.” I let the smile widen. “Maybe the actual devil isn’t the one asking questions. Maybe he’s the one who punishes you for having them.”
We ate in companionable silence for a while, forks scraping plates, the smell of bacon clinging to the air. Daisy refilled our mugs again and winked at me before moving on.
“So,” I said finally, “what are you really researching, Jimmy?”
He blinked. “Alternative faiths.”
“And?”
He hesitated, color rising in his cheeks again. “And… people, I guess. Why they believe what they do.”
“Fair answer.” I tilted my head. “Just make sure you include yourself in the study.”
He looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”
“Belief isn’t just something you observe. It’s something you wrestle with. What you saw last night didn’t match what you were told to expect, was it?”
Jimmy’s mouth opened, then closed again. His lashes dipped, hiding those green-gold eyes, and I could almost hear the noise inside his head — the careful machinery of someone who’d been trained to believe one thing and was just now realizing the world didn’t line up with it.
Before he could find words, the bell over the café door jingled again.
“Lucien!”
I turned to see Sean filling the doorway, his hair sticking up in five directions, T-shirt rumpled, and the wild energy that followed him everywhere. He spotted me and broke into a grin. “Man, thank God you’re up. Or Satan. Whoever’s taking credit this morning.”
He strolled up to the booth, clapped me on the shoulder, then slid right in beside me, reaching for my coffee like it belonged to him.
“Truck’s dead,” he said flatly. “We were supposed to pick up those boxes of produce from the farmer’s market before the kitchen opens, but nope.
Starter’s shot. I swear that thing’s possessed. ”
I blinked, the switch from theology to logistics catching me off guard. “When did it die?”
“About ten minutes ago. I jogged up here hoping to catch you before you took off.” Sean leaned back, groaning. “We’re going to have to cancel lunch service if I can’t get that food.”
Across the table, Jimmy’s mouth opened a little, like he was about to say something. Then he stopped, lips pressing together.
I turned to him. “You okay?”
He hesitated, eyes flicking between us, then nodded quickly. “I just—uh—I have a truck.”
Sean perked up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Jimmy cleared his throat, visibly unsure if he was about to regret speaking. “I’m staying a couple of blocks over. If you want to use it… I mean, it’s not fancy, but it runs.”
For a moment, none of us spoke. My pulse ticked up, quick and hard. Of all the mornings, of all the diners in the city—Jimmy — a nervous angel in a green shirt — just happened to walk in here.
Sean grinned, relief flooding his face. “Man, if you don’t mind, that would be incredible. Me and Lucien will load it up, and you drive. We’ll be done in a flash.”
Jimmy nodded, smiling shyly. “Sure. Happy to help.”
Sean slid out of the booth, already pulling out his phone to call the kitchen. “You’re a lifesaver, dude.” He tossed me a look. “Lucien, are you coming?”
“In a sec,” I said, signaling Daisy for our checks.
When Sean stepped outside, Jimmy turned back toward me, uncertain again, as if the offer he’d just made was bigger than it sounded.
I looked at him, at the sincerity in his face, the hesitant strength beneath it. He didn’t know what he’d just stepped into — or maybe he did, and that scared him more than he could admit.
“Guess you’re stuck with us for a bit,” I said lightly.
He smiled, a little shy curve of his mouth that hit me square in the chest. “I don’t mind.”
Neither did I.