Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
“D on’t be a prick,” Lucifer repeated Raphael’s advice. “Try humility for a change.”
He was desperate enough to give it a try. The situation with Bianca had become intolerable, and he was so grumpy that Raphael had finally told him that he needed to sort things out before he would risk renewing their mission with him. His first lesson in humility had been admitting Raphael was right. He was grumpy and distracted and that had to change.
He was standing in Sophia’s reception chamber waiting for Bianca. He’d been giving his last few interactions with Bianca a lot of thought, and he’d come to the humiliating conclusion that he had behaved like a prick. That had been lesson number two in humility.
If Bianca refused to see him, that would count as lesson three. Sophia was doubtful Bianca would see him, so he stood ready to swallow more humility. A hell prince had entered the heavenly realm to speak to a human witch. There might be more than one lesson in humility in that.
Human females liked flowers, hence the five hundred long stemmed roses making Sophia’s reception chamber smell like a funeral parlor. Nothing demonstrated a male humbling themself like a grand floral gesture.
The door at the end, through which Sophia had gone earlier, opened, and Lucifer tensed.
Emma poked her tousled head around it. “Lucifer.” She grinned at him and trotted toward him in bare feet and grass-stained shorts and T-shirt. She looked flushed and happy, like a normal child having an enjoyable summer vacation. “Bianca told me you were here.”
So, his haglette had received the message. And was dragging his wait out painfully. Still, he was glad to see Emma, and he crouched to her level. “You look well.”
“I am.” Emma stuck her hands on her hips. “Why haven’t you been to see me before?”
“I’ve been busy.” He could have spared a few moments for this engaging witchling. “But you’re right. I should have come before.”
She patted his perfectly pressed shirt with what he suspected was a very sticky hand. “That’s okay. You found my mom for me, like you promised.”
“Like I promised.” He had other shirts. “Is Bianca coming?”
“No.” Emma screwed up her nose. “She said she doesn’t like roses, and that they’re old lady flowers.”
“Right.” Humility. Patience. Diffidence. Getting bent out of shape about the failure of his gesture wouldn’t further his cause. He was a damn near eternal being. He could afford to be patient.
He held out his hand to Emma. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to here in heaven?”
It turned out, Bianca called lilies death flowers, was indifferent to irises, and was allergic to the small apple tree he brought her.