“Do you ever speak to her?” I ask softly.
She shakes her head. “No. That would be a mistake.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” she replies with a shrug. “Just seems like opening that can of worms would be a mistake. Like a huge error in judgment.”
I watch her for a moment. Though her answer is nonchalant, I see the tension in her body, the worry line on her forehead. “Are you worried she’ll talk you into letting her out?”
Frowning, she snorts and then rolls her eyes. “Not hardly. But there’s no point in giving her the opportunity to rip open a wound that’s barely starting to heal.”
“That’s smart,” I reply evenly. “And devil knows if she could taunt you into killing her, she would.”
Vivian makes a face and then says, “I hadn’t even thought of that.”
“Well, you can’t think of everything.”
Her lips curve up into a closed-mouth smile. She steps close to me, nudging me with her elbow. “Exactly why I have you and my other advisers.”
She puts air quotes around advisors. I’m sure there are days when she feels like she’s just babysitting all of us. I also know that she gets frustrated that most of the time, she’s the one who has to remain serious.
At first, the job seemed pretty cut and dry. It wasn’t until we all realized that the number of demons graduating versus the number of demons in the room never changed. She sent Cornelius out to investigate, and when he returned with an explanation of an intricate tiered system within Hell, she was less than impressed.
I don’t know if she thought maybe this would be a temporary gig, and at some point, she’d only have to manage the lowest tier. The very pits of Hell, where the worst of the worst were held. There were a good few hours where she processed this information rather petulantly. And I can’t say I blame her.
Knowing you’re responsible for managing what equates to the balance of good and evil in the world is a daunting task at best. And then to find out there’s likely no end in sight, and now a question of your own possible immortality. Well, I guess that’s reason enough to take time to sulk.
With a last glance at Gemma, she turns back to me and takes my hand. Then we’re gone in a blink. My only indication that we’ve moved is a small flip in my stomach. I give myself a moment to adjust and then look around our new location in confusion.
Soft laughter draws my attention to her, and I see her smiling, a pleased expression on her face. “Do you like it?”
I look around, taking in a space that’s such a sharp contrast to the darkness of Hell. “Where are we?”
She looks around as she responds, “It’s a sort of in-between. Neither earth nor Hell.”
“And what’s it for?”
“It’s a sanctuary. For us.”
“And we need a sanctuary?”
She shrugs and responds, “Maybe not, but I like having one.”
“Do you think we can get some bikes down here at some point?”
She smiles, laughs lightly. “Well sure, if that’s what you want.”
“Please,” I respond without hesitation. “The more time we spend down here the more we miss it. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy.”
“As long as you remember that I also get a bike.”
Squinting at her, I contemplate my words. She squints back, knowing exactly why it’s taking me so long to formulate a response. I don’t want her on her own bike. I want her on my bike. “50-50 split?”
Her squint narrows, but her lips twitch, giving away her brat-leaning tendencies. I wait her out, fully expecting her to attempt to negotiate, but she doesn’t. Instead, she just nods and the drawls, “But back to our current sanctuary.”
I move to stand behind her, one arm looping around her front and pulling her back snugly against me. Her head falls back easily against my shoulder, her head instinctively turning to the side and giving me access to her neck. I run my nose along her pulse point, inhaling her scent and then nibbling a path up her neck to her ear, where I whisper, “And what could we do here?”
One of her hands loops up behind my head, her palm pressed to the back of my neck. “Whatever we want.”
