Better the Devil You Know Book Two: Better the Devil You Know, #2

By Odette C. Bell

It's been a week since the incident. It's time to find out exactly where Maggie came from.
But the Church won't stop. They'll do anything – sacrifice any man, no matter his allegiance – all to see her die. When they summon a banned spell and send it after Maggie, Luc must do everything he can to keep her safe. But it will cost him. And that cost will be getting closer to her, which is far more dangerous than it sounds.

….

Better the Devil You Know follows a cursed woman and a demon lord fighting to save her from a devilish plot. If you love your urban fantasies with action, wit, and a splash of romance, grab Better the Devil You Know Book Two today and soar free with an Odette C. Bell series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Odette C. Bell
• Release date: May 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386871682

Book preview

1

Luc

Over a week had passed since the incident, as he called it. And Maggie Brown still slept.

Luc kept his hands locked in front of himself, resisting the permanent urge to plunge them into his pockets. For now was no time to be casual.

He faced his father. And his father faced him back.

Satan, King of Hell, sat behind an antique desk. It was not ornate but was rather made from a chunk of old stone held aloft on four pillars of carved, cracked wood. The stone was from ancient times – from the Era of Holy Wars – and it was magically imbued to sanctify any pact made atop it.

There were others in his palace – other offices too, some even grander than this. But his father needed no external import to reinforce this meeting. It burnt bright enough in his red eyes as it was.

Satan sat back in his leather seat, one hand locked on the stone table as his other propped up his jaw. His stiff, long, strong fingers curled around his beard and drummed against his cheek, never touching the scar that ran all the way down his face. It started at his hairline, traveled over his brow, plunged through one eye, and terminated at the center of his jaw. And his eye? Why, it was split in two. The two separate halves darted to the left and right erratically, as if tracking the unseen. For that was precisely what they did. Satan’s right eye was whole, and it permanently stared out at the realm of the living. The two halves of his left eye stared at the upper and lower realms respectively.

Though all the seven sons of Satan could pass as ordinary people on human streets, Satan could not. Not without an eye patch. No amount of magic could obscure his left eyes.

His black eye patch sat before him on the table, close to his fingers. For it could never stray far.

Satan continued to stare at Luc, and Luc held it together as he stared back.

You killed the seven Cardinals of this city, Satan said, voice low. It was the deepest baritone you could imagine, a pitch that could easily shake through the room and plunge into a man’s heart.

No. I warned them of what they were doing; they did not follow my advice. They killed themselves. Though, technically, they are still alive, Luc managed, his voice stilted. His body was stiff, his neck and jaw like steel.

It wasn’t from the fear of facing his father. It was at the prospect of what he’d done.

In the past week, Luc had come to terms with one fact – he’d made an unbreakable pact to keep a Vessel safe. Maggie Brown was no ordinary woman, and it would take the extraordinary to keep her alive. Though Luc still had no idea why the Church wanted her dead, he was determined to find out, for he had no other option.

But first? He had to wait for her to wake. And in the meantime? He had to account for his sins in front of the keeper of sins himself, Satan.

His father continued to watch him with his right eye as he kept drumming a finger on his face. Their bodies may be alive, but their minds have been burnt away. And you, son, underplay your involvement. The Church has asked for you to be punished and removed from your role as the Holder of the Treaty. How do you answer?

Luc couldn’t help it. He laughed, his chest punching hard against his suit. He was back in the pristine white suit he loved the most, a bent cross around his throat. A cross that had been crushed and contorted with his own hand. The Church is lying, father; you must be able to sense that. I informed them several times that I’d made an… unbreakable pact with that woman, Luc said, incapable of saying her name, and they willfully chose to ignore me. When the Cardinals possessed her through their Dog of the Church, they did so knowing I would have to protect her.

Satan didn’t respond. All three of his eyes locked on Luc.

Luc naturally straightened. He could feel his sins being judged, like they were being extruded from his very blood.

You are right – I can sense the Church’s lies. But they are also right – you could have done more to… prevent the unnecessary death of their Cardinals.

Luc looked at his father directly. So what will you do?

Satan removed his hand from the stone table and sat back, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

It was not a meaningless move. Pulling his hand from the table meant that what Satan said next wouldn’t be binding.

A trace of nerves spread across Luc’s back.

Nothing. For now, Satan quickly qualified as all three of his eyes remained locked on Luc. Both parties contravened the Treaty.

Luc took a breath. He rarely did so; he didn’t need to breathe. As a denizen of Hell, his body wasn’t sustained by mere oxygen and blood but by the power of the Kingdom of Hell itself. And yet, he’d been living amongst humans so long that he’d unavoidably picked up their character traits.

Luc looked down at the floor for a split second before he faced his father once more. So what happens now?

I would tell you to break that Treaty with the woman, but you cannot, Satan said as his gaze became as steady as a plane.

Satan paused.

Again Luc took an unnecessary breath. So what do you wish for me to do instead?

Satan unlocked his arms from around his middle, shifted forward, and locked both hands flat on his desk. The stone had been nothing more than cold, lifeless rock seconds before, but at the full touch of Satan, it started to glow. The illumination was not blinding but rather subtle. It felt as if every constituent particle that made up the stone started to vibrate with a higher energy.

A low hum picked up through the room.

Luc’s gut clenched, his back straightening as if someone had latched hold of his head and yanked it up.

His hands started to tingle, and just for a moment, they no longer felt like his own. They felt like his father’s.

Satan rose, both his palms still locked on the stone as he leveled his head and stared at Luc. You will follow this through to the end, son. You will find out what the Church wants with that woman.

Luc couldn’t have looked away from his father if he’d wanted to. Not only did his hands now feel like Satan’s, but so too did his eyes as they suddenly widened.

They have a plan, Luc, and you have my leave to find out what that is and stop it. You will fulfill my original vision for you.

… Which is what, father?

You will hold up the Treaty, no matter the costs. Do you understand?

Luc jerked, his hands lurching forward and locking onto the stone, his palms as flat as they could be. Instantly, he felt power shift through the cold, lifeless rock and up into his skin. It prickled through his flesh, dancing all the way through his arms until it reached his heart.

He stared at his father and nodded.

Say it, Satan warned.

Luc’s lips broke wide. I understand. I will uphold the Treaty… no matter the costs.

Satan held eye contact for several more seconds. Then he shifted back, easily broke his grip on the stone table, and sat. His chair groaned under his considerable weight as he brought a hand up, rested the elbow on the armrest, pressed his palm against his jaw, and once more began to drum his fingers on his face. Very well. Leave.

Abruptly, Luc was released from his father’s spell, and he jolted backward. It took a moment to regain his balance. With an unsteady blink, Luc immediately brought both hands up and smoothed down his lapels. Thank you, father, he forced himself to say as he whirled on his foot and walked through the door.

He was in the basement of the tallest office block in Pax City, and it took him a long time to walk up the steps that led to the first floor. He exited into an elevator, a magical doorway opening at the top of the stairs with a blast of black magic. Power crackled around his suit as he walked into the back of the packed elevator. Though there were five other people in it, none of them noticed as Luc took up position behind them, chasing away the last of the door’s power with a dismissive pat of his hand.

He leveled his gaze at the door and tried to think.

Satan could have said many things. He could have easily punished Luc for his part in the death of the city’s Cardinals.

Instead?

Why, instead, Satan, the King of Hell itself, had given Luc a blank check to do whatever it would take to protect the pact.

No matter the costs, Luc muttered under his breath, letting the concept settle in. It felt like an anvil as it sank through his middle and made his legs feel like counterweights.

The woman beside him turned at his abrupt statement. Her eyes widened. Sorry?

The door pinged and opened to the first floor.

Luc walked past her, fixing his jet-black tie with one hand as he brought the other up and locked it on the woman’s shoulder. He faced her as he walked past. Though I love a sinner, I wouldn’t do what you’re planning, Madam. He gestured to her bag.

There was a gun inside. God knows how she’d managed to get it through the security at the front of the building. Or perhaps, Satan knew.

Though Luc never usually interrupted the sins of Man, he had a new duty – to uphold the peace of the Treaty no matter what. And this woman plucking the handgun from her bag and shooting her abusive boss would just be a spanner in the works.

Everyone else in the elevator had already left, unable to see or hear Luc and his conversation with this woman.

Her eyes widened until they were fully rimmed with white. W—

What? He stopped, his hand still on her arm, even though he’d taken a step out of the elevator. He turned to her over his shoulder. You seek revenge. And though, on an ordinary day, I would encourage you, not today. With that, Luc let his hand drop. He grabbed the woman’s bag out of her trembling clutch.

He strode out of the elevator, dumping her bag in the tall, silver dustbin to his left. The bag thumped against the trash just as the woman gasped and fell to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Luc walked away without another look her way. Though his hands wanted to push into his pockets, he resisted the urge. For his work had only just begun.

2

John Godspeed

He sat in his apartment, the late morning sun streaming in through the broken slats of his cheap timber blinds.

Outside, the city thrived, the blissfully ignorant inhabitants of Pax City going about their sinful lives.

Inside, John’s mind twisted further into doubt.

He sat on his old brown, moth-eaten sofa and stared at his coffee table. He faced his gun.

No, he had no intention of plucking it up and shooting himself through the roof of his mouth. He locked his unblinking, vacant gaze on his cross. He’d taken it off for the first time in years, and it lay coiled over the butt and muzzle of the gun.

The light making it in through the broken slats of his blinds caught the base of the cross, making the gold glint. But that was it. The rest of the cross lay in shadows.

John stared at it, his body slumped back on the sofa.

For the tenth time that morning, his phone rang. His gaze darted over to it as it vibrated on the narrow arm of the sofa. As it vibrated, it teetered toward the edge of the armrest. He made no move to save it.

He half closed his eyes, brought a hand up, and locked it over his stubble-covered chin, shoving his glasses further up his nose as he tried to eke the tension out of his jaw.

It couldn’t be removed, for this tension had soaked right into his soul.

Finally, his phone stopped ringing. He cut his gaze toward it, his eyes half open.

… He had no idea what to do.

No one knew about Maggie and Luc – because John hadn’t told anyone. And as for the Cardinals who’d apparently infiltrated her mind and tried to kill her from the inside out? They were as good as dead – their minds blown apart by their own spells. As for the ghost of Father Smith? He’d dissipated with no trace, his final wish fulfilled.

In other words, everyone who’d known that John had been there that night and what he’d witnessed was dead.

Well, apart from Maggie herself and Luc.

Luc – Prince of Hell…. The bastard now held Maggie’s life in his hands.

For the past week, John had been tortured by the events of that night.

John Godspeed sat on fragile ground. With his history, not only did he owe the Church his utmost loyalty, but that grain of dark was still in him.

He brought a hand up, shifted the fingers through his unbuttoned shirt, and pressed his thumb and forefinger against his sternum. He pressed against his flesh as hard as he dared. His blunt nails and fingertips were like surgeon’s scalpels looking for a way in, desperately searching for a way to cut out the black cancer he knew grew in his heart.

His phone rang once more.

John sucked in a tight breath through his nose, jerked out a hand, and let it hover over the phone.

He paused as he stared at his gun and cross. The light coming in from the broken blind slats suddenly blinked out as a cloud covered the sun outside. Now nothing lit up his cross. Nothing at all….

With one last vibration, his phone fell from the armrest. With cat-like reflexes, John plucked it up before it could fall.

His jaw stiffened as he answered it and brought it to his ear. Yes?

Where have you been? someone answered with a hiss. It was one of the lower-level handlers. For John’s handlers had always been one of the seven Cardinals.

John didn’t react to their bridling tone. There would have been a time when he would have recoiled at the possibility of aggravating one of the higher ups. Now he just stared at the cross coiled around his gun. I’ve been in a week-long meditation, John said with a casual, if dead tone.

This caused his handler to pause.

As is customary after the loss of such great leaders as the seven Cardinals of Pax City, John continued in that same dead but even tone.

Again, his new handler paused. I see.

I have now surfaced from my meditation, John said, never blinking, never removing his eyes from the cross. Even as he brought up a hand and removed his glasses from his face, he stared at his exorcist cross. Though he was short-sighted, and without his glasses, his coffee table,