“Uh, Valerie?” Reggie said, still propped on her shoulder. “Would you like to be alone?”
She jerked her hand away. “No. Of course not.”
With a last look at the demon, she quickly left the room, closing the door behind her.
Val sat in Lloyd’s living room, cross-legged on a plush easy chair and sipped her hot chocolate. He’d put little marshmallows in it. It tasted good, soothing somehow. But it didn’t take her mind off the injured demon upstairs. He’d risked his own existence to save her life.
Told her to run and leave him behind.
But only because she’d commanded him to keep her safe.
What difference did it make, anyhow? She’d survived. He was going to pull through. Then they’d find Julian before the stupid demon unwittingly brought about the end of the world.
After that she’d never have to see Nathaniel again. As soon as this dark-time was over, she knew, at least she thought she knew—if the information Bud the biker faery had given her was accurate—where she could find Julian.
At a meeting with the mayor first thing tomorrow. Was he the one Julian wanted to sell the key to? The mayor of the Underworld?
She shook her head and took another sip of her drink. And she thought her life was complicated before this.
Lloyd came down the stairs. He’d gone to check on Nathaniel. When he saw Val was watching his descent he shook his head. “No different.”
She nodded, hating the knot of concern that curled in her stomach. “Then we’ll wait.”
Reggie was snuggled up in a ball next to her, soundly asleep on a velour pillow. She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep for a year, and that’s if everything turned out okay. And if everything turned out okay she wouldn’t have to sleep anyhow. Angels didn’t have to sleep.
Only if they’re bored, which rarely happened.
That would have been a good thing to put in her notebook. If Julian hadn’t destroyed it, that is. Her eyes narrowed at the memory. As if she didn’t hate him enough already.
Stupid demon.
Lloyd sat on the sofa next to her, folding a leg under him. He leaned forward and grabbed a magazine off the coffee table.
“Cosmopolitan?” he offered.
Val shook her head. “No thanks.”
“There’s a good book excerpt in it this month.”
“I’m happy to hear that.”
“Do you read romance?”
“Excuse me?”
“Romance novels. Do you read them?”
She looked at the one-eyed gray monster. “Not especially.”
“You should. I hear Trixie L’Amour’s a great author. She’s profiled this month in Cosmo.”
O-kay. Val looked around at Lloyd’s pink living room and noticed that there were several framed poster-sized book covers. Love Me Forever by Trixie L’Amour. Ravishing Rachel by
Trixie L’Amour. Lust in the Dust by Trixie L’Amour.
There seemed to be a theme developing.
She looked at Lloyd. “Don’t tell me.”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Do you want an autograph? I have some newly printed bookmarks, too.”
“You’re Trixie L’Amour?”
He grinned. “Guilty as charged.”
“But you’re a . . .” She paused not knowing what to call him without it sounding like an insult.
“A demon.”
“You’re a demon? I thought you were a mons . . .” She broke off again.
“A monster?” he finished. “I’m insulted. Monsters can’t string together a coherent sentence. I have been nominated for three, count ’em, three RITA awards.”
Val nodded. “Then I apologize.”
He waved her off with a smile. “It’s okay. Besides . . .” He leaned over and pulled a hardcover from under the couch to show her the back cover photo of a beautiful brunette woman. He tapped it with a clawed finger. “That’s what my fans think I look like, anyhow.”
Reggie snored loudly.
“But you live in the Underworld,” Val said.
He nodded. “Uh-huh. Everything I do is through e-mail, so I don’t have to leave unless I need to. I did one book tour, but trying to keep up the glamour spell nearly wore me out, so I keep a low profile now. Besides, it adds to the mystique.”
She handed the book back to him. “Interesting.”
“No, you keep that one. It’s my first to hit the New York Times Best Seller list. Well, the extended list. But still.”
She studied the cover. Desperate Hearts by Trixie L’Amour.
“So you’re a romance-writing, one-eyed demon who lives in the Underworld,” she summed up.
“New York Times best-selling, romance-writing, one-eyed demon who lives in the
Underworld. That’s correct.” He grinned. “And what’s your story, Valerie?”
She blinked at him. “I’m an unjustly convicted fallen angel, motel maid, on a quest into the