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.
Chapter Forty-Four
Lucifer changed direction. Forget flowers and plants, he was shooting for the taste buds. He brought Belgian truffles, strawberries and champagne—the real kind, not sparkling wine.
Emma and Ethan loved the truffles.
Sophia’s angels got cheerfully drunk on the crate of champagne.
His savory selection went down great with Patty, who informed him she didn’t have a sweet tooth.
Humility. Patience. Diffidence.
Chapter Forty-Five
He sucked at singing, but Sophia and Leona nearly wet themselves laughing at his attempt at karaoke. His poetry caused less laughter, but Leona fell asleep mid Byron.
Books were returned because Sophia already had a copy.
Humility. Patience. Diffidence.
Chapter Forty-Six
Perfume, body lotions, bath products—fail.
Humility. Pat—
Chapter Forty-Seven
Fuck humility. Fuck patience and fuck diffidence.
“Bianca,” Lucifer roared. His voice echoed around the spacious reception chamber. He hoped she could hear him, because he was not leaving until he saw her. All his grand gestures had been spurned, and he hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of her.
Not today.
“Bianca!” He strode to the doors at the far end that led deeper into the palace. Sophia had always gone that way, so he was guessing that way led to the haglette. “I’m not leaving until you speak to me.”
“Lucifer.” Sophia, flanked by eight seraphim, hurried down the long passage beyond the doors. “You can’t barge your way in.”
“Oops.” He didn’t stop until he would have to go through her and her mob to get any further. “Looks like I did barge. Where is she?”
“She doesn’t want to see you.” Sophia released her wings. The seraphim unsheathed heaven wrought blades with their wings.
“Really?” Lucifer eyed the signs they were prepared to stop him by any means necessary and dismissed them. “You’ll go that far to stop me?”
Sophia raised her chin. Her eyes sparkled with challenge. “Do I need to?”
Eight seraphim and one archangel. Not great odds, but he couldn’t talk to Bianca, tell her how sorry he was, and yes, grovel until she’d see him. “Yup.”
Releasing his wings, he charged. This was going to fucking hurt.
