Page 3 of Speak of the Devil

“Sort of,” he allowed. “I need your help, Mom.”

Her mouth thinned. It looked fuller than he remembered, but, considering how much time — and money — she’d spent at medi-spas and had done whatever she could to hold back the march of time, he supposed it wasn’t so strange that she might have gotten some more fillers and other work over the past two years.

Still not overdone, though. Brooke Lockwood would never be one of those women with horribly exaggerated lips and brows raised almost to her hairline. No, she looked like herself, albeit a self a good ten or fifteen years younger than her current fifty-five.

“I thought you were dead,” she said, ignoring his previous comment. “Where’s your father?”

Rotting in Hell where he should bepassed through Caleb’s mind, although he knew better than to utter those words to his mother. She needed to continue to live in safe ignorance; Daniel Lockwood had never told her the truth about himself or his compatriots, and Caleb saw no reason to tell her the real story now.

Honestly, he didn’t think she deserved it.

“Gone,” he said briefly. The less he said, the better, since she hadn’t revealed what made-up tale had been in play to explain his disappearance. “And he won’t be coming back. I assume he left everything in order, though.”

Because although the Greencastle demons had been living the high life here on Earth, they’d all known that their tenure in the mortal realm might come to an abrupt end at any time, and therefore they’d been careful to have iron-clad wills setup to ensure that those they left behind would have access to the wealth their families had accumulated over the last several generations. His father had been first among equals, president of the local bank and a millionaire many times over.

Caleb knew his mother wouldn’t have been hurting financially these past two years. Whether she’d grieved over the apparent loss of her husband and son was an entirely different matter.

If she had, she showed no sign of it now. Then again, he didn’t know why he should have expected anything else from her.

“Of course he made sure everything was taken care of,” she said, and her eyes — the same dark brown as his own — narrowed for a moment. “But you still haven’t told me where you’ve been. How is it that you survived the sinking of the boat but stayed away for two years?”

Ah, so that was the story his father had used. A group expedition to go fishing in the Gulf of Mexico, a tragic shipwreck with all hands lost. Very neat, very clean…and no pesky dead bodies to worry about.

“It’s better if I don’t talk about that,” he replied, mostly because he hadn’t completely figured out his personal cover story.

For a moment, Brooke only looked at him. Then she said, “You need money, is that it?”

“I do,” he replied simply. “I can’t stay here. It isn’t safe.”

Whether that was strictly true, he couldn’t say for sure. However, he had to believe that the authorities would have investigated the supposed shipwreck and the disappearance of all the other half- and quarter-demons who’d made Greencastle their home base. Reappearing after so much time had elapsed would only stir up the sort of questions he really didn’t want to answer.

For a moment, Brooke was silent. Then she reached for her cup of coffee and took a sip.

She hadn’t offered him any, which didn’t surprise Caleb too much. Because she wouldn’t have been expecting to entertain guests this morning, she would have prepared just enough for herself and no one else.

He made himself wait, knowing this was just another of the endless games she’d played throughout his entire life. Yes, he supposed he could have used his demonic powers to lay hands on the safe he knew was hidden in his parents’ bedroom closet and unlock it himself, and yet he still preferred to ask for the money rather than take it without permission.

It would be nice to see if his mother could manage one selfless act.

If not, then he’d empty the safe and disappear before she even had a chance to figure out what had happened.

“How much?” she asked at length.

Caleb wouldn’t allow himself to relax, although he did permit himself an inner sigh of relief. “How much do you have on hand?”

Her mouth compressed again. “Around fifty thousand, give or take. If you want any more than that, then we’ll have to wait until the bank opens.”

Which was the last thing he wanted to do. Although he knew he could stay hidden at the house while she went to the bank and made the withdrawal, he couldn’t help thinking that the sooner he was away from here, the better.

“Fifty grand is fine,” he said. “That’ll be enough to get me started.”

Her dark eyes searched his face. “Get you started where?”

It was a topic he’d already begun to ponder, knowing that returning to Greencastle permanently wasn’t an option. Too many explanations he’d have to make…too many questions hewouldn’t want to answer. He’d really enjoyed living in L.A., but going back to Southern California also wasn’t feasible, not when he knew theProject Demon Huntersgang still lived there and might be able to sniff him out. Maybe some might say all was well that ended well, considering the way they’d joined forces and sent the entire Greencastle contingent to Hell along with their master Belial, and yet Caleb had to believe they still carried a grudge.

Better to go someplace where he had no connections…and where presumably they didn’t, either.

Hell, contrary to most beliefs, wasn’t a place of eternal fire and unending heat. No, it was a world of cold, bitter winds and no shelter, of emptiness and grief and gnawing loneliness.

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