Page 112 of A Witch-ish Guide to Protectors and Pendulums

“Like Lucifer?” Victoria asked.

“Not Luc,” I said sharply. “He’s good people. The man is on our side. He’d never stoop so low.”

“He wouldn’t, but Satan might,” Connor said. Freaking wrath.

Why did every road lead back to Satan?

“I guess it’s time to pay him a visit.”

Chapter

Twenty-Six

We thanked Victoria for her help and really, the fastest way for us to get to Satan was through manifestation, but Connor insisted that we get to the closest portal so we didn’t drop in somewhere that might get us killed before we could react.

His plan made more sense.

I closed my eyes, manifesting us to the closest portal in Satan’s quadrant, which, you know, given we were in England, wasn’t that far. The math mathed, right? Given the extended history of warfare in the country alone, not to mention Europe as a whole—no one but Satan could’ve controlled this quadrant.

Our feet touched ground at the far end of an archeological dig not currently in progress next to a large stone that concealed the both of us. The holes of the dig had been covered up by large plastic tarps, probably blue. The sun just started to peek above the horizon line, causing half of the tarps to fall into shadow and the others—well, it blinded me to look at them. Sunrises here were beautiful. I took a minute to enjoy the sight, a reminderof what we were fighting for. Not that Satan could control the sunrise, but our ability to enjoy them.

It hit me right then that my shop had been closed for an extended period of time. Customers had no idea that I was fighting to save them and were probably plenty pissed that they couldn’t get their herbs and stones. Despite our circumstances here, I felt the need to shoot off a text to my employees telling them I’d been called away on an emergency and forgotten to contact them. If they wanted overtime, open the shop every day until I got back.

“You’re texting now?” Connor asked accusingly.

“My girls. My store. It’s been closed and I needed to—” I stopped trying to defend myself, letting my shoulders fall instead. I thought he’d make some sort of crack at my expense, but instead, he pulled me into his arms, placing a kiss to the top of my head. God, I loved when he did that. I felt safe. I felt loved. I felt…happy.In a time where I should’ve felt anything but, Connor made me happy.

He held me a few beats before saying, “We’ll get you back to your store.”

Connor got it. He got me. Now, I’d never tell him, but right here, right now, I decided the universe had gotten it pretty right pairing us together. Whatever deal Lilith made to make this happen, I owed her big time, too.

“Right,” I said, pushing back from my mate but not letting him go completely. “Let’s go bust some heads.”

“I was thinking capturing Satan and forcing him to talk might be the better strategy here.”

“Semantics.”

As he laughed at me, I dropped a cloak around us. Connor pushed on the large stone and it made no noise as it scraped across the ground to reveal the entrance. We moved as a seamless unit down into the portal. Since I’d asked for one thatwould bring us to Satan’s headquarters, the stone stairwell led us into Hades.

I’d snuck through this office space twice before and still disliked it just as much. Sad. Beige. Fluorescent lighting. Shivers always accompanied thinking of the poor demons who suffered this place day in and day out while Luc had people laughing and lounging in the big common room. Luc’s half-walls of fire gave an exciting flair. Nothing exciting happened here. Or at least no good excitement. Satan seemed the type to tear apart an unsuspecting demon just for shits and giggles.

We stopped in the middle of the hallway until Connor got his bearings. “Not the usual way I get here.” Made sense. He turned us to the right and there—the office of the Goodfella came into view.

I cracked my knuckles, getting ready to manifest us inside the office when the door opened and a man in a tie, button-down, and suit pants stepped half out of the room. He stopped and turned back to whoever was in the office. It wasn’t Satan. No one would dare speak to Satan in that tone—not if they wanted to live.

The man walked out without shutting the door, his whole body tight. He was not happy. Connor and I moved into the office where a woman had her ear pressed against the receiver of a beige, corded desk phone straight out of the 1970s. A closed door came into view behind her desk and I knew in an instantthatwas Satan’s office. She had her mousy, brown hair pulled back in an extra-tight bun and she wore a blouse and a herringbone pencil skirt. She clicked her blood-red nails on the desk as she appeared to be waiting for someone to answer.

Finally, she spoke. “Please tell Mammon that Satan isn’t in. He’s been called away on important business.”

Important business? You mean like hitting covens and killing hundreds of witches? I looked at Connor. He nodded once andclicked the door shut as I dropped the cloak. She gasped as anyone would then narrowed her eyes at my mate. She tilted her head, pulling her eyebrows together.

“Connor Baghest? Is Lucifer here?”

“No,” he growled.

The woman hung up the phone, taking a step back to put more distance between them. “Wh-What’s going on?”

“Where is Satan?” Connor demanded.

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