Page 106 of Like Grim Death: Part One
But as I pass by the door again, I stop.
I hear a voice and lean in closer, pressing my ear to the door, listening with every muscle tense. I’m not even breathing.
“Now, Lucifer Malikov? There are certain lines you don’t cross with him. They call his wife Lilith. You look at her too long or breathe near his son, he’s going to bury you alive.”
My heart thrashes inside my chest, pulse echoing between my ears.
I don’t move away from the door.
“Keep your distance in that house. Think of your goal. Stay alive. Stay free. Be reunited. Right?”
I don’t hear a response. But then there are footsteps, and I step back from the door the second before it’s pulled open.
Standing in front of me is the boy I stabbed thirteen times earlier this week, but I don’t even look at him. I’m glancing past him, into the small room he was occupying. There’s a bed that looks more like a gurney. A biohazard waste disposal. A sink. A door closed.
And nothing else.
No one else.
I slowly drag my gaze to the boy’s dark gray eyes, lined with brown, and I flinch when I think I might see Sid in them.
But I can’t even focus on him right now. I’m thinking about the pep talk he got. The voice I heard.
Adam Medici.
Maverick:We’ll be there in two minutes, Angel.
I click the side button on my phone and smile, watching Rain as he picks his head up, wavering with the effort of it, his tiny hands splayed on the black play mat in the entertainment room. We divided it in half, theater seats in the middle of the long room, a projector screen covering one entire wall. At the back where I sit, there are bouncy seats and baby toys and this mat on the gray hardwood floors, so Rain doesn’t hurt his head when it comes crashing down because he’s exhausted holding it up.
Like now.
I wince, reaching for him, my legs crossed, and my hair clipped up, but he only makes one tiny whimper before he’s grasping at the fuzz of the black mat, his vivid blue eyes lifting to mine for half a second before they stare in wonder at the rug.
There’s no doubt he’s Lucifer’s son. I slept with enough people in my lifetime to comprise a medium-sized city, but the timing, the fact he ensured we had no protection… Rain Valentin is a Malikov, through and through. But even if there were doubts, it’s his eyes.
They’re Lucifer’s eyes. And his hair, black, a shade darker than mine and so thick, I’m envious. Yesterday, Rain turned two months old, and there’s no party like there was for his first birthday because his dad was away on cult shit, and I’m too tired to host anything by myself.
Sighing, I pocket my phone in my black sweats, then pick up Rain, cradling him over my shoulder as I stand, one hand on the bum of his black jumper, another holding his soft head. I leave the entertainment room and head down the spiral staircase, glancing at the front doors. I see shadows beyond the frosted glass.
Shadows.
More than one.
We have a camera, and I could check it on my phone to know who, exactly, is here, but since Lucifer is still away at Sanctum, I have a feeling I know who it is.
My eyes narrow, and I pause on the second-to-last step.
I do not want to seeher,even if her cookies are… very good.
I gave Ella a chance when Maverick started fucking bringing her everywhere. I don’t make friends easily, and even now, thrust into this maddening world, I have very few. One is the red-headed girl’s boyfriend.My brother.And I don’t want him to have to choose, but at the same time… I don’t like her. I don’t like the way she seems to hang on my husband’s every word. I don’t forgive her, and she’s so soft sometimes, I don’t even think it would be fun to try and make an effort with her. It’s something I admire about Brooklin. She can be kind, but she’s mainly hard edges and matter-of-fact words. Probably what Jeremiah liked too. Or maybe that’s who he turned her into.
Nevertheless, when Mav raps his knuckles softly against the door, I know I’m going to fucking open it. But when I get closer, the hardwoods cold on my soles even through my black socks, I hear multiple voices, and Ella’s soft tone isn’t one of them.
Frowning, keeping Rain pressed to my chest, I fumble with the three locks on the door and pull it open, the cool night air rushing over me, causing goosebumps to form on my bare arms, beneath my oversized red shirt.
“Happy birthday!”There’s a chorus of voices, a few sounding a little grumpy, laughter trailing at the ends of the words.
Stunned, I blink in the night, the porch lights automatically flicked on, and I see Maverick in the front, his arm around Ella tucking her to his side, Cain with a black eye, Atlas’s backwards cap on his head, and Ezra, hands shoved into the pocket of his red hoodie, a string trailing from it, above his head. Him and I match in crimson. And each of them, aside from Maverick, is holding a black balloon, and Ella has what looks like a glass cake tray in her arms, a frosted purple and black cake withRain Valentinwritten in gray cursive icing on it.
