Gluttony

Deadly Sins: Gluttony Elizabeth Jewell and Belinda Richmond All rights reserved. Copyright ©2006 Elizabeth Jewell and ...

Author: Jewel Elizabeth | Richmond Belinda

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Deadly Sins: Gluttony Elizabeth Jewell and Belinda Richmond All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2006 Elizabeth Jewell and Belinda Richmond

No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical

means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior

written permission from Changeling Press LLC.

ISBN (10) 1-59596-357-X

ISBN (13) 978-1-59596-357-4

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Publisher:

Changeling Press LLC

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Editor: Maryam Salim

Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

The Agrippa Legend The great spell books of Hell… No one knows how many there were in Hell, but each dealt with a particular type of spell casting, all of it fiendish, of course. Some legends use any combination of magical numbers: Three? Seven? Eleven? Stolen from Hell in antiquity, some were lost to time. Others became the property of ordinary men, the curse of their families, for an Agrippa attaches itself to a family bloodline, and only the complete death of that bloodline allows the Agrippa to find a new “host” family. Agrippas have been known to suddenly appear to some poor soul who never knew that somewhere in their bloodline there was an illegitimate member of an Agrippa family. The book cannot be given away, or sold. It will always return, and be very, very angry with you. Each Agrippa is six feet tall, and nearly as broad. It is bound with leather straps and many iron locks, as well as magical enchantments of great complexity that are deadly to any but a family member. The thing stinks of the sulphurous fumes of Hell, and many other odors best left undescribed. To keep an Agrippa in your home from literally tearing the place apart, it must be hung from a twisted beam by iron chains, for any intruder within its awareness, even a welcomed guest in the home, is fodder for its deadly appetites. You can imagine a frightened bride, led up the stairs to be introduced, so she won’t be eaten or destroyed later. The temptation of family members to use the Agrippa is huge. To even open the book brings instantaneous wealth and power, but at a huge cost. Your beloved great aunt will die, leaving you her huge fortune (at the expense of angry legitimate heirs, who will know you opened the book), a crooked election will leave you mayor even if you haven’t the skills or inclination to enter politics, or other “good fortune” that carries a heavy penalty. Opening the book is also opening your soul and mind to evil. It etches well-worn paths in your brain, and whispers insidious evil plans to gain you more, more, more.

Elizabeth Jewell & Belinda Richmond

Deadly Sins: Gluttony

-4-

Only the most pure and the strongest dare to be Guardians of a book, without fear of falling into the temptations of using the book. This task was assigned in ancient times to only those individuals deemed by the family as most worthy and least likely to succumb to the evil within and its temptations. Not only is the family honor at stake, but the very souls of those living in the same house with it. Often the Guardians deliberately doom themselves to a life of isolation and loneliness rather than risk anyone else. The family provides for their every need, as long as they stay in their “prison” home. (Somewhere in time, invariably, someone opened the damned book and made the family wealthy and powerful.) Only when the incumbent Guardian is near death does the family gather to choose the new Guardian, rather than let the Agrippa choose. It would choose the one most likely to use its powers, of course. Most Agrippa families are desperate to cover up their ancestors’ sins and evil that led to their wealth and power. They, more than most, know the whole family is in mortal peril if that book is used, for human courts can be merciless with those who break human laws. Many would prefer to pretend the Agrippa never existed, but once in their lifetime, they know they must choose the Guardian and pray it is not them or their child. One family member must be sacrificed, so that all the rest may live in peace. Could you make that ugly choice, dooming the most good, kind, and strong member of your family to isolation and loneliness? What if you were chosen? Or worse, what would you do if you were the last of the family? Could you give up everything for an inheritance from Hell itself?

Chapter One The dreams had returned, with increasing frequency. He knew it was the Book, the demon speaking to him, trying to seduce him again. The dreams showed him unimaginable pleasures, bodies writhing naked with his own, sometimes male, usually female, hot skin, wet lips, thick, heady musk and deep, shuddering moans of orgasm. Night after night he woke with his sheets sticky from sweat and come, his hands shaking, his body wrung dry. It had been so long since he had dreamed. A lifetime, really. Now the dreams spoke to him in seductive whispers, reminding him of how things had been before, when he could have anything and anyone he wanted, when money had been no object, and everything he desired was given to him, often before he realized he desired it. But he knew he couldn’t let himself succumb. He could make something of himself again, regain some of what he’d lost. He had a plan, which he clung to even when, asleep, the demon mocked it inside his head, showed him how much easier it would all be if only he gave the demon free rein. This time it would be on his own terms.

*** As soon as he pulled into the parking lot of the winery, Alec Roth knew it wasn’t going to be quite what he’d expected. It was quaint enough, with a small visitors’ center and painted signs pointing the way, but the buildings were in obvious disrepair, to the point where they’d need more than a few coats of paint to get things underway. The little blonde Realtor who jumped out of the car to meet him didn’t seem put off by the relative condition of the property she was showing, though. She scurried up to him, a bright grin on her face, shuffling her clipboard as she straightened her already neatly arranged hair.



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“Oh, it really is you. The Alec Roth.” She stopped in front of him, but her body kept moving, shifting back and forth as she tried to contain her glee. “I’m a huge fan. I have all your cookbooks. They’re so great. I made my boyfriend take me to your restaurant when we were in New York…” She trailed off. “It’s really you!” Alec smiled a little and nodded. “Yes, it’s really me. A little worse for wear, but…” He spread his hands. “Here I am.” “Wow.” She couldn’t seem to shake the silly grin. “I’m Cindy.” She held her hand out, and he shook it, still offering her the friendly smile. “Well, we should get on with the tour.” He followed her as she led the way toward the winery’s front entrance. “So what happened to you, anyway?” What hadn’t happened to him? He’d indulged in every lust, every luxury, every whim he could imagine, aided by the demon. And he’d paid for it. He boiled it all down to a few words. “I had a heart attack. I had to stop and reevaluate.” Cindy’s eyes widened. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” He shrugged. “It happened. I survived.” “And now you’re starting up again?” Her girlish enthusiasm proved contagious. He allowed himself a small grin. “Yes. I am.” Waving toward the winery entrance, he added, “Let’s get started.” It always surprised him when someone recognized his name. He’d been out of the game five years now, after all. Cindy couldn’t be much over twenty-five; she must have come in on the very end of the craze that had followed the growth of his franchise. He’d put Emeril to shame in those years, but it had all come crashing down the day he’d fornicated himself into a heart attack in a hotel bed with two supermodels. He scratched his chest absently. A triple bypass later, he’d been on the road to recovery, but nothing had been the same again. Mostly because he’d decided to change it. All of it. From the ground up. He’d retired completely, unwilling to make the same sacrifices he’d so blithely made before.



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When he’d listened to the demon. The demon had given him everything he’d ever wanted, but the price had been too high, on so many levels. Now, ready to rebuild, he was determined to do it all himself, on his own terms, without the Book or the demon. This vineyard had seemed like a good place to start. He could rebuild it from the ground up, much as he was rebuilding himself. Trouble was, it was in a bit worse shape than he’d expected. He had been, too, though. So it might turn out to be a fair match. He followed Cindy through the structure, taking in the details, making notes in his Moleskine notebook regarding what kind of work would be necessary, jotting down cost estimates for the remodel/refurbish. Cindy was giving the usual Realtor spiel, playing the place up. He tuned her out, mostly, concentrating on his own evaluation, which he considered much more accurate. This venture was going to cost him a heap of money. Doing calculations in his head, he turned away from a crack he’d found in the wall to face Cindy. “I still think the asking price is too high.” Some of the shine had come off Cindy’s enthusiasm, probably due to having spent the last three hours answering Alec’s detailed questions, and having him mostly ignore her while she launched into her rehearsed presentation. He knew exactly what he wanted. This place was close, but he wasn’t sure it was close enough. “I can negotiate for you, of course.” He admired the amount of perkiness she managed to maintain, given his overall mediocre manners. “Just tell me what you’re willing to offer, and I’ll present that to the owners.” He took a last, sweeping look around the main building. “I’ll have to get back to you. I need to look into some financial arrangements.” She nodded. “That’s fine. You have my number.” Shuffling her papers, she opened her mouth, closed it again, then said quietly, “I’m sorry if I didn’t have all the information you needed.” As he’d suspected, he’d been rude, and had hurt her feelings. He offered his most charming smile, knowing full well it wouldn’t make up for the last few hours.



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“Don’t be, Cindy. I needed to break all this down in my own way. The financing could be… tricky, and it looks like this place is going to need more renovation than I expected.” “I see.” She seemed disappointed, and he wondered if she’d expected to make a sale on the spot. “If you don’t mind me asking… I read in People that you’re still one of the top twenty-five richest men in America. So… why the problems with the financing?” It was a fair question. He had tons of money in the bank -- he just didn’t want to use it. “It’s a matter of… well, it’s hard to explain.” “Ah. Tied up in foreign investments, that kind of thing? You’re moving from England, right?” She had the high-beam smile back on again, probably feeling a bit less snubbed now that he’d shared proprietary financial facts with her. “Something like that.” He gave her his own higher-voltage smile in return. “I should get going. I’ve taken far too much of your time.” “It’s all right.” He tucked his notebook away inside his jacket as they walked back toward the cars. “I’ll get back to you tomorrow and let you know how I plan to proceed.” “Thanks, Mr. Roth. It was very nice meeting you.” “Nice to meet you, too.” With another warm smile, he shook her hand again and headed back to the hotel.

*** “Of course, sir. I’d be happy to meet with you, let me check my calendar… Now? Not a problem. I’ll be right up. Thank you.” Lillian Montgomery released the intercom button on her phone and leaned back with a frown. Being summoned to the senior partners’ conference room at 4:45 p.m. on a Thursday evening meant one of two things: either she was being fired or she was being promoted to junior partner. At this moment though, Lillian wasn’t quite sure which option was worse. Standing up from her desk, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the office window. Lillian ran her hands down her shirt, across her skirt, her frown deepening.



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Wrinkled. No matter what she faced upstairs in that conference room, Lillian was damned if she’d go in looking less than perfect. She leaned over and retrieved a small black cosmetic bag from her desk drawer, then snagged a suit bag from the back of her office door. Ten minutes later, makeup and hair refreshed, and clad in an elegant gray wool suit, a lilac silk shirt and a pair of “don’t fuck with me unless you want to die” pumps, she stepped onto the elevator and hit the button for the top floor. On the ride up, Lillian sifted through her memory, trying to dredge up a hint of what to expect. The office chatter had been fairly subdued this week. A couple of big settlements. The usual kvetching about blown depositions. But nothing about the next big thing had come across her radar. That bothered her. More than she cared to admit. Lillian had risen through the ranks of Hayes, Edwards, Lawson and Lamb not only by working harder than any other associate but more importantly by keeping her eyes and ears open. She had learned early on to pay attention to even the most mundane of the office gossip, to read the body language of other staff members, to hear what was left unsaid. She was good at it, and had used that gathered knowledge to steer through the ever-changing currents at the firm. This time she was going in blind. And she didn’t like it one little bit. When the elevator doors opened, Lillian stepped off with an outward confidence that masked her inner worry. Ignoring the simpering toady waiting to escort her to the conference room, she set off down the hall, heels clicking on the polished wood, leaving him to scramble to catch up with her. He made it to the double doors of the conference room just before she did. Lillian didn’t pause, forcing him to open the door before he was ready. She stepped into the room with a confident smile and waited to be acknowledged. “Ah… Miss Montgomery.” A tall, painfully thin, balding man rose from his seat at the head of the conference table and made his way toward her. Lillian turned toward the man and nodded. “Mr. Lamb. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long?”



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“Perfect timing as always,” Mr. Lamb replied, gesturing for her to take a seat at the other end of the table. “I believe you know the assembled group?” Nodding, she took the offered seat with a smile. “I believe I have met everyone.” “Excellent. Then I’m sure you won’t mind if we get straight to business.” “Not at all.” Lillian poured herself a glass of water from the carafe sitting in front of her, then leaned back to hear the proposal. Mr. Lamb returned to his seat and steepled his fingers. “As you know, from time to time, our firm’s services are retained by a ‘select’ clientele.” “Yes.” She glanced around the table, trying to read the assembled group, wondering where this was headed. “Our firm has a reputation of working with a wide variety of clients, both human and, well, not.” He gave her an oily smile. “I see that you are well informed.” Lillian returned his smile and forced herself not to fidget. “I find it to be good practice to keep aware of whom the firm works with and the type of projects they bring to the table.” “Smart and beautiful. I see why my predecessor took quite a fancy to you.” She felt her face flush at the oblique reference to old gossip. “Mr. Hayes was an excellent mentor.” “Yes, he was a man of many skills. Some of which he passed on to you.” “Skills you now have a use for?” Lillian took a sip of her water. “Direct as always.” Mr. Lamb slid a folder down the length of the conference table to her. “The project is simple. We’d like you to see this deal through to completion. I believe you’ll find we have gathered all the pertinent information you should need to get the job done.” She didn’t open the folder, and instead, let her gaze travel around the table before returning to Mr. Lamb. “And my compensation for getting the job done is?” “You will be well rewarded.” “Well rewarded?” Lillian let loose a low, rich laugh. “I think our definitions of ‘well rewarded’ might be quite different.”



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Mr. Lamb rose slightly from his chair, and placed his palms on the table, leaning forward. “Exactly what do you expect, Miss Montgomery? Partnership? Is that your angle?” “Partnership. I think if you were looking for someone eager to be made partner you would have selected Adams or Jones. Both who would do exactly as you asked without question.” Lillian laid her hand on top of the folder and returned Mr. Lamb’s angry regard. “No, what I want is much more rare than a mere partnership.” “What is it you want? What’s your price?” he snapped. Lillian smiled. “Freedom.” “Freedom?” “I want to be able to choose my clients. Take the cases that appeal to me. Without repercussions. I can do this deal for you. Get the ‘job done.’ In fact, I think I’m the only one here that can. I’ve named my price. It’s your choice.” She stood and nodded to them. “I’ll head back to my office and give you some time to discuss the matter.” Lillian turned and headed for the door. As she strode down the hall, she didn’t look back. Lillian kept her expression neutral until she reached the relative privacy of the elevator. She pushed the button for her floor with a shaking hand, leaned back against the rail and released the breath she had been holding in. She wasn’t sure what had possessed her, didn’t even know what the damn deal was. But she had recognized it as the chance she’d been looking for and had jumped at it. Lillian hoped it wouldn’t come back to bite her in the ass. She stepped off the elevator, gave the secretary at the hall desk a polite smile and headed straight for her office. Shutting the door behind her, she walked over to a small bookcase and poured herself a large tumbler of Scotch. The amber liquid felt good sliding down her throat, warming her to the core. She kicked off the pumps and walked around to sit back down at her desk, and stood stunned. In the middle of her desk blotter lay the folder. A small piece of vellum was clipped to its cover. Setting the tumbler down, she picked up the note and read, Conditions accepted. You have thirty days to complete the deal.



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Lillian dropped the note and turned to look out her window. She had gambled and won. Thirty days to freedom.

Chapter Two His hotel room smelled strange, as if the cleaning crew had sprayed fourteen gallons of air freshener, which was now competing with a bucket of rotten eggs for olfactory space. The odor faded as he came in, shifting from a nauseating miasma to the drifting scent of filet mignon mid-grill. Alec frowned. “Knock it off.” An almost audible sigh filled the room, and the scent faded. The vague tinge of sulfur remained. Alec hung his coat in the closet and took a seat at the desk. Spreading out the information about the winery, he glanced over his shoulder at the bulky, vintage Louis Vuitton trunk sitting at the foot of the bed. It had belonged to his greatgrandfather, and had been reinforced with several wide steel bands, wrapping both directions around the trunk, and locked with enough padlocks that made overkill look like an understatement. With a shake of his head, Alec turned his attention back to the papers on the desk. He’d fully intended to leave the damned Book at home. It wasn’t exactly portable, after all. It was nearly as tall as he was, and according to the instructions he’d received upon inheriting it, it was supposed to be kept bound in chains, hanging in a room where no one could come into contact with it. The attic of the remote English country home he’d also inherited from his uncle was the perfect place for it. The Book had other ideas though. It didn’t want to be left behind. Nor did its demon companion, Beelzebub, who lurked around the estate, scaring the ducks or lounging in rooms where he wasn’t wanted, and whose sole mission seemed to focus on giving Alec a hard time when Alec didn’t do what he was “supposed” to do. He’d been giving Alec a very hard time for five years now. Alec had learned to ignore it.



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But when he’d gone to finish packing for his trip, determined to leave the Book and hopefully its obnoxious demon companion behind, he’d been thwarted. The Book had shrunk itself. When he’d gone to check on its bindings, it had been lying on the floor, shifted from its usual six by six feet to a more manageable three by four. The instructions he’d received for caring for the Book when he’d inherited it from his at least partially insane uncle hadn’t said anything about the Book morphing itself, but it had. The intention was obvious. Probably some sort of defense mechanism to keep itself from being abandoned when Alec had decided to travel. With a sigh, Alec had packed the thing up, strapped it into the Louis Vuitton trunk, and had taken it with him. It had been some sort of compromise offered on the part of the Book and the demon, he was certain. He supposed it was a small price to pay for some peace and quiet on the trip. He’d quiz Beelzebub about it when he got a chance. If he got a chance. The demon had remained scarce since their arrival in California. Probably out whoring. He tried to force thoughts of the Book out of his mind, concentrating instead on the financial information regarding his possible purchase of the vineyard. It was hard to concentrate, though, knowing it lurked there behind him in the trunk. Not for the first time, he wondered about the Guardians -- slaves, more like, he thought bitterly -- of the other six books. He knew there were seven total, one for each deadly sin. His was gluttony. He’d built his fortune in the restaurant business, enabling him to gorge himself on so many different levels, he’d literally lost count. Until his heart attack, and a cholesterol level so high his doctor had brought in other doctors just to read it, had brought him crashing back down to earth. What temptations might the others be fighting? Every so often he had a dream that made him think he might be “eavesdropping” somehow on one or another of them. It was strange, disconcerting, and always left him with an edgy, restless feeling when he woke. Numbers. Mortgages. Loans. He refocused again on the papers. He had enough money in the bank that he could buy the damned winery outright. Just write a check and be done with it. But that was “dirty” money, or that was how he’d come to think of



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it. He’d made it from the restaurants, the cookbooks, the line of fancy cookware that had just been getting off the ground when he’d dropped out of the limelight, the TV show he’d filmed half a season of for the Food Channel, then had been forced to abandon because of the minor triviality of heart surgery. He didn’t want to use any of that money. It sat there in his bank account, doing nothing, earning interest. He didn’t even want to invest it. Every once in a while he withdrew a sizeable sum and donated it to a worthy cause somewhere, but every time he did that, Beelzebub would move from being annoying to downright ugly. He couldn’t actually hurt or kill Alec -- only the Book could do that, and only under certain conditions -- but he managed to make Alec’s life pretty uncomfortable. He wanted to be rid of both of them. Buying the vineyard likely wouldn’t give him complete freedom, but at least it would give him something that was wholly his to build upon. Who was he kidding? His eyes burned as he stared at the papers, the numbers swimming in and out of focus. The Book would never let him go. The only way he could get rid of it was by passing it on to someone else, and that would be damning another person. He couldn’t do that. But as long as the Book was in his possession, he was bound to it, doomed to suffer the constant torment, the voices, the dreams… “You know, if you asked nicely, I could leave you alone.” Alec nearly leapt out of his chair at the voice, which had come out of nowhere from just behind him. It laughed now, mocking Alec’s reaction. “Fuck you, Bub,” Alec shot back, feeling out of sorts. Beelzebub sauntered around to drape himself over the lounge chair in the corner by the desk. “Think you’d like that, do you? Didn’t think you swung that way.” He gave Alec a smirk. “Not often, anyway. That was just youthful experimentation, though, wasn’t it?” Alec glared at him. Beelzebub chuckled. He was long and lean, a couple of inches taller than Alec’s six two, and about twenty pounds lighter. Black hair hung insolently down into amused blue eyes.



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“Never were much of a numbers guy, were you?” The demon gestured toward the desk and the papers laid out across it. “I can fix this, you know.” “I know you can. Go away.” “It’s a lot easier my way. You know that.” “I said fuck off.” “No, you didn’t. You said, ‘Fuck you,’ and then you said, ‘Go away’.” He waved his hand, and a plate of dessert appeared. He inspected it, then held it out toward Alec. “Chocolate panna cotta with balsamic glazed strawberries. One of your better creations. Quite tasty.” Alec eyed it sourly. He’d lost his appetite for most rich desserts shortly after his heart attack. Collapsing in searing pain and weeping like a baby in the middle of having sex with a couple of supermodels will do that to your appetite. Not one of his better moments. Beelzebub shrugged, picked up a strawberry with his long elegant fingers and popped it in his mouth. “Need any girls to keep you company?” the demon continued. “They have nice ones here in California. Tan, pretty… kinda stupid.” He gave Alec a slow wink. “No, thanks.” He resisted the urge to add a scathing comment, knowing it would just egg the demon on. “You sure?” Beelzebub snapped his fingers, and suddenly a woman lay on the bed. She was tan and pretty, and she didn’t look stupid so much as surprised. She looked around, dazed and a bit confused, before turning wide, green eyes on the two men. “Um… hi,” she said. “Bub…” Alec said in a threatening tone. The demon ignored him. “Hey, Candy. Remember me?” Candy blinked a few times, then grinned in sudden recognition. “From the club last night?” “That’s right, honey.” “Where the hell am I and why am I here?”



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“Remember that threesome I told you about?” He made a sweeping gesture, taking in the girl, Alec and himself. “Let’s get to it.” Her expression turned sly. “Well, if there’s fucking going on, I’m game!” Alec regarded her with sour disapproval as she began to unbutton her blouse. She had a bra on under it -- barely -- and her breasts rose in trembling mounds above it. Fake, Alec thought. Candy gave him a seductive look, which quickly faded. She turned her attention to Beelzebub. “Hey… no offense, but he doesn’t really look into it. You sure he’s game?” “Oh, he will be.” Beelzebub put his dish of dessert down and stood, working his fly open. “No, I won’t.” Alec pointedly turned his back to the pair of them and focused again on the financial papers. He pulled the calculator closer and began to run some numbers. Beelzebub’s voice oozed behind him. “He needs a little persuasion.” Candy gave a throaty laugh. “Well, I’m up for that.” “I’m sure you are.” Alec could feel the demon’s gaze on the back of his neck, but continued to pointedly ignore him. He heard Beelzebub’s zipper slide down, heard Candy’s appreciative intake of breath. “Oh, that looks nice,” she said. “Has he got one like that, too?” “Well, his is smaller.” Beelzebub snickered. “He’s cut, too.” Alec rolled his eyes. Stabbing the keys of the calculator, he worked up numbers for several different mortgage options and entered the figures into his PDA for future reference. He’d call the bank in the morning, arrange a meeting, get all his ducks in order before he went back to the Realtor… “Oh, God.” Candy’s squeal disrupted his concentration. “Yeah, you like that, huh? Figured you would.” Angry, Alec spun around. He shouldn’t have. Candy lay sprawled naked across the bed. Her breasts stood up straight -- he’d been right about them being fake.



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Beelzebub had smeared the panna cotta over her crotch and knelt next to the bed, licking it off. “Fuck,” Alec said, fighting a completely unwelcome surge of arousal. “Get the fuck off my bed, you’re ruining the sheets. I have to sleep there tonight, you know.” Candy looked at him, eyes hazy with lust, as Beelzebub ran his tongue across her pussy. Which was waxed, Alec noticed. He didn’t want to notice. He wanted to add and subtract and fornicate. No. Multiply. He clenched his teeth. “He’s not into it,” Candy said in an aggrieved tone. “You promised me a threesome.” The demon gave her a sultry smirk from between her thighs. “Don’t think I’m enough for you, sugar?” “I didn’t say that. Just… you promised.” “Join us, Roth.” Beelzebub looked at Alec with the same seductive expression he’d given Candy. “You know you want to.” His fingers rolled Candy’s pert nipples. “He used to let me fuck him while the girls watched.” Candy eyed Alec with interest. “Did you? That sounds like fun. Can you guys do that?” “No. We can’t.” Alec was getting angry. Angrier. And even angrier at the way his body responded, horribly betraying his resolve to remain detached. His dick was so hard it hurt. “Can you just fucking leave, Bub?” “Nope.” He lifted himself over Candy’s splayed form and shoved inside her. She gasped and clutched his shoulders. “You used to love this,” the demon went on, talking and thrusting at the same time. “Don’t you remember? Fucking six, seven women a night, watching them fuck each other, them watching us…? Don’t tell me you don’t miss it.” He looked down at the woman again, pinning one of her hands to the bed as he increased his pace, pounding her into the bed. Her legs wrapped around him and she moaned. Wonderful. He could multitask, Alec thought as he resolved to turn back to his work, but he found himself unable to. Instead, he stared at the action in front of him. Of



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course he remembered those days. Wall-to-wall sex, incredible food, wine, drinking and eating and fucking -- sometimes all at the same time -- the women, the men… He shook his head. Beelzebub gave him a sly look, and Alec could almost feel again what it had felt like to have a woman under him and a man inside him, and it was all he could do not to head for the bed. “No.” He spoke the word aloud, the better to be sure he meant it, and turned back to the desk. Behind him, Candy suddenly screamed. In a good way, but it was still annoying. Then she screamed again, and Beelzebub made a grunting noise, and Alec tried to remember how amortization worked. He pushed his hand inside his shirt, feeling the ridge of scar down the middle of his chest. Triple bypass. Weeks in the hospital. Near-death experience. All thoughts of which served to deflate his libido. A little. Not enough. “Want another go?” Beelzebub said behind him. “God.” Alec got up, grabbed his papers and walked out of the room.

*** As the door slammed shut, Beelzebub snapped his fingers. Candy disappeared, as did the remnants of dessert and the filthy sheets. The demon slid off the bed and perched on the lid of the trunk with a satisfied smirk. He was making inroads at last. Five long years, but he could feel the cracks widening. Beelzebub shook his head and looked around the hotel room. It was adequate. Barely. Small, inexpensive, almost Spartan, and so completely wrong. There was a time years ago when Alec wouldn’t have stopped to piss at a place like this. They should be in a suite. At the ultra luxurious five star resort down the road. But Alec had picked this place. Damn stubborn man. Alec wasn’t meant to live like this. He was a natural hedonist. He’d flung himself headfirst into all Beelzebub had offered him. There was nothing the boy wouldn’t try. Nothing he could get enough of. That was how it was supposed to be. And how it would be again.



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Stupid mortal. Trying to turn his back on him, on the Book. Wanting to make it on his own. They had made him what he was. Given him the world. He couldn’t just walk away. They’d invested too much in him. Had scrambled and shifted the very strands of time to keep him alive. His brush with mortality might have frightened him into this current absurd, monastic lifestyle, but deep down, Alec was marked for a different life. Beelzebub stood up and paced the room. There was no way he was going back to what he was before. Trapped. Bound in that Book. Unable to enjoy the myriad pleasures this pitiful world had to offer. No. That was unacceptable. And he’d make sure that never came to pass. Alec owed them. And Beelzebub would make damn sure that he’d get everything he was due. Beelzebub knew Alec blamed them for the dreams, the hungers that called to him in the dark of the night, and being opportunistic in nature, he wasn’t above using them for his own purposes. But they didn’t come from them. The seed, the root of the hunger -- that came from Alec alone. He wanted the pleasure, the indulgence, the sensuality. He needed it. He just didn’t want to admit it. The demon glanced at the mirror, at the human form he had taken. There was no reason he had to stay cooped up in this dump. There were too many young pretty things, of both sexes, out there for him to play with. He smoothed his black hair down and snapped his fingers, his clothes morphing into the latest club wear. Smiling to himself, he strode for the door. It was only a matter of time. The cracks were widening. Beelzebub knew Alec was vulnerable, ripe for the taking. He was willing to give him a bit of freedom, the illusion of independence, before reining things in. It would make the final submission that much more delicious.

Chapter Three With his paperwork as in order as he could get it, Alec arrived at the bank a hair late for his nine a.m. meeting. The mortgage consultant met him by the front desk, looking a little harried. He was a middle-aged man in a slightly rumpled suit, hair slicked sideways over a prominent bald spot. “Mr. Roth.” He held out a meaty hand, and Alec took it. His palms were damp. “Good to meet you. I’m Paul -- we spoke on the phone.” “Yes. Sorry I’m late. I was organizing my numbers. Couple of things I was still working over at the last minute.” He’d actually been trying to find a decent breakfast, and not having much luck. The hotel offered a free “Continental buffet,” but the only thing that had looked edible there was a banana. The coffee had been strong enough to strip paint, and the muffins weren’t exactly fresh. He remembered with fondness the days when he’d had fresh baked croissants, slathered with French butter and homemade preserves available at his whim. Now it was bananas and Yoplait. “It’s quite all right,” said Paul. He turned and led the way to his office, leaving Alec to trail behind. “Running a little behind, myself. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Bottled water?” “No, thanks.” He fought back the grimace trying to form on his mouth. The last time he’d been at a bank, they’d given him champagne and caviar. He took a seat across from Paul’s desk, in an uncomfortable chair upholstered in olive green, with wooden arms, that looked like a refugee from a 1960s garage sale. Managing a wan smile as Paul sat down, he laid his folder on the table.



- 22 -

Paul regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then folded his hands on the table. “Mr. Roth. You said you wanted to discuss financing options for the Valley View Vineyard?” “Yes.” Alec opened the folder and glanced over the numbers again. “I went over the basic plans on the phone --” “Yes, you did,” Paul broke in. “I’m still not at all clear on why we’re looking at this kind of a loan when you’re still listed as one of the top twenty-five richest men in America.” With a patient smile, Alec held out the top sheet of paper. “While it’s true I have a great deal of money theoretically, in actuality that money is tied up in various trusts and investments where it’s not immediately accessible. Right now, this is the amount I’m working with.” It was the same amount of money he’d had before his uncle had died, before he’d inherited the Book and everything that had come with it, back when he’d had a small local restaurant in LA, where the stars came from time to time for the intimate atmosphere and high-quality menu. It was money he could consider truly his. He didn’t want to use any of the rest of it. He wanted to start fresh, which meant starting where he’d been, with that same, small down payment he’d used for his first restaurant ten years ago. “I don’t understand, Mr. Roth. This would be much easier if you’d agree to increase the down payment a bit.” “Please take a look at my estimates. I really don’t see why it should be a problem.” Paul took the paper and laid it down without looking at it. “It’s a problem largely because you just don’t have enough money, Mr. Roth.” “I have a substantial estate in England which can stand as collateral. I’ve proven myself to be a successful businessman. It seems to me like this would be a practically no-risk scenario for you.” Paul blinked at him blankly. “You also have several outstanding lawsuits against you personally and against your former holding company. You haven’t been gainfully



- 23 -

employed for five years. Perhaps you can see my problem. However, if you could see fit to free up another hundred thousand dollars, I believe we could put this matter to rest. Two hundred would be even better.” “This worksheet --” Alec tapped it, getting impatient, “-- shows exactly why that won’t be necessary.” The other man finally glanced at the papers. “This is all well and good, but it’s not going to cover it. This is a sizable purchase, Mr. Roth, and with this amount of money, and your recent financial history, we can’t help you right now. If you would only reconsider how you plan to finance the venture --” “No. That’s my final proposal. I won’t touch any of the other money.” Paul folded his hands neatly on the table. They looked like cheap stacked breakfast links, Alec thought uncharitably. “Then I’m sorry, sir. I can’t help you.” “Then I guess we’re done here.” He stood and picked up his folder. “No, actually, we’re not.” Alec and Paul both looked up. A woman stood in the office doorway, clad in an expensive and extremely chic dark gray suit, holding a black leather briefcase. A matching handbag was slung over her shoulder. She was tall, with red-brown hair that fell in soft waves to her shoulders. Her hazel eyes regarded Alec with a look that bordered on mischief, then turned to Paul. “You can go now. I need to speak with Mr. Roth.” Paul gaped. “This is my office.” The woman stepped past the door. “Yes, I know. I was called in by the bank to manage this particular transaction. So be a dear and depart, thanks.” Alec realized his mouth was open, too, and snapped it shut. “Who the hell are you?” She looked at him again, giving him a sweeping glance. “I’m the person who’s going to bail your ass out of this mess.”

***



- 24 -

Lillian walked over and laid her handbag and briefcase on the desk as the banker continued to sit, spluttering to himself. She made a tsking noise and slipped her cell phone from her jacket pocket. “I take it you’re going to need confirmation?” She gave her new client an apologetic smile and punched a number into the keypad with her thumb. “This will only take a moment… Hello? It’s me. Yes. He’s a bit… well… of course.” Lillian held the phone out to the banker, then opened her briefcase while the banker took the call. She extracted a single folder, and glanced up as the banker stood up. “All settled?” “Yes.” He dropped her phone on the desk and stalked toward the door. “Don’t forget to close it.” Lillian leaned up against the edge of the desk and focused her attention on the man sitting in the guest chair. “Shall we get down to business?” “Who the hell are you?” he asked again as the door clicked shut. “Lillian Montgomery.” She extended her hand and shook his, noticing the firm grip and his long, elegant, but scarred fingers. “Alec Roth.” “I know who you are, Mr. Roth.” “Call me Alec.” “I was planning to.” Lillian picked up the file and glanced at it as she moved around to sit behind the desk. “Your current business proposal is a bit problematic.” “I’m sorry. I seem to be a bit confused,” he said, leaning forward. “You’re with the bank?” “No. I’m not.” “Then who are you with and why do you think you can bail my ass out of whatever problematic situation it’s in?” “I’m with a law firm. Hayes, Edwards, Lawson and Lamb.” “A law firm.” “Yes.”



- 25 -

“I don’t need a law firm. I need a bank loan.” He leaned back in his chair and gave her a stubborn look. “If you want to purchase this estate, then you do need me. With the current state of your business affairs --” “They’re not that bad,” he shot back. Lillian continued talking over him. “-- there isn’t a bank in California or the United States that will touch you.” “I could buy it outright if I wanted to.” “Then why don’t you?” she countered, fixing him with her best stare, waiting while he shifted in his chair. “Um. I don’t want to.” Giving him a knowing smirk, she took out a sheet of paper from the folder and handed to him. “Well, that’s a very mature stance to take.” Alec shifted in his chair and pressed on. “Okay, then, so tell me, why is your law firm interested in such an ‘untouchable’ opportunity?” “Our firm takes an active interest in most of the business opportunities, no matter how problematic, that pass through this region.” Lillian nodded at the paper. “Now, if you will take a moment to go over our proposal…” “I think my plan is a good one.” “Yes. And I think I make a great bowl of macaroni and cheese.” “Do you?” Lillian’s smirk softened to a smile. “Depends. Do you like Kraft?” She watched him try to hide the involuntary shudder. “Well…” “Look, Alec. I’m good at what I do. If you want this property…” “I do.” His voice was firm, determined, and Lillian nodded with satisfaction. “Then this is what we can do for you. You will provide a down payment of this amount.” She pointed at a figure on the sheet. “We will provide the difference in funds between that and the amount our friendly banker wants. We provide a line of credit for improvements and repairs to the property. You provide your talent and knowledge of



- 26 -

the industry. We take a cut of any profit. You use some of your profit to pay us back over a five-year period. At the end of that time, you are free to refinance and buy out our interests.” She leaned back in the chair and watched as he picked up the paper and studied her proposal. He was thinner than the photo in the file, but having a heart attack and a long extended illness would do that to a man. It had certainly changed Mr. Hayes. Blinking back that train of thought, Lillian cleared her throat to gain Alec’s attention. “Did you have any questions?” “Yeah. One.” He looked up, his gaze raking over her. “What is it that you can do for me?” “Well, first off, I will see that the outstanding lawsuits and issues with your past business practices are settled, in an advantageous manner to yourself, of course.” “Of course. But that’s not a priority.” “It should be. Once you have that settled, it will make your future proposals to banks such as this far more attractive. You’ll find it much easier to get funding for expansion.” “Still not a priority.” “What is then?” Her tone was sharper than she intended. “Finding out if you’re single.” Lillian felt herself flush, not with embarrassment, but with arousal. Something about the tone of his voice rattled her. She forced herself to remain cool and collected. At least on the surface. “That really isn’t pertinent to this discussion.” “Probably not. I still want to know, though.” Alec laid the paper back on the desk and smiled at her. Damn that smile. Cocky. Sure of himself. Lillian ignored it and concentrated on gathering up her paperwork. Slipping the folder into her briefcase, she clicked the lock into place. “You have until Monday to decide. My contact information is on the proposal page.” She watched him glance at the paper, then back at her. “Is your home number on it, too?”



- 27 -

“No.” Lillian stood, picking up her purse and her briefcase. “But I’m easy to reach via my work numbers. Please feel free to call if you have any additional questions regarding our offer.” Alec stood as she made her way around the desk. She extended her hand and shook his. “I hope you will call. I think this is a good project for all of us.” Turning on her heels, she strode out of the office, not looking back.

*** Alec felt like he’d been run over by a truck. A good truck, overall, but still a truck. And the vineyard, according to Lillian Montgomery, was a done deal. All he had to do was sign the paperwork, and it would be his. He’d spent most of the day, sitting in a corner of the hotel lobby, reading and re reading the paperwork she had left with him. Everything was laid out clearly, simply. It made sense. Too much sense. It wasn’t supposed to make sense. It was business. It was supposed to be confusing and mired in language and clauses that didn’t quite make sense. He wasn’t sure what to think. In a way, he’d assumed it would be harder. It had been easy when he’d had the Forces of Darkness behind him; it shouldn’t be easy now that he’d cast them off. He should have to fight for every gain -But why? Shouldn’t it be easier to do the right thing? Didn’t all those self-help books say that if you were on your right path, the universe would align to bring you to your goal? That was what Lillian was, then -- a happy coincidence-not-coincidence. The universe throwing him a bone. It still seemed -- too much of a coincidence. He closed the file and headed back upstairs to his room. Opening the door, he noted the room had again taken on the vaguely sulfuric smell of the Book. He looked at the big chest, eyeballed the straps, chains and locks that held it shut. Everything seemed secure. He didn’t want to touch it; it might take advantage of any kind of physical contact to sneak its way into his psyche. He didn’t want that. It was bad enough Beelzebub was still lurking about, popping in and out without warning --



- 28 -

“Heya!” Alec jumped. The voice was right behind him. He wheeled around, ready to put a fist through Beelzebub’s face. “Go. Away,” Alec said through gritted teeth. The demon grinned. “How’d it go at the bank?” “Fine.” The demon had once again made himself far too comfortable on Alec’s bed, lounging back on the pillows, bright red shirt carelessly half unbuttoned. “Then we should celebrate.” Eyeing Alec from under his shock of blue-black hair, Beelzebub slipped a hand into his shirt and began to play with his nipple. Alec stared at him, then shook his head in disgust. “Forget it. I’m going to go find some dinner.” “Want some company, Big Boy?” Beelzebub chortled as Alec stormed out of the room.

Chapter Four The hotel was crap; therefore the accompanying restaurant was crap, as well. He’d actually eaten there his first night. He shuddered at the memory. There was a good restaurant not far away, but he had other compunctions about going there. He knew the food would be good; the owner had been one of his rivals back in the day. And now here Alec was, struggling and forgotten, while Tom still ran his highly-reviewed restaurant. The food would be good. That was the important part. And if Tom were there, it would be good for Alec to say hello, get reacquainted, start burying some of those old hatchets. Decision made, he headed out in his rental car. Tom’s restaurant was just down the road from a five star resort that catered to the Hollywood executive crowd looking for a weekend away from the pressure of their multi-million dollar production deals. The proximity to the resort had done little to harm Tom’s business though, not since Gourmet and Bon Appétit had pronounced it the very best kind of a destination restaurant, elegant, exclusive and discreet. Rumor had it that tables were booked a year in advance. Turning into the unmarked lot, Alec noted the building fit its reputation. It was medium sized, nondescript brick and wood shingled structure surrounded by elegantly landscaped grounds. Alec steered clear of the valet parking and drove to the back of the lot, and maneuvered the rental between a red Porsche and a black Mercedes convertible. Grabbing his jacket from the passenger seat, he got out, looking around the parking lot with more than a twinge of envy. Cars. Yet another weakness the Book and demon had exploited. When the first profits began filling his bank account, he’d gone straight out and bought a Ferrari.



- 30 -

Black. Sleek. Powerful. He remembered taking it out to the desert one weekend and putting it through its paces. Flying down the road, engine roaring, he screamed until his throat was raw. When he got back to town, he promptly bought six others. A different one for each day, he’d boasted to Beelzebub. Shaking his head to clear his mind of that memory, Alec shrugged into the black suit jacket and headed toward the main entrance. The lobby wasn’t crowded, but the glimpse he caught of the dining room showed a full house. Putting on his best smile, he approached the maitre d’s station and asked if the chef was in. He extracted a business card from his jacket pocket and handed it to him. With a wary look, the host told him he’d check. In the meantime, Alec could wait in the bar. Alec smiled his thanks and turned toward the bar area. It was crowded, not to an uncomfortable level, but he noted every stool at the long zinc bar was taken, and the tall cocktail tables around the area were also filled. He wove his way through the groups of people waiting to be seated and headed to the bar. He had barely made it halfway toward his goal when a familiar voice spoke behind him. “Fancy meeting you here.” He glanced over his shoulder. Lillian Montgomery was seated at one of the small cocktail tables, smiling. “Ms. Montgomery.” Her hazel eyes appraised him -- again -- and a warm prickle drifted down his belly. Her display at the bank had, quite frankly, aroused him. She gestured toward the empty seat at her table. “Call me Lillian.” “Lillian.” He liked the way it felt on his tongue. The thought made his mind drift down obscene paths -- paths he’d tried to keep it away from. Sex, after all, led to heart attacks and near death experiences. Well, sex with supermodels did. She was a lawyer, so maybe he was safe. “Thanks again for your help,” he said as he slipped into the offered seat.



- 31 -

She shrugged. “Just doing my job.” She crossed her legs, and her tight power skirt slid up her thighs a bit, exposing an expanse of creamy flesh. “So what brings you here?” “I know the owner,” he said. “There’s no way the food here won’t be good.”

“It comes highly recommended.”

Alec nodded. “His menus were always spectacular --”

“Alec? Alec Roth?”

Alec turned around to see Tom approaching him at an enthusiastically fast walk

across the crowded room. He was still as lean, robust and handsome as ever, an inch or so shorter than Alec but wider through the shoulders. He caught Alec up in an embrace, slapping him on the back. “How the hell are you? Couldn’t believe it when they said you were here.” Tom took him by the shoulders and set him back a step, looking him up and down. “You look damn good for a guy everybody thought was dead there for a while.” Alec shrugged. “Miracles of modern medicine.”

Glancing past Alec’s shoulder, Tom caught sight of Lillian. “And who’s this?

New girlfriend?” “My lawyer, actually.” “Oh, I see.” Tom winked at him. “Well, it’s good to see you. Let’s get you seated. And it’s on the house today.” Lillian gave Alec an impressed look. Alec figured he deserved it -- he’d saved them five hundred dollars. “Thanks, Tom. Great to see you. Stop by and chat if you get a chance.” “Definitely.” Tom handed them over to the maitre d’, then returned to his kitchen. Alec was pretty certain that was the last he’d see of him tonight. He’d get back there and get involved in some kitchen crisis, and forget all about Alec. Just like everyone else in the world had.



- 32 -

He sighed. He wasn’t supposed to be having thoughts like those. With a shake of his head, he focused back on Lillian. “Let’s go see where they’re seating us.” They were led through the main dining room to a semi-private table by a window. The view was lovely, looking out over a manicured flower garden and what looked to be a koi pond. “Nice,” said Lillian as she took her seat. “Your first course will arrive shortly,” the host told them, and retreated. Lillian watched him leave, her expression puzzled. “Don’t we get a menu?” “Not here. You get what Tom’s decided to make for the day. Trust me. It’ll be spectacular.” She nodded, and Alec could tell she was filing this information away for future reference. He leaned forward and laid a hand on hers. He had meant to say something witty, but the moment their hands met, all thought fled. He could only sit there staring into her eyes and feel the blood in his body suddenly accelerate, moving to flood him with heat. “It’s an extraordinary menu, for an extraordinary woman.” It was all he could do to keep from flinching as the words came out of his mouth. That was the old Alec, the on-the-make Alec, the Alec who’d been sure to have at least one beautiful woman in his bed every night, even if it took the questionable intervention of Beelzebub. But she only smiled back at him graciously. “Thank you.” She even sounded like she meant it. Their waiter appeared at the table out of nowhere with a bottle of sparkling water and began filling their glasses. “The sommelier will be with you shortly.” Task completed, he melted away once again. Alec nodded his thanks and withdrew his hand from Lillian’s. “Did you have a reservation?” “No.” Lillian reached for her water and took a sip. “I was planning on having a drink before heading home. I’m rather surprised we were able to be seated. You must have some magical power.”



- 33 -

“No.” Alec found himself frowning. “No magic at all. Just figured Tom wouldn’t be able to resist showing off. I know I would have done the same.” “I’ve done that myself a time or two in the courtroom. Didn’t realize the chef business was quite so cutthroat.” “Well, that’s why we have all those great knives…” Alec grinned. Lillian’s laugh was throaty, low and the most intoxicating sound he had heard all day. He wondered what he could say to make her laugh like that again. Wondered if she laughed like that in bed. A sudden image of her in his bed, naked, sweaty, laughing, hit him hard. He blinked and shifted and realized she was staring at him, waiting for him to answer. “Sorry? I didn’t quite catch that…” “That’s okay… I just wondered if you had any questions regarding the paperwork I left you earlier.” “Oh. Business.” He forced himself to stop thinking about sex. “Right. Um. I’m still evaluating all the options.” “Evaluating.” Her smile widened. “I see. Haven’t made up your mind yet? Or haven’t plowed through all the clauses and fine print?” “A bit of both.” Alec looked up as the sommelier approached the table. “Mr. Roth.” He sketched a slight bow, which looked perfectly natural on him. “I’m David Amberson. It is a pleasure to meet you. I had the pleasure of dining at your New York restaurant when I was in culinary school. It was quite memorable.” Alec glanced up, not quite sure how to react. “Thanks. Glad you liked it.” “Would you care to see our wine list?” “How about I give you free rein to pair up the right wine with whatever Tom is sending out to us?” He nodded, clearly pleased. “Certainly. It would be my pleasure.” “Great. I look forward to tasting your choices.” He turned his attention back to Lillian, who was watching him with an intensity that thrilled him. “You handled him well.”



- 34 -

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to take over…” he began to apologize.

“I do that in my area of expertise. Why shouldn’t you do the same in yours?”

Alec leaned back in his chair. “I have been out of the game for a few years.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed that if I hadn’t already known.” Lillian leaned

forward. “Never apologize if you are good at something.” “Yes, counselor.” He found himself smiling. “Much better. You have a beautiful smile.” “Do I?” Alec realized that somewhere something had shifted between them. “Yes, you do.” Lillian re-arranged her napkin as a group of waiters descended upon them. Tom’s first course was simple -- tiny portions of shrimp ceviche, paired with a local sparkling wine. Alec watched Lillian taste the appetizer, anxious to see her reaction. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Alec sipped the wine. “That bastard.”

Lillian chuckled again. “Jealous?”

“Not really.”

She quirked an eyebrow and reached for her glass of wine.

“Okay, maybe a tiny bit,” he admitted. “But Tom and I have different

approaches, different styles. I could do something like this, but it wouldn’t really be what I want.” “What would you like to do?” “Simple, unpretentious food. Good wine, made from my own vines. Relaxed atmosphere.” “So basically, the complete opposite of this?” “Yeah. I did the highflying, haute cuisine thing. I want something else this time around. Something real.” “Real.” Lillian’s voice was soft. “That sounds nice.” “Yeah.” Alec reached for her hand again. “Doesn’t it just?”



- 35 -

***

Alec was drunk. Not with the wine. For the first time in ages he couldn’t remember what he’d had to drink and how well it paired with the meal. No, he was drunk on Lillian. Captivated. Mesmerized. He had spent the evening watching her and her response to every dish Tom sent their way. It had been a long time since he’d reacted to a woman like this. Maybe never. Not with this level of intensity, need. His hand brushed her back as he held her chair, and the electricity between them nearly took his breath away. They had barely made it out the door when Alec grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, kissing her hard. He spun her around, pressing her against the outside wall of the building. He could taste a hint of wine lingering in her mouth as his tongue pushed past her lips. He heard her small gasp and drew back. He was giving her a chance to reject him, bow out gracefully. But she just stared at him, then suddenly grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him again, harder, even more insistently than he had kissed her. Her hand touched his thigh, then boldly cupped his crotch. He jerked back. “God.” She looked at him, a carnivorous expression on her face. “Your place or mine?” Alec thought about the shit-hole hotel, the smell of sulfur in the room, and worst of all Beelzebub’s penchant for appearing out of nowhere. “Oh, God. Your place, definitely.” “You got it.”

*** Her place turned out to be less than five minutes away. At least it was the way she drove it. It might have been fifteen under other circumstances. She handled her Mercedes like a pro, whipping through the light traffic until they reached her building. Keying the building’s main entry lock, she shoved the door open and headed for the elevator, her glance telling him to follow.



- 36 -

Alec waited until she punched the floor button and the door closed before he pushed her against the wall, his hand palming her breast, mouth seeking hers once again. The elevator jerked into motion, jostling them together. Lillian grabbed his jacket to steady herself and moaned. He loved the noises she made -- needy, greedy, primal. He couldn’t wait to get her into bed… couldn’t wait one second more. Reaching over, he pushed the stop button and tugged at her skirt. “Want you now.” “Now? Here?” “Yes.” He kissed her hard again, then dropped to his knees, pushing her skirt up and her panties down. “Want to taste you, can’t wait.” “Oh, God…” He lowered his mouth to her sex and sucked her clit greedily. She was hot and musky and tasted so damn delicious. Better than the finest wine. He spread her thighs wider and delved into her with his tongue. Ignoring his own throbbing cock, Alec focused on Lillian. The smell of her, the texture of her skin against his face and tongue. He splayed his hand across her ass and fucked her with his tongue, insistent, demanding, wanting her to come for him, here, now. He glanced up once to see her head tilted back, face glowing with sweat and need. She moaned and grabbed his shoulders, nails digging into skin through the fabric of his jacket. Her hips ground against him faster and he sucked her clit harder, slipping the fingers of his free hand into her cunt. Her thighs began to tremble, and she gave a loud, hoarse shout as her climax raced through her. Alec murmured against her as her body pulsed and clenched around his fingers. “You taste so good.” “God. Alec.” Her fingers raked through his hair, her voice low and breathless. “So damn good.” He stood, released the stop button, and kissed her, wanting her to taste herself in his mouth.



- 37 -

“I don’t think I can walk to my door,” she gasped into his mouth. Alec pulled back to grin at her, then swooped her up into his arms. “That’s not a problem. Just point me in the right direction.” Lillian laughed as the elevator doors opened. “Honey, your sense of direction is just fine.”

*** Beelzebub lounged in the hotel bed amid empty wrappers and bottles from the mini bar. One hand idly stroked his cock, the other wielded the remote through the various pay per view porn offerings. He glanced at the clock and wondered what had kept Mr. Sourpuss out all night. Wasn’t like him. Not anymore, at least. And his patience -- and more importantly, the Book’s patience, was wearing thin. Beelzebub’s connection to the Book was constant, a low, frankly irritating drone in the back of his head, usually just the vague sentience of the Book expressing its plans and how Beelzebub really wasn’t doing his part to be sure they came to fruition. Occasionally, verbiage burst out, hitting Beelzebub’s head like a blood vessel bursting in his skull. Obscenities, demands, complaints, always in some language a zillion years old, that he couldn’t remember how to translate properly. So an exclamation meant to mean, “Fuck you, you worthless piece of shit,” exploded into his head, made him wince, then translated itself as, “You shall fellate a goat next spring.” It irritated the hell out of him. At night sometimes, just before moonrise when the moon was new or nearly so, he could hear the other six demons, the other six books, mumbling away on an ethereal plane. The connection to the other books, the other demons, was more tenuous, thank God -- well, not literally -- but at times the pull became more insistent. Usually when, for some indefinable reason, they’d decided they wanted to talk to him. There had been some milling and shifting; he could tell a few of the guardian demons weren’t in the same place they’d been the last time there’d been contact. So he wasn’t the only one fighting with twenty-first century mobility. He’d nearly panicked when Alec had decided to travel to California, until the Book had somehow resized



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itself. He’d never seen it do such a thing, never knew it was even possible, but it had saved their asses. Otherwise Alec might have hied off, taken himself out of their range of influence, and who knew what the consequences might have been? “Is there progress?” He wasn’t completely sure who the wavery voice belonged to -- possibly sloth. “Beats the hell out of me,” Beelzebub replied. He spoke out loud, out of habit, though he didn’t have to. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he wondered where the hell Alec was. “You made any progress? Any of you?” There was a strained silence. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.” He examined his immaculately manicured nails. “The whole world-conquering thing -- really getting off to a good start.” “I’m certain it’s your fault,” another voice said. “You’re far too focused on sex and food and --” “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You got an excuse, too? Bite me.” If all seven books, all seven demons, made it to the same place at the same time, look out, world, but at this point it was never going to happen. They’d come close once, in the late eighties, but it kept turning into a no go. “I feel at times,” a sonorous voice joined in, “that you are not entirely committed to this venture, Beelzebub.” “Course I am.” He stretched out more comfortably on the bed. “Somebody’s got to cater the apocalypse. No telling what kind of shit you idiots would serve.” He could almost hear the eyes rolling, and chuckled. Much to his relief, the voices faded, leaving him to again wonder what was keeping Alec. He flipped through the porn channels again, trying to find something -- hell, anything -- that would keep him occupied until Alec chose to drag his ass back to the room. When the door finally swung open, and Alec strolled in, Beelzebub was annoyed. “Where the hell have you been…?” He sniffed the air and sat up straight in the bed, forgetting about the porn on the television. “You’ve been out fucking.”



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“It’s none of your business,” Alec snapped, dropping his jacket onto the chair and heading for the bathroom. “And, dammit, can you ever not trash my bed? Get the hell out and leave me alone.” “Not a chance.” Beelzebub snapped his fingers and the bed became pristine once again. “I want to hear about this hot action. It’s been so long, after all.” He got out of the bed and circled Alec, still sniffing. “A woman, and my, oh my… it wasn’t just a quickie. You’ve been quite the naughty boy, Alec.” “Go away.” Alec shut the bathroom door behind him. Beelzebub appeared in the bathroom in front of him, a small puff of sulfuric smoke in his wake. “You get laid for the first time in five years and you expect me to go away? Please.” Alec ignored him, stripping his clothes off and flipping on the shower. “Fine. Whatever. Babble away if you want.” Leaning up against the wall, the demon watched Alec step into the hot stream of water. “Scratches. Bite marks. So you bedded a little hellcat? When are you bringing her home to meet the family?” “I’m not.” “I’m crushed.” Beelzebub laid his hand across his chest. “Do I mean so little to you? There was a time when we shared our conquests.” Alec washed the shampoo out of his dark hair, then shut the water off. “Not this time.” “Ah, so she was a special conquest, then. Good. I like ’em with a bit of life in them. Spices things up.” He tossed Alec a towel and watched him dry off. “Spicy. I can smell her on you. How many times did you fuck her?” “Fuck off, Bub.” “I’d like to… Tell me about her. Is she a screamer? I bet she’s a screamer. Did you fuck her ass?” he whispered in Alec’s ear. “You’re full of her. I bet there wasn’t an inch of her you didn’t take.”



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Alec flushed but said nothing as he dropped the towel on the floor and headed toward bed. “I’m going to bed. Get lost.” Beelzebub chuckled and followed Alec. “Waitress? Hooker? The Realtor? Did you fuck that damn Realtor?” “No.” Alec sighed and yanked the covers back. “I’m not telling you a damn thing. Get out and leave me be. I’ve got an appointment in a few hours.” “Appointment?” “Yeah. With my lawyer. To buy the winery.” Alec slid into the bed and pulled a pillow over his head. “Fine. Fine… ignore me.” Beelzebub stalked over to the mini bar and grabbed a bottle of Stoli. He ripped off the cap and downed the vodka in one gulp. He stood staring out the window at the sunrise until he heard Alec’s settled breathing. Turning back to the bed, he murmured under his breath, “He fucked the lawyer.” Chuckling in a satisfied way, he perched on the trunk at the end of the bed. “When Lamb said he had the right person to put on the case, he was damn sure right. Worth every fucking penny to buy that whore’s services.”

Chapter Five Alec looked up at Lillian as he signed the last paper, giving her a careful smirk while he made a neat flourish with his pen. With a smirk of her own, she stacked her copies of the papers and slid them into a folder. “Congratulations, Mr. Roth. You’re now the proud owner of the Valley View Vineyard.” She held her hand out for him to shake. As he took it, he trailed his fingers across her palm, watching her eyes darken as he did so, feeling her skin shiver at the touch. He wanted her. Right now. On the conference room table. With a concerted effort of will, he managed to pull his eyes away from her, to focus on the formal proceedings they were finishing. The two men from Hayes, Edwards, Lawson and Lamb seemed oblivious to the sparks flying between Alec and Lillian -- at least in part because they seemed pretty focused on each other. Alec wasn’t sure whether to smile or cringe -- they were both on the far end of sixty. Well-tended, though. He had to give them that. Alec cleared his throat, regaining their attention. “Mr. Lamb, thanks very much for your time.” “A pleasure, Mr. Roth.” The slightly grayer of the two men shook Alec’s hand, then took a step back, eyeing his associate with a gleam that made Alec wonder exactly where that hand had been. Considering places his had been in the past, he decided he didn’t want to think about it. The lawyer smiled distractedly. “Perhaps we’ll do business again some time.” Before Alec could make a clichéd reply, he had turned to his associate. “Jeremy? Perhaps a cup of coffee? We could discuss the Miller case.” Jeremy agreed with far too much enthusiasm, and they both shot out of the conference room, leaving Lillian shaking her head behind them.



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“Coffee, my ass --” she started, but the words were cut off by Alec’s mouth closing on hers. He kissed her hard, insistent, drinking in the taste of her mouth. After a moment, he drew back. “You want coffee on your ass? Kinky.” She tipped her head forward and caught his lip between her teeth, biting down hard enough to make his eyes water. “You have no idea,” she rumbled, and ripped his shirt open. He froze, looking at her, lust rippling up his body. His hands closed on her upper arms, holding her stationary, his fingers digging in harder than he’d intended. She met his gaze, half-wanting, half-defiant. The door to the conference room was closed, but he was certain it wasn’t locked. He didn’t care. Grabbing her hair at the back of her neck, he jerked her against him again, kissing her so hard their teeth struck, and her lips tasted metallic, bruised. She made a harsh, needy sound in her throat, not fighting him, not protesting his roughness in any way. On the contrary, she found his exposed nipple and pinched it hard enough to make him gasp. Fiery lust ripped through him, and he gave in. He could hear his heart pounding, couldn’t help counting the beats, judging the quality of his breathing as his heart rate climbed. He put it out of his mind. He just wanted her. Didn’t care about anything else. He’d let himself go before, when he’d been with her. He wanted that again, wanted to succumb to the hunger, let it take him, let it ravage his body while he ravaged hers… He grabbed her and turned her around roughly, bending her over the conference table, where miscellaneous papers still lay scattered. She landed with a soft “oof,” then settled under him, her face against the table, hands splayed across the wood. His fist clenched in the fabric of her skirt, yanking it up over her hips. She was naked underneath. No panties, her hose thigh-high. For a moment, he stared at the rounded expanse of pink, bare flesh, the curve of her buttocks, the glimpse



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of her cunt between her thighs. His fingers dug into her soft flesh, hard. She made a needy sound, and on an impulse he drew back and slapped her. The sharp sound resounded in the big room. He watched the pink mark of his hand rise on her ass as she whimpered. “God,” she said, her voice vibrating with need. Her hips tilted up and back, her thighs parting slightly, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of wet, pink pussy, swelling, ready for him. Reaching forward, he hesitated, just for a breath, then let the hunger take over. He grabbed her wrists, one in each hand, and pulled them together to cross at the small of her back. With one hand, he clamped her wrists together. With the other, he found and fingered her cunt, her clit, then trailed her wetness across her reddened skin. She writhed beneath him, pinned to the table. She could have easily worked her way free had she wanted to; she didn’t. His fingers holding tight to her crossed wrists, he fumbled at his zipper with his other hand, managing to work his fly open. His cock was rock-hard, straining at the zipper, and sprang eagerly free as soon as he worked his pants and underwear out of the way. Pre-come glistened brightly at the tip. He noticed this absently before he adjusted his hips between her thighs and shoved inside her. She made a harsh, inarticulate noise, and he felt her hands clasp and open. He tightened his grip on her wrists. “Don’t stop,” she managed. Which was good, because he didn’t want to. He could have if she’d asked, but -Moot point. He fucked her hard, shoving her into the table with each deep thrust. Her breathing quickened, became harsher, finally rising to a rhythmic moaning as he pounded harder and harder into her. Feeling her begin to tighten on him, her body beginning to shiver, Alec let go of her hands. He slipped one hand under her thigh, reaching, probing, until he found her hot, wet clit. He rolled it, feeling her body clench harder and harder on his cock, so tight he could barely thrust into her. The friction almost hurt; he could feel his balls drawing



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up, impending orgasm roiling in his belly. He worked her clit a little faster, a little harder, wanting her to finish, not wanting to finish, himself, not at all sure he could achieve either goal. She gasped again, and finally he felt her body tighten, then let go in a rush of deep pulsation, a flood of wet heat over the tips of his fingers. He drew his fingers back as she finished. They were wet with her climax, and he touched her with them, above where his cock was sunk balls-deep into her, pressing fingertips gently into her ass. She jumped, hissed, then quickly said, “Yes,” in a raspy, breathless voice. He felt suddenly feral, his mouth pulling into a hungry grin. She flared under his touch; she had done this before. He had, too, with women, with men, had been on the receiving end -- he was at that place in his head where it just didn’t matter anymore. It was all need, bright red and hot, until he could barely sense his own self anymore. She was with him, though, arching her back and pushing back to meet him as he withdrew his cock and slid it into the tight channel of her ass, easing his passage with the thick wetness from her pussy. She let out a low keen. He tried to hold back, not wanting to invade her too fast, or too hard, but she shoved back against him, bringing him balls-deep into her. He grated out a surprised noise. “Do it,” she said, her voice almost harsh. “Hard. Do it hard.” He didn’t think about it. Couldn’t. He did as she said, mindlessly fucking her ass hard and deep, until his body convulsed and unwound and he came with a deep growl. She keened under him again, more loudly this time. He fleetingly wondered if the receptionist could hear them, but since he didn’t give a shit the thought didn’t linger. He clenched her hips in his hands, holding himself inside her until they both had wrung their orgasms out, then slowly pulled out. She went limp on the table, breathing heavily now. He stroked her back. “We should get out of here, maybe,” he said.



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“Yeah.” She pulled herself up from the table, her arms shaking a bit. “I think Marsh and Cronenberg are in here for an eleven o’clock.” “Ah.” He gave her a hand, helping her to her feet. She neatly and precisely readjusted her skirt, smirking at him as she did. “Don’t bother cleaning the table,” she said. “I don’t like them.” She picked up her briefcase and swept out of the room, leaving him to trail after her.

Chapter Six The vague odor of sulfur permeated the room, underscoring or detracting from its decadence, depending on the point of view. Alec stretched out on his back on the wide bed, naked, spread-eagled, rubbing his back against the sumptuous Egyptian cotton sheets. Everything was perfect. The Food Network had picked up his pilot, with a guarantee of at least thirteen episodes. The newest restaurant, in Prague, had opened to rave reviews. Money was coming in hand over fist. He was set for life. Anything, everything -- anyone -- he wanted was his for the asking. “Doesn’t suck, does it?” Beelzebub’s familiar voice sounded from his left. Alec was certain the demon hadn’t been there before, but that was, after all, SOP for Beelzebub -- pop in out of nowhere, scare the shit out of everyone. Alec couldn’t say he minded. Everything he had he owed to the demon, after all. The demon and the power of the Book, which hung shackled in the attic. And nutty Uncle Sheldon, of course. “Doesn’t suck at all,” Alec said in response to Beelzebub’s mostly rhetorical query. The demon chuckled and rolled toward him on the bed. Alec turned his head and moved toward Beelzebub, only to find himself pushed onto his belly. It was a familiar dance, one that had seemed at first like a sacrifice he’d had to make in return for his prosperity. But it had turned out to be something less than sacrifice on his part -- not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, least of all the demon. Beelzebub had good hands, and he used them in a sure, confident fashion, stroking his back, his hip, his ass. The demon wasn’t much for cuddling, or preamble, and foreplay bored him, but Alec had found he didn’t mind that. Minimal preparation, a quick smear of lube, and the demon was inside him, cock dipping deeper with each



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thrust. Alec tipped his hips up to receive the penetration, face pressed into the pillow, hands grasping the sheets. It felt… good. The steadily increasing glide of demon cock in and out of his ass, going deeper, deeper. He thrust back against the other man, sparks of gold and violet rising behind his closed eyelids as Beelzebub fucked him harder and harder, until it hurt so much he could barely stand it, and yet it felt so very, very good. “More.” The new voice came from the foot of the bed, and Alec’s eyes snapped open. He couldn’t turn around to see, though, being skewered to the mattress by Beelzebub as he was. But he knew who had spoken. Lillian Montgomery. There was a shifting of the light next to the bed, and suddenly she stood next to them, watching, a lustful, predatory gleam in her eyes. “I like this,” she said, her voice low and husky. “This is very, very nice.” The weight on Alec’s back shifted. “Join us,” Beelzebub offered. “I’m sure we can make room.” Alec levered himself up, effectively doing a push-up under Beelzebub. The move lifted the demon up off the bed and brought his cock deeper inside Alec. He closed his eyes, moaning a bit, and Lillian chuckled. He gave her an encouraging leer. Still chuckling, the sound deep and pleasant, Lillian began to unbutton her blouse. Alec shifted his weight and felt Beelzebub shift, as well, the better to watch her disrobe. Her eyes remained fixed on his as she slipped the silk from her shoulders, then unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it. Alec took her in appreciatively, from the fall of chestnut hair onto her shoulders to the curve of her thighs up into the vee of dark hair between them. He smiled. “Where do you want me?” she asked, her voice low and sultry. “Where do you think?” Moving a bit more, he lifted one side of his body off the bed. Beelzebub, somehow, started thrusting again, and Alec let out an involuntary gasp as the demon’s cock speared into him. It felt like it had gotten bigger. It did that sometimes.



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With a grin, Lillian sat on the edge of the bed. After a quick assessment of the two men’s position on the bed, she swung her legs up and began to slide under Alec. He moved to accommodate her, her long, soft body moving into position beneath his. Dipping his head, he mouthed her breast as it passed by, and she chuckled and moaned at the same time. His teeth scraped over her nipple. Moving and shifting, aligning herself, she rubbed herself pleasantly against him and suddenly she was positioned perfectly under him. His cock pressed against her cunt; she tipped her hips the slightest bit and he slid inside her. “God,” he said, and she said, “God,” in the same breath, as he slid home. To the rhythm of their shared exclamation, Beelzebub thrust into Alec, pushing him deeper into Lillian, and Lillian made another half-startled, half-satisfied sound. Alec began to fuck her, Beelzebub fucking him at the same time, grunting, and Lillian moaning, and Alec felt like he was going to explode with the pressure of his orgasm… Alec jolted awake, sitting straight up in the bed. His cock was hard and pulsing, and before he could gain any kind of control, he came violently, soaking his shorts, the sheets. He just sat, letting it happen, numbly pushing back the images of the dream. It wouldn’t be like that. Couldn’t be like that. She wasn’t just another conquest, to be shared with Beelzebub. She was his. As long as she cared about him, then everything he wanted to make of his life was possible. He would not -- would not -- go back to what had been. But as he got up to clean up the mess he’d made, he couldn’t quite silence the part of him that had enjoyed every moment of the unwanted fantasy. The part that should have been small and easily quelled, but which wasn’t. Gritting his teeth, he pulled back the sheets. He slept the rest of the night on the bare mattress.

*** Things had come together so well. The purchase of the vineyard had gone down exactly as Lillian had said it would, smooth as silk, no hitches. It was all his now, and he



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felt more at peace than he had in a very long time. The familiar smells, the soft breeze wafting through the vines as he walked -- it was heaven. He could stay out here forever, basking in the knowledge it was all his, but there was work to be done. Not just with the vineyard, not just the buildings. And unfortunately not all of it was going to be pleasant. One such unpleasant task awaited him back at his new house. He wasn’t looking forward to it. Although he’d been able to trust the high-priced specialty movers to handle his furniture, which he’d been keeping in storage since he’d moved to England, there was one item no one but Alec could touch. The Book. It had already been properly shackled and constrained when he’d taken over ownership of the estate in England, so he hadn’t had to worry about it. But this time, he had to get the Book in its Louis Vuitton chest from the hotel to his new digs. Beelzebub had shrugged and told him not to worry about it, but Alec had the distinct impression not even the demon knew exactly how the process was going to go down. And the move could only be complicated by the Book’s resizing trick. He stopped walking in the middle of the vineyard, reaching out automatically to touch the green leaves to his right. On closer inspection, the vines had proved in better health than he’d expected, but they were still in need of care. He’d have to hire a staff… Letting the thought trail off, he let himself imagine doing the work himself, smelling the rich loam, turning it in his hands, trimming the vines, lovingly pruning… There was no way he could do it all himself, but the thought of it made him smile. Regardless of how the work was eventually accomplished, there would be a piece of him in every inch of this place. He was procrastinating, and he knew it. Time to bite the bullet. With one last, loving look over the vineyard, he headed back to the house.

*** “This won’t work.”



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Beelzebub stood next to the big, metal-banded trunk, arms crossed over his chest, tone, stance and expression all belligerent. “Great. That’s what I wanted to hear.” Alec adjusted the chains hanging from the wine cellar ceiling, making sure for the umpteenth time that they were secure. He had no idea how this was going to work, but he was relatively certain he’d need some kind of assistance from the demon. “Although…” Beelzebub considered, his expression turning vaguely broody. “I suppose it kind of has to work. I mean, unless the Book’s going to get loose and wreak havoc and bring on a deathful fiery apocalypse. Which would be your fault, by the way.” Alec rolled his eyes. “It’s the same chains, and I have the incantation ready.” “Oh, well. You’re in perfect shape, then.” Not for the first time, Alec wondered what technique might most effectively rid his cluttered life of the supremely annoying demon. Stake through the heart? Garlic? Really, really bad deli ham? It was hard to say. Alec adjusted the chains around the big chest. Theoretically, he should be able to contain the Book within the confines of the chains using the incantation, which created a bond between the chains and the Book, and also a sort of containment field. The Book had remained under control even when it had changed its size, so hopefully it would continue to follow the rules as it was re-contained. With the heavy chains in their proper places, Alec straightened and pulled out the old, tattered, leather book in which the incantation was inscribed. “It’s not going to like this,” Beelzebub intoned helpfully. “It wants a window. A view.” “It’s going to have to deal. Not every house has an attic nook with a view of the moors.” The demon winced. “It’s calling you horrible names in my head.”



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“No skin off my nose.” He glanced over the words of the spell again. He’d memorized them a long time ago -- part of his instructions regarding his inheritance of the Book -- but it never hurt to read them over, make sure he didn’t muddle the words. “You should have managed better accommodations,” Beelzebub continued. His right eye had started to twitch, presumably in response to the Book’s chastising. “Same to you, you fucking piece of papyrus,” he muttered. Alec looked up, quirking an eyebrow at the demon. Beelzebub waved a hand airily. “Carry on.” Alec cleared his throat and began to read the incantation. It hurt his throat to read the words. Somewhere, somewhen, there had been a demonic hoard too cheap to buy vowels for their language development. But he plowed on, remembering his initial instruction in how to speak the words, feeling them form in his mouth with unaccountable familiarity, considering how infrequently he had spoken them. The air began to grow thick with the smell of sulfur. He could feel the magic building, viscous, tarry in the air. The lines of power began to form around the trunk, the chains. He had a feeling the vintage trunk wouldn’t live through this. Then the smell began to change. Baking bread, meat on the grill, sugar caramelizing under a torch… the new smells flooded the room, and for the first time in years he actually heard the Book inside his own head. It was a few seconds before he began to understand what it was saying. The words were garbled at first, or in another language -- it was hard to tell. But then the words fell out -- or, more accurately, the ideas -- and filled his head with temptation. You are hungry you know take it have it take have everything food wine (no words rich tastes flavors deep savory sweet thick salt musk sugar honey cream woman) have it all be everything -Alec could taste all of it, from crème brulee to cunt and all stages in between, and for a moment he was transfixed with lust and hunger. The moment passed. Clenching his teeth, he forced his mind back to the task at hand and spoke the last few words of the spell --



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The room seemed to explode, filling with yellow, sulfurous light. A screaming, tearing sound ripped through Alec’s head, and he grimaced with the stab of pain, pressing the heel of a hand against his temple. The Book screamed curse words in a hundred different languages, most of which he didn’t understand. Perhaps it was for the best. Suddenly the sound shut off, the smell settled back to the ever-present miasma of sulfur, and Alec slowly opened his eyes. The Book, restored to full size, hung from the ceiling, safely secured in the heavy chains. It shivered in its confines, and Alec was certain he heard “Fuck you!” echo in his head as it made one harsh, convulsive shudder, then went still. Strangely, the Louis Vuitton chest stood intact in the corner. Alec rubbed his hands together. “Good. That’s done.” Beelzebub pushed to a standing position from where he’d been leaning against the wall. “It’s not happy,” he said. “It wants a window.” “It’ll live,” said Alex. He headed to the door and left the basement, flipping the light off behind him as he went.

*** Lillian rested her head against Alec’s shoulder as she tried to catch her breath. “Hold on a second, will you?” “Giving up already?” Alec slid his hands down her back and pressed a kiss on her temple. She felt so perfect, so right in his arms. He didn’t want her to leave. Ever. “No, just need a bit of a rest.” She rolled off him and smiled. His hands reached for her again, almost without his willing them to. “And for your information, Mr. Roth,” she went on, “I don’t give up. Not on anything.” He chuckled and ducked in for yet another deep, warm kiss. “Whatever you say. You’re the one resting, not me.” “You’re insatiable.” She pulled back before the kiss deepened again. “God, how many times was that?”



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“Not sure. I lost count.” He pushed her dampened hair off her forehead, tucking it behind her ear. “Not nearly enough, though. Don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” “Alec…” He leaned in and kissed her again, pressing her back against the mattress. Her body yielded under his, opening, offering him everything. “I love the way you taste, how you feel.” He shifted, nibbling along her neck, taking in the softness of her skin, the musky flavor of it. “I love the noises you make, how you moan and shiver when I’m buried deep inside you.” “Please…” She wiggled underneath him in invitation, and he felt his erection grow again. “I love fucking you. Being with you. Waking up with you.” “I can’t stay.” Her tone held regret. “Not tonight.” She kissed him, fingers brushing down his cheekbone. “I told you, I have a deposition in the morning.” “Soon, though. You should stay out here more often.” “I’d like that.” “Good.” He nudged her legs apart and slid his cock into her with a slow smile. “Now, where did we leave off?” Wherever they had left off, it didn’t matter. He moved deep inside her, where he had been he didn’t know how many times already, and it still wasn’t enough. Not enough of her. He wanted everything, wanted it forever. With another orgasm sliding warmly up his body, he looked into her eyes and saw exactly where he wanted to be for the rest of his life. Dipping his head, he kissed her gently, then held her as she came.

*** Beelzebub frowned. He really, really didn’t like the looks of this. Alec was getting far too involved with this woman. Worse, she seemed to be reciprocating. That wasn’t part of his plan. In fact, true love and that bullshit would not be at all conducive to his schemes. With a snort and a shake of his head, he slipped away from his hiding place along the ceiling, where he’d been hanging in ephemeral form to watch Alec wear



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himself out. He had stamina for a man who’d had half his heart restructured not that long ago. Had to give him that. He did not, however, have to give him happily ever after, and it looked disturbingly like that was where Alec was trying to head. Time to waylay him at the pass, before things got entirely out of hand.

*** Lamb, Beelzebub had determined, was an idiot. Of course, he felt that way about most of the human race, so perhaps the assessment was biased. In any case, the way the gray-haired lawyer took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose irritated the demon. He couldn’t have said why it did -- it just did. “Ms. Montgomery is performing the duty you required of her to the letter,” Mr. Lamb said in an aggrieved tone. “I don’t understand why you feel the need to be here harassing me.” “Not harassing,” Beelzebub clarified. “Just passing on a warning.” He steepled his fingers and gathered his thoughts. What would be the best way to cast some doubts on that Montgomery bitch? “Under the circumstances, I’m not entirely convinced Ms. Montgomery will be capable of maintaining a proper… objectivity… in the case.” “Under what circumstances?” God, but Lamb was testy. No wonder, though; Beelzebub could tell from his smell that the man hadn’t gotten laid in years. “Under the circumstances,” the demon said slowly, the better for Mr. Lamb to understand him, “that she fucked him on the conference room table immediately after he signed the papers.” Mr. Lamb’s demeanor became even more put out and annoyed, a feat Beelzebub wouldn’t have thought possible. “And how in the world would you know that?” The demon chortled. “Hell. Everybody who was in the building at the time knows that. Especially Marsh and Cronenberg. They had the dubious privilege of holding a meeting in the same conference room after.”



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Lamb’s face crinkled up, as if he’d sucked a lemon. “I do not deal in rumors and hearsay, sir. Lillian Montgomery has been an exemplary member of this firm for five years, and I have no reason to believe she is behaving and will behave in anything but the most professional manner regarding this case.” He said it with a firm, stuffy certainty, but Beelzebub saw a flicker in his eyes, vague but definitely there. Mr. Lamb had his doubts about Lillian Montgomery, as well. Beelzebub shrugged. “Fine. I’m sure you’re right. No skin off my nose -- it’s your ass if she fucks it up.” His eyes narrowed for a moment, then he changed tactics, leaning back in his chair. “You know, Lamby, I like you. I’d hate for you to have such an important member of your firm bolt for greener pastures.” He fixed Lamb with a smirky glare. “I mean, it’s such a pain in the ass, putting in all those years of training and grooming, all that investment of time and resources, only to have the woman run off all starry eyed with the first young gun that diddles her right.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lamb snapped. Bingo! That hit close to home. Beelzebub leaned forward. “Roth fancies himself in love with her. Love does me no good, Lamb. Don’t mind him fucking her senseless on every fucking surface here, but any ideas about happily ever after are completely unacceptable.” He allowed his demon form to rise almost to the surface for a moment. He hated resorting to such scare tactics -- made him itchy. “I believe you recall the clause regarding completion of the contract. Your ass is mine if this goes south. And it is precipitously close to making a run for the border. Got it?” Mr. Lamb regarded the demon placidly. “As I recall, it was not so much my ass as my immortal soul, but yes, I do indeed ‘Got it’.” The guy had balls. Had to give him that. Beelzebub smiled. “Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” “I believe we do,” said Mr. Lamb, but Beelzebub, intent on having the last word, drowned the statement in a puff of sulfur as he disappeared.

Chapter Seven Lillian sorted through the stack of files on her desk with a smile on her face. Things were going well. Better than she’d ever thought possible. She had not only closed the deal for the winery, she had Alec in her life. Adding a few files to her out basket, she leaned back in her chair to flip through another folder. By the end of the month, she would be free to run her career as she saw fit. Her career. Her life. Her plans. On her own terms. “Miss Montgomery? If I might interrupt?” Lillian looked up, startled to see Mr. Lamb standing at her door. “Mr. Lamb.” She stood up, closed the folder in her hands and waved him in with what she hoped was a professional smile. “Of course. I was doing a little review of my files. Please sit down.” He closed the door behind him, walked over to the chair she indicated and perched on it. “Always working. An admirable trait.” “Thank you.” Lillian picked up her phone. She hoped he didn’t notice the way her hand trembled. “Can I call for coffee or some water?” “I’m fine. Sit down, please. This won’t take but a moment.” Lillian nodded and sat down, folding her hands in her lap. “Was there something you wanted to discuss?” He gave her a smarmy smile. “Direct and to the point as usual. I’m here about the Valley View matter.” “Valley View? It closed two weeks ago. Right on schedule. I think it will be a very profitable deal for the firm.” Lillian turned slightly, extracted a file from her credenza and slid it across the desk to Mr. Lamb. “Profit was not the aim of this deal, Lillian.”



- 57 -

“I’m sorry. I thought the aim was to close the deal. I did that as instructed.” “Yes, you did. In short order. Rather like your mentor…” Lillian felt her face flush and gave him a tight smile. “I learned a great deal from Mr. Hayes.” “I’m sure you did. Augustus was an excellent… instructor.” “He was.” Lillian leaned forward a bit. “If closing the deal and making the firm a tidy profit in the process was not my chief purpose, would you, perhaps, mind enlightening me as to what the purpose was?” “Our client wanted his Guardian back in the fold.” Lillian blinked. “Guardian? What fold? Who are you talking about?” “Mr. Roth, of course. I believe you are intimately acquainted with him.” “This is about Alec?” Lillian found herself staring at the older man, mind racing. “I’m not sure --” “Tall fellow, dark hair, cook of some sort,” Mr. Lamb interrupted. “You fucked him on our custom built ebony conference table. Does that refresh your memory?” “I know who Alec Roth is,” she snapped. “Excellent. I was afraid your voracious sexual escapades had rendered your memory a bit muddled.” Lillian stood up, walked over to her bookcase and poured herself a Scotch. She didn’t offer one to Lamb. “My memory is sharp as ever, Mr. Lamb. Unfortunately, and let me note I do hate to be critical of one of our esteemed senior partners, I still fail to see what it is you are trying to tell me.” She took another sip of her drink and walked back to lean against her desk. “Between you and me, you do have a slight tendency toward obfuscation. And not in that good, cover your ass kind of way.” “It means, your relationship with Mr. Roth is upsetting our client.” She frowned and looked down at her Scotch, turning it in the tumbler. “I thought Mr. Roth was our client.” “You thought wrong.”



- 58 -

Lillian stared at the older man, noting his smug condescension. “Who is our client, then? As attorney of record on this project, I should have been informed of this detail.” “Your sole job was to make sure Mr. Roth took possession of the winery. He had the necessary financial resources at his disposal. He didn’t need your cleverly brokered financial package.” “He didn’t want to touch that money.” “Miss Montgomery.” Mr. Lamb leaned back in the chair with a look of derision on his pinched face. “What Mr. Roth wants doesn’t matter. What you want doesn’t matter. What matters is our client’s interest. And his sole interest is in Mr. Roth once more assuming his previous lifestyle and business dealings.” Lillian forced back the urge to toss her drink in his smug face and instead set the glass down carefully. “I see.” “I thought you might. You do have an unerring ability to read the writing on the wall, so to speak.” “What is it you want me to do?” Lillian forced herself to ask. Mr. Lamb withdrew an envelope from his jacket pocket and tossed it on her desk. “It is my understanding that Mr. Roth has taken quite a passionate interest in you.” Reaching for the envelope, she opened it and shuffled through the stack of photos of her and Alec. She laid them on the desk and looked at him. “We get along well.” “Use it to your advantage. I think a woman of your passions and intellect should be able to convince a man as smitten as Mr. Roth to once again turn back to a lifestyle he so thoroughly enjoyed.” “And if I don’t?” Mr. Lamb stood and tilted his head as he looked her up and down. “I think we both know your law career here will be, shall we say, severely curtailed. In fact, I think you might be persuaded to assume a new role for the firm.” “A new role?” Her voice was tight.



- 59 -

“Augustus knew you were a good whore when he hired you. I know for a fact he took great pleasure in your skills. He was always one to boast, as I’m sure you remember.” His voice was oily with malice. “I believe you’d do well in that position for the firm. We have quite a few clients from other dimensions who have a need for those types of talents.” Lillian gave him an icy smile. “I have until the end of the month to complete the deal, per our agreement. Is that correct?” “Yes. That is correct. I’m sure you will put your remaining time to good use.” He turned to leave her office. Once the door closed behind him, Lillian grabbed the empty glass from her desk and hurled it at the wall. She picked up her phone and punched her secretary’s intercom. “Alice? I want the complete file on the Roth winery. Not just the paperwork I have seen previously. I want it all, and I want it on my desk in fifteen minutes.” She released the button and walked over to her window, mind racing. “Threaten me, you bastard. You bet your pinched old ass I’ll put my time to good use.”

*** Alec was happy. Beelzebub could tell. He spent far too much time whistling and making “pum-da-dum” sounds while tapping his desk with his pen. He was definitely happy, and he reeked of Lillian, and sex, and sex with Lillian. This made Beelzebub decided unhappy. He didn’t mind when Alec fucked and fornicated his life away, not when Beelzebub had engineered it to be cheap and emotionless, a revolving door of willing cunt, the sex merely the exercise of Alec’s naturally gluttonous appetite for, well, everything. But the demon had had nothing to do with this. And it smelled bad. It smelled like love. It was time to put a stop to it. He camped out in Alec’s bedroom, waiting for him to return from whatever tryst he’d arranged with his lawyer whore. He’d brought a young man to bed this time, dark



- 60 -

and lithe and barely legal -- not that he gave a shit -- because frankly he was tired of having over-perfumed tits shoved in his face. When Alec came whistling back into the master bedroom, Beelzebub had the boy’s wrists tied to the bedpost, his cock and balls trussed up in a neat leather and metal harness, and was fucking him enthusiastically up his pleasantly tight ass. He could tell the boy hadn’t known what he was getting into, but he could also tell he was enjoying himself now. Or at least he was pretty sure he was. It was hard to know for sure, what with the ball gag. Beelzebub looked up as Alec came in. “ ’Bout fucking time you got home.” Alec stopped short. He also stopped whistling. “Jesus Christ, Beelzebub.” The demon tilted his head, giving Alec a curious look. “Huh. I’m surprised you didn’t catch on fire, saying both those names in the same sentence.” The boy moaned, the sound mostly unintelligible. Given the way he bucked his hips back against Beelzebub’s, he interpreted it as, “Don’t stop.” Or perhaps something with a few more syllables that meant roughly the same thing. He obligingly began to thrust again, and the boy made another sound, this one satisfied. Alec glared. It was an impressive glare, almost demon-worthy. “Bub, this is my house. My bedroom. I don’t want you here. What do I have to do to get this through your head?” Beelzebub closed his eyes for a moment to focus on his orgasm, then withdrew and slapped the lithe boy on the ass. He disappeared. Beelzebub hoped he’d remembered to work that bit of magic so he wouldn’t be tied up and gagged when he went back where he’d come from. No matter. He wiped his cock off with the sheet and turned his attention to Alec, who looked a bit nauseated. “Doesn’t really matter, does it?” the demon said, his voice tight and clipped. “Doesn’t matter a bit what you want or don’t want. You’re bound to me, to the Book. I’ll do what I fucking please and you’ll deal with it.” Alec continued to glare. It was the glare of a man who knew he was defeated, but refused to admit it to anyone, least of all himself.



- 61 -

“That’s the reality of your situation, Mr. Roth. If you don’t like it, discuss it with your Rothschilde ancestors. I’m sure they’d be happy to explain how it all came about. In the meantime, you’re stuck with me, and you’re stuck with the Book, and I don’t care what you think you’re going to do to make your own life or whatever the fuck it is you think you’re doing.” He gave an airy wave of his hand, dismissing Alec’s stubborn dreams with disdain. Alec’s fists clenched, but he said nothing. There was nothing to say, the demon knew. He had no argument against the truth. “You might as well give up,” Beelzebub went on. “I’m going to wear you down. You know that.” “No.” Alec’s jaw went firm and stubborn. “No. I’m calling the shots now. You can’t control me.” Alec’s statement was so desperately ridiculous Beelzebub could only guffaw. “When and how, my dear boy, have you called any of the shots?” Alec’s posture became taut and defiant. He was going to be devastated when Beelzebub brought him down. He felt himself getting hard again just thinking about it. “I have Valley View now.” Alec’s voice strained with sincerity. Beelzebub expected him to burst into tears any second. “Free and clear. Bought with my own money. I didn’t touch anything you and that infernal Book ‘helped’ me get. It’s mine. Mine.” Oh, this was priceless. Beelzebub had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from chortling. “And who helped you with that?” “Lillian. Not you. Lillian.” Alec flung the word into the demon’s face with obvious satisfaction. “Who does Lillian work for, Alec?” “Hayes, Edwards, Lawson and Lamb,” Alec shot back. “And who do they work for? Have you even asked?” “They’re a law firm. They work for… themselves. Why the fuck are you even still here? I’m done with you, Bub. Done with all of it.”



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The sad part, Beelzebub thought, was that he really believed it. “Law firms don’t work for themselves, Alec. They work for any lying scumbag who can write them a check that won’t bounce. And Ms. Montgomery’s law firm is particularly susceptible to, shall we say, questionable influences?” “What the fuck are you babbling about?” The demon shook his head in a mock-scornful fashion. Very mock. “You know, it’s no wonder you needed demonic assistance to build your empire. You’re really, really slow. You know that, don’t you?” Alec naturally didn’t answer, so the demon went on. “H, E, L and L? Please. How much more blindingly obvious could we possibly make it?” Alec’s lips turned white. For a moment, Beelzebub thought he was going to pass out. Then in a slow, dead voice, he said, “Get out. Now.” Beelzebub chuckled. “I thought we might have a question and answer session. After all, you seem to be unclear on a few points. I could help you out with that. Give you a little more idea about what’s going on --” A lamp flew across the room, striking Beelzebub in the head. Or it would have, had his reflexes not kicked in to phase himself momentarily out of corporeal existence. The lamp flew through his suddenly nonexistent head and landed on the bed behind him, then the demon returned to his normal, solid state with a small “pop.” “Get out,” Alec repeated, his voice shaking now. He had picked up another heavy object -- a carved stone vase this time -- and cocked his elbow, lifting it. “Oh, don’t bother,” said Beelzebub. “It’s fine. I’ll go. But you might want to chat with your --” he made particularly obnoxious air quotes, his voice laced with sarcasm, “-- ‘girlfriend’.” With an appropriately demonic cackle, he disappeared.

*** Alec sat in the kitchen for a long time, silent, hands folded on the table in front of him. He stared at them, at the once perfectly manicured nails, now chipped and dirty from honest work.



- 63 -

How had he let this happen? He’d been so certain he could have his life his own way, so completely, arrogantly certain. He’d wanted everything, and wanted it his own way. And as he’d moved forward in his blithe, misguided surety, Beelzebub had played him for a fool. Not just Beelzebub, though. Lillian. And that hurt. Heart-deep, bone-deep, the kind of hurt that soaked into the bloodstream and rotted the body from the inside out. All this time, while he’d been falling in love with her, she’d been working for the demon. Slowly, he stood up, looking out the window at the dying sun. Maybe Beelzebub had lied to him. He was, after all, a demon, not above any sort of heinous act to get what he wanted. A few well-placed lies would be nothing to him. But as much as he wanted to believe this, somehow he knew it wasn’t true. Still, he needed to let Lillian speak for herself. If she could look him in the eye and tell him what Beelzebub had said wasn’t true, he would believe her regardless of what his gut might be telling him. He went to the kitchen counter and picked up his cell phone. Just as he started to key in her phone number, it rang in his hand. He answered it. “Alec,” Lillian’s voice responded. “I need to talk to you. Where are you?” He frowned, then made his face go still again, burying every emotion that tried to flare inside him at the sound of her voice. “I’m at the winery. At the house.” “Okay.” She sounded flustered, but determined. “I can be there in forty-five minutes. I’ll meet you.” “All right.” His voice sounded dead to his own ears. If she noticed, it didn’t reflect in her own voice. “I’ll see you then. Love you.” “Love you.” His mouth shaped the words as he hung up, but he didn’t say them aloud. He went to the window and stared out at the sunset, not letting himself feel anything. Just waiting.

***



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Pulling into the driveway of Alec’s vineyard, Lillian saw him framed in the front window. He stared out, not exactly at her, she thought. Not exactly at anything, really, and this disturbed her. She got out of the car. Steeling herself, she squared her shoulders and walked resolutely to the door. She knocked. There was no answer, even though she knew he was there, only a few feet from the door. She knocked again, then, more discomfited than ever, slowly pushed the door open. “Alec?” Her voice seemed to die in the dim room, as if its sound could only penetrate a few inches inside. She stepped in and closed the door behind her. Alec still stood at the window, looking out. He didn’t turn when she came in. “Alec…” she began tentatively. “We need to talk. We… we have a problem.” Slowly, he turned to face her, his expression bleak. “Yes. We do.” He knew. She could see it in his dead eyes, the pallid line around his lips. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she felt her hands begin to shake. “It’s true, isn’t it?” He shook his head slowly. “Everything that piece of shit told me was true, wasn’t it?” She set her jaw, summoning courage. “Well, I don’t know what he told you, do I? Or, for that matter, what piece of shit you might be referring to.” Anger flashed in his eyes. She was almost relieved to finally see him display some emotion, even if the anger was directed at her. “Who do you work for?” “Hayes, Edwards, Lawson and Lamb,” she said stubbornly, knowing full well that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. Alec closed his eyes tiredly, opened them again. “And who are they working for? Did someone hire them to make this sale go through?” He jerked his chin to one side, curtly indicating the room, and by extension the vineyard. She steadied herself again. There was no room for lies between them, not anymore. “Yes.”



- 65 -

His mouth opened; she raised a hand to cut him off. “I was assigned the case. I thought I was working for you.” “But you weren’t. You were working for him.” “The demon?” Lillian’s hand dropped to her side. She wanted nothing more than to go to Alec, to touch him, to comfort him, to make him understand, but she knew he wouldn’t let her. “Yes, I suppose so. Not that I know much about him. Yet.” “Why?” “Why? Because it was my job. It’s what I do. I handle the deals that no one else can handle.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket. He watched her, silent, expression shuttered. Uncomfortable with his silence, Lillian went on, desperate to make him understand. “I’ve been there five long years, Alec. I know what kind of firm they are. I’ve seen things… done things… I saw this deal as my way out. I bargained with them -told them I’d do this last case, but then I wanted out. And I’m getting out.” She paused, gathering her words. “I can get us both out of this mess. I can. Just give me a little time… two weeks. Trust me on this, Alec. I can make sure we both are free.” He just watched her, eyes hard and glittering. “Why should I trust you?” Lillian swallowed and laid her heart open to him. “Because I’m in love with you.” Nothing in his expression softened. If anything, his expression grew harder, until his face seemed to be carved from granite. “I see. So you’ve seen the error of your ways, and now you want to get away from your evil employers and live happily ever after with the man you love?” The tears overflowed, hot on her face. The harsh sarcasm in his voice flayed her. “Yes,” she said, and meant it, whether he could be bothered to believe her or not. “Yes.” He shook his head again, his mouth a tight line. “Just go, Lillian. It’s too late. Way too fucking late.” She took a step toward him. “Alec…”



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“I said go.” He turned his back to her, staring again out the window. She thought perhaps she had seen tears in his eyes, but she wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was only her own, reflected in his, in her own hope. She left him.

Chapter Eight Knowing some of the dark secrets lurking in other people’s corporate history had its uses, and Lillian hadn’t been afraid to play hardball to get the information she wanted. Her mentor, Augustus Hayes, had taught her that lesson well. She’d managed to acquire a number of files and research materials she officially was “not classified” to have in her possession and had gotten to work. Lillian sat sprawled on the floor of her office, papers, files, books scattered all around her in what appeared to be utter chaos. The piles and stacks may have looked confusing to an outsider, but she was systematically working her way through the information and was close to figuring out how to get herself and Alec out of this mess. Not that he cared what she was working on. He wouldn’t take her calls, refused in fact to speak to anyone from the firm. Well, Alec might have given up on them, but she hadn’t. Lillian had no intention of letting Lamb and that damn demon client ruin her life or Alec’s life for that matter. Not while she had any life left in her. Sipping the last dregs of the bitter office coffee, she jotted notes on a legal pad as she skimmed through yet another case history. She paused, rereading a particular passage, then set the mug down. Reaching for one of the ancient texts, she flipped through it, searching for a particular ritual. “You bastard.” She tapped the book with her finger. “I’ve got you.”

*** Alec stood in an outbuilding, staring out the window at the vineyard. The grape vines stretched in neatly tended rows, carefully pruned and secured to trellises. The workmen he’d hired had done an excellent job, had treated the vines with care almost on the level Alec himself would have provided. They’d cost a mint, though.



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“What did I tell you about never going domestic?” Alec winced. Beelzebub’s voice seemed too strident, too loud, and something darker lurked beneath his usual snark. “Fuck off,” Alec said, but he couldn’t quite muster the energy to make it sound convincing. His head throbbed with hangover, and his chest felt like somebody had carved him open with a dull knife. Of course, somebody had. “No point crying over her,” Beelzebub said. “You weren’t anything to her. Just a convenient fuck. Surprised you didn’t figure that out right off.” The demon stepped closer as he spoke; Alec could sense it, though he still hadn’t bothered to turn around to look the demon in the eye. But now he could smell Beelzebub’s breath on his neck, thick with sulfuric acridness. The demon had never smelled quite like that before. “Just do it.” Beelzebub spoke in a low growl, threatening but also seductive. Alec couldn’t quite hold back a slight shudder. “You know what you need to do. Give in, and you’ll have everything. Everything you ever wanted. Everything you had before and more. All yours.” Alec was silent for a long moment. He remembered all too well what it had been like to have everything. If he said yes to Beelzebub now, he could have Lillian. She would even think she loved him. And he could have as many other women as he wanted, whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted them. What scared him the most was how much he wanted it. Regardless of the consequences, regardless of any other considerations. He just wanted. It had been easy then. Now it was hard. Now things hurt. “She was mine all along,” Beelzebub murmured. “I can give her back to you.” Alec’s hands clenched on the windowsill. It would be so easy. But -- what would the price be, in the end? “No,” he said firmly. “No.”



- 69 -

What difference did it make, he wondered. Why was it any different now than it had been five years ago, when he’d given in, when he’d accepted the literal deal with the devil? He still wanted all the same things, still felt the intense physical draw to the fine foods and the high lifestyle he’d been granted. Wanted it all so badly it ached. But when women had left him during those years, it hadn’t hurt. Not like it did now. Not with this awful, gut-deep pain that felt like he was being clawed apart from the inside. And women had done more than leave him, in those days. They’d betrayed him, taken his money, his cars -- one had tried to torch his house -He hadn’t loved them. He closed his eyes as the realization flooded him. He loved Lillian. Had almost from the moment she’d burst into Paul’s office at the bank. Still did, in spite of everything. What if what she said was true? What if she could find a way to defeat the demon and the Book and free him from the bondage? Why on earth would she offer to do that? What good would it do her? What if she really did love me? And he’d thrown her out, straight to the wolves. He stared out the window, not really seeing what lay beyond it anymore. Behind him, the silence at first simply lingered, then suddenly became heavy, strangely threatening. Alec lifted his head. With a sudden, wrenching sensation in his gut, he realized what had happened, just as Beelzebub said, his voice harsh, angry and fairly reeking of sulfur, “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Alec turned around, taut, and looked the demon straight in the eye. “Don’t.” “Right,” the demon said, his voice crackling now with angry sarcasm, and disappeared.

***



- 70 -

So the lawyer had decided to fight. Damn hellcat. Somehow Beelzebub didn’t find this to be much of a surprise. He hadn’t completely trusted her from the beginning. She was a woman, after all. She’d pay for it. A deal was a deal, after all. You just didn’t break a deal with the devil. Even if she hadn’t signed the paperwork herself. That was a mere technicality. He hired the firm; she worked for the firm. She had managed to fuck everything up. Not much of a quid pro quo. She deserved everything coming to her. He honed in on her through her scent. That spicy, sexy scent. It was damn near irresistible. He understood why Alec hadn’t been able to stay away from her. She sat on the floor of her office, coffee next to her right hand, a book open in front of her. As he watched, she closed the book and looked up, thoughtful. He recognized that book. He had no idea how she had managed to get her hands on that particular grimoire, but having it in her hands was not a good thing. Anger roiled in his gut. He wanted to kill her right there, blast her into a million pieces with a well-aimed fireball, but that would be too easy. She deserved pain. Big pain. He could have walked in through the door, but since he was ephemeral at the moment, anyway, he opted to “pop” in. It would certainly be more impressive. And scarier. Sure enough, she jumped, startled, and stared wide-eyed at him when he appeared in the middle of her office. “Who the hell are you?” she demanded. Her hand went to her nose, fingers pinching it shut. He must have gone a little heavy on the sulfur. “Exactly,” he said, smirking. She didn’t seem to appreciate his clever take on her word choice. She came to her feet. “Get the fuck out of my office.” “All right,” he said, and snapped his fingers. They reappeared in the wine cellar of Alec’s new estate. The place still needed a good dusting, Beelzebub thought, then took a step backwards. He’d materialized a bit



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too close to the Book, which now shuddered and began to waver in its chains, aroused by the smell of a stranger. He looked at the Book and smirked, pleased at its instant and hungry response. “Wh-what the hell is that?” Lillian said, her voice reedy with fear, much of her prickly self-confidence undermined by the sight of the all-too-obviously demonic artifact hanging from the ceiling. The joke hadn’t gone over at all well the last time, so Beelzebub decided to let it go. Instead he snapped his fingers, manifesting a set of chains with manacles that snapped shut around Lillian’s wrists, while the chains wrapped themselves around a sturdy ceiling beam. Her mouth gaping, she stared up at her hands as they were secured above her head. He could smell her fear, even over the reek of the Book. “That’s right,” said Beelzebub. “You two haven’t been properly introduced. That’s too bad. The Book likes to be properly introduced. It doesn’t like people who haven’t been properly introduced. It tends to, well, kill them. Painfully.” He’d secured her a bit too far away from it, which would slow her demise. That might not be a bad thing, actually. It hurt a lot more to have your skin sucked off your body from a distance. Or so he imagined. He looked again at Lillian, who now looked frantic as she began to vainly fight the unyielding chains. “That’s too bad for you.” He gave her a grin and left her there.

Chapter Nine Alec had been primed, ready to attack Beelzebub, to stop him before he could act on the knowledge he’d acquired about Lillian’s betrayal. Whether he’d intuited it or actually read Alec’s mind, Alec wasn’t sure. Either way, Lillian was in danger. He didn’t know what to do. But he’d been ready to attack, and the interrupted swell of energy took him out of the outbuilding into the vineyard, where he stood fairly shaking with the need to act, but no idea what to act upon. Where was she? What was Beelzebub going to do to her? Pictures flashed across his mind, vivid, enough to make him panic. He headed for the main house, scrabbling his cell phone out of its case on the way. He tried her home number, her cell, her office. No answer on any of them. By car, he was only a couple of minutes from the main house, but he’d walked out. It would take him fifteen to get to the garage, to get to his car so he could look for her. Too long. He needed to get to the house, needed to get to her. He broke into a trot, then a run. He had to get to her. He had just rounded the back of the garage when he smelled smoke. The wind brought it to him in acrid tendrils, wafting around from the main house. He ran. It was more than ordinary smoke; by the time he reached the front door he was fairly choking on the reek of sulfur. It billowed from the windows, black and viscous, almost oily as it touched his hands. “If you don’t want it, then you can lose it. All of it.” Beelzebub was nowhere to be seen, but his voice rasped in Alec’s ear, angry, almost accusatory.



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“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.” The smoke billowing from the house was too thick. There was no way he could go inside and manage to accomplish anything. He went in, anyway, Beelzebub’s mocking laughter following him. “Yeah, you’ll try, maybe. Good luck with that.” Ignoring him, Alec plowed into the smoke, certain he’d keel over any second, overcome by the thick fumes, but he didn’t. He just kept moving. It occurred to him the smoke might be more bluster than real, staged by Beelzebub to scare him into coming back over to the dark side, but he couldn’t afford to take the chance. And he could hear the crackling of fire, and though he had yet to see any actual flames, the temperature in the house had definitely risen. Finally, over the horrible roaring of the as yet invisible fire, he heard Lillian screaming for help. Panic hit him again, hard, and he fought it back, afraid of inhaling too much smoke. He made himself hold still, to just listen -Downstairs. God. She was in the wine cellar. With the Book. His panic ratcheted up an impossible notch, nearly choking him. He bolted toward the stairs. “Lillian!” His voice came out in a choked howl, followed by harsh coughing as the smoke flooded his lungs. Dizzy for a moment, he swung toward the wine cellar entrance. Off-balance, he caught himself against the wall. It was hot. He jerked his hand back, fingers tingling with the heat. “Lillian!” “Alec!” Her voice came frantic and broken, laced with panic. “I’m coming!” He found the door to the wine cellar and grated his frustration out in a harsh, unintelligible syllable. It was locked. “I’m coming!” he screamed again. This time his own voice was overtaken by panic. He could feel his heart pounding high and fast, and for a split-second the panic swamped him, almost painful in its intensity, and he was certain he was succumbing again to the vagaries of his scarred heart. Then the panic disappeared, drowned by a rush of pure calm.



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He slammed his fists into the door and was rewarded with a stab of pain through all his knuckles. Bad move. His heartbeat had slowed a bit, but pounded in his head, a slow, powerful drumbeat now. In the strangely pervasive calm, his body tightened, shifted, tensed; he twisted, all his weight and need focused in a single movement, and kicked the door. It splintered at the latch and flew open. With no time left for thought, he flung himself down the stone stairs. The last one tripped him, and he nearly went down, catching himself on a wine rack. It tipped and tilted, dumping bottles. Somewhere in the back of his mind he calculated the losses as a handful of bottles smashed -- a few grand, easily -- but the rest of him was focused on Lillian. She was shackled to a ceiling beam, long, dark chains leading down from the beam to heavy manacles around her wrists. Her face was tear-streaked, her wrists bloody from pulling at the shackles. Across from her, still chained in its own position, hanging from the rafters, the Book shuddered. It was swinging, moving back and forth away from and then toward her, a bit closer with each arc, but still not quite close enough to touch her. That alone was strange, but not necessarily threatening or horrifying, aside from the obviously purposeful movement of a seemingly inanimate object. Just being creepy, however, wasn’t the only weapon in the Book’s arsenal. The wine cellar reeked, the thick odor of smoke drowned out by the other smells coming from the Book -- sulfur, offal, rotting flesh. The stench smacked into Alec like walking into a wall. His eyes teared up instantly, and he fought an urge to vomit. He’d dealt with this before, when the Book had attacked him in a fit of pique. The Book hadn’t been able to hurt him, though, since he’d been declared its official Guardian. But Lillian hadn’t been introduced properly, according to the Book’s rules of magical conduct. She was fair game. Only the chains and the incantation Alec had applied when he’d put them there had saved her from instant death.



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It seemed to take her a few moments to register that he was there. When she caught sight of him, and processed what she was seeing, her eyes widened, and she cried out in relief. “Alec!” “I’m coming.” He moved quickly to her side. “What is it?” she said, her voice straining with terror. Her eyes were nearly blank with it. It had been working on her for a while, he realized, trying to tear her down mentally. This close, he could feel it. More than just the smell, it had surrounded itself with a miasma of pure terror, panic, a sense of impending death. It touched Alec enough to increase his heart rate, his breathing, and he was at least partially immune to it. Forcing himself to give it no attention, he focused instead on Lillian’s bonds. “I’ll get you out of here. You’ll be okay.” He pulled at the shackles with no idea how he might be able to keep that promise. “What is it?” she repeated. “It’s the Book. The demon Book.” The shackles wouldn’t give, the chain wouldn’t give, the high, wide beam above their heads wouldn’t give -- there was nothing he could see to do to free her. “Figured you’d know that,” he added, belatedly realizing how petty and angry that sounded, especially now, with his voice strung tight with fear. Sure enough, she turned away from the Book, a devastated look in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, and he saw the tears springing up to cling to her lashes. His heart lurched. No impending heart attack this time. Just pain. He leaned in and kissed her. “I love you,” he said, carefully and sincerely. “I’m going to get you out of this.” She bit her lip and nodded, the look in her eyes shifting from desperation to shock to relief and back to the consuming terror the Book had engendered. He turned his attention back to the chains, at a loss as to how he would keep the promise he’d just made. “You, my friend, are fucked.”



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Alec turned toward the voice. He’d known Beelzebub would show up sooner or later. Lillian recoiled. “Don’t just stand there,” Alec snapped. “Help me.” “Oh, sure. No problem. I’ll just snap my fingers --” The demon did so. He stood, poised a moment, head cocked, as nothing happened. “Or not.” “Shit,” Alec muttered. There was nothing he could do, and he could tell Lillian was losing her grip as the Book pummeled her, emotionally and psychologically. Her eyes had gone wide and blank again, her face pale and beaded with sweat. “Stay with me, Lillian.” “It’s making me… making me see things…” Her voice was barely audible. “Horrible things. Alec -- God -- make it stop.” He looked back toward the Book. Almost, he could see what Lillian must be seeing -- vague wisps of images, blood, death -- what he was seeing could only have been a glimpse into the place of the Book’s origin, the depths of hell. It certainly smelled like it. The pure miasma the Book emitted was enough to make him want to vomit, or turn tail and run. It had to be worse for her, getting the brunt of it. He was surprised she hadn’t broken yet. “Bub, you need to help me,” he snapped at the demon. “I need to get her out of here.” “Yeah, forget it.” Beelzebub seemed to have settled in to watch, make faces and heckle. Of course. All his strengths played out at once. “She betrayed me, so she can die.” Lillian said something in a strained voice. Alec glared at Beelzebub, then bent close to Lillian in an attempt to hear her. “Water,” she rasped. “Three times.” “As soon as we get you out of here, baby. Everything’s gonna be --” She kicked him in the shins. He jumped. “Ow! What the --?” “Walter!” she screamed into his face, her eyes wide and wild. Alec was lost. He stared at Lillian. “Who the hell are you talking about?”



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She could only blink at him blindly and repeat the word. “Walter.” Then she looked over his shoulder and her eyes widened again in fear. Alec spun. And suddenly understood. Beelzebub was coming at them both, an axe lifted in his hands, an expression of pure rage on his face. Handy skill, Alec thought. If he could make an axe materialize out of nowhere, they would have been gone a long time ago. But he didn’t have time for such reflection. Instead he said, in a firm voice, “Walter. Stop.” And Beelzebub stopped. Dead in his tracks, the axe still lifted, but unmoving now. Alec glanced at Lillian, who showed vague relief now, though the Book still obviously held her in a grip of horror. “Give me the axe, Walter,” Alec said calmly, though his head was roiling now with the realization of what had just happened. Beelzebub slowly handed the axe over, shaking with rage and with the strain of trying to free himself. But there was no freeing himself, not now. Lillian had given Alec the ultimate power over him. He took the axe and swung it upward, hacking through the wooden beam. Lillian’s chains slid free. The Book howled, piercingly, in anger. “Walter, ditch the chains and call off the damn Book.” “You fucking bitch,” Beelzebub growled, glaring at Lillian, but the chains disappeared, and he turned to face the Book, speaking to it quietly in some archaic dialect. Lillian slumped, and Alec caught her. She lifted her hands weakly, looking at the torn skin and bruises on her wrists. “Why didn’t you get rid of the chains first instead of hacking the beam?” Alec peered up toward the ceiling. The split beam didn’t seem to be leading to immediate collapse of the building, but she had a point. “Oh, um,” he said. “Heat of the moment.” He moved her away from the Book, which seemed to be struggling with Beelzebub over the demon’s orders to stand down.



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“You wouldn’t happen to know the Book’s name, too, would you?” Alec knew he was grasping at straws, but it didn’t hurt to ask. “No.” She was still breathing fast, her face still pale, but her eyes seemed to be returning to normal, the abject terror fading. “The Book’s name is only written inside the Book, as far as my research told me. And if you open the Book --” She made an inarticulate wave. “Yeah. Catch-22.” “Exactly.” Alec looked back toward Beelzebub. The Book had finally subsided, hanging heavy now from its rightful place in the chains, shivering in apparent anger, but no longer threatening Lillian. “Where did you get his information?” Alec indicated Beelzebub with a jerk of his chin. Lillian rubbed at her wrists, grimacing. “Research. Found some books in Mr. H’s archive. There was a grimoire.” He cupped her face, tipping her chin up so she was looking at him. “Good work. And I’m sorry.” Before she could answer, he kissed her gently, then turned to face Beelzebub. “This whole fire thing is getting old, Walter. Make it stop.” “I hope you get fucked to death by an elephant.” “That’d be interesting, but no, thanks. Now. Walter --” “You don’t have to say it every time, fucktard.” He sourly snapped his fingers, and the smoke began to diminish. “Yes, I do. It’s funny. Walter.” He stepped up to the demon and planted his hands on his hips. “Fix my vineyard. Then go very far away. Walter. Oh, wait. You can’t, can you? You’re stuck with the Book. And me.” He chuckled. “This amuses me.” Beelzebub disappeared in a puff of smoke. Alec looked back at Lillian. “Can he do that?” “You didn’t order him not to. He has to come back if you call him, though.”



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“Good. We might need his help later.” Taking a step toward her, he gently touched her face. “Are you all right?” She still looked a bit shaky, but she nodded gamely. “I’ll be okay. Get me out of here?” “Of course.” With a grin, he picked her up and carried her out of the wine cellar.

Epilogue All around them, everything was green. Row after row of grape vines, carefully tended and pruned, backlit by a furiously scarlet sunset. Alec squeezed Lillian’s hand, smiling. He could sense her contented peacefulness, largely because it so closely echoed his own. She squeezed his hand in return, then let it go, letting her fingers trail up the inside of his arm. Silent, she rested her head against his shoulder. Alec took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Valley View Vineyards and the accompanying restaurant had done well over the past year. Not mind-bogglingly well, as Alec’s venture under the aegis of the Book had, but steadily, sensibly well. They were already operating in the black -- barely, but that didn’t matter. Black was black, and as long as it didn’t drift back into the red, Alec would be happy. In fact, he would be happy, regardless. He turned away from the panorama of vines and sunset to regard the woman next to him. She had softened since their marriage, her hair longer, usually in loose, amber waves around her face. That face was rounder, fuller now, as was her belly, ripe with the weight of their first child. The Book still hung in the wine cellar, but it was mostly silent now. Alec occasionally heard a vague whisper in his dreams, but without Beelzebub to act as catalyst, it remained largely impotent, ultimately ignorable. He understood he had little choice but to pass the Book along through his family, perhaps to the child now growing within Lillian’s womb, but he had made careful arrangements with Lillian’s help and expertise, made sure explicit instructions were included in his will. Along with the usual instructions for binding, the directions now included Beelzebub’s true name. One day, some descendant of his might choose not to



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heed the warnings and would open the Book again, but he couldn’t control that, and so wouldn’t dwell on it. He moved behind Lillian, wrapping his arms around her, splaying his hands over the bulge of her belly. She was warm and sweet in his arms. The family law firm she’d opened after her split with H, E, L and L was also doing well -- reasonably, sanely well. She’d already made arrangement for her maternity leave, having found a junior partner who could easily take the reins for a few months. Alec and Lillian both liked her and, more importantly, trusted her. Alec took another breath, inhaling the scent of earth and greenery, of sun and sky and Lillian. “Score one more for the good guys,” he murmured against her ear, then kissed it. She chuckled. “At least one.” With a quick, lithe movement, she turned in his arms and kissed him on the mouth. In the fading light, her eyes were dark and greedy. “Take me,” she said in a sultry voice. “Now.” “Now?” He gave her a surprised smile, then a scandalized look. “Right here?” Her hands moved to her blouse, unbuttoning the buttons. “Yes.” He reached up to cup her breast, then gently bore her down to the soft, black ground between the rows of vines, and made love to her in the fading sunlight.

The End

Read about the other books in the Deadly Sins Series from Changeling Press!

Deadly Sins: Avarice by Reneé George “…when thy strength is broken, beware of greed.” -- Confucius Xiao Sun is the newest Guardian for the Agrippa of the Xia Dynasty -- a living heir of Emperor Yu the Great. His only task is to keep the malevolent book from ever being opened. His life is one of solitude, with the exception of his teacher, Chu, and the constant whispering of the Agrippa. His problems of loneliness and unquenched desire appear to have a solution in the form of an American man, Hogan Ryan, an antiquities dealer, who, by accident, has appeared at Sun’s home. Hogan is tall, blond, and blue-eyed, with a gorgeous body, and so much more. Despite Chu’s warnings, Sun welcomes Hogan to his house, but the American isn’t alone in his arrival. Is Hogan who he really claims to be? Will Sun keep to his duty or fail his family by falling to greed? Between the Agrippa, the demon, and Hogan, the seduction of Sun has begun. And will the cost of that seduction be too high?

Deadly Sins: Envy by Kira Stone Oliver St. John is following a dangerous path which he hopes will lead him to one of the demonic Agrippa books. His investigation has brought him as far as Brazil, but no one will speak of the man rumored to guard the deadly tome.



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Raphael Georges Pedro Martinez is investigating a rival, someone who could wrest the ancient, possessed Agrippa known as Envy from his control. Instead of an enemy, he finds an educated man who makes him feel as though love was created just for the two of them to share. Both men have secrets they hide from the other. Will their love be strong enough to survive the lies, or will the Agrippa’s power drive them mad with ENVY?

Deadly Sins: Lust by Lacey Savage Welcome to the Di Maldo castle, where lust drives even the sanest person wild with desire… Molly Di Maldo lives in a world shrouded in darkness, shadows and constant, throbbing need. As the Guardian of the Agrippa, an ancient demon bent on possession and destruction, her purpose is simple: ensure the book is never opened. It should be an easy task for anyone pure of heart and able to withstand the constant temptation permeating the halls of the ancient Di Maldo castle. But Molly’s not pure. Her soul cries out for pleasure, answers every deliberate attempt the Agrippa makes to draw her toward the ultimate seduction. Lately, no amount of erotic books, toys or movies are able to quench the constant longing pouring through her body. That is, until Jared Roberts leaps over a windowsill and into her castle. What’s Molly to do when confronted with a real, flesh and blood man who can satisfy her every burning desire? But the Agrippa is always watching, constantly aware of the Guardian’s needs. When it sends an incubus to sweeten the deal, will Molly be able to resist the masculine temptation surrounding her from all sides?



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Deadly Sins: Anger by Lexxie Couper Ira McKenzie is a troubled man. He has spent his life struggling with the undeniable anger that scorches through his veins. And the irrational feeling he is someone else, someone more than an Australian graphic artist. Someone rich. Someone powerful. Someone to fear. But in the arms of Beatrice ‘Ricki’ Sullivan, Ira finally feels like he has found his place in the world. At last he is at peace. Ricki Sullivan is every man’s fantasy. Twenty-five years old. A swimsuit model. Beautiful in every aspect. Drop dead gorgeous, she exudes a sensuality none can deny. Or ignore. But Ricki is more than just a stunning face and body. She’s intelligent, kind and gentle. And madly in love with Ira. Life just can’t get any better. Until Shahla enters Ira’s world. Who is the mysterious redhead only he can see? What does she have to do with the strange book suddenly appearing in his attic? A book that radiates death and sin? How can she make him hornier than he’s ever been in his life with just a look, and at the same time turn his anger into bloody, murderous rage? And, more frighteningly, why can’t he resist her?

Deadly Sins: Sloth by Eve Vaughn How could two sisters be so different? Two gorgeous women. Two totally opposite points of view. Billie Cartwright’s always paid her own way, never willing to rely on her family’s wealth. She’s determined to prove her own worth. Her sister Felicity is always after whatever she can get with her good looks and charm -- and she’s not above bending the rules. Billie’s



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spent most of her life getting her shiftless sister out of scrapes. But this time, Felicity has gone too far. When the sisters discover they’ve inherited an aging mansion from a mysterious aunt, Felicity’s more than happy to take whatever she can get. Billie’s more than a little skeptical -- till she meets Grant Jorgensen, the trustee of their great-aunt’s will. Grant and Billie bump heads, but the instant attraction between the two is explosive. Billie’s head is filled with wet dreams for the sexy lawyer. The two meet again for one steamy night of passion, only to realize once will never be enough. Then Felicity’s accused of murder, and Billie discovers the forbidden secrets of the Agrippa. She’s ready to make the ultimate sacrifice for her sister, but nothing and no one will stop Grant from claiming his woman!

Deadly Sins: Pride by Lena Austin “Pride, Envy, Avarice -- these are the sparks have set on fire the hearts of all men.” -- Dante Alighieri Who guards the Guardian of the demonic book, The Agrippa of Pride? Ex-con man Ian Hershey thought he was in the art dealer business for the money, the fame, and especially the glamour of the New York art world. That is, until Ian’s connection to his most mysterious client and cyber-buddy Dan Roman lands Ian in the hospital, beaten and tortured for Dan’s whereabouts. Ian runs to Dan’s home in the Rockies, hoping to save his friend. As Guardian of the Agrippa of Pride, Dan has resigned himself to the life of a recluse. The Internet provides him with all the human contact he needs. That is, until Ian shows up on his doorstep just ahead of the Russian Mafia. They know who Dan is and what he guards, and they want to use both for the power inherent in the demonic book.



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The demon housed in the book, Grip, has manipulated the situation, and the Russians are just one step in his plan for world chaos. Just the kind of thing Grip loves. Ian has a plan to stop Grip, but only if he can get the demon to cooperate, and get Dan to swallow his pride. Everybody loves a sinner. Especially a demon.

Elizabeth Jewell Elizabeth Jewell is the author of a growing collection of paranormal and contemporary erotic novels and novellas. She’s been writing since before she could read, and has given in to the fact that she’s completely addicted to the process of composing fiction -- especially hot, steamy, paranormal fiction. Elizabeth lives in Colorado with her kids and an annoying ferret named Spike. You can visit her website at

http://elizabethjewell.kabeka.com

and

read

her

blog

at

http://elizabethjewell.blogspot.com.

Belinda Richmond A self-described voracious reader, foodie, trivia buff and Google Goddess, Belinda Richmond is thrilled to be a part of Changeling’s family. You’ll usually find her camped out on her chaise lounge in the flatlands of Illinois where she lives with her husband, two giggling daughters and one old grumpy mutt.

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