Angelic Schemes by C L Coffey

Author:C L Coffey [Coffey, C L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Axellia Publishing
Published: 2020-01-12T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Do share,” I said with a wave of my arm. I settled back into my chair. I couldn’t wait to hear this.

Beelzebub shook his head. “I want to,” he told me. “The thing is, I need to be able to tell you everything. If I only tell you half of what I know, then you’ll think I’m no better than Michael. I want to be in that place where we trust each other.”

“We’re not there yet, though,” I said, giving him a pointed look. Somehow, that earned me a smile in return.

“Yet,” he stressed. “But I do believe you want to trust me.”

“I grew up going to church,” I told him. “I’ve heard the stories about you. I’m not going to trust you just like that.”

“You’ve also heard the stories about Michael and the other angels,” Beelzebub returned. He settled back into his chair and arched an eyebrow. “Seeing at they’re probably the opposite of the ones about me, I assume you trust him, right?”

No. Not anymore.

But this was Beelzebub. He was a fallen angel. One of the bad guys.

“I have not lied to you yet,” Beelzebub continued. “You’ve been enjoying that glass of whiskey for a while, and you still have your wings. I heard you revealed yourself to the humans, and you still have your wings. For the trifecta, go find yourself a nice human man, or woman – whatever floats your boat – and have a good ol’ romp beneath the sheets.”

I shifted uncomfortably, reaching for the drink again. “That proves nothing.”

“Maybe you already hit that trifecta…” At my lack of response, Beelzebub sniggered. “I think that proves everything, sweetcakes.” He leaned forward and placed a hand on my knee. “I’m going to go out on a limb here: was there anything he promised you when you died? I’d be willing to put a lot of money, actually, you know what? This club. You go check up on whatever he promised. If you find he held up his end of the promise, this club is yours.”

I stared at him, but he just smiled back. It was clear this was another avenue I was not going to get any answers from. The afterlife was a joke.

I left the club. I strolled along the French Quarter, still with no real destination, trying to gather my thoughts together. At some point I stopped in a little café and ordered a giant pile of pancakes and bacon. Life as an angel was confusing. Not for the first time I found myself wondering if I had made the right choice. The idea of sitting around in Heaven, happy, was certainly a better option than this mind melt I was experiencing.

I dunked a piece of bacon in some maple syrup and chewed at it, staring into space. Beelzebub wasn’t completely wrong, but he wasn’t completely right: it wasn’t that I didn’t trust Michael, but I was questioning everything that had been said. I also didn’t trust Beelzebub either. No matter what was said, he was a fallen angel.

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