“Wow,” I said. My astonishment was not faked.
“We aren’t finished setting up here,” he said modestly. “We have to change our location a lot to avoid discovery. You know how it is. So, there’s still some stuff we need to unpack.” He pointed over to a cardboard box in the corner. I couldn’t see all of its contents, but I did make out a black feather boa and a glow-in-the-dark plastic skull. On the side of the box, black marker succinctly declared: TEMPLE STUFF.
I counted the chairs. Fifteen. “How many members do you have?” I asked.
“About a dozen. A little less than that that are truly active.” He sat down in one of the chairs and gestured for me to do the same.
“And how long have you been meeting?”
“Oh, about a year now.”
I smiled, turning on the charm in an effort to not sound like an investigative reporter. “I’ve heard about some of the things you’ve done. Pretty impressive. Like the Bibles and the, um, spray paint.”
He beamed at the praise. “You heard about that? Cool. We do as the Angel of Darkness directs us.”
“What other things have you been directed to do?”
“Well, there was the one time this Methodist church was having an ice cream social. We broke in beforehand and left all their ice cream outside the freezer to melt.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then, this other time, we went to the petting zoo and hung pentagram collars on all the goats. We also painted their horns red and black. Let me tell you, that wasn’t easy. They don’t like to stand still.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh, and then we made all the TVs show Rosemary’s Baby.”
“Uh—TVs?”
“Yeah, I work at Circuit City, and we have these big walls of TVs, so I synced them all up. My boss never suspected who did it.”
On and on the litany went. About ten minutes later, I interrupted, unable to listen to any more. “Look, Evan, this is really amazing stuff you’ve been doing. I mean, this is stuff my people in Seattle would never, ever dream of doing in a million years.”
“Really?” he asked happily.
“Really,” I said flatly. “But, although it makes a big statement, wouldn’t it be more in line with the, uh, Angel’s purposes to work on securing souls for him?”
“Her,” corrected Evan.
“Her. Right.” Lucifer, Satan, the Devil, whatever. There were lots of names for what humans regarded as the supreme entity of evil, and I’d heard tons over the years. Considering the popular idea of Lucifer being a fallen angel, this “Angel of Darkness” thing didn’t surprise me, but the female part did. “Sorry,” I told him. “We know the Angel as male.”
“It’s okay,” he replied. “The Angel is all things to all people.”
“Right. So, anyway, I mean, the ultimate goal is to convert as many people to her as possible, right? To lead them down the left-hand path. It doesn’t seem like melting ice cream would do that—not that that isn’t cool,” I added hastily. “I’m just wondering if you should be more focused on leading people into temptation instead.”
Evan didn’t seem bothered by my criticism in the least. “Maybe that’s what your group is directed to do. But this is what ours is supposed to do. We all serve different purposes in the greater plan.”
I was sure I had an idiotic look on my face, so I tried to shift back to the alluring, seductive mode that had landed me this job in the first place. Surely it couldn’t be that difficult to sway him, particularly considering how fresh my succubus glamour was. Reaching out, I took his hand and delicately stroked it with my fingers.
“You’re doing amazing things,” I reiterated, moving closer. “Really amazing. But maybe it’s time to move on to the next level, to truly bring darkness to the world.”
His eyes studied my hand for a moment, then looked back up. His breath caught as the full effect of my glow enchanted him. He swallowed nervously. “Perhaps. But not now. This is our purpose for the time being.”
“Only because you haven’t tried something else. Maybe that’s why I’m here, why the Angel sent me: to expand your influence.” I leaned my face close to his, lips only inches away from the side of his face. “I can teach you things. All sorts of things.”
Zealous or no, I was definitely affecting him. He took another deep breath, trying to steady himself. “We’re already doing what the Angel wants.”
I ran my lips across his check, letting my tongue flick out. “Are you sure? Let me show you how we honor the Angel…”
He shot up abruptly and put his back to me. After several deep breaths—honestly, he was in danger of hyperventilating—he turned around to look at me. Warring desires danced in his eyes. He still had that crazy yes-man zealot look, but he also looked like he was already envisioning me naked. It was intriguing that his devotion to a largely fictitious entity could stand up to my charms, but religious fanatics had a history of being tenacious. “You’re very…sweet,” he said at last. “Very. But I can’t—we can’t. I mean, this is what we do. What the Army does. We can’t change that, not without talking to the others.”
Progress. I kept the smile turned on, wondering if I should keep pushing on him now or try to enthrall the whole group. I opted for the latter, largely because I could think of few things more unarousing than having sex on the black Ozzy Osbourne plush rug on the floor. Especially if Evan decided to turn on any black lights. “Of course,” I purred. “When can I meet them?”
He raked a hand through his hair, still a little hot and bothered. “Well…you should come to our next meeting. It’s Saturday at ten a.m. Over at the big Tim Hortons on Broadway.”
“Okay, I’ll be—” I blinked, my sultry façade faltering. “Did you say Tim Hortons?”
He recovered himself and returned to his upbeat nature. “Oh, yeah. You guys don’t have them, do you? They’re these donut shops and—”
“No, I know what they are. I’m just surprised, that’s all.” Aside from seeming like a mundane place for a Satanists’ meeting, Canadians going to Tim Hortons was like the biggest stereotype ever.
“Are you kidding? Their coffee’s the best.”
I left after that, my head reeling. These weren’t Satanists. These were frat boys doing hazing pranks. They probably smashed beer cans on their foreheads at their dark ceremonies.
Kristin wasn’t at her desk when I returned to Cedric’s office across town. Presumably she was off doing imp things. Or maybe she was at lunch. His door was closed, making me think he must be busy, but honestly, I didn’t have time to pay much attention to that. Something else immediately caught my attention.
There was a demoness in his waiting room.
A full-fledged archdemoness, actually. I recognized her, even though we’d never formally met. Nanette, Portland’s archdemoness.
“Hi,” I said, too stunned for much more than that. I might backtalk Jerome, but other demons were an entirely different matter.
She glanced up from her magazine like she’d just noticed me, though I knew she’d sensed me long before this. “Hello.