P.C. Cast - Mysteria Nights

“Like . . . Demon 8.0,” Jeanie joked, jotting down the information.

“That is a way to look at it,” Damon said sadly, gazing over at Harmony, who refused to meet his eyes.

Jeanie noted the exchange and put down her notepad. “You’re in deep shit, aren’t you?”

“Deep, really deep, aye.”

“We Mysteria women call it doghouse deep. And there’s only one thing you can do. Go fix it.”

“I dinna know if it’s possible.”

“Her job is to forgive, Damon. That’ll be the easy part. All you have to do is to convince her to put her heart into it.” She chucked him on the arm. “Good luck. I know you can do it.”

Could he?

Damon found Harmony in the barn, washing mud off her hands and face at the work sink. Harmony turned around, wiping her hands on her soiled skirt. Water and tears had smudged the makeup under her wide, expressive brown eyes. She studied him for a moment, as if he were a stranger. Then she blew her nose in a paper towel. “No wonder you didn’t like devil’s food cake.”

His chest hurt. “Yes, I have a past, of which ye know little.”

He told her everything, as best a man could summarize ten thousand years of walking the earth.

“Ten thousand years.” Harmony’s voice came out as a squeak. “A hundred centuries.”

“Aye, but I’ve lived more in these past few months than in all the time before.” He told her the story of the starving settlers of Mysteria, how he’d given them the Will-to-Go-On, how he’d repeated such acts all around the globe until Lucifer found out and captured him. He told her about the torture, his being made mortal, and finally how he’d woken, dazed and naked, in her garden, terminated and pensionless. “I thought he was done with me, then, Lucifer was. But ’tis clear he’s not yet finished. And for that, lass, I am truly sorry . . . for what you’ve suffered as a consequence. And ’tis about you, for the Devil does not want me to have something good, you see. Then I’ll have won. If there’s one thing I know about Lucifer—he does not like to lose.”

“Is everything okay in here?” Jeanie Tortellini poked her head in the barn.

“Fine!” they both shouted a little too quickly.

The sheriff shot Damon a you-poor-bastard wink. “The water’s off, Reverend; I locked up the church. Everyone’s gone home—it’s a ghost town out there.” Jeanie clamped her mouth closed, as if realizing that was a poor choice of words, given Harmony’s profession—and mood. She held up a little gold-trimmed red coat. “But on the plus side, there are enough doll clothes left behind to supply every little girl’s collection in Mysteria.” She sniffed at the garment and grimaced. “Once they’ve been through the wash, that is. Hey, I’ll be down at the jail, so call me if you need me.” Jeanie waved good-bye and slid the door closed.

Damon sighed. It was time to pack up his things, tidy the hayloft, and leave. But there was one last thing he had to say. “I am sorry, lass. I know those words do not come close to making up for all the disasters I’ve wreaked here, but know this: What I did, what I said, I did in hopes it would keep ye close—close to me. Know that. But I see now what I feared most has come to pass. I’ve lost you,” he finished valiantly and turned away.

“Damon, please.”

He stopped.

“You haven’t lost me.”

His head snapped around. “Say it again, lass. I dinna think I heard you.”

The ends of her luscious mouth curved slightly. “You haven’t lost me.”

A harsh breath escaped him. He hadn’t lost her; somehow, he hadn’t chased her away.

What if Lucifer learns of this?

Damon squeezed his eyes shut. Dinna think of it . Like he’d told the child Annabelle, good always triumphs over evil, and he must summon the faith to believe in it.

“I lost sight of something today, something very important.” Harmony brought her hands together, clasping them tightly as if she were nervous, nervous as he. “The best sermons are lived, not preached. I’ll never forget the day my great-grandmother Eudora said that to my father, when she disagreed with something he’d done. She’d have scolded me today, told me the same thing, when she saw how quickly I wanted to condemn you. Seeing that God’s forgiven you, it might be a little arrogant if I didn’t. Ya think?”

“Only God’s perfect, Harmony,” he said, reminding her of her words to him shortly after he arrived in Mysteria. “The rest of us do the best we can.”

“Yes, we do.” Her eyes were luminous with tears as she walked to him and lifted a trembling hand to his cheek. He pressed his hand over hers as his emotions soared to heaven. “It doesn’t matter what you were before, Damon. It doesn’t. I had a calling to come here, and when I did, nothing was what I’d expected. But I knew God watched over everyone who lived here, whether they chose to see it or not. And then you came, and through you I fulfilled my calling here, through love. You’re so full of love, Damon. What went down before doesn’t matter. You’re a beautiful man with a beautiful soul, and that’s all that counts.”

His mood crashed immediately. A beautiful soul? “Lass, I was a demon, born of shadows. I know you’ve insisted that all humans have a soul, but I was not created as you were. The Devil crafted me, not God.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “Is this why you’ve never wanted to step inside the church?”

“I feared holy retribution—plagues, lightning strikes, and the like.”

Harmony snorted. “Oh, puleeze. You’ll have to find another excuse.” She poked him on the chest with her index finger. “You can’t fool me when it comes to souls, sir. I’m a Faithfull. Knowing souls is in our blood. I saw what you did to help little Annabelle O’Cleary. A man with no soul never would have done that, alleviated a little girl’s fear, or have run around afterward, convincing everyone they needed to come back to church next week, and not to be scared—and they believed you, Damon. A man with no soul never would exude the zest for life that you do, or the energy, your ability to make people laugh and feel comfortable. A man with no soul never would have . . . never would have . . .” Her finger trailed down his stomach, and she blushed deeply.

“Never would have what, lass?” he coaxed.

“Never would have made me fall in love with him.” She smiled softly. “With you .”

Damon’s heart crashed against his ribs. She loved him! ’Twas everything he’d ever wanted, for so many hundreds of years, to know love, to experience the pure and simple joy of it, the giving and receiving. To be human enough to share himself with someone else, to sacrifice. And now that it was placed before him, this miracle, he was all but paralyzed for fear of breaking the spell.

“Oh, lass,” he managed stupidly. “Are ye sure?”

“Never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Slinging an arm low around her waist, he drew her close. “Never been more sure,” she whispered against his lips. In the next instant, he was kissing her, falling head over heels into the well of joy that was this woman, who said she loved him. Loved him! Who said he had a soul.

From the conviction in her voice, he believed her. He remembered the feeling that had surged into him the moment he’d defied Lucifer. But even that explosion of joy and rightness dimmed with the knowledge that Harmony Faithfull loved him. Wanted him.

Then something Harmony had said earlier came crashing back into his mind. “Lass, forgive me if I misunderstood you out there on the lawn, but didn’t you mention you’d wanted to make love with me?”

“Yeah, I did.” She grabbed his butt and hauled him close. “And if I don’t do it soon, I might explode!”