(From Chapter 3)
I loved Fury. I owed her my life (several times over). But even though I’d done it before, I wasn’t sure spying on the Devil was really okay.
What if he caught me?
Lucifer wasn’t known for being an understanding or forgiving kind of guy. He was a divine being, and I was just a mere mortal—only human, after all. Yet, some of my best storylines came from the conspiracies I’d overheard while spying on Lucifer. If not for him, I wouldn’t be earning a living as a writer. So, in a way, I owed him, too. This time, I had a horrible sinking feeling that I was pushing my luck.
Maybe I should stay out of this, I thought. After all, he is the Devil.
But I hated it when he punished Fury for no good reason. She was my best friend, and after everything she’d done for me, I couldn’t abandon her. Six months locked in an iron cage? It was just so damned unfair.
“I need to get out and meet some new people, make some new friends,” I muttered as I went downstairs to make coffee. “Some new, living, human friends.”
But then I spotted my MacBook sitting on the coffee table, waiting for me, nagging me.
You have a deadline.
“I know,” I replied from the kitchen as I brewed coffee. Like most writers, I constantly talked to myself. “I’ll finish this manuscript and wrap Fury’s series today if it kills me. And I promised myself I’d write something truly important next.”
Truly important? You need to move on to something nice and safe… Something light and fluffy that won’t jeopardize your soul for all eternity… Maybe romance.
I nuked some whole milk. “Romance?”
Sure, why not?
“I was thinking of something more serious—something literary.”
Ha! You’ve never been literary. Just have fun for once. Aren’t you worried about how this will end for you? You’ve been playing with fire for years.
“I know,” I replied as I padded into the living room, switched on the floor lamp, pointed the gooseneck at just the right spot, and plopped onto the sofa. After savoring my first sip of coffee for the day, I set the mug on the end table, opened my laptop, and powered it on. “Okay, you win. Let’s get this done. I’ll worry about the future of my writing career tomorrow.”
And, like every morning, I got to work.
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