LITMIR.BIZ

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stood up. “I think you’d better leave.”

      William looked sulky, but he stood up as well. He cupped my chin in his hand. “I’m not giving up on the idea of you and me and that bed. Someday, Lil, you’ll appreciate what I have to offer.”

      Unless that someday included a genuine commitment, I wasn’t about to let it happen. And since demons weren’t allowed to love, it wasn’t likely that either of us would get what we wanted.

       Chapter Two

      That afternoon, I lounged poolside while my neighbor, Vickie Ballard, filled me in on the neighborhood gossip. Grace and Ari, my niece, swam in the pool, doing their best to avoid Vickie’s three jet-fueled monsters who were splashing and screaming and generally raising hell.

      Vickie had just been telling me about how Debbie Crenshaw from down the street was back in rehab, and how Casey Scarsdale from next door had another new boyfriend, and that Sue Bristol had caught her husband doing a live web chat while he was dressed in her lacy bra and panties.

      I’d always been the queen bee of the neighborhood, but while it felt good to hold court with the neighbors again, I was hardly listening to Vickie. Vickie’s gossip was like an overly sweet dessert: tasty at first, but sickening after you’ve had your fill.

      Annoyed that I wasn’t lapping up her precious tidbits of scandal and asking for more, Vickie went silent. She looked over the top of her sunglasses, her eyes traveling from the kidney-shaped pool, to the bricked patio and the extravagant landscaping, and then finally resting on the outdoor furniture that Pottery Barn had delivered the previous week. I could almost feel the vibrations from her buzzing brain as she tried to calculate the total cost.

      “Looks like you’re doing pretty well for yourself, Lilith,” Vickie finally said. “You must have taken Ted to the cleaners in the divorce.”

      Obviously, I couldn’t confess that I was working for the Devil. So, instead of telling every bit of the truth, I went for the abridged version. “My insurance company finally came through for me, and the payoff was very generous.” But only because Helen Spry had pulled a few strings on my behalf.

      “Really,” Vickie said, impressed. “I wish I had your insurance policy.”

      Yeah right, I thought. You couldn’t afford the premiums. She wouldn’t survive a day as a succubus. But I had to admit that although the job was awful, the benefits were terrific. The rebuilt house and the new pool were only part of the package. I also received a mysterious – and extremely generous – weekly deposit into my bank account. This was another reason why I had given in and embraced my role as a succubus. Being poor sucked. I was tired of worrying over every penny, having to return groceries because I didn’t have the money to pay for them, and avoiding phone calls from collection agencies. William had been right; I needed to get over my guilty conscience. Besides, I only tempted people to sin. Ultimately, the choice to do wrong was theirs.

      Vickie smiled, but she was still in viper mode. “So what they say about karma must be true. Do something good, and good will come back to you.” She nodded at Ariel who was climbing out of the pool. My niece wore a Marilyn Manson T-shirt over her swimsuit and had used a black Sharpie to give herself an enormous skull-and-crossbones tattoo on her left cheek. “You took in that little juvenile delinquent, and the universe has gifted you with a lovely new house.” Karma might have been smiling on me, but Vickie wasn’t. “Let’s just hope she doesn’t burn this one down, too.”

      I wanted to smack her with a really good comeback, but before I could, I felt a shiver in the air which meant someone from the otherworld was about to pay me a visit. This time, it wasn’t William but Patrick Clerk, Miss Spry’s assistant, who walked from the house and out onto the patio.

      “Bon jour, Mr. Clerk!” Grace waved from the top of the water slide. This was another part of my new life: integrating my mundane existence with my supernatural one. No more sneaking around for me. Well, almost no sneaking around. Of course, no one knew the real reason why Mr. Clerk visited me, but hiding my otherworldly guests was too stressful. Grace and Ariel knew who Mr. Clerk was, they just didn’t know what I did for him.

      “C’est la vie?” Grace asked. Now that I’d become rich again, I’d bought Grace the French horn that she’d so wanted. Since learning to play it, she had become fascinated with all things French. She ate brie, referred to every kind of bread as a baguette, and even wore a beret, despite the fact that Ariel made fun of her for it.

      Mr. Clerk returned Grace’s question with a nod. “Trés bien.” Mr. Clerk, thin, gray-haired, and fussy, was dressed, as always, in white. White linen pants, perfectly creased, and a white T-shirt with a pair of dark glasses hanging from the neckline. He glowered at Ariel when she splashed him. “Lilith, we need to speak.”

      “Who’s this?” Vickie asked.

      “My, uh, insurance agent,” I said.

      Mr. Clerk’s eyebrows shot up.

      “Really?” Vickie lowered her sunglasses. “I didn’t know that insurance agents made house calls. Maybe I should change companies. What kind of policies do you offer?”

      Mr. Clerk looked from Vickie to me and back again. There was a trace of panic in his eyes. I abruptly got out of my chair. “I’m sorry, Vickie, but I’ve got to go. Maybe you and your boys could stop by later in the week.”

      Vickie took the hint, but she obviously wasn’t happy about it. She reluctantly got up and hollered at her boys to get out of the pool. “Thanks for the swim, Lil. We’ll be back.”

      To my ears, that sounded like a threat.

      After Vickie left, Mr. Clerk sighed as if he’d narrowly missed being run over by a truck. I told the girls to be careful in the pool and led my otherworldly guest into the house so we could talk. The French doors were hardly closed behind us before he fixed me with a steely look and said, “Miss Spry is very disappointed in you.”

      Other than handing out my assignments, Mr. Clerk only visited for two reasons: to watch Real Housewives or to scold me. From the look on his face, it was clear that he wasn’t there to gossip about our favorite reality stars.

      The kitchen was dim and so overly air-conditioned that I pulled my sarong up around my bare shoulders. Mr. Clerk appreciatively eyed my bathing suit, a pale-blue two-piece that showed off a large amount of skin. Believe me, this wasn’t because of how I filled it out. No, he was more interested in the fact that it was Versace. The man loved designer labels as much as I did.

      He settled himself on a bar stool next to the counter. “Tell me everything that happened this morning.”

      I took a cold Perrier from the fridge and offered it to him. When he declined, I poured some into a glass for myself, adding ice and a lime wedge. If I’d kept alcohol in the house, which I didn’t because of Ariel’s tendency to sneak it, I would have thrown in some gin. I was pretty sure it was going to be that kind of day.

      “Well, I met the client, just like you said, and I tried to get him to mail his package.”

      “And?” It was clear from his expression that he already knew how the story turned out, but was going to make me tell him anyway. Sadistic bastard.

      “He wouldn’t mail it.” At Mr. Clerk’s frown, my heart began to race. “I swear, I tried as hard as I could! But he was so resistant! And then this guardian angel showed up.”

      His eyes widened. “An angel? Are you sure?” When I nodded, he said, “You must tell Helen about this. Immediately.”

      Although I was willingly doing the Devil’s dirty work, it didn’t mean that I wanted to visit my evil overlord. “Can’t you do it?”

      “No. A guardian angel is nothing to fool around with, and if there’s one lurking about, it’s best if Helen hears it from you. She can help you get past them.”

      “But

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