Read Online 03 Before The Devil Knows You're Dead-Speak Of The Devil by Patricia Eimer - Free Book Online Page B

raised one elegant, feathery white eyebrow questioningly. “He was sick of the job. He hated it. One of my more creative punishments now that I think about it, giving a cherub the role of Angel of Death.”
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    “A creature that craves touch above all things, and I took it from him. I’m surprised he didn’t step in front of a car earlier. I’d honestly expected him to come begging for a relief in duties after five years. Who knew he’d make it twenty?” the Alpha asked.
    Matt looked over at him, his eyes wide. “He was the Angel of Death for twenty years? You mean he spent twenty years without touching another person?”
    “Of course not.” The Alpha sat in the recliner next to the couch, his elbows on his knees. He ran one shaking hand up through his closely cropped white curls.
    “He touched people every day. It was a necessary part of the job. Not everyone, of course. That’s too much work for anyone—even an angel—but Valentin always took the time to personally collect certain souls instead of delegating all of the work to his subordinates.”
    “Wait, what?” I asked as Matt stood, and I instinctively threw out a hand to reach for him, not wanting to leave me alone to face this craziness.
    “I’ll be right back,” he stepped back, his hands behind him so that we didn’t actually touch. “I’m not leaving. I won’t leave. I’m just going to get you something to drink. It’ll help keep you from going into shock.”
    I nodded once, then turned back to my uncle. “You’re telling me that Valentin was what?”
    “He was the Angel of Death and he passed his powers on to you. I thought that much would have been obvious.”
    Matt set a cup of something down on the side table next to me and scooted it toward me with a pointed look. “So you’re saying that Faith is now what? The head of the reapers? The Angel of Death? Or, in her case, the Demon of Death?”
    “We keep the name the same no matter what.” Dad slunk across the room like a kicked hellhound and sat next to Lisa and Malachi on the love seat. “But yes, in short, Faith has now been promoted to the head of our Death Services department.”
    “Are you out of your mind?” I gaped at him, my jaw hanging open as my heart began to do a samba in my chest, its backbeat pounding in my ears. “I can’t be in charge of Death. I’m not even a reaper. Never have been. Never wanted to be.”
    “Someone has to manage the whole operation,” Dad said, his voice almost sheepish. “Someone had to keep the angels from spending their day playing poker and the reapers from working up even more elaborate pranks. They’re like children. Without constant supervision they fall into chaos. Then they try to cover it up by going on work sprees.”
    “Work sprees?” Matt asked.
    “The Black Plague was one of them,” Tolliver said, coming into the room, skirting around me like I was the one covered in boils and rotting flesh. “J and I were both interning with them at the time. Ugh. The AOD on duty took a short vacation and the next thing you know it’s the end of the world and half of Europe is doing the mortal-coil shuffle slide. Very messy affair.”
    “Oh Christ.” Matt rubbed his hands over his eyes.
    “Got himself excused from cleanup detail,” Tolliver said. “Claimed that he had a weak stomach.”
    “I do have a weak stomach,” J said.
    “That’s when we decided that vacations weren’t a real possibility for the Angel of Death,” the Alpha said. “We’d thought one guy, immortal job security, but apparently the task is too draining. Death barely made it one millennium before he was asking to be relieved from duty. Now he’s living in California, Malibu of all places.”
    “So what do we do?” I asked, my voice high and panicky. “Who’s next in line for a promotion and how soon till we can get them here so we can do a power swap? They can be here soon, right? You’ve called