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on it. He was tall, at least 6’3”, and damn, he looked hot in that suit.
    “One drink, Caitlyn,” Chris said. “You look like you can use a friend who’s not going to hit on you.”
    He took the bar stool next to hers. Caitlyn knew she shouldn’t, but found herself reaching for the glass anyway.
    As they drank, Chris didn’t talk much about himself, choosing instead to ask Caitlyn about her work (“I’m a contract attorney”) and her religion (“recovering Catholic”). When he asked why she was drinking alone, she told him about her sister and the hospital, tears starting to well in her eyes.
    Chris put a hand on her shoulder and said, “I know it’s tough. Makes you feel helpless, like it’s totally out of your hands, right?” His hand was noticeably warm. Caitlyn nodded and dabbed her eyes as she looked across the room where the older man was now playing pool with the ponytailed biker.
    “I can help,” he said.
    Caitlyn stopped short. Was it the whiskey? No, this guy had clearly said what she thought he had. Now she was wary — maybe he was a typical asshole after all, just waiting for a moment of weakness before making his move. “Help how?” she asked.
    Chris took a drink, then said, “I can make her well.”
    “Fuck you,” Caitlyn blurted out. “That’s not funny.”
    “Don’t get upset. I’m absolutely serious,” Chris said.
    “And how the hell would you do that?” she retorted. “Wave your magic wand? You’re really pissing me off.”
    Chris smiled.
    “I’m the devil,” he said.
    Caitlyn stared at him, then laughed “You’re a douchebag is what you are,” she said, standing up.
    “I can help Amber. I have that kind of power. What would it take to prove it to you?”
    “I’m outta here,” she said, turning to leave. Chris reached out and gently grabbed her elbow. His hand felt hot on her exposed flesh. Caitlyn turned to face him. “Let me go,” she said. “Now.”
    Chris locked eyes with her and she felt instantly uneasy, restless. “Caitlyn, someone in this bar will be entering the gates of Hell in three minutes.”
    “Let me go!” she shouted and pulled away, but her voice was drowned out by a commotion near the pool table. The biker was livid as he swung a cue stick against the table, shattering it in two.
    “You fucking hustled me!” the biker screamed at the older man, who was backing up. “You’ve been sandbagging all along!” He put the jagged end of the broken cue stick against the other man’s neck, then said, “You’ve picked the wrong motherfucker to cheat, asswipe.”
    It happened so fast, Caitlyn was startled. The older man cowered against the wall, pleading. Suddenly a shout came from the other end of the bar: “Police!” Caitlyn looked down the bar and saw the bodybuilder, pistol drawn. “Drop the stick and back away,” he said tersely.
    The biker was livid. He glared at the older man as he set the broken cue stick on the ground and backed away with his hands in the air. The cop approached him and told him he needed to leave the bar immediately and not come back. The biker argued, then reluctantly left when the cop refused to budge. Almost as quickly as it started, the situation had been defused.
    Caitlyn looked at Chris. His flat expression betrayed no feelings about what had just happened, but she knew one thing: Nobody had died.
    “You failed, Lucifer,” she said sarcastically.
    Chris smiled. “Please, child — I’m not finished yet.”
    A loud moan came from the pool table area. The old man was bent over, hands clutching at his chest. His face was beet red and he was covered with sweat. He suddenly looked up, staring straight at Chris, then collapsed on the ground as several people ran to help.
    Caitlyn slowly turned to look at Chris. The last thing she remembered was his grin. Her skin crawled and the room spun, then everything went black.

Chapter 3
    “Don’t try to get up. Just lie there. Deep breaths.”
    Caitlyn’s eyes