“Good luck,” Roman told me, as I prepared to leave the condo. “Remember to watch your footing.”
I sighed. “I wish you were coming with me.”
He offered me a small smile. “Me too. All that work, and I won’t even get to see my students’ final exam.”
Roman could hide his nephilim signature from greater immortals, but considering the way his kind were hunted, we’d decided it would be best if he steered clear of Nanette while she was in town. Jerome’s agreement to let Roman stay was both highly unusual and dangerous. If another archdemon discovered the truth, both Roman and Jerome would be in a lot of trouble.
“I’m afraid of what I’ll face from Jerome,” I said.
“Don’t be.” Roman came forward and rested his hand on my shoulder. “You’re not doing anything wrong. They did. You’re strong, Georgina. Stronger than them, stronger than Hell.”
I leaned my head against him. “Why are you so nice to me?”
“Because Carter’s not your only fan.” When I looked back up, I saw Roman’s green eyes were deadly serious. “You’re a remarkable woman, just by your own nature. Smart. Funny. Compassionate. But what’s really great is that you’re so easy to underestimate. I did when we first met, you know. And Hell is now. No matter what their reaction to your appeal is, I guarantee most of them doubt you have a chance. You’re going to prove them wrong. You’re going to break the unbreakable. And I’ll be there helping you, as much as I can.”
“You’ve done enough,” I told him. “More than enough. More than I could have ever asked. Now you get to sit back and let me do . . . well, whatever I have to do now.”
“Georgina, there’s something you need to know. . . .” His face grew troubled.
“What?” I asked. “Oh God. You haven’t heard something from Jerome that I haven’t, have you?”
“I—” He bit his lip as he paused, then shook his head. His features smoothed out. “Forget it. I’m just going to worry you over nothing. You focus on bowling tonight, okay? Show those Portlandians that . . . fuck, I don’t know. That you’re a force to be reckoned with in the bowling alley.”
I laughed and gave him a quick hug. “I’ll see what I can do. How about we talk when I get back, okay? We’ll grab a drink.” I knew there was something big here he wasn’t telling me, no matter how easily he’d tried to brush it off.
“I’d like that. Good luck.”
When I arrived at the bowling alley, Peter nearly sank in relief when he saw me. I think he’d been afraid I’d show up without my Unholy Rollers shirt. Through whatever means Hell possessed, all the other patrons in the alley were playing on one side. The other half was empty, save for two lanes occupied by my colleagues. I was the last to arrive and approached with trepidation, unsure of my welcome.
Jerome was sprawled comfortably in a chair, and while it was in better shape than the ones at Burt’s, I’m not really sure it deserved the thronelike airs he was putting on. Nanette sat across from him, looking equally regal. Her pale blond hair was rolled into an elegant coif, giving her kind of a Grace Kelly look. Her dress was a pale blue shift with a fuzzy gray cardigan over it, the innocence of the look clashing with the unnecessary vampish sunglasses she was wearing.
“Ah, Georgie,” said Jerome. “Right on time and in team colors.” He favored Nanette with a lazy smile. “Ready for some humility?”
“Yours?” she asked him. “Always.”
Neither gave me much more attention than was due for the last person to fill a team spot. No mention of the contract, no mention of my petition. Glancing around and taking in the full roster here, I saw that Mei had also come to watch the spectacle. The demoness was dressed in corporate black, matching her bluntly cut black hair and heavy eyeliner. Only her red lips provided color to the palette. She most certainly knew about my situation, but like her superiors, she barely glanced my way.
Carter was there, which I had not expected. Nanette and her cronies were clearly uneasy about this. Although all greater immortals, be they angels or demons, shared a certain world weariness with immortality and the Great Game, few were able to bond over it so well as Carter and Jerome. Their relationship was unique, and Nanette clearly felt no camaraderie with the angel. Whereas I received little of her attention simply because I was an underling, Carter she ignored as though he didn’t even exist.
He gave me a small smile as I sat down, his gray eyes full of amusement. He was sitting with my friends, perfectly at ease, while Nanette’s bowling team regarded him warily. I hoped maybe his presence would throw off their game. There were four of them, just like us, though they’d actually drafted Nanette’s lieutenant demon, Malachi, to play for them. Rounding them out were a succubus named Tiara, an imp named Roger, and a vampire named V.
“What’s the V stand for?” I asked.
He just stared at me, face blank.
They were an impressive-looking bunch, with deep red bowling shirts and sparkling black embroidery that read DEVIL MAY CARE on the back.
“That’s not even a real team name,” Peter whispered to me disapprovingly. “And those sparkles are just tacky.”
Like ours, their shirts were standard button-ups with their names on the front. Only Malachi’s was different, with a small designation declaring him Captain. I guess he needed to make sure his status was asserted over that of the lesser immortals. There was something lean and sinister about them, and in our baby blues, I felt downright cute and cuddly.
A waitress came by with drinks, and once Jerome had a glass of scotch in hand, he deemed proceedings fit to start. There was a part of me that wouldn’t have minded a gimlet or two, but I didn’t think alcohol was the best call just now. It had nothing to do with team solidarity or messing up my game. When surrounded by unknown and possibly untrustworthy immortals, it was always a good idea to keep your wits about you. And when you were possibly on Hell’s radar for dissension, it was an excellent idea.
In my usual lucky way, I ended up having to go first. With all my worries about Seth and the contracts, my mind wasn’t exactly focused on all of Roman’s good instructions, but I nonetheless did my best to recall his training. I ended up hitting seven and then two pins. Not the greatest, but certainly not the worst. My teammates cheered me voraciously, both because Peter had sent us all a lengthy e-mail earlier in the day about “pep” and because with our track record, nine wasn’t that bad.
Tiara went after me, and as she retrieved her ball, Cody whispered to me how she’d gotten in a fight with management earlier because she’d wanted to wear stilettos on the lanes. She’d apparently conceded to wear proper bowling shoes in the end, but unless there’d been a significant trend change in the industry, she’d ended up using her shape-shifting powers to make the shoes more to her liking. They were gold and encrusted with jewels.
Yet those weren’t the worst part of her attire. That came in the form of her Devil May Care shirt, which I was pretty sure had shrunk about three sizes since I arrived. The buttons that were still actually fastened looked like they were about to burst. I winced as all that cleavage walked past me, and I wanted to cover my eyes when she reached the lane and bent over unnecessarily far, in order to give everyone a solid view of her ass. Her jeans were nearly as tight as the shirt.
“That is not a regulation stance,” declared Peter. He studied her critically for a few moments. “I believe she’s trying to distract us.”
I scoffed. “Oh, you think?”
“Hey!” Peter elbowed Cody and Hugh who—judging by their gaping mouths—were not catching on to Tiara’s ruse as easily as the rest of us. “Focus. Remember what you’re playing for: Jerome’s good will.”
“Nothing wrong with looking,” said Hugh. “Besides, there’s no way she can hit anything with that—”