Gage pushes the invitation under my hand. He and Ezekiel add their blood to it, as a solitary drop falls from mine. The skin quickly mends before I even fully look away.

“Did you tell her?” Jude asks Ezekiel as the words start to form on the invitation.

“Didn’t get to that yet,” Ezekiel announces with a smug tone before facing me. “We’re going down below tomorrow to see if we really can venture that far. We thought you could stay in phantom form at first, and then distract Lamar for us.”

Frowning, I tilt my head.

“We’ll just be doing a quick book-grab,” Kai goes on, adding to the lie.

“We need to see if there’s any more information we can use to our advantage without them monitoring which books we take,” Gage goes on, only piling on at this point.

“I see,” I say tightly.

I guess they think I deserve this. It’s a reminder that I’m still not one of them in this lifetime the way I was the last one. It’s not fair to mourn the loss of a bond I can’t truly remember.

That version of us had millennia to form that bond, so I need to be a little more patient. Weirdly, patience is supposed to be one of my purities. Where the hell is it hiding?

“Fine. I’ll distract him,” I offer, knowing the only route to closeness is earning it.

Words start appearing on the paper, which fortunately draws their eyes off me. But I refrain from smirking when I see what it says.

Residents of Kincaid Manor,

The Devil himself requests your attendance at tonight’s gala.

That fucks up their plans, since they wanted to wait until tomorrow to manipulate me and lie some more. I’m not sure why I’m so amused by this, but there’s a sense of déjà vu.

But my smirk vanishes when I read the rest.

Dress formally. Paca comes out tonight so the family can look united once again. Failure to do so will result in unfavorable consequences. Black tie required.

Best wishes,

Lucifer

The Devil

The Ruler of Hell

King of Sin

Maker of Monsters

Master of Dark Influence

The list goes on, since apparently Lucifer considers himself important enough to have a hundred other titles. Little vain if you ask me. I bet my titles were more awesome.

“She’s wondering if she has any titles behind her name right now,” Gage says, lips twitching as I jerk my head up like a guilty girl.

“No I’m not,” I say too quickly.

Jude and Kai just quirk their disbelieving little judgy eyebrows at me.

I may can play along with things, but I really am bad at deception. How is that fair? I’m hell spawn.

“It’s like he knew we were plotting something, and he’s forcing our fucking hand to reveal her to everyone who wants her dead,” Ezekiel growls.

Jude shoots him a glare, and I play dumb, pretending not to notice the slip. I’m a little detached at the moment, trying to calculate all the factors before deciding how to feel about their lies and secrets.

For whatever reason, I feel like I should deceive them a little too. Surely I can be at least a little good at deception, so long as I keep my mouth shut.

It also makes me sympathize for a moment with Lamar. I’m not capable of empathy, but understanding one’s point of view without genuine empathy is still possible.

I reach back and grab my balance book, reading over my purities. Nope, no empathy. Just double checking.

“We’re weaker up here,” I say, gesturing around us absently. “We’re clinging to the surface, and he’s forcing us below because he wants me stronger. I feel so much stronger down there.”

“You’re the Devil’s daughter. Of course you’re strongest there,” Jude states dispassionately.

I turn to face him. “I’m still healing from the first death I must have suffered, and then I suffered a second one. Since then, I’ve been stalled without any new level-ups.”

The flicker of regret in his eyes has me curious. From what I can tell, no one in hell can survive with the ability to feel guilt, so I know he doesn’t have that purity. Then I remember what Lamar said about true, unpersuaded regret.

“I’m not trying to take a jab, Jude. I’m pointing out that Lucifer wants me there, and he’s trying to force our hand. Because he wants me stronger. Is that a good or bad thing?” I ask him, wondering if any of them will admit they do suspect him now that I’m forcing them to tell the truth or lie to my face.

Again.

Jude doesn’t even blink or hesitate to answer. “I don’t see how it could be bad to want his daughter stronger. We’ll go tonight and see how it plays out. If shit hits the fan, we’ll have an escape plan. But if he wanted us dead—”

“We’d already be dead,” I say with a tight smile. “I’ve heard you say that enough times to get the point.”

I pat his shoulder, not calling them out on their lies. Having a best friend would certainly be useful right now, and I miss the relationship I never remember having with Lamar.

Because as it is, I let them talk amongst themselves, withdrawing as I have a seat in the gown I’ve fashioned. They plot multiple escape-hatch ideas, and even start gathering go-bags, as though we can run and hide from the Devil—The Four Horsmen and The Apocalypse hiding from the Devil.

It’s laughable on a level they don’t have the sense of humor for.

Our place isn’t among humans. At least not full time. Not now that we know the truth.

Stewing over the fact I’m being forced into this after winning that sword match, I creep out while they’re busy doing their sneaky thing and go do my own sneaky thing.

You know…for balance.

Chapter 4

“Boo!”

Lamar squeals like a little girl when I appear right in front of him with that one-word, unoriginal opener.

He clutches his heart as I take a seat in his room, glancing around.

“Did I do that very often back when we were besties?” I ask him, taking in the nude lover’s painting of him and Manella hanging on the wall across from me.

I think it’s weird to see that much of one’s manifested sibling amidst the throes of passion, so I quickly look away.

“Not quite that way,” he says, clearing his throat and trying to recover, even as he beams a telling shade of red.

Interesting…hell people can blush.

“So we’re not demons, I’ve been told. What do I call hell people?”

“Call them by their titles. Royals. Escorts. Castle guards. Prison guards. Spirit balancers—”

“Spirit balancers?” I ask him, keeping my eyes on him just in case I’m wrong and he tries to stab me in the gut with another powerful weapon that might have some secret royal killing ability.

“Yes, spirit balancers. It’s a power you bestowed upon me. It’s one of the highest honors. I help find a new position for one who’s unbalanced to see if their balance can be restored before it progresses to a point of no return,” he continues.

“Did you do this for me?”

“I knew your balance, but I never had to check it for you,” he says with a soft smile. “Every decision you make is selflessly selfish. You maintain your balance without even trying, because you’re a master, even now. It’s why you were the most successful of the royals.”

It always sounds like he’s kissing my ass, and quite frankly, it’s just uncomfortable.

“So being selflessly selfish is my balance?”

He nods, frowning. “I thought I made that clear the last time we spoke. Before you went to kill your father.”

His lips twitch like he finds that last part amusing.

“You were a box of nonsense prattling on about really confusing things that pertain to balance.”

I hate all these sad looks in his eyes when I say something that apparently isn’t something I would have said back then. It’s like he’s mourning the loss of the friend he had while staring at the flimsy version of her that’s left.

“The word balance sounds so simple. But it’s equivalent to a human trying to stand on one leg for four days without wavering in the slightest. It’s impossible to without a crutch of some sort. Except for you. You never needed methods to maintain your balance, and you effortlessly stood on one leg from the day you were created until you ceased to exist.”

He swallows while forcing a tight smile.

“As I’ve stated before, only you strived for the impossible,” he adds.

“I’ve saved my reborn harem numerous times, even gave my life—without knowing I’d rise from the fiery grave. I’d say that’s just selfless.”

He smirks. “Yes. It is selfless to love so fiercely you’d trade your own life for one—or all—of theirs,” he agrees. “There’s no doubt you’ll always put them before yourself. But it’s also selfish, because you love them too much to suffer through the agony of losing even one. You’d rather die.”

When he puts it like that…

I bristle in my seat, now thinking back to every single decision I’ve made that bore enough weight to affect this internal balance.

“When you trust me enough, I’d like to check your balance, though. I’m simply curious if anything has changed. Especially considering the emotional distance left between you and the boys,” he continues.