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“Wait,” I stop walking. “Elvis Presley. The King stayed here? Is he here now?”

“Oh no. Just long enough for our Master to sort him into the correct level.” Fuchsia stops and looks at me, her eyes twinkling. “I take it you’re a fan?”

“I spent my childhood listening to my father’s records. He still plays his vinyls.” I look around the hallway as if I might spot some sign of Elvis. “I know all the words to every song.”

“Oh, we will have to trade tales later. Things were very lively when he was here!”

“Why was he here, though? You said he was being sorted into Hell. Shouldn’t he have been on Level Two?” I frown. “Why was he in Hell anyway?”

“That is definitely not something to talk about in the presence of little ears. Let’s just say, he is the King of Rock n’ Roll.” She walks to a door and rests her hand on the doorknob. “Our Master felt Level Two was too cruel for someone with such a musical gift.”

“The Macarena wasn’t invented then, so what did he play?” I can’t help my curiosity.

“Oh, he’s been playing the Macarena for centuries. I believe Father Time helped him with that little trick.” She turns back to the door and pushes it open. “And here are your rooms. If there is anything you dislike, just let me know. Your clothes are on your beds.”

Mandy and I walk into the room and it’s not actually a room at all. It’s a giant sitting room warmed by a large fireplace, with an overstuffed couch, several chairs, and thick carpet. Bookshelves line one wall and I can see treetops through one of the windows. Mandy wastes no time running through the room and opening all the doors.

“Oh my gosh!” She squeals and disappears.

I run after her just in time to see her launch herself onto the largest pink monstrosity of a bed I’ve ever seen.

“Mandy!”

“It’s so soft!” She swings her arms and legs back and forth like she’s making a snow angel.

“I’m very glad you like it.” Fuchsia smiles and pushes her glasses back up her nose with one delicate claw. “Now, let’s get you two dressed.”

8

Lucifer

By the time Lyla and Mandy return, I’ve worn a path in the hardwood floors with all my pacing. I am immortal. Eternal. A creature that has existed longer than humanity. And in many ways, my existence these long years has been static. Unchanging. Unmovable.

Until tonight. No--maybe since I held Mandy’s letter in my hand.

How… in such a short time, even when compared to the gnat-like lifespan of a human… how has this woman and child shaken my core reality so profoundly?

When she walks in wearing a black velvet bodysuit with blood red fur cuffs and black Santa hat, I feel momentarily tongue tied, which is not like me at all. I’m very good with my tongue in all situations.

But she’s so stunning, so radiant, and so damn sexy in an outfit that hugs all her perfect curves just right that I know I look like a foolish hormonal mortal as I stare at her.

“Don’t look at me like that. It was this or a mini skirt andthatwas not going to happen. Humans can get frostbite, you know.” Her cheeks turn that charming shade of red, but she holds my gaze with her own, her chin tilted up in silent defiance of her nerves. Her lips painted the same red as the fur trim. Her eyes blazing. Damn this woman sets me on fire.

When my language skills return, I grin at her. “You look like the poster girl for Santa’s Naughty List.”

Mandy frowns, looking up at her mom. “Is that true, Mommy?” she asks, clutching Lyla’s hand in hers. “Are you on the Naughty List?”

Mandy is dressed up like an elf, down to the white and red candy striped coat and floppy green hat. She’s adorable, even in the old elf’s colors.

Lyla narrows her eyes at me, then looks down at her child. “No, Lucifer was just making a joke. An inappropriate one,” she says, glancing back at me with a stern expression that makes me laugh.

Mandy shakes her head. “Grown ups are so weird sometimes. Aren’t jokes supposed to be funny?”

Lyla laughs. “Yes, they are.” She looks at me. “You just got burned by an eight-year-old,” she says with no small amount of glee in her eyes.

“So I did,” I say, giving Mandy a gallant bow. “A well-placed hit. I will have to work on my humor, Lady Mandy.”

The child giggles and it warms my cold, immortal heart.