Page 14 of Wicked Believer (Original Sinner #2)

Chapter Eleven

Charlotte

The three of us settle into an easy conversation after that, the warmth of the Chinese food and Jax and Evie’s laughter making me feel truly at home for the first time in weeks.

It isn’t until Jax and I are boxing up the last of the leftover containers and trying to make space for them in the too-tiny fridge that the conversation finally turns to Lucifer and me.

“So, what’s going on between you two?” Jax asks. “These days you’re only ever here when something’s wrong.”

“That’s not true,” I mumble, shoving a bit of half-eaten wonton into my mouth, but the yeah-right look Jax gives me coupled with Evie’s sly grin in agreement let me know in no uncertain terms that I’ve been a shitty friend lately.

A familiar pang of guilt races through me.

I haven’t found the right moment to confess everything that happened between Lucifer and me after the Met Gala just yet.

Sure, Jax knows some of the details, the sort of things anyone on social media knows, but how do you explain to your bestie that you died, but it’s okay, because your literal devil of a boyfriend remade you with God’s redemption and you’re immortal now? No biggie.

Yeah, not the easiest of conversation openers.

And that doesn’t even cover the whole “we’re barreling toward apocalyptic doom” part.

Jax takes one of the containers from my hand, her fingers accidentally brushing my palm as I start to apologize, but at my touch, her whole body goes rigid.

She drops the container, the lo mein noodles splattering all over the floor.

“Jax? Jax?” I rush around the counter toward her as her eyes go distant and hazy, almost like she’s about to pass out, or ... like she’s in some kind of trance.

I grip her shoulders, giving her a little shake to try and snap her out of it and get her to look at me, but she isn’t budging.

Beside us, Evie freezes, like she isn’t certain what to do, but a violent shudder runs through Jax from head to toe and then she blinks, coming back to herself only a moment later.

Evie and I exchange confused glances.

“Are ... you okay?” I ask her, concern furrowing my brow.

But Evie is already staring at Jax as if she’s her latest party novelty. Her eyes flash with interest. “Oh my God! Was that like a vision or something?” She claps her hands together excitedly.

Like she truly believes this whole psychic thing.

Who knows, maybe she does? Celebrity influencers have believed stranger things.

Honestly, I’ve never really given Jax’s psychic work much thought. She’s a performer, whether onstage or at a card table, or so I figured.

Until now, actually.

And who am I to judge, considering who I’m dating?

“What did you see?” Evie squeals as I mutter a low, “You okay?”

“It’s nothing,” Jax says, waving us off. “It was nothing.”

But I don’t miss the wary glance she casts toward me.

A few minutes later, after several reassurances from Jax that she’s all right and her brain just sort of glitched or something, the rest of the takeout is put away, and once the spilled lo mein noodles are up off the floor, the conversation returns to Lucifer and me.

“So, what is going on with you two anyway?” Evie says dreamily. “Give us the real version. None of the nonsense all over my socials.”

The “nonsense” being that things between Lucifer and I are better than ever.

Even if I’m currently mourning the loss of my father.

There’s been a lot of speculation about what I shared at the funeral.

About how my father’s congregation and their “alleged” abuse might have helped push me into Lucifer’s arms.

Imani’s worked to make sure most of the articles paint us in a positive way. With Lucifer as my valiant savior, and me playing, well ... the role of the disadvantaged victim.

I force a cough, trying to hide my disgust at the thought.

Is that what I’ve been doing lately? By refusing to embrace my immortality? Letting my public image bleed into my private life?

How the press sees me is so far from the truth that it doesn’t even deserve the few moments’ consideration I’m forced to give it each day, though that says nothing for the several kill notices Imani’s had to send to keep some of the nastier conspiracy theories and conjecture at bay.

Every employee on Apollyon’s legal team has been working overtime.

“There’s not much to it, really.” I launch into a shortened explanation about our disagreement over the PR firm, though I keep the finer details to a minimum, considering Evie has access to her own private PR team, not that she’s currently in contact with them. She’s off the grid totally.

While her brother’s still searching for her, at least.

When I finish, she nods. “I think Lucifer’s right,” she says in her usual breathy tone. “Why run a PR firm when you could be launching your own brands? Building your own empire?”

Jax rolls her eyes. “Maybe because Charlotte doesn’t want an empire. Not everyone loves being in the limelight that way you do, Evie. Isn’t that right, Charlotte?” She says it with such conviction—like she knows me better than anyone—that I have to fight hard not to wince when she looks at me.

Her eyes widen, darting between me and Evie like she’s truly seeing the similarities between us for the very first time, and Evie and I may have more in common than she thinks.

“That’s not entirely true, actually?” I mumble, more than a little ashamed to admit it.

My father worked hard to instill the exact opposite in me.

Women in our congregation were meant to be seen, not heard. One of his lessons that never really stuck, I guess. No matter how many times he punished me.

Jax’s mouth opens and closes a few times. “You’re telling me you enjoy this whole circus? The death threats? The unwanted attention it’s getting you?”

“Death threats aside, who wouldn’t?” Evie shrugs as if being in the limelight is the most natural thing in the world.

To her, it no doubt feels that way.

For Evie, the temporary loss of fame she’ll endure for cutting ties with her brother will be only a minor blow. She’ll likely come roaring back into the spotlight stronger and better than ever. Women like her always do. She was meant for this.

But maybe, thanks to Lilith, I’m more like Evie than I thought?

“Yes, and no?” I shrug, answering Jax’s question. I think of the anthrax, of how we still don’t know who sent it, yet here I am, still living and breathing. “It’s ... complicated.”

Everything in my life is lately. Sometimes, I miss the simplicity of when I wasn’t anything more than Lucifer’s intern.

Goddamn fate.

“There’s nothing complicated about all the death threats you’ve been receiving,” Jax says, her lips pursed in frustration, but I know that underneath it, she’s just concerned for me.

She has my back. She always does.

“That’s easy to say when you’ve never received that level of attention,” Evie says.

But I hear the unspoken words underneath.

When what little self-esteem you have has been built on the back of the praise you receive, of how you can be of service to others ...

The limelight is addicting.

Another part of my life shaped by my father’s design.

Or Lilith’s? I’m not sure which anymore.

I’m not sure about anything.

I glance toward Jax, gauging her reaction, and from the I-can’t-believe-you’re-siding-with-her look she gives me, suddenly I feel a chasm open up between her and me.

One where celebrities like Lucifer’s siblings and Evie are on one side, and mere mortals like Jax and Ramesh are on the other.

The fault line that was drawn when Lucifer chose me.

A sinking feeling pulls at me.

Maybe Lucifer didn’t need to make me immortal in order to change my life forever.

Maybe he’d already done it the moment he fell for me ...

“That’s enough,” I say, trying to shut this conversation down, but the thought still twists my stomach into knots. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Look, all I’m saying is you came here because you need our help, obviously. That’s what you wanted, right? Advice?” Evie’s fearless diva attitude cuts through the tension, almost as if she’s blissfully unaware of it. Or maybe it’s that she thrives on it. The drama. The gossip.

That’s the thing about Evie.

She may appear to be all innocent and dreamy, but when push comes to shove, she’s more devious than I’ll ever be.

A product of the violent, glamorous world she was raised in.

A world I’m now a part of. Like it or not.

I nod reluctantly, trying to brush off her comment but failing. “Yeah, I guess so.”

But it’s Jax’s advice that I truly want. The comforting embrace of my bestie.

Not this collision between my two worlds that Evie being here brings.

Unaware of my internal war, Evie gives me a stern look that I think is meant to be encouraging but ends up being somewhere closer to Oh, girl, please.

“It’s simple, really,” she says, shrugging off my concerns as if multimillion-dollar investments and billionaire boyfriends are no major thing.

“If you want to survive in our world, Charlotte, to prove your worth to Lucifer”—she spears me with an unscrupulous look that, paired with Jax shaking her head in the background, feels strangely foreboding—“all you have to do is show him how vicious you can be.”