“Oh, Azrael!” Holly wailed as she launched herself into her son's arms. “Do you know what to do? I told your father that you would and that if you didn't, Vervain would.” She glanced over at me to say, “Thank you for coming, Vervain.”
“Of course,” I said as she transferred herself from Azrael to me. “We'll figure this out, Hol—” I saw Luke's wide-eyed look and amended it to, “Mom.”
“I'm so relieved to have you two here.” Holly sighed as she untangled herself from me.
It was hard to hug Holly; she looked fragile. It always felt as if I might break her. Her skin was so pale and translucent that I could see her veins through it in places; vampires had nothing on the Holy Spirit. Then there were her blue eyes that were so light they were practically colorless, and her platinum blonde hair that fell in a straight veil down her back. She looked as if one stiff breeze could knock her over.
Standing beside her husband, Holly looked even more delicate. Their eyes were close in color, although Luke's were more diamond than arctic and were trimmed in thick, black lashes. But the rest of Lucifer Morningstar was vivid. He was nearly identical to Azrael; with ebony hair that fell in loose curls to the nape of his neck and a face that should be carved on a statue if it wasn't already. But the Devil's feathered wings were the same sparkling diamond as his eyes while Azrael's matched his ebony hair. Normally, I'd say that Az had a more reserved presence; the weight of the world had once lain across his shoulders. But then Azrael had retired and most of that weight had flown away. It seemed to have found a perch on his father, and, for the moment, Lucifer looked to be the more melancholy of the two.
“They want to conduct an investigation before they speak to the God Squad,” Luke told Holly. “I'm going to take them down to the Repository.”
“Oh, be careful,” Holly said worriedly.
“It's just a room, Mom,” Azrael said before he kissed her cheek. “And we aren't demons.”
“Yes, of course.” Holly wrung her hands.
“Could you make us some tea, sweetheart?” Luke asked his wife gently.
“Tea?” Holly blinked. “Yes! I can do that. Tea needs hot water and tea leaves and sugar and cream and maybe lemons. Yes; lemons!”
Holly rushed off toward the kitchen; armed with a purpose.
“She's taking it even worse than I am,” Luke said unnecessarily.
Azrael and I only nodded as we followed Luke past the dining room and down a spiral staircase to the basement. We came to a door at the bottom with a hand-painted sign above it that read; The Repository. The Devil opened the heavy, iron-hinged door for us, and we went into a room that was reminiscent of an opium den.
Not that I've ever been in an opium den, and those I'd seen depicted on television were far more skanky and debauched than this one, but it still felt like the right word for it. An opium den in a Victorian home might look this way; with oak paneling on the walls and swaths of blue-toned fabric draped across the ceiling. Two rows of beds ran the length of the room; one to either side. They were twin beds but on the large side; just big enough for a demon to lay on. But that's all that was needed; it wasn't as if they'd be tossing and turning a lot. Still, each bed was made with fluffy pillows and down comforters. Satan wanted his demons to be comfortable.
After Luke told us which beds had been used by Mark and Alan, Azrael and I inspected every piece of furniture in the room—from beds to lamps—paying special attention to those used by the deceased demons. I searched with my dragon senses; sight and smell. There was nothing out of the ordinary; not that we'd been expecting anything. But we had to look.
“Where's the Possession Log?” Azrael asked his father.
“Right where it always is,” Lucifer said with a wave of his hand toward a little alcove next to the doorway.
A pedestal stood within the niche and on it was a massive, leather-bound book. The book was shut; showing off the fancy silver lettering embossed on its cover. “The Book of Possession” stood out brightly against the black leather binding. Azrael went to the ancient-looking ledger and flipped it open. The thing had to be over two feet thick and a foot and a half long, and when Azrael opened it, I noticed tiny writing scrawled across the pages.
“Every demon must sign in before a possession,” Azrael said to me as I stepped up beside him. “This will tell us who Alan and Mark were possessing at the time of their deaths.”
Azrael quickly found the last entries because they were on the last page in the book. I frowned at that and turned toward Luke with a question in my eyes.
“The book adds pages as they're needed,” Luke explained.
Of course, it did.
“Here they are,” Azrael tapped the page. “Alan possessed a woman named Felisa Bianchi in San Casciano, Val di Pesa, Italy.” He looked up at me expectantly. “Are you going to make a note of this?”
“Oh!” I pulled out my cell phone and opened the note app. “Felisa Bianchi in San Francisco, California. Got it.”
Azrael made a face at me while Luke chuckled.
“San Casciano, Val di Pesa, Italy,” Az repeated. Then he spelled it for me.
I stuck my tongue out at him while I typed it.
“And Mark was with a Mr. Donato Botello in La Moraleja, Spain.”
“Donatello Turtle in La Marjoram, Spain,” I said slowly as I typed. Then I looked up at Azrael's pained expression and repeated, “Donato Botello, La Moraleja, Spain. Got it.”
“I
