Page 190 of Wicked Believer
“Think, Charlotte. Think,” I mutter, gripping both sides of the bathroom sink.
I can’t call Azmodeus for help, even though I’m sure he’d answer, because stripped of his powers or not, Lucifer would absolutelyendAzmodeus if he and I were to get into trouble together again any time soon. I may not be his full-time sub currently, but Lucifer is the head of our immortal family, and we’re likely still getting married for the sake of the press if not because we both clearly love each other. And I haven’t mastered my own powers enough in mine and Greed’s training sessions in order to—
That’s it!
“Greed!” I practically shout, as if yelling her name into the empty marble bathroom of the Brooklyn Museum might somehow summon her. I left my iPhone with Mia while I was onstage, so it’s not like I can pick up the damn thing and call Greed, where she’s sitting in the audience. She likely doesn’t have her phone unmuted anyway.
An idea sparks, fast and furious.
I sigh. “Please, God, let this work.”
I draw Greed’s sigil on the bathroom mirror using my lipstick—another witchy trick Jax taught me—before I pull out what spare cash I have inside my clutch. I have a few hundred-dollar bills along withthe spare lighter I keep in there for when Lucifer’s run empty. I hold up one of the bills and light it like it’s sacred sage or one of my fiancé’s cigarettes.
I fumble with the lighter, nearly burning myself.
Damn it, if this doesn’t work, I’m going to look ridiculous the moment Lucifer and whoever else is outside the door manages to burst in here.
“Greed. Greed,” I hiss under my breath.
It’s like I’m back in Sunday school or church, trying to get the attention of one of my friends from the other side of the aisle in the middle of my father’s preaching.
The fire on the edge of the bill sparks out.
Money doesn’t burn as easily as you’d expect it to.
Even with the supposedly trace amounts of cocaine.
I relight it just as another hefty round of fist-pounding starts outside the door, feverishly muttering to myself as if somehow Greed can hear me.
If Lucifer can summon an archangel like Michael by killing a whole megachurch full of evangelical assholes, then surely, I can summon my beloved future-sister-in-law, Greed, by illegally burning a few bank notes in her honor.
Right? Right?
The logic seems a bit sus, even to me.
The bill sparks out again, and now the lighter’s flint is also fucking with me, so I’m about to give up on that technique and desperately try another. Would making it rain with this small of a bill stack work? Maybe I need tocelebrateGreed’s love of money rather than burning some like an offering to her—but then Greed pops into existence right beside me.
She lifts a brow at the sight of her sigil drawn in lipstick on the bathroom mirror. “You tried tosummonme?”
I gape a little at the sight of her. “It actually worked?”
She makes an expression that’s full of pity. “No. Call it a big sister’s intuition.” She shrugs.
Another round of shouts come from outside the door as my eyes narrow on her.
“Oh all right, you and my brother were supposed to be onstage two minutes ago, and it’s clear to theentireguest list and half the country who’s watching the livestream that the real fun is happening backstage, so I thought I’d come looking for you. To help stir up a bit of sisterly trouble.”
“How much trouble are you hoping to get into?”
Greed’s red-painted lips twist wickedly.
Just as I hear someone fumbling with what sounds like a large ring of keys outside the bathroom door.
My heart races. “I’ll pay you everything in my current bank account to get me out of here.”
“Not enough.” Greed eyes me up and down. “Though I like a woman who knows how to negotiate.”
“I promise you’ll like me even better if you get us both outnow.”
