Page 69 of The Devil Went Down to Laughlin
Because it seemed wiser to play along for now and hope that an opportunity for escape would present itself sooner rather than later, she raised her chin and marched over to the closet, removed the gown — which looked as if it had been designed to grace a red carpet and not as a component of whatever horrible ritual “August” had planned — and then went into the bathroom and locked the door.
That flimsy lock wouldn’t have kept even a regular human out if they were determined enough, let alone a demon, but the spurious security measure made Delia feel a little better.
What didn’t make her feel good at all were the gown’s spaghetti straps. No way in the world could she wear her current bra under that, and she hated the idea of feeling so exposed, even if the dress did have cups sewn into the lining to provide a little support. She supposed she could have kept on the bra — she sure as hell didn’t care what she looked like — but she had a sneaking suspicion that if she emerged with exposed straps and maybe even the edge of her undergarment showing around the low neckline, the demon would only order her to return to the bathroom and not come out until she was wearing the gown the proper way.
So she quickly slid off her bra and hung it from the brushed nickel hook on the back of the bathroom door, then slipped the dress over her head. It somehow felt heavier on her body than it had when she’d only been carrying it, and it clung to her in ways she wasn’t sure she liked. She worked out and kept herself in shape and liked wearing clothing that fit her well, but she still wasn’t into garments that stuck to her like a second skin.
Not that her personal preferences mattered a damn right now.
The gown was beautiful, though, even if she didn’t feel comfortable wearing it, and although it was probably foolish to think such a thing when she had much more important matters to worry about, she kind of hated how her hair and makeup…or, more accurately, lack thereof…definitely didn’t match the dress.
Since there wasn’t much she could do about her appearance, she hung her blouse and her jeans on the hook next to the one that held her bra.
Would she be able to come back and retrieve them?
Somehow, she didn’t think so.
When she emerged, August rose from the chair where he’d been waiting for her. “Much better,” he said. “Although not quite there.”
He didn’t do anything so obvious as snap his fingers, but in the next second, her long red hair had been scooped up and arranged into an artfully messy bun, and shoulder-duster earrings hung from her ears. She caught a glint of deep green and guessed they were probably emeralds.
“That’s a nice trick,” she commented. “I bet you’d clean up getting people ready for the Oscars.”
The demon didn’t even blink. “I would not waste my time on such a frivolous endeavor. But now that you’re ready, we can go.”
He walked over to her, and although Delia’s first instinct was to back away, she guessed he wouldn’t put up with that sort of nonsense. Again, she reminded herself that she needed to play along so she could wait for the right opportunity to escape.
Even if she wasn’t sure whether that opportunity would actually come along.
Cold fingers clasped her forearm, and she tried not to flinch. Shouldn’t a demon’s touch be hot?
Caleb’s fingers were always warm.
But he was only a quarter demon, and much more human than not. Thinking about him then made her wish more than ever that he was here, because she was pretty sure he’d make short work of August. The guy might be acting like he was in charge, but Caleb had demolished other demons, and she had no doubt he’d take care of this one, too.
She tried again to call out to him with her mind. Unfortunately, the same spell that had prevented her from using the phone or allowing anyone to hear her cries for help seemed to have blocked that ability as well.
August smiled, showing teeth that were too white…and too sharp.
“We will go now.”
In a blink, they were gone.
Chapter Seventeen
More than ever, Caleb wished he’d come to Laughlin with Delia for a little change of pace, maybe a chance to rent a boat and go out on the river — even though he knew spending an extended amount of time on the Colorado probably wasn’t a good idea for him — or just have dinner and catch a show.
Maybe finally gather his courage enough to tell her he was glad to be her friend but that he wanted a whole lot more.
Instead, he was back in the fifth sublevel below the Aquarius, watching as Ty pried up the section of carpet that concealed the tunnel leading to the chamber where August Sellers would be performing a ritual intended to open a portal to Hell.
Well, the tunnel that supposedly led there. Ty seemed very sure about the whole thing, but because he hadn’t allowed them to explore when they came here earlier in the day, saying they needed to be careful not to tip their hands, Caleb had no idea whether the half angel’s assessment of the situation was correct.
This time, though, Ty actually did open the door, which revealed a pitch-black passageway with a metal ladder secured to one wall.
“Probably for the people who dug it out,” he said as he and Caleb began to make the descent. “Sellers would have hired workers to do the job and then either erased their memories…or simply erased them.”
“What, he couldn’t just snap his fingers and make it happen?” Caleb asked. Oddly, the lower they got, the more illumination he detected, as if there was a light source farther down the tunnel they currently couldn’t see.
