The Sinner

Casziel shrugged. “I’m a demon. I never professed to be fair. ”

I rolled my eyes and picked up the photo of my father and me. Both of us gri

“He’s an angel now,” I murmured, tracing his face.

“Playing a harp whilst gliding past pearly gates on a fluffy white cloud?” Casziel mused. He ran a finger along a row of romance novels on my shelf. “Heaven’s gates or the fires of hell. Divine or infernal. Angel or demon. Everything is black and white for you humans when there are a thousand shades of gray.” He pulled a book off the shelf, an eyebrow arched. “More than fifty.”

“Okay, then what’s it like?”

“The Other Side?” He shrugged and dropped the book on the floor and moved on with his inspection of my place. “You can’t comprehend it and I’d rather not drive you to insanity trying to explain.”

“Gee, thanks,” I muttered and returned the book to its home on the shelf as Casziel poked his head into my tiny bathroom.

“I’ve known monks with more worldly possessions than you, Lucy De

I lifted one shoulder. “It’s all I need.”

He gestured at my shelves. “You need all those books? Mostly romantic fiction, I notice.”

“And poetry. I love poetry and romance.” I smiled self-consciously. “I’m a sucker for beautiful words.”

Casziel sniffed. “Those beautiful words are your substitute for the real thing.”

“I…that isn’t true.”

“Is it not true?” He stretched his long body out on my too-small couch. “One stool at the counter. One chair at the desk. I’m shocked that your bed is large enough for two.”

I tugged at the collar of my sweater, my face growing hot. “This place doesn’t have room for more furniture. And not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t have company over all that often.”

Or ever, Silly Lucy.

Casziel shrugged and reached for the TV remote on the coffee table and started flipping through cha

I snatched the remote out of his hands and shut off the TV.

“Oh sure, let’s get pizza. As soon as you tell me what I’m supposed to do. Help you not be a demon?”

He fixed his eyes on me. “My redemption lies with you, Lucy De

“I don’t do that,” I said in a small voice.

“You’d give the shirt off your back, as the saying goes, even if you only had one shirt.”

“That’s…not true.”

“Agree to disagree.”

I hunched deeper into my sweater, an ugly, nervous feeling coiling in my guts like a snake. The enormity of what I was being asked to do and believe was too much. Demons or not, the voices in my head were right—I was gullible and silly and always willing to see the best in people, even when they were obviously toying with me.

“This conversation is making me ill,” I said. “I was crazy to let you in. For all I know this is a lie, and you’re here to…hurt me.”

Casziel’s lazy smirk vanished. “I told you, I would never hurt you.”

“You told me but what is the word of a demon? And how am I supposed to help you? You’ve committed God knows how many atrocities—”

“God knows,” Casziel said, his voice low. “To the last drop of blood spilled, God knows.”

I shivered. “This was a mistake. I think you should leave.”

The demon sat up, head bowed, his hands hanging off his knees. “Forgive me, Lucy born of light. It’s been nearly four thousand years since I last put myself at the mercy of a human’s generosity.” He looked up at me, his expression strangely soft. “I vowed to never…”

“What?”

He looked away. “Nothing.”

Pain hung over him, weighing him down like a second coat. Or a suit of armor grown too heavy. Against my will, my heart softened toward him, but he was right. I did bend over backwards for others, and sometimes—most times, if I were being honest—it left me feeling as though I’d been taken advantage of.

I crossed my arms. “How can I trust you?”

“Your own father assured you that you can.”

“And if you’re lying about him too?”

“You asked earlier if he were here, and my answer was…inadequate.” Casziel winced, a

Despite everything, I smiled. I could almost see Dad standing over Casziel, hands on his hips, scolding him. Almost. As much as I wanted to believe, there was no one there.

“The hardest part of losing someone is thinking they’re gone forever,” I said. “You know in your heart that’s not true but the little voices of doubt whisper what if it is? ”

Casziel nodded, then cocked his head, listening. When he spoke, his tone was gentler than I’d ever heard it.

“He asks me to remind you of your youth. How you would do your homework at the dining room table while he cooked di

“Milford.” Tears filled my eyes. “I remember.”

I could see it as if it were yesterday. Dad banging around in the kitchen of our cozy house, the scent of pot roast or spaghetti sauce in the air. Me in pigtails at the table, my papers strewn all over but organized. I was an A student, always striving to do my best. To make Dad proud, even if he never demanded more of me than I could give.

“If you needed help with an equation or had a question,” Casziel said, “he’d come in from the kitchen to help, then go back when you didn’t need help anymore.”

I nodded, my voice a whisper. “Yes. That’s what he did.”

“It is so now. He’s always here, Lucy. He’s just in the next room. And if you need him, he will come.”

The tears spilled over now. I smiled through them, feeling as if a weight had been lightened. It wasn’t gone; it would never lift completely, but for the first time in six months, I felt like I could breathe again.

“Thank you, Casziel.”

I hadn’t said his name before. Probably my imagination, but it felt as if the air between us had shifted. A shimmer, like the blurred air above a fire, wavered between us, then vanished.

“And I’ll help you,” I said. “I don’t know how or where to even start. But…I’ll try.”

Casziel’s eyes widened as they met mine. “My thanks, Lucy De

I ordered pizza for my demon and curled on my bed while he watched television from the couch. Eventually, my eyes grew heavy; the events of the day and every wild emotion in it had left me drained. I began to doze, listening to Casziel’s ru

I drifted to sleep and dreamed of a woman

standing in the field, her back to me, her black hair braided in a thick rope down to her waist. She wears a shapeless wool dress, belted above the hip. Her skin is bronzed, and silver bracelets with blue stones slide down her arm as she shields her eyes from the setting sun. In the distance, a city of low mud-brick buildings sits against the banks of a river.

I follow her line of sight and can just make out a procession of soldiers marching into the city. The faint sounds of cheering crowds emanate from under horns bleating in triumph.