Snarky Angels. Bad boy Omens. Dangerous Demons. And a deal with the Devil.
The past twenty-four hours have been pretty weird for pre-law student Rachel Mortimer.
She accidentally sold her soul to the Devil. An Angel showed up in her bedroom. And an irritatingly hot Bad Omen has been following her around campus.
Now she has to intern at Devils Inc. – Lucifer’s LA based soul trading company. And demons are trying to kill her. The undead want her legal advice. And she’s starting to catch feelings for someone she shouldn’t.
Oh, and someone has triggered the Apocalypse.
So she should probably stop that. . .
URBAN FANTASY | ANGELS AND DEMONS | NEW ADULT
WHAT READERS ARE SAYING
"Full of romance, humor, and end of the world fun!"
"Great for Lucifer fans!"
“Great plot, lovely ending, tears galore, fab!”
“This book is crazy good. It’s has humor, romance, heartbreak, soul bargaining...Oh and an Apocalypse!”
"Fun, fast, and fabulous!"
"Plenty of quirk, snark, and supernatural hotties!"
"This had me jumping for joy and sobbing and crying my broken heart out!"
"This is such a fun story with some great depth to the characters. And damn I wouldn't mind joining Devils Inc either *here's my phone I want the app!"
READ CHAPTER ONE
“EVIE’S GARDEN BAR” FREE WI-FI TERMS AND CONDITIONS
By accepting the terms and conditions of our free Internet service, you hereby sign away your immortal soul to the Devil and agree to be called upon, at any time, to enter into his service.
The past twenty-four hours have been full of bad omens. I broke two mirrors, I had to walk under a ladder to get to class, and I keep seeing crows on campus. I’ve felt pent-up all day too. Like something is wrong.
I pummel the punching bag. Beating the crap out of an inanimate object usually makes me feel better, but this time, it doesn't work.
My superstitious friend Josie would say something bad is going to happen. Lucas would say I need to get laid. But I’m pretty sure it’s because I’ve been putting off submitting my law internship application. The deadline’s midnight tonight.
I right hook the bag one last time, then admit defeat.
What am I going to do? Tell my parents that reading through obnoxious legal jargon is the worst form of torture? Explain to them that even if I get through this pre-law program, I don’t think I want to go to law school?
Of course not.
I’m going to review my application one last time, send it, and hope this one doesn’t get rejected. If it does, I’m screwed. I’ve received five rejections already, and I really don’t want to break the news to them that their one remaining child is not good enough.
I pause in the doorway. I must have been here longer than I thought. The lights have been switched off, and the hallway is deathly quiet. I’ve been the last one in the gym before, and I know they won’t lock up until I’ve left. Yet still, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Something feels wrong.
I shake my head. What is up with me today?
Unwrapping my hands, I head for the locker room, where I walk to my locker and grab my phone out of my bag. There’s a message from Josie.
Rach! Get your ass to Evie’s Garden. It’s half-price appletinis all night, and they’re not asking for ID.
I exhale, leaning against the lockers.
Can’t. Got to send that law application.
The dim light bulb hanging above the wooden benches flickers as Josie replies.
Do it here. Free Wi-Fi.
Seconds later, a picture of her and Lucas pops up onscreen. They’re holding appletinis and giving me their best pleading eyes. Josie’s black Afro takes up most of the shot, her golden-brown eyes bright beneath bold green eyeshadow. Lucas grins, his wide-rimmed hipster glasses slightly askew and his light brown hair swept up from his forehead thanks to his healthy gel addiction.
I suppose I could read through the application one more time at the bar, and maybe a drink would help me chill out. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?
Fine, I write. But if this all goes to shit, you can explain to my parents why I’m such a disappointment.
I stuff my phone back into my bag and hit the showers. After, I’m standing by my locker in a towel when the sound of something being knocked over comes from the shower room. Even though I know I’m the only one here.
The light flickers again.
I refrain from calling, “Hello? Who’s there?” since this isn’t some horror movie. But I also don’t dawdle as I pull on my skinny jeans and a white tank top. That “off” feeling builds again.
I grab my phone, then head next door. The stuffy space is empty except for my infinite reflections in the wall mirrors: my long black hair dripping onto the tiles, my tan skin shining because it’s still damp. The peacock feather inked on the back of my right shoulder looks darker in the dim light, and my mind goes to Jonathon. He used to let me stay up and watch those old-school slasher movies when our parents weren’t home. Why do I feel like I’m in one right now?
That’s when I see the source of the noise: an empty shampoo bottle rolling across the gray tiles. As I bend down to grab it, the lights go off completely. I fumble for my phone and turn on the flashlight, standing to clash eyes with my ghostly reflection in the mirror.
And I freeze.
A tall guy with short black hair hovers just a few feet behind me, darkness clinging to him like a cloak. His glinting eyes catch mine.
“Hey!” I yell, spinning around to hurl the empty shampoo bottle in his direction. “What the hell!”
The plastic bottle bounces off the far wall with a clatter. There’s no one there.
Something rumbles behind me, and I turn to see a large crack snaking its way through my reflection.
Not again. I know what Josie will say about this. She said it about the black cat sitting outside my dorm room this morning, the ladder I walked under to get to class, and the crow that flew into the food hall at lunch.
A bad omen.
A low chuckle echoes through the locker room, but no matter where I turn, my phone’s bright light reveals nothing but shadows—until I catch sight of a pair of dark eyes in another one of the mirrors.
The man leans in the doorway now, arms folded across his chest. He lifts a hand to wave, and the corner of his lip quirks.
The lights flick back on.
The doorway is empty.
I run toward the main locker room, bare feet slapping against the tiles. “Hey! You should know I used to box in high school!” I yell. “You think I won’t kick your—?”
I come to a halt. It’s empty too.
I rub my face. Of course it’s empty. Do I really think some mysterious mirror man is watching me? The darkness is just playing tricks. I’m way too on edge today.
Grabbing my bag from my locker, I head back to the broken mirror in the locker room, where I drag the brush through my tangled hair, underline my brown eyes with black eyeliner, put on some mascara, then leave.
Outside, the Californian sky is a burnt orange behind the ugly university dorm buildings that tower over each side of the footpath. A crow caws behind me, the noise sharp against the quiet air. The black bird watches me from atop the peeling Trinity Falls College Gym sign.
No. Not watching me. It’s a crow. Doing normal crow things.
I’ve been watching way too many teen vampire shows.
That’s one for sorrow, you know?
Shaking Josie’s voice out of my head, I start the ten-minute walk through the palm tree-lined residential roads by cutting through the memorial park on the outskirts of campus. I’ll get to Evie’s Garden Bar, send off my application, then get rid of all this pent-up energy by partying with friends on the dance floor.
There are no such things as bad omens.