The Devil's Beat (The Devil's Mark) Read Free

of blood and dirt on his hands. Without thinking, he wiped his hands off on his shirt. His shirt got nasty without cleaning his hands.
    When he saw what he had done to his ten-thousand-dollar UNICEF T-shirt (from his benefit concert), his whole world turned red. “God fucking damn it!”
    “Out of the mouths of babes,” came a rich and mocking baritone from close behind him.
    Max jumped and whirled in fright. Somewhere around the halfway point in his pirouette, he recognized the voice and came down scowling.
    His ex-partner, mentor, and onetime friend stood smirking three feet away from him. Lucian looked as immaculate as always. His perfect, slicked-back, black hair allowed Lucian's Roman nose unchallenged dominance over his features. His tailored black suit complemented his crisp edges perfectly with no stray sags or wrinkles.
    Max now had focus for his anger. “Jesus Christ! I told you, I never wanted to see you again!”
    “Isn't that so delicious?” purred Lucian. If scorn could drip, it would have formed a puddle around his neon-orange sneakers. “He makes you the gift of redemption, He lets you nail his son to a cross, and you throw His name out like some piece of trash.”
    Max's shoulders slumped. “Fuck you. Go back to hell, Lucian, or should I just call you Lucifer?”
    Lucian smiled widely. “Now, now, I'm not ready to end this tale just yet. Be careful of that hostility. It could get you in trouble with someone less reasonable than I. Besides, my young protégé, I'm here to help you.”
    “I don't want your help. I don't need your help. Just go away!”
    Lucian's eyebrows rose as he slipped on an ironic mask of angelic innocence. “I couldn't help but notice that you seemed to be in a bit of a pickle. Just look at the mess you've made of yourself. Your burgaling skills are woefully underdeveloped, so I brought you a gift.” He frowned. Looking pensive, he paused, tapping his chin with a long, manicured finger. “Or is that burglarizing, or perhaps burgling?” Lucian shook his head as if despairing of ever understanding the English language, and then, with a flourish and a smile, he presented Max with a massive set of keys.
    Obviously, Lucian was just playing with him. He'd been an idiot to come here. Of course, the whole thing had been a setup. “I'm leaving,” said Max, ignoring the keys as he turned to walk away.
    He almost ran into Lucian, standing in front of him again.
    Lucian curled his lips in disdain. “Careful. If you get so much as a smudge on my suit, I shall become quite vexed.”
    “Get out of my way.”
    “Certainly,” purred Lucian, all anger gone in an instant. “Just take your keys, check out your house, and I will be on my merry way.”
    The more Lucian wanted him here, the less he wanted to be here. “I don't want the keys, and I don't want this trash heap of a house.” Max tried to walk around the shorter man.
    Lucian smiled delightedly. “Oh yes, you do... You see, the house is in your name, so whatever is in it, and whatever happens in it, are your responsibility. It just wouldn't do to have someone else find your surprise.”
    Max paled as he considered what might lie in that house. “What did you do?”
    Lucian laughed with innocent surprise at the accusation. “Moi? Tu me fais tort. Je n'ai fait rien, mais je t'ai donnér un cadeau.”
    Max didn't speak French but nonetheless understood Lucian's protestations of innocence.
    “What did you do, damn it?”
    Lucian's eyebrows rose with delight. “That is for me to know and you to find out. I would recommend you go and find your present before it rots.”
    Max looked back at the mansion—now evil and forbidding rather than just pathetic and rundown. What was in there? A jangle of metal behind him caused him to turn back to Lucian, and his question died before he uttered it. He was standing alone. The ring of keys lay on the ground where Lucian had been standing.
    He contemplated the keys and, with a grimace,