The Devil's in the Details Read Free Page B

minimal list of must-haves. “Mom’s leaning toward dark and sinister for her theme.”
    “I knew it! Auntie
is
tying the knot. Mother thought it was a trick, but then Auntie Levita said Auntie Lillith said you were planning the wedding for her. A
real
wedding. Imagine that. So when is it? When’s the big day?”
    “There won’t be one if I don’t get moving with the plans.”
    “But—”
    “Talk later.” I hit the kill button before she could fire off another question. I’d already confirmed my mom’s announcement. I wasn’t going to leak any details. If ma wanted my aunts to know when, where, and what time, she would tell them herself or send them invites. This was her big news to spread, not mine.
    I
so
didn’t want to be caught in the middle of an all-out demonic war.
    I was sliding the phone into my pocket when it vibrated again. Talk about pigheaded. Portia just didn’t give up.
    I was about to hit
Ignore
when I saw a giant margarita glass dancing on my display: it was my best bud, Blythe.
    Blythagamamia Stephenolopolis, aka Blythe Stevens. Forget causing droughts and stirring earthquakes. Blythe was a lower-level demon responsible for tempting humans on a more day-to-day basis. Her cover? A hot-to-trot party animal who made being bad look really,
really
good. She’d been a Hooters girl for the past few years until she’d saved enough tips to open her own limo service. Now she cruised the Bayou City all night in a hot-pink stretch Hummer full of partygoers eager to drink and dance and sin the night away.
    The thing was, Blythe had long since tired of the endless nightlife. Like me, she wanted more out of her existence. Unlike me, she could actually achieve her dream without finding herself doomed to Hell. There were just too many of the lower-tier demons to keep track of when the higher-ups (Mommie Dearest among them) were focused solely on the push-pull of power at the corporate level.
    Blythe was now in her fourth year as an undergrad at the University of Houston, specializing in early education. She wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. While I totally supported her dream (I’d quizzed her for her last exam), I couldn’t help thinking she was about to trade one hell for another.
    We’re talking a room full of screaming five-year-olds.
    “What up?” she asked when I pressed the talk button.
    “I’m about to start the reception.”
    “I didn’t mean
what up
at this exact moment. I meant
what up
as in
what big catastrophe is about to consume your entire existence?
”
    “I guess good news travels fast.”
    “This is more like tabloid news, like when that woman in Kansas gave birth to the three-headed baby.”
    “Except this is true.”
    “Which explains why you sound so emo right now.”
    “I’m not depressed. I’m scared.” There. I’d said it. The desperation that I’d been fighting crept back into my voice. “She showedup here, Blythe. Right
here
. What if she’d caught me all misty-eyed, watching the bride walk down the aisle? She would have yanked me back to Hell faster than you can pop the cork on a champagne bottle.”
    “But she didn’t see you, which means your secret is still safe.”
    “For now. But with me as her wedding planner, we’ll be together nonstop. Plus she wants all this dark and creepy stuff, and I don’t know if I can pull it off.”
    “Sure you can. You’re a demon. You majored in dark and creepy.”
    “Yes, but this is a
wedding
.”
    “Satan’s wedding. Just keep that in mind, do a creepy spectacular job, and you’ll be fine. She’ll say
I do
and then she’ll be so focused on her new power trip that she’ll forget all about you. The article will come out, your business will quadruple, and everyone will live creepily ever after.”
    “And what if she doesn’t forget about me? I have a bad feeling about this. A really bad feeling.” I spent the next thirty seconds angsting to Blythe until my phone beeped again with an urgent text message. I