The Devil's Secret Read Online Free PDF Page A

forth.
    “I have no designs on those humans,” Thorn lied. He honestly cared little about reconciling the demons with their Creator, but if convincing them that God wanted them back could end His silly Rube Goldberg system of forgiveness and let Thorn live a free life on Earth—away from God and away from the cruelty of demons—Thorn would risk his life for it in a heartbeat. Not even in his most extravagant fantasies had he imagined that true freedom would ever be a possibility for him.
    “Good.” God moved forward, now just inches away. The bodyguards surrounded Thorn. Thilial watched hawkishly from the sidelines. “I forbid you from pursuing Marcus or those humans. For now and forever. With that in mind, do you accept My offer?”
    If I were made into an angel, would God obtain some new power over me, preventing me from acting independently? If Thorn accepted, he would be a prisoner here, and if he declined, he’d be sent back to Hell. He thought of fleeing, but he couldn’t hope to outrun an army of angels. Perhaps my best option under the circumstances is indeed to join God’s angels. At least then I’ll be safe.
    But he wouldn’t be free. Every fiber of his being told him he’d regret the choice.
    God’s body stood rigid; blood vessels bulged under the skin of His face. The subtle electric currents in His bluish hair strengthened in intensity. He looked like He’d been holding the same breath for several minutes. “Fine,” He said in response to Thorn’s hesitation. “Let Me give you some incentive.”
    God stepped aside, revealing someone lying on the ground behind Him. Thorn’s heart dropped in his chest.
    Amy’s skin was deathly pale. Blood seeped from the stab wound in her side and pooled on the marble floor. Bits of grass and dirt speckled her clothes and her hair. Although her breaths came in shallow gasps, she appeared lucid, and quite frightened of the unfamiliar location in which she suddenly found herself.
    Thorn ran to her with the desperation only love can bring, and knelt beside her. “Amy.” Just saying her name stirred feelings within him that he’d buried during the last hectic twelve hours. He hadn’t expected to see her again, and now that this girl with whom he’d spent the last thirteen years was here, his joy at seeing her mixed bitterly with the sorrow he felt for her demise. But why was she still bleeding in Heaven?
    “She’s not dead,” said the Creator as if in response. “Not yet. I took her from the night she was stabbed, just before they drove her to the hospital.”
    Amy’s weak gaze grew fierce when she spied Thorn above her. “H—Help me,” she croaked out. Blood dribbled from the side of her mouth. Thorn couldn’t think of an adequate response. He looked to the angels for any shred of sympathy they might offer, and found that they all looked quite ill at ease. Even a nearby pair of beagles started whimpering at the sad sight of the dying girl.
    Thilial’s voice arose from behind God, and He turned to her. “Please, Lord,” she whispered, as if trying to keep Thorn from hearing, “don’t do this. Find another way to coerce him.”
    God whispered as well. “Thilial, silence. Go back to your place.”
    “I care for this girl!” Thilial protested.
    God snapped His fingers, and Thilial instantly teleported backward forty feet. She jumped at the shock of it, then grimaced when she realized what had happened. The whole event baffled Thorn. Thilial cares for the girl? Cooped up in the Atlanta quarantine zone, when would Thilial ever have encountered Amy?
    God turned back to Thorn, and again spoke in His normal, preternaturally clear voice. “Ordinarily, Amy would be welcome here if she dies.” Thorn found that strange, since as far as he knew, Amy was not a believer. “But now I’m rethinking where she goes. Up or down. Cool or scorching hot. She might not even die, actually. Just a wave of My hand, and she’ll be healed. She’ll live a full life,