Olivia Chase, a successful woman who sold her soul to the Devil in exchange for a baby, is offered a second deal of a lifetime after her daughter dies: she must harvest Lucifer a series of souls he claims belong in Hell in trade for her daughter's m...
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The phone rang, insistent until a voicemail prompt silenced it. I semi-roused from the swirling darkness of blessed sleep, rolled over, and sighed, drifting back down into emotionless slumber. There, I found refuge from the pain.
Yet, the ringing of the bells woke me. No, wait, it was the phone again. Someone truly wanted to contact me. Everyone in my life knew to text. Granted, I'd been ignoring the texts for over a week; talking to people and having to endure them trying to coddle me made me grind my teeth.
I had been napping on the couch. If I slept most of the day away on the couch, I didn't feel the guilt that rode a decision to just stay in bed. Now, I was awake, but the phone stopped before I could catch it.
I knew it would ring again. It had to be my best friend, Shawna. She was the only one, except my family, who would be so insistent. Hell, maybe my family put Shawna up to it.
I had just closed my eyes when the grossly annoying ringtone sounded a final time. Damnit! I reached out.
"Hello, Shawna," I answered the call flatly. "I'm napping. What's going on?" I tried not to sound annoyed but failed miserably.
"Olivia! We've all been so worried! You're not responding to texts or emails, or instant messages. You're not even on Twitter or Instagram. You love Twitter and Instagram."
Spent, I sighed. "Loved. I loved Twitter and Instagram. Back when I had a daughter to share with the world. She's gone, Shawna, and I'm mourning and need a little solitude. What do you want?"
"Well, gee Olivia. I know you feel about as crappy as anyone could rightly feel, but that doesn't excuse inappropriate behavior. Say you're sorry."
"Ha!" I barked before hanging up on my closest confidante. What a bitch! She doesn't understand. I turned the phone to silent, rolled over, and tried to locate that place of no emotion once again. But it was too late. I was awake now, and I knew I needed to find something to do to distract myself.
Just as I decided to get up, a light tapping sounded on my French door, accompanied by a deep, but enthusiastic, bark. The sound came again, and I groaned, peeking over the couch's back to see who was being so insistent.
At first, only Angel appeared to be outside, but then, a hand reached into the half-shadow from the bright sunlight to tap on the door again. "Olivia! Come, take a walk with Angel and me! You need to get out of the house."
Grumbling, even as I knew Lucifer was right, I shuffled to the door. I unlocked and opened it enough to squeeze through so Angel wouldn't barge inside and wreak havoc. Lucifer once again dressed in khaki shorts, a hoodie, and beach shoes.
"If you will not get up and go to therapy, I have no choice but to bring therapy to you." He pointed at the panting dog.
