Free The Devil Stood Up by Christine Dougherty Page B

the Devil’ because it was a constant undercurrent in The Litany. He did not take it lightly, especially from this woman who had never even once gotten herself tangled in The Litany. He considered her with impassive eyes.
    “What deal would that be?”
    Fresh fear flashed in Kelly’s eyes and then she firmed her lips and lifted her chin.
    “I want him back. My brother, Mark. I’ll help you with your…mission or quest…or whatever it is…if you let him come back when you’re done. When I’ve done enough.”
    He inclined his head toward her, considering her from beneath half lowered lashes. His voice softened almost to a whisper.
    “Have you never heard that the Devil is the father of lies, Kelly?”
    She blinked rapidly but then nodded.
    “I have heard it, of course I have. But not…you’re not…I mean, this is going to sound insane, but…” She blushed a bright pink that warmed her features, softening the rigid lines of fear. Her words wound down in confusion.
    “Continue,” the Devil said.
    “Okay, it’s just that…” she said and gathered her wildly pinging thoughts, gripping the top of the driver’s side door. “I don’t think you’re a liar. I don’t think you’re like we were taught. I don’t think you’re…evil.”
    The Devil nodded, considering. Then he said:
    “I’m here to kill someone,” he said and smiled. “Did you want to help me with that?”
     
    * * *
     
    He sat across from her at a diner. He had eaten a lot of food. Kelly is a little awed by how much he was able to put down. Mark had never been a good eater, at least not since drugs had become his main sustenance. It was unnerving to watch Him (she couldn’t bring herself to think of him as ‘The Devil’ even though she knew it was true) occupying her brother’s body but behaving in such an un-Mark-like way.
    “Anything else?” the waitress asked, eyeing the four decimated plates in front of the dark-haired man. She hoped these people were twenty-percenters. It would make her lunch shift.
    Kelly raised her eyebrows at the Devil, but he merely stared out the window into the parking lot and rubbed his stomach.
    “No, I think we’re good,” she said to the waitress, the barest hint of a smile crossing her features.
    “You all right, honey?” the waitress asked. She would not normally have been so forward, especially when she was this close to getting the customer up and out, but there is a deep shadow of grief in this plain woman’s eyes. She senses that it has something to do with the man that sits across from her, now staring unconcernedly out the window.
    The waitress has served hundreds, maybe thousands, of people, and she’s usually quick to sort out who is who, but she isn’t sure of these two. No wedding rings. They didn’t speak much while they ate (well, while he ate, the lady only had coffee and a Danish) but that could just as easily be an indicator of marriage as not. There is a bit of a resemblance, they could quite possibly be related, siblings or maybe cousins. But the waitress had observed that the lady could barely meet the man’s eyes but if she had, she might have seen what the waitress saw there: an odd mixture of curiosity, tenderness, and sorrow.
    If she had to guess, she would have said that the man loved the lady but that the lady was longing for someone else.
    “I’m fine,” Kelly said. “Thank you.”
    The waitress nodded and put the check down between them and started to gather the plates. She did so in silence. As she turned to go, dishes stacked on her tray, she glanced at the man and he was staring at the lady again, but she has her eyes on her purse as she digs for her wallet and never looks up.
    Wish someone would stare at me like that, she thought, and smiled a little. Her husband Roger would give a piece of his mind to anyone staring at her, although after twenty-six years of marriage, he was long past staring at her himself. He was still jealous, though, and not even