The Sinner

“We have a plan, Lucy Dennings.” His hand came up as if to touch my cheek, then he let it fall and turned away. “Guy is waiting for you.”

We met Abby and Guy at the White Horse Tavern in the West Village. Abby looked stunning in a tight black dress that was almost too fancy for the occasion. Guy hadn’t changed but looked as ruggedly handsome as ever. He pulled my chair out for me and shook Cas’s hand. I legit feared the demon was going to tear out Guy’s throat, the way he was glaring at him.

“I don’t think you and I have ever hung out,” Guy said to me with a warm smile. “Aside from work functions.”

“First time for everything,” Abby said, shooting me a knowing look.

A man at the next table rose to his feet. He’d paid the bill and stuffed his wallet into the back pocket of his slacks. He missed, and the wallet hit the ground without him noticing.

I bent and picked it up. “Sir? You dropped this.”

He took it with a friendly smile. “Thank you so much, young lady.”

Abby rolled her eyes with a laugh. “That’s our Lucy for you. Always the saint.”

I hunched my shoulders. “Most people would do the same.”

“Yeah…after taking a peek at how much cash was inside,” Abby said with a snicker.

“That reminds me of an article I read last week,” Guy said. “A psychologist did an experiment to see if people were inherently good or…not. They placed wallets filled with various amounts of money in fifteen different countries. Seventy-two percent returned the wallets with all the money intact. Isn’t that something?”

“Doesn’t surprise me in the least,” I said, shooting Casziel a look. “I absolutely believe people are naturally good. Some just give in to their inner demons more than others.”

“Guilty,” Abby said and nudged Cas. “That’s what makes life fun, am I right?”

He ignored her, his gaze fixed on Guy. “You believe a few returned wallets proves the inherent goodness in mankind?”

Guy smiled amicably. “I’m Buddhist. We try not to get too stuck on opposing concepts. Things aren’t quite so black and white.”

I could practically feel Cas’s eye roll, despite the fact he’d told me the same thing the night we met.

“You disagree?” Guy asked the demon.

“I believe there are mysteries on top of mysteries that most humans cannot begin to perceive,” Cas said imperiously.

“Probably true.” Guy gestured around the saloon’s warm interior. “For instance, they say this place is haunted.”

“By what entity?”

“The poet, Dylan Thomas.”

Cas snorted. “Dylan Thomas? I just saw him—”

I kicked him under the table and blurted, “I love Dylan Thomas. I love poetry in general, actually.”

“Do you?” Guy turned to me. “Me too. Keats, Dickinson…but Thomas is a favorite. Everyone’s always quoting his Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night but I find And Death Shall Have No Dominion to be more arresting.”

Cas’s derision was like a cold wind. “I’m partial to Our Eunuch Dreams.”

“I love No Dominion too,” I said, glaring at the demon. “That poem is beautiful. And hopeful. I love the line about how lovers might be lost but love never will be.”

I stopped, those words suddenly taking on a new meaning. The dream of the woman and her warrior swam up again, and I glanced at Cas over the candlelight on our table. He met my eyes, a strange, soft look on his face.

“Ugh, boring,” Abby groused, breaking the spell. She put her hand over Cas’s. “Is all this poetry talk putting you to sleep too?”

He didn’t reply but I noticed he didn’t move his hand from her touch, either.

“Speaking of ghosts,” Guy said, “I’m pretty sure my place is haunted too.”