He wasn’t getting into any kind of relationship. Not with a human. And most especially not with Merry. “I’m leaving the second I get them outfitted. They lost all their shit in the fire.”

“How kind and generous of you.” Lucifer made a moue of displeasure.

“Not really. It’s your treasury money.”

“What?”

“You told me to use the company card as I saw fit.” Yes, he smiled at the way he used his boss’s words against him.

“Of all my minions, I didn’t expect you to abuse the privilege.” Lucifer grinned. “Way to go! I knew you had it in you.”

Marduke only barely resisted rolling his eyes. “Was there an actual reason for your visit this morning?”

“Well, I was thinking. Given it’s not safe for Merry and Miguel, maybe she should spend a little bit of time somewhere else. A place the gangbangers can’t touch her.”

“Where?” he asked, entering the clothing store and almost marching right back out. He hated shopping. Why hadn’t he just let Merry go with the card? “Do you have a spot in mind?”

“You know what they say, there’s no place like home for the holidays.”

“She has no home.”

“I should have said future home. Because where do souls go when they die?” Not to Heaven. Hard to pass the gates before while God was in charge. Now that the angels had taken over, they’d closed the door to all.

“You want me to take her to Hell?” he asked in puzzlement. “But she’s not dead.”

“Yet.” Lucifer eyed his watch.

Marduke grabbed the nearest clothing off racks and dumped them on a cashier. “You’re obviously trying to tell me something, so spit it out.”

“Spitting is for vegans who won’t swallow a man’s swimmers. I’m the great and mighty Lucifer.”

“With the worst riddles. Speak plain, for fuck’s sake. If you know something that I should, then tell me, or go and annoy someone else,” Marduke snapped, losing patience.

“You want the truth? In this case, I’ll make an exception.” The devil grinned. “You leave and those thugs are coming back. Even if she manages to escape once, they’ll find her because the girl won’t leave the city.”

“Why not?” he exclaimed, exiting the store, not caring at the odd looks he got.

“Because of Miguel’s special program for his anger management.”

“He just needs a firmer hand,” Marduke muttered.

“Well, he’ll get one once child services gets a hold him. If he doesn’t die when his mother does.”

“You make it sound as if it’s imminent,” he declared, his steps brisk.

Lucifer didn’t reply. He didn’t have to because the same car that had shot at Merry the night before went tearing past.