Read 03 Before The Devil Knows You're Dead-Speak Of The Devil for Free Online Page A

else out of the building and you two can feel free to celebrate your reunion as loudly as you want.”
    “No can do. I’ve got to drive Mom to Nordstrom’s in Ross Park,” I said. “She called to tell me and we should have left five minutes ago to make it in time.”
    “Too bad.” Malachi glanced over at Matt and smirked. “With the way you’ve been going through batteries I’d have thought a day to do nothing but shag each other senseless would be exactly what the doctor ordered.”
    “Mal,” I said.
    “What?” He closed his eyes and his whole form wavered while the room filled with the mingling smells of brimstone and burnt reality as he shifted from his usual, three-foot, cartoonesque form that mimicked the grim reaper to his natural shape.
    Well over six feet, with chin-length black curls and the same piercing black eyes as before. In short, when my bodyguard wanted to be, not only was he a badass, he was a hot badass. Not as hot as the nephilim standing behind me, but I didn’t know too many women who would kick him out of their beds on a scorching-hot morning, much less a cold one.
    “We should go.”
    “You can’t leave,” Tolliver said and I looked up to see him standing in my kitchen with the door to my fridge open. “You’re supposed to be here guarding Lisa and AC 2.0.”
    “I told you we’re not calling the baby that,” Lisa said and the scent of scorched milk overpowered the lingering traces of brimstone. “It’s not even a real name. It sounds like some sort of computer program.”
    “Well we can’t call him AC, people will get confused.” Tolliver snagged one of the chocolate cupcakes I’d had stashed in the fridge for later and took a big bite.
    “She is not going to have a number in her name.” Lisa turned to look at the rest of us. “Am I losing my mind, or is it inappropriate to have a number in your child’s given name?”
    Harold floated out of the guest bedroom he’d taken to calling his own when he needed time away from haunting Rogers’ Pediatric Hospital and floated over to sniff at Tolliver’s cupcake. “Lots of people have a number in their name. It’s not that strange. In fact, I have a number in my name.”
    “What?” Lisa asked. “You do not.”
    “I do. I’m Dr. Harold Lucas Winslow the Fourth. My father was Dr. Winslow the Third, and he was a heart surgeon. My grandfather was Dr. Winslow Jr. or Dr. Winslow the Younger as they used to call him and he and my great-grandfather were old-school family practitioners. All very respectable, except for my Uncle Aloysius.
    “Why?” I asked. “What did he do?”
    “He became a cosmetic surgeon who specialized in giving Las Vegas showgirls exceedingly large breasts—even the performers who weren’t biologically inclined toward them. Bit of a pioneer in the avant-garde was Uncle Aloysius.”
    “I’m not talking about something like a Jr. He wants to name my baby AC 2.0. That’s completely different,” Lisa said.
    “No it’s not,” Tolliver said. “It’s exactly the same thing. Harold is a Fourth. Our baby will be a second, a junior if you will.”
    “Your name isn’t AC,” Matt said.
    Suddenly it hit me where Tolliver was going with this. “No.” I pointed at him. “You are not allowed to name your child Antichrist Junior. It’s not allowed. He’ll get teased by the other demons.”
    “It’s—” Tolliver said and I noticed his keys sitting on my table.
    He’d recently bought himself a big, black, reinforced SUV that could survive a direct hit by an air to surface missile, IEDs, and tank fire. He said something about feeling better knowing the baby was in something that had a good crash safety rating and could withstand the Apocalypse if need be. I thought Lisa might be right about him being a little too paranoid.
    “No calling my niece or nephew the Anti-Christ.” I grabbed his keys.
    “What are you doing?” he asked as I started toward the door.
    “Taking your