Seven days. One soul. No rules.
Julian Grey is good at evil. He has seven days to trap Grace Taylor’s Untouchable soul. Grace, however, has other plans.
As the roles between tempter and tempted blur, Julian discovers he has a fight on his hands for his very existence…
I’m having huge fun with the research this week. I’m rambling around all manner of books on demonology to justify Julian coming together as the character he is. As he’s not a Biblical, nor a strictly mythological being, it’s actually becoming rather fun to work out what exactly he is and what has shaped him to be that way - especially when there’s a human element of him to contend with too.
II picked up my straighteners and started tackling the thing that was less like hair and more an alien life form. The brown tentacles clung together, mocking me as I tried to battle them into something vaguely presentable. The Duchess of Cambridge look would be good, but in reality, I’d settle for anything that didn’t make me look like Helena Bonham Carter sticking her fingers in a plug socket.
The devil doesn’t always wear black; Shakespeare got that wrong. You’ll find me in whatever’s fashionable, whatever makes me look good in this skin. It’s not difficult to turn heads in this human world; they’re pathetic with how easily influenced they are. Succulent souls ripe for the picking.
Mortals never see me for what I am until it’s far too late. It’s their pleading I enjoy the most…
My eyes darted sideways. Julian seemed engrossed in his paperwork, giving me a chance to see him properly for the first time. He was gorgeous. He was beyond gorgeous. I fought a sudden impulse to touch his jet-black hair; it seemed to beg for attention. My fingers twitched and he instantly turned his dark eyes to meet mine, My face flamed. He’d caught me staring at him. How embarrassing was that? Oh, God, he was divine. What was I going to do?
“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing towards the door, with a smile that made my insides dissolve into lustful soup.
I could have kicked myself. Gurh? What was that?
Julian smirked. I glared back. This was all his fault. If he’d been some ferret-faced moron with buck teeth and bad body odour, none of this would have happened. He probably smelt good too. Damn him.
The hairs of the back of my neck prickled. I breathed deeply, absorbing the mortal follies blossoming as they had since I arrived in the building, but this time I could sense something more. No, not more… I hesitated. A thrill shivered down my spine as I caught the taste of it; the eerie sensation of finding empty nothingness where glorious sin should be. I savoured the unnaturalness of it: crisp, clean, clear. It would have terrified the few demons of my acquaintance who were talented enough to identify this lack of substance in a mortal, but not me. It was getting closer. My breathing quickened. It had to be her.
I stood abruptly and faced the door, curious to see my adversary, this untouchable human whose soul would become mine.
She bounced into the room, her unruly brown hair framing an entirely unremarkable face. A few extra pounds had settled on her hips but her stride spoke of confidence and security in the person she was; although that was nothing I couldn’t easily address. Her cool emptiness enticed me. This was a void waiting to be filled.