Author's Note: I couldn't be more thrilled with the response to the first chapter of this story. It was well beyond my expectations and every single review, favorite and follow made my day! Thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope you all enjoy this chapter too.

psyche b.

2. Fantastic Terrors Never Felt Before

Sara knelt on the floor next to the milk crate Stephanie was standing on and tried to hold her temper. The other girl was practically vibrating with excitement, which made pinning the hem of dress Stephanie was wearing all but impossible.

"Did I tell you where we were going?" Stephanie said. Her voice had to go only half a step higher and I would be in the in silent dog whistle range.

Sara reminded herself that this was about the dress and tried to catch hold of the hem long enough to pin it. "Quicey's Rooftop." She said. She moved around in front of Stephanie, hoping to get pins in the back and front at least.

"Quincey's Rooftop!" Stephanie gave a little bounce, pulling the fabric out of Sara's hands. "Oh I know it's not the best restaurant in the area but it's pretty close and Mark is still in college." She squirmed with excitement. "Do you know why he's taking me someplace so fabulous?"

Stephanie had told Sara – and anyone else in earshot – why for the last two months. "You think he's going to ask you to marry him," Sara said. She managed to catch hold of the hem long enough to turn it and pin it.

"He's going to ask me to marry him!" Stephanie did a little pirouette on her perch. "And I know just what I'll say. I'm going to say that I have to think about it and then after a day or so I'll say yes but only if he gets my father's permission. That shouldn't be an issue because Daddy loves him. He's always saying that I should marry a boy just like him-"

Sara tuned her out and sat back on her heels. As long as Stephanie was shifting around like a Mexican jumping bean with a bladder control issue she would never get the hem pinned. It gave her a minute to look at the dress. It was too frothy and too pink and too reminiscent of something out of Cinderella, but it was exactly what Stephanie wanted and the fit was perfect. It was beyond Sara how she had managed it, considering all that had been on her mind.

It had been nearly two weeks since she'd taken Leah out to the crossroads. They had ridden back to school in silence. Leah was preening, expecting photographers around every turn. Sara couldn't get over the idea that she had already lost her best friend. Leah promised that would never happen, not even after her new fame presented itself. Two days later Leah was gone without so much as text to say goodbye.

Sara had lost track of how many times she'd called Leah. All of those calls went directly to voicemail and none of them were returned.

Sara wished she had never set eyes on that horrible little place. Except…she looked down at her wrist. The memory of Crowley's touch still lingered there. The idea that he really was a…well…what he seemed to be was probably ridiculous but there was something about him. She rubbed at the side of her wrist.

"What are you doing? Do you have a rash? It's not contagious is it?" Stephanie lifted her skirt out of the way as if she had seen a mouse. "I can't be all itchy and blotchy on Friday. When Mark goes to put the ring on my finger I'll look like a leper."

Sara wondered how Stephanie's friends tolerated that voice. "It's not a rash, I swear." She glanced at the clock. "It's nearly seven. Father Gordon is expecting me at the church. Why don't you take that off and I'll finish it up tomorrow. You can pay me the rest when you pick it up on Thursday."

"Do you think it looks alright?" Stephanie asked, studying herself in the full length mirror. "It's not too-"

"It's perfect." Sara said, knowing it was all Stephanie really wanted to hear anyway. She unzipped the dress and then went out into the suite's small common area to get her shoes on. Stephanie came out a few minutes later, still babbling about her plans. Sara made sure that the dress was sitting correctly on the dress form before leaving.

Sara trotted across the dim quad, sticking to the warm puddles of lamplight until she turned down the tree-lined lane that led to the church. She took a few deep breaths and then went into the building. The silence inside held its breath and she did too, feeling like an intruder for a moment until the quiet rearranged itself to accommodate her. Sara blessed herself with water from the fount and then made her way up into the choir loft. Father Gordon was already there waiting for her.

"Evening Sara. Right on time." The rail thin white-haired priest rose. She wasn't on time, but he always said she was. There was a white plastic grocery bag on the floor next to him.

"Hi Father Gordon. " She pointed at the bag. "Some work for me?"

"Just the usual. Three long-sleeved shirts to be turned into short sleeved shirts for the summer."

She smiled. "Now that's a real sign of spring. I'll do it for seven dollars per shirt."

His eyebrows rose in perfectly feigned surprise. "I'm a priest you know. I took a vow of poverty."

"You're a customer, and I didn't take any vows." Sara tried to maintain a serious expression, but she couldn't keep the smile from her lips.

"Well, the nuns would do it for free."

Sara nodded. "They would. Sister Benedict would happily volunteer. As long as you don't mind one sleeve being shorter than the other it sounds like a perfectly economical solution."

He laughed. "Vanity isn't only a sin it's an expense." He handed over the bag and smiled at her. "Now, down to the business at hand."

She set the bag on the bench. "I'm not sure why you wanted me to come. Every time I do this you say that it's perfect."

He smiled at her. "Perhaps simply hearing you sing makes me feel closer to heaven. Besides, without practice you may lose all of that perfection before the service."

Sara smiled a little and stepped forward to the choir rail. She faced the empty church.

Father Gordon took out a pitch pipe. "Remember your breathing, and remember to relax." He blew a note and waited.

Sara closed her eyes, took two deep breaths, then she began to sing the Ave Maria.

#

Crowley tapped on his desk impatiently. This girl was becoming a very delicious thorn in his side. Good thing the King found pleasure in pain or he would have given up after the first week. The elusive Sara had given him nothing to go on, hadn't even left a hair behind at that disgusting bar. There seemed to be bits of half the population of New York State, but it was as if that one bright soul had never been there. As time went on he was beginning to think she was some sort of fantasy, but not even his vivid imagination could have conjured the silky feeling of her skin. When he closed his eyes, he could still feel it. It was more than enough to keep him looking.

He could have summoned Jubal, the demon that had made the deal with Sara's ridiculous friend but that would be tipping his hand. He wasn't prepared to do that just yet. No, he would find the girl himself. Crowley wouldn't have gotten to where he was without a few tricks up his sleeve.

#

Sara sat on the front bench of the choir loft and let the service wash over her. The high school graduates were sitting in the front pews. Their families packed the rest of the church. This was the fifth time she'd sung at a graduation ceremony and the service was always the same. Each time she tuned it out until the choir sang. This time, there was a different feeling in the church. At least, something felt different about it to Sara.

She kept scanning the crowd, looking for something or someone she couldn't name. All she saw was the pageant of the mass and the backs of well-groomed heads until her eye fell on…well…nothing. It was simply a patch of shadow that wasn't angled quite how it should be. Sara narrowed her eyes.

While Father Michaels prepared for the offertory, Father Gordon asked her to come forward and sing. She took the two steps to the heavy railing and looked out over the dense gathering. It didn't look any different than it had any other time, but there was that collection of darkness. No one else seemed to notice and they were all beginning to shuffle in their seats. She lowered her eyes, took a couple of deep breaths and then looked up again. She closed her eyes and began to sing. She assumed that the procession went forward.

#

A church. Of course it was a church. He'd had to dive into the asshole of nowhere twice to get all the ingredients for the only spell he could find that would locate her and this was what it came back with.

"Bollocks." The word was a soft growl under his breath.

For a moment he thought about not bothering. She was only a girl, only one soul. He could have ten more signed up by lunchtime and that's if he were off his game. The prospect did not excite him. They were dull, ordinary souls like countless others on his books. It was her bright soul piqued his curiosity so much that he had gone to these lengths in the first place.

"Your Majesty?" His secretary said. She was plain and efficient and mouthy as all hell. The fact that the spell had worked and he didn't act on it would be all across several dimensions in the wag of bloated tongue.

He adjusted his tie and put on his jacket. He checked his look in the full length mirror. He did have a reputation after all.

He pointed to his desk. "Clear that up and get the stink out of here before I get back."

He steeled himself for the inevitable feeling of acid rushing over his skin and teleported into the heart of the enemy camp. The burn was there, but it wasn't much worse than holy water with a pinch of salt mixed in. That was wrong for a start. Within seconds it subsided to a level that he could easily bear with gritted teeth. A minute longer and it became more like a low level electrical current. Not entirely unpleasant, and completely wrong. He looked out from his dark alcove, scanning the crowd and telling himself that he was going to make her suffer when he found her again.

He didn't see her, but something in the stained glass caught his eye. The image itself was standard storybook claptrap, angels with fluffy wings watched over two little girls. Buried in the lines of leading was an Enochian symbol. His eyes slid to the next window and found two more. The next window held another. The more he ignored the images and looked at the lines the more he was able to discern. Put them all together and they added up to angel warding. Not your average, run of the mill angel warding either. Whoever had put this together had done his homework.

Now why would good Catholics want to keep angels out but leave the door wide open for demons?

There was unease in the large church and people had started to shift in their seats. He heard a sound from the choir loft. Sara stepped forward. She wasn't nervous, he could see that much from her posture. But she hesitated, scanning the crowd. Finally she closed her eyes and began to sing.

Crowley stood in a dim alcove at the side of the church and listened. The sweetness of the tone was salted with a darkness that one could hear under every note and she was practiced enough to use the echo of the space so that notes blended into chords. The richness of it tugged at every trace of sentimentality the human blood had left in him. It made his chest ache; made the pull of the blood and the yearning almost unbearable. It angered him and soothed him at the same time and he couldn't take his eyes off her.

Before the song was over he decided that one soul wasn't worth the trouble. He decided that she was not worth his time. Just before the end of the song she turned her face toward the place where he was standing and rubbed at her wrist. The one that he had gripped those weeks ago. Crowley could feel that silky skin and those delicate bones under his fingers again. For a moment he thought she had seen him, but her eyes were still closed.

What would he say to Jubal or any of the other demons who worked the crossroads? He wouldn't accept failure from any of them, why should he give up so easily? She was a human girl. With a few artful touches she would beg to sign up.

Crowley waited until Sara was seated again before disappearing.

#

Sara paced in her room after the service. She'd felt his presence. It was ridiculous but Sara was certain of what she felt.

For weeks she had told herself that she hadn't been thinking straight that night. None of it could have been real because none of it made any sense. Of course Leah had disappeared. Maybe a man had been there, but he couldn't have been as well tailored and attractive – if older – as she remembered. Still, her wrist still tingled when she thought of him and she still dreamed of that voice. Now, in those few minutes it took to sing a song all of those careful walls she had constructed around that night disintegrated.

Even if he was what she thought, why would he have any interest in her? She didn't want anything from him and no matter what he offered she knew it wasn't worth her soul. Sara might not have been what anyone would call a good Catholic, but she knew better than to barter with something eternal for something temporary.

He'd get bored and go away. She kept repeating that to herself. Mostly she didn't believe it and there was a part of her that couldn't bear the thought.

#

Four days later, Sara sang again for the college graduates and again she felt his presence, though when she scanned the crowd she couldn't see him. What would a – she couldn't even bring herself to think the word – be doing in a church anyway?

The day after the second service she was one of three students left in her dorm. The other two had already expressed a desire to join the order and were doing their best to live 'contemplative lives'. In other words it was early to bed, early to rise and a steady stream of prayers and penance in between. Sara was usually happy to be on her own. That night she missed all the little distractions of doors opening and closing, and the sounds of laughter and music filtering through the halls.

After midnight, the weight of the emptiness was pressing down on her like a physical weight. She couldn't take it any longer. Sara pulled on an extra sweater and a second pair of socks and padded up to the third floor via the back stairs. At the end of the hall was a locked door. She knew from experience that a hairpin and a couple of careful jiggles of the handle and it would tease the old lock open. She climbed the spiral staircase to the roof and sat with her back resting against the iron railing that surrounded what she and the other girls referred to as the widow's walk. It was completely off limits and all the more attractive because of that fact. Here the quiet had been replaced by the secrets shared by sighing wind and rustling trees.

Sara took a few deep breaths and opened her eyes again. The dark mountains stretched out around her. Stars twinkled overhead and the lights of towns collected like dew in nearby valleys. It was late spring but there was still a chill in the air. Sara let the scrolling curves of the railing cradle her head. She felt herself starting to relax. She closed her eyes again and let some of the tension slip out of her shoulders. The noise that usually filled her head started to calm and with the calm came whispering fluttering at the edges of her consciousness.

"Evening Pet."

Sara opened her eyes to see Crowley standing in front of her. He was still perfectly tailored, a little smile on his lips.

Her heart started to pound and she scrambled to her feet, her back pressed against the wrought iron railing. "How did you-?"

He moved a little closer, his hands in his coat pockets. "Bit of detective work, bit of magic. Not that you made it easy for me."

Sara studied him with a wary eye. The same feeling that she had in the church came back stronger. "It's not the first time though, is it?" She stepped to the side, putting a little more distance between them while edging closer to the door. "You were in the church when I was singing."

His eyebrows lifted. "You are full of surprises, and it takes a hell of a lot to surprise me." He turned and looked at the view. "Not bad as hiding places go."

Sara took another slow step backward, her muscles tensed and ready to run. "Who said it's a hiding place?"

"Come on, darling. This is about as far from anybody else as you could get." He looked over his shoulder at her. "I don't bite." The little smirk turned decidedly lascivious. "Unless you want me to."

Sara blushed and let her hair fall to hide her face. She stepped a little closer to him. "I just…I needed some air." She ventured a glance over at him. "Besides, I can see my whole world from up here."

He studied her from the corner of his eye. "You mean that."

She had used that particular phrase countless times, but no one had ever taken her seriously. Sara studied him for a moment. She couldn't trust him. She knew that much. But Sara had never been one to trust anyone easily. At least now the pretense was gone. She nodded and took a deep breath. "This entire complex is the St. Augustin School for Girls and the St. Augustin Women's College. I've lived here since I was eight. To the right is the town of Frieling. It has a movie theater. Graton has a few shops and a terrific ice cream parlor. It's only open in the summer though. Baker doesn't have very much, except the St. Aloysious Boys School and Men's College. In between there are hiking trails, lakeside picnic areas," She looked at him. "And a sketchy little dive that somehow exists in the middle of nowhere."

He put his back to the railing and looked at her. "Fair dues, your friend chose that place."

Sara's curiosity took over. The question was out before she could stop it. "You mean it's not specific to that one place?"

A small smile tickled the corners of his lips. "My my. We are curious this evening, aren't we pet?"

Sara took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest, gripping her upper arms hard enough to feel her fingernails through the sweater. "Yes, we are. You're the one who's been spying on me, remember?" Her voice was infused with more confidence than she felt.

He spread his hands and shrugged. "What can I say? I have a curious nature. I propose a deal-"

"No." Sara shook her head and took another step back.

He advanced. "Hear me out. All I propose is a simple exchange of information. I answer your questions, you answer mine. Everyone walks away with all their respective parts," His eyes swept over her from her pink and white wool socks, up over her leggings and over the white cable sweater that fell to her mid-thigh and was loose enough to conceal her every curve. "Intact."

The lingering gaze and the sensual tone that dripped from the last word made Sara feel positively naked despite the layers. She swallowed hard and looked away, letting her hair fall to hide her blush. "I guess there's nothing wrong with a conversation." She looked at him again, this time her gaze was direct. "But I have some conditions."

He smiled and rubbed his hands together. "I do love a negotiation."

"It's not a negotiation. You ask the first question, and I will answer if I choose to. If I do, I get accurate information in return."

Curiosity commingled with darkness and hellfire in his eyes. "And if you don't answer?"

The shrug looked less natural than she hoped it would. "I guess the deal is off."

He studied her for a moment. "I ask first?"

"Yes." Sara forced herself to stand still as he thought. This was too easy, but she had no idea where he would go with it.

"Have you eaten?"

The question startled her. "What?"

"Come on now, pet. We haven't even gotten to the hard ones yet."

His sarcasm brought a little smile to her lips, but she did her best to hide it. "Well, no I haven't had anything since breakfast. Why?"

He glanced around the rooftop. "Lovely as this little hideaway is, if we're going to have a proper chat I'd like a proper drink. Ever hear of Sabella's?"

"Yes." She said carefully. "Leah was dating a married guy a while back. He took her there a couple of times." Her eyes widened. "Is it run by…well…I mean….nevermind." Sara blushed.

"Demons? It's not a dirty word. Now, finish your question." There was a definite note of command in his voice.

Sara could have refused. She knew she probably should have, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Is it run by demons?" The word still stuck in her throat.

He smiled. "Not yet, but the executive chef is under contract. Shall we?"

Sara shook her head. "I know what Leah looked like when she left here. I think yoga pants and a couple of old sweaters would be frowned upon."

He walked around her slowly. "Part of the chef's deal is that my companions and I always get a decent table. Of course my companions are usually a bit less sensitive about appropriate dress." Sara swore she could feel the weight of his appraisal. She was used to being looked at by boys her own age, but this was different. Her heart was pounding by the time he got back in front of her again. "I think I can help you." He raised his hand as if to snap his fingers.

"What? No!" Sara said. "What are you doing?"

He gave a frustrated little growl. "You're far too fond of that word."

She shivered a little. "What word?"

"No."

Sara met his gaze, anger and sarcasm laced her words even though her heart was still pounding. "Well pardon me. Making dinner plans with demons isn't exactly something I do every day."

He chuckled. "Such a sharp tongue. Perhaps something simpler for our first outing. Pizza?"

She felt a little blush rise to her cheeks. There were a million reasons to refuse. More than a million. In that moment, under that supremely confident gaze, she couldn't think of a single one. "Pizza sounds good."

He started toward the door and then turned back to her. "So we're clear, I'm not just a demon. I'm the King of Hell." He snapped his fingers and Sara felt as though she was falling through oblivion.