Brandilynn meets the head of a satanic church. Who calls themselves ‘Beelzebub Blackheart’ anyway? Turns out you can’t judge a book by its cover or its ridiculous title:
To say I was shocked to hear him admit it so readily would be putting it lightly. But I was even more shocked by the man himself. Beelzebub had the cutest cherub’s face you could imagine. He looked more all-American than Mom’s apple pie with his soft blue eyes, dimpled cheeks, and short – but not too short – cropped blond hair. And that strong yet adorable face topped a body built for sin. Sorry, had to go there. He had the sleek muscles of a track star, well defined by his snug sweater and fitted trousers. That he was a Satanist was just a crying shame.
His living room was every bit as respectable with the cream sofa Tristan and Patricia perched on, the matching loveseat that Earl and Serise crowded onto, and the dark brown leather recliner Beelzebub lounged in. Wall-to-wall carpet of sky blue along with the sunshine yellow painted walls made the room as restful and cozy as could be, even without the cheerfully crackling fireplace. A couple of collegiate baseball trophies dotted the mantle behind Gerald, who remained standing, his bulging arms crossed over his massive chest in a bodyguard pose. The vampires and he looked so out of place in the fiercely normal room. Amazingly, Augustus somehow looked like he belonged there, sitting on his haunches between the loveseat and couch like an amazing statue or piece of art. Dan and I stood near the door to the hall, ready to go poking around the house if its owner proved unhelpful.
For a bad guy, Beelzebub sure was low key. It made me wonder how many seemingly normal people I knew were actually high on the Freak Meter.
Coming in August