"Oh, my God," he whispered. He stared at his midsection—nicely muscled, lightly furred with curling black hair that narrowed to a thin line down his lower abdomen. A thin line, unbroken by a belly button, or anything that might be mistaken for one.
"Not even a mole or a freckle there," he muttered, running his fingers across his inhumanly smooth stomach. He took a deep breath. "The bedroom was dark . . . most of the time. She couldn't have noticed."
It didn't matter. He'd lost, and he was going to end up serving Jezerael, and the fact that he'd forgotten to give himself a navel in his haste to get to Dayne would not cause so much as a blip in the currents of eternity.
He pulled on his clothes, and trudged wearily out of the apartment, carefully locking the door behind him as he left.
Chapter 41
Lucifer drummed the talons of one hand on the red lacquer of his desk, and with his other hand, twiddled the antenna of a little copper box sitting in front of him. A worried demon stood at his side, peering nervously at the speakers that still emitted only the total silence of dead air.
"I am not pleased by this, Bilgemire," Lucifer said.
"Agonostis is blocking his thoughts . . . that's all. It isn't a malfunction of the machinery. Although if there is a problem with the soul-scanner, it's Toejam's fault. She designed the main board."
"Toejam told me you did all the circuitry checks and passed this piece of trash." Lucifer glared at the little box and punched in Jezerael's code.
Immediately, Jezerael's thoughts poured out.
" . . . and give the little bastard a bath in a few minutes, and when she does, I'll have her alone. Then I'll tell her she was screwed by one of Hell's angels, and that he was using her to win points with Lucifer, and that because of him, she's bound for Hell . . .