Uriel (Speed Dating with the Denizens of the Underworld #39)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Uriel

The fire has dwindled to embers, casting a soft, warm glow across the parlor. I blink slowly, awareness returning in gradual waves. The storm still rages outside, rain lashing against the windows in rhythmic fury. But here, in this room, there is only peace.

Emilia is curled against me, her head resting on my chest, her breathing deep and even. One of her hands is tangled in my shirt, as if even in sleep she fears I might slip away. The thought sends an unexpected pang through my heart.

For a moment, I allow myself to simply exist in this space. To savor the weight of her against me, the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body seeping into mine. It’s a moment of such exquisite perfection that I almost fear to breathe, lest I shatter the illusion.

But the rational part of my mind, never fully silenced, reminds me of our precarious situation. The power is still out, the storm shows no signs of abating, and we have a world to save. With infinite care, I begin to extricate myself from Emilia’s embrace.

She stirs slightly, a small furrow appearing between her brows. “Uriel?” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep.

“Shh,” I soothe, gently laying her head on a cushion. “Rest. I’m just going to check the fuse box.”

Emilia makes a soft sound of acknowledgment before settling back into slumber. I pause for a moment, drinking in the sight of her. Even in the dim light, with her hair mussed and my oversized clothes swamping her frame, she is breathtakingly beautiful.

I shake my head, marveling at the direction of my thoughts. Is this what it means to be in love? This constant awareness, this ache in my chest that is equal parts joy and terror?

Forcing myself to focus on the task at hand, I retrieve a blanket from a nearby armchair. With gentle movements, I drape it over Emilia’s sleeping form. She snuggles into the warmth, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Sleep well,” I whisper, resisting the urge to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. “Dream of happier things.”

With one last lingering look, I tear myself away and head for the cellar door. The old house creaks and groans around me, buffeted by the relentless wind. But even the storm’s fury can’t dampen the warmth blooming in my chest.

For the first time in my long, long existence, I feel... free. The burden of duty, of sacred vows and divine purpose, seems to have lifted. In its place is a lightness I’ve never known, a sense of possibility that both thrills and terrifies me.

Is this what humans feel? This dizzying mix of joy and fear, of hope and uncertainty? If so, I begin to understand why they cling so fiercely to these fleeting moments of happiness.

As I descend the stairs to the cellar, my mind whirls incessantly. If the prophecy is correct, if our union truly is the key to averting the apocalypse, then perhaps... perhaps this isn’t a test or a temptation. Perhaps it’s a gift. A chance to save the world and find a love I never dared to dream of.

The thought sends a shiver of excitement through me. For millennia, I’ve viewed my duty as a burden, a cross to bear. But what if it’s been leading me here all along? To this moment, to Emilia?

I reach the bottom of the stairs, fumbling in the darkness for the flashlight I know is kept on a nearby shelf. My fingers close around the cool metal just as a chill runs down my spine. Something is... off.

The air in the cellar feels heavier, charged with an energy that sets my celestial senses on high alert. I swing the beam of the flashlight around, searching for the source of my unease.

“Well, well, well,” a voice hisses from the shadows. “The mighty Uriel, sneaking around in the dark like a common mortal. How the mighty have fallen.”

I stiffen, my grip tightening on the flashlight. “Show yourself,” I command, my voice ringing with angelic authority.

A chuckle, low and menacing, echoes through the cellar. “As you wish, Your Holiness.”

The shadows in the far corner seem to coalesce, taking on a vaguely humanoid shape. As the figure steps into the beam of my flashlight, I have to suppress a shudder of revulsion.

The demon—for that is undoubtedly what it is—stands barely five feet tall. Its skin is a mottled grey, like decaying flesh, stretched tight over an emaciated frame. Two small horns protrude from its forehead, and its eyes glow an eerie yellow in the darkness.

“What do you want?” I demand, keeping my voice level despite the rapid beating of my heart. “You have no power here, creature.”

The demon’s mouth stretches into a grotesque parody of a smile, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth. “Oh, I’m not here to cause trouble, Archangel. Just delivering a message.”

I raise an eyebrow, affecting a nonchalance I don’t feel. “And what message would that be?”

“The boss wants to see you,” it snarls, its forked tongue flicking out to taste the air.

For a moment, I’m thrown off balance. The boss? Surely it can’t mean...

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” I snap, regaining my composure. “Now leave these grounds. You are not welcome here.”

The demon’s eyes narrow, a hint of sulfurous smoke curling from its nostrils. “He’d like to see you—now.”

Before I can react, the creature lunges forward with inhuman speed. Its clawed hand wraps around my wrist, its touch burning like acid against my skin.

“What are you—!” I begin, but my words are cut off as reality seems to twist around us.

The cellar blurs and fades, replaced by a dizzying kaleidoscope of images. I catch glimpses of fire and brimstone, of tortured souls writhing in agony, of vast caverns filled with unspeakable horrors.

And then, as suddenly as it began, the nauseating journey ends. I stumble, nearly losing my balance as solid ground reappears beneath my feet.

As my vision clears, I find myself in a space that defies my expectations of Hell. Instead of brimstone and fire, I’m standing in what appears to be an upscale nightclub. The air thrums with an otherworldly bass, and the lighting pulsates in shades of deep red and purple that seem to move of their own accord.

A neon sign above the bar proclaims this place as “DeLux Café.” Despite the early hour in the mortal world, the club is far from empty. Shadowy figures occupy the booths and dance floor, their forms shifting and blurring in ways that hurt the eyes to look at directly.

“Ah, Uriel! So good of you to drop in .”

I whirl around, coming face to face with the last being I expected—or wanted—to see.

Lucifer lounges in a private booth, looking for all the world like a CEO at the end of a long day. His suit is impeccably tailored, his dark hair artfully tousled. Only the faint red glow in his eyes betrays his true nature.

“What is the meaning of this?” I demand, struggling to keep the tremor from my voice. “You have no right to summon me to... to your den of iniquity.”

Lucifer’s laugh is rich and warm, at odds with our surroundings. “Den of iniquity?” he mocks. “Oh, brother, you really need to loosen up. This is just a little place where demons and paranormies can hook up on Wednesdays. No souls bartered, I promise. Well, not many.”

He gestures for me to sit. I remain standing, my posture rigid.

“Now, now,” Lucifer continues, waving a hand dismissively. “Let’s dispense with the righteous indignation, shall we? We both know you’re in no position to be making demands.”

I clench my fists, fighting against the urge to smite him where he sits. “What do you want, Morningstar?"

Lucifer’s smile widens, revealing teeth that are just a shade too sharp to be human. “What I want, dear Uriel, is to have a little chat. About prophecies, and earthquakes, and a certain social worker who’s got you tied up in knots.”

Ice floods my veins. “Leave Emilia out of this,” I growl, taking a step forward. “She has nothing to do with?—”

“Oh, but she has everything to do with it!” Lucifer exclaims, leaning forward with a gleam in his eye. “The virtuous Uriel, Archangel of Chastity, falling head over wings for a mortal woman? It’s delicious, really. I couldn’t have planned it better myself.”

I falter, doubt creeping in like a poison. “What are you talking about?”

A waitress appears, her skin an impossible shade of blue, carrying a tray with two glasses of glowing liquid. Lucifer takes one, offering the other to me. I ignore it, my mind reeling.

“Come now, brother,” Lucifer says, taking a sip. His eyes flash with amusement. “Surely you didn’t think this was all... coincidence? The prophecy, the girl, the convenient solution to stop the apocalypse? It’s all a bit too neat, don’t you think?”

He offers me one of the glasses. I ignore it, my mind reeling. “Are you saying... this is all your doing?”

The club around us seems to pulse with dark energy. Occasionally, a burst of inhuman laughter or an unnatural shriek cuts through the music, reminding me of exactly where—and with whom—I am.

“Mine?” Lucifer laughs, a rich, warm sound that’s at odds with his sinister words. “Oh no, I’m not nearly that clever. This has our Father’s fingerprints all over it.”

“Impossible,” I breathe, but even as I say it, doubt gnaws at me. “He wouldn’t...”

“Wouldn’t He?” Lucifer counters, his voice soft, almost sympathetic. “Think about it, Uriel. The great test of faith. The chance to save the world, but at the cost of your most sacred vow. It’s very much His style, don’t you think?”

I stare at him, momentarily stunned by his intimate knowledge of the prophecy. My mouth goes dry. How does he know the exact terms? The specifics of the choice before me? I don’t even want to contemplate how he obtained this information—some questions are better left unasked when dealing with the Prince of Lies.

I shake my head, trying to clear it of the insidious whisper of doubt. “No. You’re lying. This is what you do, sow discord and doubt. I won’t fall for it.”

Lucifer shrugs, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Believe what you want. But ask yourself this: even if I’m wrong, even if this is all on the up-and-up... can you do it? Can you really bring yourself to break your vows, to lie with a mortal woman, to give up everything you’ve been for millennia?”

His words hit me like a physical blow. Because deep down, in the darkest corners of my heart, I’ve been asking myself the same questions.

“I...” I falter, my certainty crumbling. “I don’t know.”

Lucifer’s expression softens, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of the brother he once was. “I know, Uriel. It’s not an easy choice. But you need to make it soon. Because if you don’t...”

He gestures towards the windows. Outside, the city I had taken for a view of Los Angeles changes. Suddenly, I’m looking at a world on fire. Buildings crumble, the earth splits open, and hordes of demons pour forth from the cracks.

“This isn’t a vision of what might be,” Lucifer says quietly. “This is happening now, in pockets all over the world. Your little romance has bought some time, but the barriers are still weakening. If you don’t act soon...”

I tear my gaze away from the apocalyptic scene, my heart pounding. “Why are you telling me this? Why do you care?”

Lucifer sighs, suddenly looking every bit as ancient and weary as I feel. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually want the world to end. Oh, I enjoy a bit of chaos now and then, but this?” He gestures to the hellish landscape outside. “This is bad for business. Bad for everyone.”

He moves closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “I’m giving you a choice, brother. A real choice, not the illusion of one our Father so often provides. You can go back to your mortal woman, break your vows, and save the world. Or you can stand firm in your principles and watch everything burn.”

I stare at him, searching for any sign of deception. But for once, Lucifer seems to be telling the truth—or at least, a version of it.

“How do I know this isn’t some elaborate trick?” I ask, hating the uncertainty in my voice.

Lucifer smiles, but there’s no warmth in it now. “You don’t. That’s what makes it a choice, Uriel. That’s what makes it faith.”

With a wave of his hand, a shimmering portal appears beside me. Through it, I can see the cellar of my home, exactly as I left it.

“Go,” Lucifer says. “Make your choice. But remember, the clock is ticking. For all of us.”

I hesitate for a moment, torn between the desire to stay and demand more answers and the desperate need to return to Emilia, to make sure she’s safe.

In the end, there’s no real choice at all.

I step through the portal, Lucifer’s parting words echoing in my ears:

“Oh, and Uriel? Give my regards to Emilia . She really is a delightful little thing. It would be a shame if anything were to happen to her...”

The threat, veiled though it is, sends a chill through me.

As I materialize back in the cellar, my mind is a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions.

The house is silent around me, the storm outside having finally abated. I stand there in the darkness, my heart pounding, Lucifer’s words echoing in my mind.

Can I do it? Can I really bring myself to break my vows, to lie with a mortal woman, to give up everything I’ve been for millennia?

And even if I can... should I?

The choice before me is staggering. On one side, my duty, my identity, everything I’ve ever known and believed in. On the other, Emilia. The world. A love I never thought possible and the chance to save billions of lives.

I close my eyes, reaching out with my celestial senses. I can feel Emilia’s presence upstairs, a warm, pulsing light in the darkness of my turmoil. Just knowing she’s there, safe and sleeping, eases some of the tension in my chest.

But it also heightens my conflict. Because now I know, with a certainty that terrifies me, that I would do anything to keep her safe. To keep her smiling, laughing, living.

Even if it means damning myself in the process.

I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to center myself. The path forward is unclear, fraught with danger and doubt. But one thing is certain: I can’t make this decision alone.

Emilia deserves to know the truth. All of it. The prophecy, the stakes, the choice that lies before us. And then... then we’ll face whatever comes together.

With a heavy heart but a determined spirit, I make my way back upstairs. Whatever happens next, I know my life—and quite possibly the fate of the world—will never be the same.

As I reach the parlor door, I pause, my hand hovering over the handle. Beyond this barrier lies Emilia, likely still curled up on the couch where I left her. In my mind’s eye, I can picture her sleeping form bathed in the soft glow of the dying fire, her face peaceful and untroubled by the burden of cosmic machinations.

The image tugs at something deep within me—something dangerously close to human longing.

For a moment, I allow myself to imagine a different life. One where I’m not an archangel bound by sacred vows, where she’s not a key player in a cosmic game. Just a man and a woman, falling in love, facing the everyday challenges of a shared life.

The image is so achingly beautiful, so tantalizingly possible, that it takes my breath away.

But it’s a fantasy, nothing more. Reality is far more complex, far more dangerous. And it’s waiting for us on the other side of that door.

With a silent prayer for strength, I reach for the handle. It’s time to wake Emilia, time to face our destiny—whatever it may be.

The fate of the world hangs in the balance. And so, I fear, does my very soul.

My fingers close around the cool metal of the doorknob, the enormity of my decision crushing me like a physical force. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversation to come, for the moment that could change everything.

But as I begin to turn the knob, an unexpected sound freezes me in place.

Laughter.

Not Emilia’s warm, infectious laugh that I’ve come to cherish. No, this is something else entirely. Something that sends a chill down my spine and sets every celestial sense on high alert.

My hand falls away from the doorknob as if burned. Impossible. It can’t be. Not here. Not now.

But as the laughter continues, lilting and terrible in its beauty, I know with grim certainty exactly who is in that room with Emilia.