27. The gate of Hell.
27
The gate of Hell.
“Since the dawn of humanity, there always existed what we call seers. People who can see visions of the other planes. And particularly Hell, as it seems to be the closest one to our world. One of these seers was the famous Italian poet Dante Alighieri (1265-1321), best known for writing The Divine Comedy . In The Divine Comedy , Dante descends through the nine circles of the pit of Hell (Inferno). Even if the story is fictional, his descriptions of demons and the pit are too precise to be mere coincidence. Visions of the other plane haunted the poet. Ancient Buddhist texts describe Hell as a segmented place where sinners are punished, suggesting other seers lived during that time. Today, the only known seer is Manjula Kothari, an old man living in Bangalore, India. Scientists from all over the world who study Hell keep a close watch on Manjula and his visions.”
-Extract from the State Exorcist’s Manual , edition of 2043.
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, 2052
For the first time in my entire life, I wake up in someone’s arms. Azeroth’s chest is beneath my face, and his hand rests on my naked ass. He smells so enticing. I have to resist the urge to lick his skin. My heart flutters, caught between panic and delight. I expected him to leave after we had sex but he slept in my bed. I shouldn’t get used to it. It’s undoubtedly a one time thing. But hope is a ruthless emotion, its roots already digging deep in my weak heart like nettles in a neglected garden.
There’s noise coming from the living-room; Robb and Leo have come back.
I slide out of Azeroth’s arms, reluctantly. The sun filters brightly through the blinders; he’ll sleep for a few more hours. Demons are deep sleepers, as most predators avoid daylight in their world. His wings hang at the edge of the bed. I want to trail my fingertips on the soft membrane, but it might wake him up. I’m not sure I have it in me to resist him if he rouses.
I put some clothes on and walk out of the bedroom. Robb and Leo are arguing.
“Really, I can go get breakfast, it’s just downstairs,” says Leo.
Robb points a finger at the door to the second bedroom. “Go to bed. You look about to faint from exhaustion.”
Leo’s eyes widen. “In your bed?”
“It’s not my bed… I just slept in it once,” Robb grumbles. “You’re not my mother. I can feed myself. Go.”
I watch with awe as Leo nods and hugs the exorcist without warning.
Robb looks as shocked as I am, and doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. “For fuck’s sake…”
My assistant saunters away and disappears into the second bedroom. I snort as Robb stands frozen in place, confusion etched on his face.
“Not a word,” he warns when he notices my attention.
I ignore him, of course. “He really likes you.”
His nostrils flare. “And you really like your hybrid. Had fun while we were gone?”
He must be smelling it on me. I reek of a good time.
“How are your buddies, the State Exorcists?” I ask to avoid talking about my dubious sex life.
“Dead, most of them. Demons are coming out of Hell at an alarming rate. We’re losing this war, and they haven’t even opened the gates yet.”
I nod gravely. “I’ll take a shower, and we can have a talk with our new demon friend.”
Luckily for us, the Eames vessel stabilized during the day, and we still have the demon contained.
“Are you sure you’re up for it?” Robb asks. “We can find another way.”
He’s taken off the coat I gave him, and blood-red scales have appeared above his collar. I don’t think he has noticed the mutation yet. I won’t be the one to point it out.
“What other way?” I say. “And we don’t have time to waste. Tie me up, please.”
Robb secures my hands and feet with silver chains, tight enough to cut the blood flow. It should stop the demon from doing much if they take over, and hopefully Robb will have time to get answers before he exorcises me.
I find myself bundled up on the old carpet in the living room.
“This is awfully uncomfortable. Let’s do this,” I say as Robb brings me the Eames vessel containing the class-two demon.
The summoning words come easily, and the demon is eager to leave his cold slumber. My ears pop as they cross over from the device to my body.
Lucifer was a raging storm, a tsunami. In comparison, this new invasion feels like a breeze. The demon is surprised by how much space there is near my soul. So much room created by trauma and the Light Bearer’s residency.
I contemplate the well of his power and existence. He seems… so small. Like a will-o-wisp from Hell.
He laughs when he faces no resistance and does something incredibly stupid. He tries to brush against my soul—to feel the water and see how much he can take on the very first day. I don’t hesitate. I take a bite out of him, the way I learned to do on the day I consumed Lucifer.
The demon recoils, screaming, but I’ve got a hold of him. He thrashes, like a butterfly caught in a web. Lucifer let me devour him. This one fights back. But it doesn’t matter, I’m more powerful by far. He tastes foul, like spoiled meat and mindless hatred.
“Jon?” Robb asks.
“I’m fine. I’ve got him. Give me a sec.”
I chew on the mouthful of soul I tore off. Memories and feelings flash behind my closed eyelids. Little chunks of the demon’s life. He had a few hosts in recent years. Most of them couldn’t survive his invasion, and wasted out like crops taken by the blight.
Following Abaddon’s order—the tall goat demon with hooves—he waited in Hell for a passage to be opened to a new host every time he was sent back. He had a mission.
I take another bite, and the demon lets out another ear-splitting scream inside my head.
This one contains memories of when he was a fledgling. I can see the underground village where he grew up, and the purple midnight sky of Hell. His first kill and his ambition. It’s of no interest to me, so I move on and bite down again.
At last, something catches my attention in the multiple flavors of his soul. Humans, offering their services. Some kind of cult worshiping Abaddon. I see mine shafts lit by candlelight. Bloody sacrifices and tears. I don’t want to stay in these memories any longer. They make me sick. But then, a dark shape against the night sky—our sky. The outline of a tall building. No… a strangely shaped mountain. I’ve seen it before.
The name pops up in my mind: the Devil’s Tower. The peculiar geological formation that attracted the cultists in Hulett ten years ago. What did Robb say? There was an accident in the coal mine and a hundred miners had died. Could the breach between our worlds be linked to it?
I follow the trail of memories until I reach the end of a dark tunnel. The cultists dug into the ground, looking for the origin of the ritual that tore the fabric separating us from Hell. Some of the coal was still burning down there, and the air was suffocating. It helped to hide the heat signature of the gate. Humanity shunned the site of the tragedy, ensuring it remained undiscovered. Until the surviving cultists from the original plan set it all in motion again. They bid their time and brought demons back into their schemes. Hell would come to Earth, and they would rule like kings and queens.
The demons laughed at their credulity from the other side. But even the puniest creatures could have their use.
Abaddon sent his best soldiers to work on opening the gate. But he knew his great rival, the Light Bearer, would thwart his plan if he knew of it. Lucifer had called the human world his own. And he couldn’t face him head-on. The angel had accumulated centuries of power.
The memories sharpen as I focus my mind’s eye on one moment in particular. When the demon had walked up to a great gash in the ground, iridescent like burning coal. No… not coal… fires on the other side. Hell.
I open my eyes. “I know where the gate is.”
Robb faces me. “Where?”
“The Devil’s Tower.”
An apt name for the location of the gate. Right under the State Exorcists’ noses.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…” he growls. “Let’s kick the demon out so we can untie you.”
“Don’t worry. I got it.”
I spit the demon’s soul like an unpleasant aftertaste. I don’t want to have anything to do with him and his foul existence. He won’t become a part of me. Only Lucifer ever will.
With the damage I did to his soul, I doubt we’ll see him on this side anytime soon.
“It’s done,” I say.
Robb looks impressed but says nothing.
We have a plane to catch.
Twelve hours later, we arrive at the airport before sunrise to embark on the first private jet I could find on such short notice. Evidently, Azeroth doesn’t have a passport. And I doubt Robb could get into a commercial flight either, his red eyes a hard tell on his demonic possession. I paid a hefty sum to ensure that the plane would take us to Hulett’s abandoned airport, no questions asked, with a minimal crew on board.
Leo drove us with the van, all the while trying to convince us he would be a great asset in a fight and that we should let him come. I rarely saw Robb so annoyed. There’s a new dynamic between the two, as if they’d built a sort of relationship when I had my back turned.
It’ll take us three hours to fly to Hulett, and we review the plans of the coal mines Robb got us after pulling some strings. He warned the State Exorcists of the threat, but we’re not counting on their help.
The demon’s memories were murky, at best, considering I took bites out of his soul, but I gathered the cultists had to dig new tunnels to reach the collapsed parts of the mine.
“That’s why they moved to that godforsaken town,” says Robb. “It took them years to reach the location of the gate.”
“Didn’t the State Exorcists open an investigation after what happened ten years ago?” I ask.
“We did. But they just appeared to be another bunch of zealots.”
“Well, that’s close to the truth. But that’s what makes them dangerous.”
“We have the same ones in Hell,” Azeroth says from his seat near the small window, offering a view over the pink clouds. “That’s how Abaddon built his army. Gullible creatures are the easiest to control. They’ll burn the world to the ground if you promise it’ll keep them warm.” His wings hang over the armrest, invisible under his glamor. The only hostess on board tripped over them a few times.
I sigh. “Let’s hope we’ll be enough to put the fire out.”
A car awaits us at the small airport. Hulett has become a veritable ghost town since the exorcists and police cleaned it ten years ago. No one wanted to move to a place with such a history of disaster and demonic activity. And they were right. I hope Erin followed my advice and moved with her son far from here. Her town would be the first to be hit if the demons ever make it through the gate.
During the flight, Robb got us some satellite pictures of Hulett and the surroundings, including the old entrance to the coal mine. The coming and going of cars and trucks were enough to pinpoint the location of the dig site. Unsurprisingly, it’s close to the Devil’s Tower, a twenty-minute ride from the ghost town.
“This place looks as creepy as the first time I saw it,” I say, craning my neck to look at the strange mountain shaped like a broken tooth.
“We should have bombed the place,” Robb grumbles.
Azeroth picks the possessed guarding the entrance from the sky like a giant bird of prey. I gave him a dart gun from my arsenal; the kind used to put bears to sleep. It’ll knock out the hosts for hours, ensuring that their demons don’t get back to Hell to warn their master of our arrival. We drag their lifeless bodies to the forest surrounding the Devil’s Tower.
As the three of us stand at the entrance to the mine, gaping like a mouth ready to devour us, I realize it might be the last time we see the light of day. Who knows what awaits us deep within the earth?
In the demon’s memories, I saw sacrifices being brought underground to finish what the deaths of the miners started twenty years ago. I don’t have all the knowledge required to understand the mechanics of opening a breach between our worlds. Lucifer would have known. But he’s only a warm glow nestled inside me, and I have no access to such knowledge. I’ll have to figure out how to reverse what the cultists have done.
The air rushing out of the entrance is hot and heavy with the smell of sulfur. I have the sinking feeling that it’s not from rituals, but from the gate itself.
We walk into the maw of the beast, its breath caressing our faces, and leave behind the light of day.
The possessed have installed lamps along the roughly dug tunnels, and their yellow light guides our way deeper under the Devil’s Tower. We meet with a few cultists on the way. Azeroth shoots them with tranq darts before they have time to make a run for it. We hide them as best as we can in dark corners, but it’s only a matter of time before we’re discovered.
Some mine shafts are old, dug over twenty-years ago and the walls have worrying cracks in the stone. I briefly consider whether the collapsed sections of the mine still contain the bodies of the dead miners. I doubt the authorities took the risk of digging through the burning reserve of coal to retrieve them after the ‘accident’.
The cultists did this to Hulett and its inhabitants. And they’ll doom our world all the same.
The tips of Azeroth’s wings drag along the stone above our heads. “This place feels just like the Chasm in my world,” he says.
I meet his eyes. “I thought it was a deep fissure as big as a country.”
“It is. It’s a natural feature in Hell. But most demons who have taken residency deep in its bowels have dug tunnels to make their homes and escape the scorching days. And Abaddon rules over the Chasm.”
“Lucifer never ruled over it?” I ask.
“No. We winged creatures don’t like to be confined underground. We dwell in caves close to the surface during the day, and spend our nights in the sky. The Light Bearer never cared for the Chasm. He preferred your world.”
Robb looks at us over his shoulder. “Lilith is quite bitter about that.” His red eyes have come alive in the mine’s darkness.
“Lilith is a queen of the Chasm,” Azeroth says. “Born and raised in the bowels of Hell. She could never follow the Light Bearer to the skies.”
Robb hits the side of his head and says to his demon, “Shut up. I don’t care.”
I wonder if she ever stops blabbering.
We follow the origin of the hot wind, knowing it’ll lead us to the gate. The closer we get, the more statues of Abaddon we find in alcoves. Do the cultists still think they’re worshipping Satan?
Does Abaddon enjoy being confused with the greatest demon that ever walked both worlds? I hope he chokes on envy every day, for he’ll never come close.
Two possessed appear around a bend, and Robb and I get a hold of them until Azeroth can shoot them with the darts. We hide them behind a tall statue of the goat-faced king of the Chasm.
At last, the tunnel widens into a cavern as big as a cathedral.
“We’re under the Devil’s Tower,” I say.
Where the veil between both worlds is thinner, and Hell’s influence reshaped the ground to create the mountain.
The heat here is almost unbearable, like standing in the Sahara desert at noon. Sweat drips from my forehead to my neck. The cultists have built great sculpted pillars that reach the stone ceiling and there’s a giant gate surrounded by tall walls at the center of the cavern.
Azeroth is already on the move, knocking out the handful of possessed under the mountain, but all I can do is stare at the impressive man-made structure.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Robb mumbles at my side. “It’s an actual gate.”
“No…” I say. I’ve seen it in the demon’s memories. “Help me open it.”
We put our hands on the massive gate and push. The metal is hot to the touch. It swings forward slowly, not making a sound—they must keep the hinges well oiled. We stumble to the other side when the gate finally gives in.
Robb swears.
The actual gate of Hell is a deep wound in the ground—a bleeding tear in the fabric between our worlds. It’s covered by a murky layer of something, as if it has begun to heal. It’s pulsating like a beating organ and glows red at our feet from the fires burning on the other side. The hot wind passes through the gap. We’re breathing the air from another plane.
Demons watch us from Hell, like a twisted reflection in a pond. They’re the real deal, not mutated hosts. Strange bodies with tails, horns, scales, and claws. Creatures from nightmares. I recognize a few from the State Exorcists’ manual.
“Shit,” Robb says as one of them walks away. “They can see us, too.”
“The gate is already much bigger than from the memories I saw,” I say.
Where there used to be a thin red crack in the ground is now a gash large enough to let through demons. We’re too late. The gate is open.
“How do we close it?” Robb asks.
Azeroth joins us and watches the gate, expression unreadable. His native world is just on the other side. Is he about to cross over and be gone from my life forever?
“I don’t know,” I say. “I was hoping to stop them from opening it. Lucifer never told me how to close it.”
Azeroth walks along the gash in the ground, his wings catching the hot wind from Hell. “They’ve opened it by releasing a significant amount of pure energy.”
“Sacrifices,” I say.
He nods. “Souls are the most condensed source of energy in the universe. Life gathers its knowledge and consciousness in nexuses. We cannot easily undo such damage to the veil between our worlds. It needs time to heal by itself.” He gestures at the thin layer covering the gate.
“How long does it take?” asks Robb.
“Years, centuries… I can’t tell. The travelers of worlds—your angels—might have known. But the Light Bearer was the last of them.”
And I devoured him and can no longer access his memories.
“So, what now?” Robb asks.
“Now, we stop them from crossing over while the gate heals. We—”
But before I can finish my sentence, a demon’s hand pierces the murky veil of the gate to get a hold of Azeroth’s ankle. The hybrid stumbles, but Robb gets a hold of his arm long enough to allow him to pull out the dart gun and shoot. The hand disappears back to Hell.
On the other side, the gate darkens with the outline of a gathering of demons.
“They’re coming,” Azeroth says. “They know we’re here.”
I pull out my two guns. “Shit.”
We’re wholly unprepared for a fight with Hell. We expected to find a host of possessed trying to force the gate, not an open doorway to the other world.
By my side, Robb raises his shotgun. There’s an unsettling glee in his red eyes. The Carver can finally face real demons and let his monstrous side slip its leash. Azeroth disregards the dart gun to brandish a sword he found in my armory.
The first creature to rise from the gate is a colossus with rough skin like stone and short horns: a golem. A lower demon with more muscles than brain. They never possess humans, for they lack the skill to invade a living being, but they’ve been known to be bound by magic to artificial bodies centuries ago. The spells, luckily for humanity, are lost to time.
Azeroth acts fast, burying the tip of his sword through the golem’s throat. The creature chokes before falling back.
“Their skin is hard to pierce, so target their weak spots,” he says.
Three vampyrs crawl out of Hell next. They’re much smaller but faster. We cut them down with blades to save bullets. Soon, all kinds of lower demons climb through the gate, ripping the healing fabric between worlds to shreds.
“Abaddon is sending us his grunts first,” Azeroth says.
He wants to know what’s expecting him on the other side.
We welcome many nightmares with bullets. The hellhounds give us a hard time. They’re quick on four legs and as slippery as eels. One buries its teeth in Robb’s arm, but he gets a hold of its head and snaps its neck with his bare hands. The attack ripped the sleeves of his coat and t-shirt off, revealing the red scales underneath. My friend is mutating much faster than expected.
I dodge the attack of another hellhound and bury my dagger between its shoulder blades. The wound hisses and smoke as the beast thrashes. I throw its lifeless body through the gate.
Azeroth is fighting two slim demons I don’t recognize. They’re long-limbed and eyeless. Creatures from the watery parts of the Chasm, no doubt. Their blue blood spatters on the stone floor.
One after the other, they crawl out of Hell. We cut them off relentlessly, trying to slow the invasion. But I know that this is just a taste of what really awaits us. Luckily for humanity, the gate isn’t large enough to let through a great army as long as we hold the line.
But how long can the three of us hold?
“We need to collapse the mine!” I say, driving my dagger in the eye socket of a vampyr.
“The pillars!” Robb shouts.
We back out of the structure but keep the iron gate wide open. A golem charges at me and I steer it toward a pillar. The creature’s first attack weakens it, and it comes crashing down after the second hit.
I share a glance with my old friend. If our plan works, we’ll be buried alive, along with the demons.
“Fools,” Azeroth roars. But he takes flight and throws a soldier of Hell against another pillar.
The other side must have realized what we’re doing, for the first higher demons rise from the gate. Unlike the lower ones, they wear armor and carry weapons. Their horns curve above their heads. They speak in guttural languages, to which Azeroth answers with raucous laughter, taunting them. Their words sound familiar, as if the parts of me that come from Lucifer recognized his native tongue.
One of the higher demons, a female with wide shoulders and purple horns, points a clawed finger at me. “White Exorcist,” she says with a heavy accent. “Do you remember me?”
I laugh. It sounds strange in our dire situation. “Let me guess, I sent you back to Hell?”
“Twice,” she growls. “But this time, I’ll be the one to send you to the afterlife and—”
Before she can gain momentum for her monologue, I throw the Dagger of Redemption with as much force as I can muster. It sails true and buries itself in the demon’s forehead. She goes cross-eyed for a second, then falls over, dead.
“Try coming back from that,” I say, pulling out the smoking blade from her skull.
It feels good to face devils in their actual bodies without worrying about killing their human hosts.
Robb must be thinking the same thing, because he chooses that moment to shout, “Maybe we should have taken the fight to Hell a long time ago!” He slits the throat of a demon with the carving knife he found in my armory.
I haven’t seen him this joyful in ten years. I have a feeling Lilith’s blood-thirst is contributing to his murderous glee. His dark scales reflect the light from the torches along the cavern’s walls.
I use my two remaining vials of holy water to slow down a higher demon twice my size. His face burns and he roars, stumbling back and knocking a few lower demons off their feet. I might have fun like Robb—he’s right, it feels good to fight them for real—if only I wasn’t keenly aware that we’re drinking from the first drops of water before the dam breaks and we all drown.
As if on cue, more demons crawl out of Hell.
Soon, we find ourselves overrun. A hellhound bites my shoulder from behind, tearing skin and muscles. Gore covers Robb; I cannot tell if it is from his victims or from his own wounds. Azeroth has taken the fight closer to the gate to slow the demons’ invasion.
I turn my attention back to the remaining pillars. We need to collapse the mine sooner than later, before any of them can make it to the surface.
A higher demon grabs me by the throat while my focus is elsewhere. He laughs as he tries to crush my windpipe with his fingers. But he makes the mistake of wanting to watch the life drain from my face by bringing me closer to him. I bury my dagger between the seams of his armor and drive it up to cut his throat. He gasps, surprised by my speed and his sudden demise. Thick blood pours over my hands, drenching my coat. No dry cleaning will salvage it this time. I land on my feet and dodge the demon’s massive bulk as he comes crashing down.
Three higher demons surround Robb. One of them has wings like Azeroth, but riddled with holes that let the light through. I pull out my guns and shoot them in the back. In the war against Hell, there are no heroes, only devils. Robb doesn’t even spare a glance at me before falling on them like an enraged beast.
A great roar echoes in the cavern, and I turn to the gate to see a tall demon climb out. The creature has the face of a goat, with two great spiraling horns above its head.
Abaddon.
The statues are uncannily faithful to his image. Fur covers his body under his plate armor, and his curved legs end in hooves.
He laughs and says a few words in the language of Hell. This time, I understand it, as if Lucifer’s soul inside me is rising from its hiding corner, eager to witness our fight.
“Are these the mighty soldiers of Earth? I’ll have it conquered in no time.”
This is the demon who has placed Lucifer’s and Azeroth’s wings on the wall behind his throne in the Chasm. My rage uncoils like a snake, ready to strike.
Azeroth, too, remembers. He launches himself at Abaddon, sword raised. The goat demon welcomes him with a shield as black as obsidian.
“The Light Bearer’s shadow,” the King of the Chasm says. “I see that you’re still clinging on to life. What pitiful flesh you find yourself into.”
They spar for a moment, sword on shield, but Abaddon’s soldiers join the fight, ensuring that Azeroth can’t face all fronts. The goat demon pushes his spear into the hybrid’s gut and twists. I jump into the fray before it can bury itself deep and kick Abaddon in the chest to put some distance between us. Azeroth’s arms embrace me as we fall backward. He grunts as we hit the stone floor, and I hear the unmistakable snap of his wing bone breaking.
The demons are upon us. They stab Azeroth’s wings to the ground. I pull my guns and empty the magazines on the soldiers of Hell.
Azeroth jumps back up, even as blood pours from his gut, and buries his sword in the back of a higher demon trying to escape my wrath.
I run out of bullets, but before I can reload, Abaddon hits me with his shield, dislocating my shoulder. I hit the stone floor hard, and the air gets knocked out of my lungs.
The King of the Chasm raises his lance, about to deliver the killing blow, when Azeroth appears above me. The clang of his sword meets the lance, launching its warm metal away from my face.
Abaddon backhands him in the same breath, and he falls on his knees between my legs, his hands on each side of my ribcage. We share a look, heavy with dread, when the goat-faced demon brings down Azeroth’s own sword into his right wing.
Azeroth’s guttural scream resonates through the entire cavern. Horror grips me as the blade comes down again, hacking through the thick bone attaching the wing to his back. Blood spatters on my face.
No , I think. Please, no.
I remember that pain too vividly.
His magnificent wings…
Azeroth’s arms give out and he falls on me. His warm blood soaks my clothes.
Abaddon stands over us, laughing deeply. “Shadow, you are no match.”
As he prepares to sever the wing off his back, through bone and tendons, I roll us to the side and the sword slashes my thigh instead. Ignoring the pain, I reach for the sword’s pommel in a desperate attempt to regain control.
Abaddon’s claws dig into the skin of my throat as he pulls me off the ground.
I clutch the Dagger of Redemption. I swing my arm to cut his snout, but he ducks away. With a thrust of his head, a sharp horn impales my hand and I let go of the dagger.
My fingers are slippery with blood as I try to loosen his grip around my neck.
“Oh, are you the human who has been sending so many of my soldiers back to Hell?” he asks in a heavily accented English. His laugh sounds like rocks rolling down a hill. “You’re the last of the Light Bearer’s puppets. Tell me, how did he die? I would love to know how the great Lucifer came to his end.” Abaddon’s goat eyes are as dark as the pit he emerged from. Soulless and cruel.
Azeroth struggles on the ground, fighting off the demons surrounding him once again. He has already suffered so many wounds. If he dies here and now, his soul will return to Hell. And without a body to inhabit, he’ll be gone forever and I’ll never see him again.
The realization hits me like a brick.
Robb is still fighting to reach us, but he’ll soon get overrun, too. Will Lilith join the invasion once she’s back to Hell, or will she refuse to pick a side once again and finally mourn Lucifer?
And if I die here, will my soul and Lucifer’s finally part ways or will I join him in the great All? Will I be able to talk to him and say I’m sorry? That I stupidly love him, even though he’s the Devil and the bane of my existence for most of my life?
I won’t go down without a fight. My bloody hand disappears in my coat, looking for another weapon in my inner pockets. The vials of holy water are gone. So are my guns and the dagger. I find the chains, but they won’t be of a great help against Abaddon.
Then my fingers brush against a small device at the bottom. I realize with a shock that it’s the inhaler with the Angels’ Tears Willa gave me weeks ago. Leo must have put it back into my pocket after picking the coat up from the dry cleaner.
“Lucifer… are you still with me?” I whisper before bringing the device to my lips and inhaling the drug.