Chapter 3
Saer arrived in a broken, bleeding heap on the floor of the throne room. As the Hellsfire dissipated, Neyu’s soft intake of breath reached his ears first.
Neyu. He yearned to see her, but couldn’t lift his head to look around.
Lucifer’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Bring him to me, my Neyuukhan.”
The command confused and enticed him as Neyu’s hooves scraped closer. Did his maker trust him again? Was this a test?
The heat from Hell restored some of the strength he’d lost, and he attempted to get his shaking limbs under his body.
“I’ve got you,” Neyu whispered next to his ear as she curled an arm around his torso.
Incessant, crimson fluid poured from the deep wounds, but her touch soothed him in a way he fought to ignore.
The demoness aided him to a shuddering stand, raising traitorous bumps on his flesh while she dipped her head under his upper limb for better support.
His blood painted her ebony skin, and Saer suppressed the urge to lean into her.
Across the cavern, Lucifer’s beautiful but tremulous hands swept under the strong cheekbones of Its next Daemoenic, the final touch on one of an identical pair. Masculine, no less muscular than the First, but leaner. Lucifer had finished them in Saer’s absence.
How long had he been on the surface, in and out of consciousness? It felt like forever, but Saer would have anticipated more to show for that time frame. More Daemoenica woken, more of Lucifer’s army complete.
Did time pass slower in Hell? Tired as he was, it flared more pain between his temples to think about.
Saer took in his new kin with a grimace.
The fallen angel didn’t char their skin to black as It had done for Saer and Neyu. Instead, the flesh of the Third and Fourth carried a rich, golden hue. Spiraling, brass horns framed their heads. Claws, wing talons, and their hooves carried the same copper tint.
Saer and Neyu slowed their pace as Lucifer angled in and kissed the Third’s eyelids, then leaned over to repeat the ritual for the Fourth. With those touches, a new sound thundered along the walls of Hell. Bestial and resonating, joyful and frightening.
Laughter.
Saer couldn’t help the lightness it brought to his aching heart, a touch of contagious happiness in the oppressive heat and flickering shadows of the underworld.
Lucifer wrapped Its hands around the Third and Fourth’s spiral horns, Its forehead pressed to one of their temples—the more stone-faced of the two who hadn’t yet uttered a sound. “Areknaryutintarrek. My Areknar. Welcome.”
A pang of unease swept through Saer to hear an airiness carrying through his maker’s voice, percolating when a smile touched Its radiant lips. The sudden urge to protect his new kin flared through him, worried for their safety. How could they know Lucifer’s tempers from Its love?
Lucifer shifted to touch Its forehead to the mirror’s brow. This one couldn’t hide his deep, throaty chuckle, the owner of the laughter. “Alustaranyallkris. My Alustar. Welcome.”
Stern, wry Arek. Jovial, beguiling Alus. Greed and Gluttony—the Twins.
As Saer and Neyu drew closer, she murmured into the First’s ear, too quiet for Lucifer to overhear, “Did you find the cure?”
He bit back a snarl of frustration. How could he find what his maker needed when no one told him what to look for? The creatures who attacked him flashed through his mind, and again, a vague tickling in his mind tormented him. Were his instincts correct? Did they have it?
Instead, Pride clenched his jaw. “Not yet.”
In a repeat of Its ritual, Lucifer walked Greed and Gluttony through their vows of fealty.
The two darted glances Saer’s way, and there he observed another difference between them. Arek—Greed—exhibited distinctly violet irises. Alus—Gluttony—had eyes the color of reflective steel, which laughed in their own, silent way.
The instant Saer and the Twins acknowledged each other, he lifted his chin. Battered as he stood, he made a show of strength, earning a respectful nod from Arek.
Something about their kinship with one another, but also the way in which Alus’s gaze invited others to share in his exuberance, settled the disruption in Saer’s core. They were a worthy addition to Lucifer’s army.
Brothers. The word struck in his mind, the connection solidified. Different from Neyu. Kin, still. Family. All soldiers in Lucifer’s army, all created by It. Yet she called to a hungrier, animalistic piece of him. A piece that belonged to Neyu, and Neyu alone.
Who were the Twins to each other? Did they feel like brothers? Or something else, as Neyu was to him?
Why did it matter?
As though she could read his thoughts, Neyu dipped her head closer to Saer’s throat, her breath tickling the sensitive skin there.
How could they be surrounded by smoke and lava, yet she smelled like lavender and roses—flowers he’d never seen, much less scented?
The touch spurred his heart to race in equal parts fear and desire, but he kept his focus locked on the back of Lucifer’s head in case he needed to push her away.
“Your first task will be to resume where Saerkhanum left off,” Lucifer said to the Twins, his tone weary but still somehow bewitching. “Gather materials for the throne Neyuukhan builds for me. Build my dais. Carve tunnels with your claws if needed and create the rooms of our home. Go.”
Arek paused as though assuring their maker could stand under Its own power, then nodded. “Yes, Master.” He drew Alus away, whose eyes still laughed, even if his voice remained silent.
When the Twins moved past Saer, Alus offered him a mischievous wink while Arek muttered under his breath, “We stand behind you, Eldest.”
The reassurance was short-lived; he might not have a body to stand behind, before long. Still, Saer offered a quiet growl of gratitude as they moved past.
Lucifer braced Itself on the nearest rocky wall and waved Its other hand. “You’re dismissed, Neyuukhan.”
The demoness paused as though she held back a rebuttal.
Before she could bring Lucifer’s wrath on herself, Saer growled and shrugged out of her hold, stumbling to a stiff kneel. Crimson pooled under Saer’s knee. Lightheadedness threatened to pull him over.
Lucifer pivoted and gazed upon him with tired, hooded eyes.
Neyu’s hooves scraped and clopped as she retreated, and Saer lowered his gaze to the floor to avoid witnessing her disappointment. He swallowed past an iron-coated tongue.
“What have you brought me, Saerkhanum?”
No concern for his wellbeing, nor for the state he’d arrived in. Spite prickled under his skin as words lodged in his throat. Now that he’d been reunited with Neyu, that familiar and selfish urgency for more sang in his core.
“You’ve brought me nothing,” Lucifer said, Its voice lower and colder all at once.
Saer’s stomach plummeted, his pain-riddled mind working overtime. “Master, I’ve—”
Lucifer’s disappointment and rage filtered into Its foreboding growl.
“I’ve brought you information.” The words fled Saer’s lips, and the low rumbling from his maker quieted.
“Say more, child.”
“Creatures wounded me. They looked like…” Saer hesitated again. Would the description upset his maker? Would it be the last thing he said?
“Like what, Saerkhanum?”
“Like you, Master.” He squeezed his eyes shut.
Intrigue answered instead of anticipated pain. “Tell me more.”
Saer exhaled, dizziness spinning in his head. “Smaller, darker, without wings. They communicated in a language I couldn’t understand.”
“Hrm.”
He wavered where he knelt, wounds throbbing.
“I know you’ve never seen battle before, Saerkhanum, nor have you felt the pain of it, but that doesn’t excuse your failure to complete that which you swore to.”
Saer held his tongue against the frustration smoldering inside. He’d been given no guidance! No one could have done better than him.
“Show me your most severe injury.”
Pushing past the nausea roiling in his stomach, Saer managed to transfer his shuddering weight and bring his right leg forward for the fallen angel’s scrutiny.
Lucifer leaned in, Its eyes molten and hungry, bringing the starving surface creatures back to the forefront of Saer’s mind.
The fallen angel grazed a hand over Saer’s hip, smearing blood. His breath hitched with the unexpected sensation, caught between craving Lucifer’s touch and guarding himself from it.
Lucifer’s index finger lengthened and sharpened—then plunged into the worst of Saer’s wounds, just below his hip.
An agonized howl caught in Saer’s throat.
When Lucifer touched the base of the wound, It stopped and hovered over him, stroking the fingers of Its free hand along his muzzle.
“Good, Saerkhanum. You’re already learning to tolerate pain well. That will only improve with time.”
Saer couldn’t respond, only gasp.
The fingertip heated within Saer’s flesh until it burned, then scalded, then cauterized. Lucifer withdrew the digit with slow intent. The concentration of Hellsfire healed him from the inside, out. It should have felt soothing.
It was anything but.
A harsher cry shoved against Saer’s clamped teeth.
Lucifer’s searing appendage slid back through the thick, strong muscle, along tendons and ligaments.
Blood boiled and flooded anew. Second after languid, nauseating second, Lucifer pulled back until only the tip of Its finger remained embedded in Saer’s leathery flesh.
The fallen angel’s digit at last emerged from Saer’s skin, and like rock to molten lava and back, the razored tip reformed. Lucifer dipped Its hand and swept up the scalding blood pouring down Saer’s shank and thigh.
It brought the scarlet fluid to Its lips and drank.
Saer wavered and crumpled completely to the ground.
A satisfied sound left his maker. “We’ll finish healing the rest of your wounds, my First. Once I have my army, we’ll prepare all of you for war. You’ll not fail me again.”