Chapter Two Lucifer
Chapter Two
Lucifer
It took no more than a glimpse to know the doe-eyed beauty who just fled my brother’s club doesn’t belong in this city. That alone should have been enough to make me ignore her. I have little interest in those who aren’t tempted by me, but ever since Eve, I’ve found easy targets difficult to resist, and as of late, I’ve had a particular penchant for cruelty.
“It’s unkind to toy with them, don’t you think?” Astaroth’s amused voice cuts through the din, finding me where I lurk in the shadows.
I lift the last of my cigarette to my lips, allowing the smoke to fill my lungs until it calms me. The orange ember glows generously, flaring through the dark. It’s my godforsaken duty to tempt those who are weak willed and vulnerable, to feed off their desire, their lust for power. I am the voice in their ear, tempting them into this city’s underbelly, and make no mistake ...
I fucking revel in it.
“Cruelty is what you make of it.” I flick the ashes and stub out what’s left of my cigarette beneath my Armani shoe. The sound of the club’s music thumps below stairs. A reminder of exactly how little I care for humanity. So little I allow my siblings to offer them all their destructive pleasures at humanity’s own expense, their money given as an offering to me.
The vices inside my brother’s club are the luxury rope with which they choose to hang themselves, but I can hardly bring myself to give a shit.
Not when they make it so easy.
“You know that’s not what I mean,” Astaroth says, joining me.
If there’s such a thing as friends in hell, Astaroth is as close as I’ll ever get to having one.
He’s loyal, which is all I need any demon to be.
I release a long sigh, ignoring Astaroth’s prodding as I stare at the now-closed door where the little doe fled, nothing but the sound of my laughter chasing her.
It’s been a long time since any human has tempted me. Since I’ve wanted to toy with one. But whoever she was, she was more lamb than human, an innocent creature brought to slaughter, and I’ve always had more than a passing taste for blood.
Though tempting her inside my brother’s nightclub is a little clichéd, even for me.
“You’ve been distracted,” Astaroth says, drawing my attention once more. He fishes out a cigarette of his own and lights it. “It doesn’t suit you.”
My gaze snaps to his, and he flinches slightly. It’s a dangerous accusation. One which, if uttered by anyone else, would mean they’d suffer my wrath just as quickly as my gaze snapped to Astaroth. If they even lived long enough to see morning. But Astaroth is allowed to annoy me, only because he’s earned it with a millennium of loyal history.
“Have I?” I lift a brow, knowing exactly what Astaroth means but refusing to acknowledge it. Humility has never been my strong suit.
“Gabriel’s return draws near.” He brazens it out, like he always does.
The mere mention of my brother’s name irks me. Like a splinter under the skin.
“And?” I sneer.
He says it as if I don’t know. As if it isn’t the sole thought that consumes me.
“And it weighs on you,” Astaroth says, taking a long drag. “Clearly.”
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” I say, perhaps a little too defensively, but I refuse to admit any vulnerability. Even to Astaroth.
It’s for that same sinful reason that I rule this city. Thanks to the gauntlet my Father has thrown down for me. In the scheme of the universe, it’s a blink of an eye, the time we’ve been given.
Whoever rules NYC’s dark underbelly upon Gabriel’s return gets a free pass for all they’ve done to humanity. A heavenly get-out-of-jail-free card, as it were. It’s been ten years since He sent his angelic errand boy to offer the opportunity.
To my brothers. To Lust. Envy. Greed. All six of the other Original sinners respectively.
All of them except me.
And I’ve never much appreciated being left out.
Astaroth lets out a low whistle, reading the anger in my voice easily. “With a look like that, things are likely to get messy,” he says, as if the cold war we’ve been waging since we got here isn’t already messy. But I know as well as he does, this round is different.
The stakes have been raised considerably.
“Of course they will.”
In fact, I anticipate it. I may own this city, but each of my siblings rules their own corner, holds their own reach, which is exactly what places them at war with me.
It’s only a matter of time before one of them tries to make a move. One last attempt to dethrone me before dear old Dad returns. It’s one small part of the wicked games we play.
Among other things . . .
As if on cue, the club’s music is cut suddenly. Abrupt silence follows, and I glance down, waiting expectantly before the walls are rent by the sounds of screams. In the span of a moment, the mood below stairs shifts from seductive to startling.
Astaroth sighs, exchanging a grim expression with me as we both move toward the door. “Who’s your bet on this time?” he asks halfheartedly.
“Envy,” I wager, rolling my eyes. “It’s always fucking Envy.”
“Or Greed.” Astaroth shrugs. “She’s been on a particular bender as of late.”
The moment the service door opens, the screams grow louder, doubling in intensity. It fills me with a little more fucked-up glee than I care to admit, and a smirk twists my lips despite the rage that courses through me.
I’ve never cared for humanity, and their fear pleases me.
Astaroth and I descend into the chaos, fighting against the current of patrons trying to escape the club. I should have expected they’d strike while I’m here. Tonight. My siblings aren’t exactly known for their subtlety, and while The Serpent may not be Gluttony’s most financially lucrative investment, it’s by far the most popular, the most public facing.
The one most likely to stir the paparazzi.
It’s a pathetic attempt to cause a blow to my pride, to get my face in the papers. They know me all too well, my siblings, but what they fail to understand is they cannot damage what’s already been stolen from me.
What our Father has already taken.
I fight my way through the crowd at first, but the patrons soon part easily, sensing the something other that separates Astaroth and me. They may not recognize my face, but I am not human. Not like them.
Though I’m no angel either.
It takes only a handful of minutes for us to reach the club’s second floor. A glittering array of lush cushions and darkened alcoves lit beneath soft neon-pink lighting meant to mimic an erotic version of the second ring of Hell, or to give the humans an impression of it, really. The dead man lying in the middle of the club’s floor isn’t exactly a surprise to me.
The cleanup here come morning is hardly pleasing. There are no rules in this club, and thanks to my less-than-subtle influence in NYC’s politics, there are no laws within these walls either. Finding dead bodies on any of The Serpent’s seven floors is commonplace. Expected, even.
What isn’t commonplace is the bullet hole that pierced the man’s skull.
His blood seeps onto the marble flooring, pooling in a macabre sort of halo as a distant camera flashes. Not a usual sight on this floor, which means ...
“Not Envy.”
“Nor Greed,” Astaroth agrees.
No, the man’s naked form and still erect penis say it all.
Lust has finally made his move against me.