Chapter 18 #3
“Go fuck yourself,” she hissed, then slapped him hard across the mouth. “Always about you, Lucifer! Listen to you, do what you think is best. You can’t even keep your own life in order, and you have the audacity to dictate other people’s!”
“Mags...” He slowly brought his hand to his stinging cheek, blinking in surprise at the gold smudge that came away from his throbbing lower lip. “You just slapped me.”
“And I’ll do it again!” She paced away a few steps before turning back and repeating the motion. “If it gets through to you, I’ll slap you a thousand times or more.”
“You will not,” he frowned harshly. “Mags, you know I adore you, but I have to draw a line, even for you.”
She laughed, a bitter, hollow thing. “Lines? Luce, you skipped a line and threw me right in a cage!”
“That’s an exaggeration.”
“No, it isn’t!” She groaned. “And the real issue is that you don’t see it!”
He scoffed. “Maybe that’s because you’re seeing something where there’s nothing to see.”
She threw up her hands. “That’s rich! You’re so arrogant, it’s absolutely astounding! You don’t want to face your mistakes, so I must be overreacting? It’s a miracle Michael ever put up with you, let alone Angela!”
His eyes darkened to black pits, the whites all but gone. “That’s enough, Mary.”
“Oh, it’s my proper name now?” She stomped across the gap between them and shoved his shoulder roughly. “All fake platitudes until I touch a nerve, and then it’s suddenly an issue.”
He knew when he had done it that it was a mistake but keeping her out of harm’s way had taken precedence. It was her turn now to prioritize her feelings, but his own temper was flaring in response. “You’re crossing the line.”
“And it sucks, right? To have your boundaries disrespected by someone you care about, who’s supposed to care about you?”
She shoved him again, and Luce tensed. He was keeping his footing now that he was expecting her blows, but his irritation could only be kept at bay so long.
“I do care about you! That’s what this is all about!”
“No!” Another shove, harder. “This is about you!”
“I was protecting you!”
“You are smothering me!” She beat her clenched fists against his chest, furious.
“Stop this nonsense, Mary!” He gripped her wrists tightly, drawing her close in a crushing grip, and she flailed like a wild creature. “Stop fighting!”
“Let me go!” Her cries rose, frantic, as she fought to get free of his grip. “Lucifer stop, please! Let go, let go, let go!”
“Oh,” the realization dawned, and he released her as if her skin burned him. “Mags, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Stop!” Tears were flowing freely now and her eyes were wild, like a terrified animal. “Just leave me alone, please,” she begged.
“No, I—”
He stepped towards her and she panicked, stepping back so quickly that she fell to the floor. Still, she kept going, scuttling back without pause until she bumped up against the sofa.
“Stay away from me, I mean it.” Her quavering tone broke his heart, and Luce fell back.
“I’m so sorry.”
“You’re never sorry.” Mags shrank into herself, curling against the sofa and resting her head on the cushion. “And when you are, it’s only once you’ve gone too far. That is your problem, Luce.”
The truth in her words impaled him. Luce turned away, ashamed, and struggled to find the words to convey his regret. Before he could, a sharp pang settled at the base of his spine and drew his focus.
“No…” he murmured, brow creasing. His newest wards had been triggered, the ones keyed into a specific magical signature that definitively did not belong in Hell.
“Yes,” Mags snapped back, assuming he spoke to her.
“Not you,” Luce said, shaking his head. “I have to go.”
“I’ll show myself out.” She rose stiffly, ignoring his offered hand and refusing to even meet his eyes. “Don’t look for me for a while, please.”
“Mags… I never meant…”
“I know,” she sighed. “I know, okay? Just...leave me be.”
Luce watched her go, something like grief twining around his heart and squeezing. He wanted to chase after her, to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness, but she needed space, not pressure.
She was right. He needed to look hard at his motivations and behavior. In the meantime, he had something else to investigate, and it was the source of the disturbance sending alarm bells through his nervous system.
The Eyes of Lucifer, while expected to perform a variety of duties, were best described as the Advance Guard.
They did reconnaissance for the King, kept the peace among the newly deceased, and formed the first line of defense in the event of a siege.
To join the ranks was an honor among demonkind, and the Captain Overseer was notoriously particular about who met his strict criteria.
The crown jewel in this formidable order of demons was an elite class of warriors known as the Aogyn Fun Toyt—the Eyes of Death.
This was an honor reserved for demons who had gone above and beyond, demonstrating advanced skill and innate prowess, who set the standard for all the Eyes to aspire to.
Only ten demons had ever earned this designation, and only six of those still served.
Zajezjahval was one of them, and he took extreme pride in this achievement.
It was a position of dignity and power that marked him as one of the best and entitled him to certain privileges and special missions.
It also made him responsible for submitting status reports directly to their boss, Balthazar, on in this case, his second in command.
“Master Judas,” Zaj swept into a bow, which was somewhat diminished by the fact that he was hovering several feet off the ground.
“Ew, no,” Judas screwed up his face in distaste, leaning back in Bal’s chair and kicking his boots up on the desk. “Does Bal make you call him that? Prick. Just call me Judas.”
“Of course,” Zaj straightened with a disapproving sniff. “I’ve just been to receive the updates from the Eyes, would you prefer I start with the status of the Pit, or the mortal realm?”
“Whichever is less boring,” Judas waved his hand with a sigh, angling the chair even further back so he was looking up at the high ceilings. “I hate the mindless shit, where the hell is Bal anyway?”
“Master Balthazar is in the mortal realm, attending to matters of—”
“I don’t actually care,” Judas interrupted, dropping his chin to fix Zaj with a bored look. “Cut to the chase, please.”
A hard knock at the doorway interrupted them, and Lucifer poked his head into the room.
“Oh,” he blinked. “I was looking for Bal.”
“Mortal realm,” Judas explained, his tone conveying his disinterest.
“That could work in our favor, actually. Zajezjahval—”
“Please, your highness, call me Zaj.”
“Zaj,” Luce amended. “I have need of your boss, and I was hoping you might pass a message along to him.”
“Consider it done,” Zaj bowed. “You should hear from him within the hour.”
“Perfect,” Luce smiled, but a tinge of anxiety crept into the edges, and soon wiped the grin from his face. Hopefully an hour wouldn’t be too late.