Chapter 33 Charlie
“Command them, Charlie. These are your legions, this is your will. Command them all. Wield it like the weapon you’ve always dreamed. The power is yours,” Lucifer (Dad?) commands.
His pride is obvious. I feel it. I’m bathed in the warmth, the acceptance, the adoration I’ve always wanted.
He’s chosen me, but … but why now?
Why not before?
I don’t understand.
My gaze slips to the angels again as they’re demolished by a massive demon beyond description.
I should probably feel bad.
They never helped me.
They never saved me.
They abandoned us all and swooped in trying to salvage their reputation, not help those who need them.
They’re hypocrites. They haven’t earned their power.
They never earned their place. Something demanding and hungry inside me floods to the surface and ripples out.
Demons simply disintegrate, plants turn to dust, water boils from within the earth and gravity seems to invert entirely.
“That’s my girl. I’m so proud,” Lucifer praises.
Angels crash into the ground, leaving craters that swallow them while the ash tries to cover their existence.
More power ripples out from me, lava spews, crashing on the edges of the caldera like a wave trying to crawl over the ledge and drown us all.
The wind whips around us and I reach for Lucifer, needing something to hold onto, but he’s not there.
When I glance over, I stumble back. Half in awe, half in fear.
Large black, burning wings unfurl. Fire licks the bat-like webbing between the charred bones of Lucifer’s wings.
They’re scarred, sharp, blacker than anything I’ve ever seen.
A halo – black and bent – appears around his neck, just to melt into his skin, dressing him in bubbling gold that scalds him as he grows … and grows.
His features become a mockery of perfection, some kind of inversion that my brain can’t process as his sclera turn black, his irises white.
Demons chant his name as if he’s the salvation they crave.
Black horns like obsidian carve a path around the shell of his ear, then jut outwards.
His teeth sharpen, each a threat. His fingers spread, wider, longer than should be possible and I catch the faint glint of scales across his skin.
I stumble, stay standing thanks to my wings. He’s beautiful, striking, the kind of being that can rule with a mix of adoration and fear.
When he faces me, nothing in his expression softens, but he uses two massive fingertips to touch my face. “You are mine. You were born for this, Charlie.”
“Blood alone doesn’t define her, Lucifer,” Suriel snarls, bloodstained and haggard, sword blazing in his hand.
He lifts it as it grows in his palm, the metal of the blade nearly transparent.
His hand shakes under the weight. “She’s her own and you have no power over her.
” His gaze shifts to me. “Only through her.”
That feels important, but my eyes flick back to Lucifer. “Please-”
“Ask and receive, my darling,” he says.
I didn’t finish my request!
Lucifer bares his teeth. The second Suriel takes a step, Lucifer flies at him. Every beat of his wings stirs the air, causing sparks to dance, looking for kindling. Something in me wants to go with him, to fight at his side, but another part of me hesitates.
“If he won’t finish it, I will,” a dark, horrible voice croaks.
My gaze falls upon an angel, legs decimated, one merely bone poking from a meaty thigh. The angel clings to a knife as it looks up at me. It looks like a zombie, but the blade glistens with the same blue light I’ve seen in Suriel’s eyes.
The second the blade raises, something in me shifts. My wings move as if they’ve been itching to protect me and have something to make up for. One arcs in a cutting blow that beheads the angel as I crush the blade under my foot. The light goes out and more angels fall because of my power.
Control is exquisite.
Better than orgasms.
I lift my wing and see blood dripping from it. Some part of me wants to lick it, to taste the purity of an angel that died trying to smite me for simply existing in a world that is supposed to love creation.
Another earthquake and the sound of stone shattering draws my attention to Suriel. He splits the bolder he’s flung into. His body looks so … frail. I take a step towards him, then catch myself.
A gentle heart is easily broken.
Compassion is abused.
Lucifer lands near Suriel and I move closer, determined to stay involved. Angels in Lucifer’s orbit simply burn like candles. Their skin rolls over the skeletons, the gleaming gold of whatever they’re made of leaks out of them and evaporates in the supercharged air.
Everywhere I look is chaos. Demons clawing each other, gnawing on the dead and dying, throwing humans or angels towards the caldera.
Angels battle as best they can, weapons that are cast in dying gold light, weapons that seem so …
breakable. Beams of light from Heaven try to protect and purify, but light doesn’t save.
God’s finally showing his weakness.
“I warned God what would happen if he ever tried to make me kneel. I’d burn his world. I’d ruin it all. I’ve suffered enough,” Lucifer snarls.
Suriel, limping, twisting his shoulder back into place, staggers to his feet, holding his sword like it’s an extension of him. “He didn’t make you kneel. You chose to bend the rules, knowing the consequences. You chose to fall.”
“At least it was for something better than a useless, ruined human,” Lucifer snarls before rushing Suriel.
I flinch as something unstitches itself from my soul. I told Suriel I was too ruined. That I was too damaged. That I was useless. A father isn’t supposed to agree with that …
“People help when they get something out of it, girly. Hearing what you want isn’t the same as hearing the truth,” Bob said at our last meeting as he put a thousand dollar check in my hand. “Helping you makes me feel good. Seeing you succeed is like sharing a legacy. All selfish.”
This is a more dysfunctional family event than my nights drinking beer with Bob.
Which makes it … wrong.
Lucifer moves faster than I can see. There’s only a gaping streak of lifelessness that matches his wings as he forces Suriel to the edge of the Caldera. I watch Suriel’s skin burn. The same skin I ached to fix. The place where his wings should be. His shoulder is reopening, weeping black blood.
I approach, cutting through angels and demons effortlessly, welcoming the splatter of their blood and the shrieks that answer my violence. One brush of my wings and their life is mine, their energy fueling me.
I reach out to Lucifer, but Suriel cuts through my father’s cheek, splattering molten gold across me. I stare at it, mesmerized, as it solidifies against my skin. Heavy as metal, as flexible as wax.
Lucifer lets out a screech. “Who do you think you are? You can’t rewrite the plan! God wants this world to die. If He didn’t, why is she still alive? Because he tortures the most devout! She’s your punishment. And you’re weak enough to call her paradise.”
I flinch away, confused.
“She’s more than yours,” Suriel gasps.
Lucifer snarls at me. “Kill him before he can kill you, Charlie. He’s going to rip your heart out – with kind words and a smile. Do it before he can. Hold him accountable. Show him the revenge you deserve!”
My mouth opens and closes.
I don’t want Suriel dead.
I want him to suffer.
I want him to understand.
“Stop,” my voice is hoarse.
Lucifer doesn’t listen. He flings Suriel into the sky and shoots up to meet him. I force my wings to work, but an angel grabs one, jerking down and making me hiss.
I kick the angel and it simply dies, then turn my attention back to the sky. Suriel and Lucifer are fighting to the death, but neither of them has to die. If I have control, I’ll enforce it.
I spread my wings and burst into the air just to see Suriel coming down. Lucifer tangles with him. Twisting in the air, blood and gold streaking from both of them as my heart divides itself with every traded blow.
They crash into the earth, creating something like a cenote to the magma below. They land just above the lava, but the angels are ready. Half dead, some barely alive, holding themselves together with hope and a halo, they crawl towards my father.
Lucifer pushes himself up on the ledge they’re balanced on and lets out a bellow that spreads a black flame from his wings. Dozens of angels simply evaporate, leaving gold residue that flickers and dies like spent ashes.
Lucifer grabs him like a rag doll. “You already proved how pathetic you are by loving a Nephilim – the same species God wiped from the world in the last flood. You’ve tainted yourself by craving the lowest creature in creation,” Lucifer snarls. He’s not speaking English, but I understand it.
I scream as my father flings Suriel to the ground as if he’s nothing at all.
I want to stop this. I reach out to Lucifer, trying to tell him, something surges through me. Power fueled by pain, grief, confusion, that lashes out like a whip of pure sunlight mixed with magma Lucifer moves, his wings fast, but Suriel doesn’t have his wings!
Swooping down towards him, I watch until my feet find the ground. Suriel gives a weak wheeze.
Was he caught in the whip?
Did I kill him?
“Please, God, don’t let me kill him,” I beg silently, not sure if God or Fate will hear me.
He tries to push himself up and fails, coughing and clutching his chest.
He’s alive.
This isn’t right. I’m not right. I don’t hurt. I don’t kill. I don’t … What did I even release?! It looked like a fucking solar flare from my perspective.
Lucifer strokes my head like he’s petting his favorite dog. Not a daughter. Not someone he loves. I draw back and take a step towards Suriel, wanting to help him. Lucifer grabs my hair tightly, keeping me close. “Stop stalling and finish it, you ungrateful bitch!”