CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Wind made the walls of the tent flap.
I recognized the sound as soon as I regained consciousness.
Despite the pain that made my temples throb, I had enough sense to keep pretending I was still knocked out.
It wasn’t a total lie—whatever that demon had done to me with her kiss made my thoughts scattered and slow.
I struggled to think of a plan beyond playing possum.
I reached for my powers, but the place where I usually found my magic was thick and dark, as if it had turned to mud.
The only reason I didn’t panic was because my reactions were muted.
Buried beneath the demon’s lingering influence.
As soon as I realized what was happening, Dad’s lessons kicked in.
Examine your environment, I told myself. That was the first step. I stopped trying to touch my magic and focused on my physical senses instead, keeping my breathing deep and even.
There didn’t seem to be anyone else in the tent with me.
Beyond the wind, I could hear brief snatches of sound, and they weren’t comforting.
Something roared, and the creature I imagined was much, much bigger than a lion or a bear.
I was still in Lucifer’s camp, then. I didn’t seem to be injured beyond the effects of that demonic magic, but I was so thirsty that my tongue felt like cotton.
I tried to swallow, and the action caused another burst of pain down my dry throat.
I couldn’t hold back a wince. Maybe I’d been passed out longer than I thought.
A moment later, something touched my mouth. I was so startled that I jerked away, my eyes flying open.
“Easy,” a familiar voice said.
It took another second or two for my vision to clear, and when it did, I saw that Lucifer knelt in front of me holding the end of a ladle.
Water dripped off it. My focus zeroed in on those drops clinging to the curved bottom, then followed them down to the grass.
I thought about spitting in the devil’s face, but God, I was thirsty.
If he was going to bespell or poison me, he would’ve done it by now.
So when Lucifer brought the ladle back to my lips, I drank.
And as the cool water slid down my parched throat, I heard Laurie’s voice in my head, echoing back from that quiet conversation on the night of the fireworks. The devil made you dependent on him. He made certain that he was the center of your universe. That isn’t love, Fortuna.
“You can have more in a few minutes,” Lucifer said once I’d emptied the ladle. “You may be Fallen, but you’ll still vomit if you drink too much.”
He stood and walked away, presumably to put the ladle back. Now that my eyes were open, I looked around quickly. Everything was hazy, and it felt like I was peering at the world through a dirty microscope.
Lucifer and I were alone, but we were no longer in the tent where I’d found Thuridan.
This one was massive, and far more elegant, with three wooden posts throughout that held the ceiling high.
The space had the same touches as Lucifer’s tower—dark wooden furniture, thick rugs, an enormous bed, and a round table where the devil undoubtedly held his war councils.
There was even a sleek bar. It was nighttime outside, and the space was lit with what looked like antique oil lamps, along with a low fire a few yards away.
I was handcuffed with my arms behind me, and they were wrapped around one of the wooden beams.
“What … what did that bitch do to me?” I mumbled. Forming words was still difficult.
Lucifer stood with his back to me. “That was a galbraith demon. Her kiss takes your power. Or, if you’re not Fallen, your life. The violence of it always sends her prey into shock,” he added.
“Oh, great,” I rasped.
His arm shifted, and I heard the sound of glass clinking. “She really liked you, though. Said you tasted like heaven.”
Taking advantage of Lucifer’s distraction, I wrenched at the handcuffs to test their strength. The movement was weak; I needed more time. I needed to get Lucifer worked up. He was never sloppy, but he did feel, I knew he did, and emotions made people lose focus. Emotions could lead to mistakes.
I lifted my head to look at Lucifer. I didn’t need to think about what to say—there was a lot I wanted to say to him.
And there was still too much we didn’t know.
My voice was hoarse as I said, “So I guess this is the part where you tell me your endgame. What’s your big, bad, evil plan, Luci?
Are you really such a cliché that your motive behind everything is to rule the universe? ”
Lucifer turned around, and this time, he held a drink in his hand. He leaned against the bar, crossing his legs at the ankles, and put the glass to his lips. I watched his throat shift as he swallowed. Then he lowered the drink and said, “I don’t intend to rule it, my lady. I intend to end it.”
I wasn’t surprised by his response, since I’d known the second I’d seen his army. But hearing the truth out loud still made my stomach clench, and it took me an extra moment to speak. “Why?” I asked.
The devil’s features hardened. “Because the Maker loves them. His precious humans. And He needs to be punished.”
I knew how violent Lucifer’s punishments could be. I felt cold, suddenly, but I kept the wariness out of my voice as I said, “Punished for what?”
“For turning us away at the gates. For what He did to her,” Lucifer murmured. His eyes shone with hatred.
The way the Dark Prince spoke of his creator was so different from how Michael had.
Lucifer’s view seemed to be so much more …
personal. As if he really was a son rebelling against his father.
Silence fell between us, filling the tent like darkness.
At the same time, the wind began to strengthen, and the walls of the tent flapped harder.
Something outside began to howl. Goosebumps raced down my arms, making every hair stand on end.
I fought to control my heartbeat, and focusing on the flutter in my chest helped me control the urge to yank frantically on the handcuffs.
After a few seconds, Lucifer seemed to return to himself. His gaze cleared and found me again. “Would you like more water?” he asked.
“No. I want you to let me, Oliver, and Thuridan go,” I answered curtly. I talked as he came closer. “You made your choices, Lucifer. If you’re reckless enough to break the rules, you need to be ready for the consequences.”
“Spoken like someone who has broken a rule herself, once or twice.” Lucifer knelt, and as the words left him in a low murmur, fondness shining in his eyes, he skimmed his finger down my cheek just like he used to.
Something glinted at his throat and caught my eye.
At this proximity, I could make out the edge of a shape beneath his collar … a key?
A moment later, I jerked my head away to get as far from his touch as I could. Lucifer’s hand fell, and he got up. His expression was unreadable as he added, “I figured if I couldn’t bend Heaven, why not raise a little Hell?”
“How long have you been practicing that cute line?” I mocked. My gaze went to the chain around his neck again. That had to be the key to my handcuffs.
Lucifer didn’t respond. It felt like the galbraith demon’s poison was starting to wear off, but I still needed more time. I had to keep him talking.
“There’s one thing I don’t get. Well,” I amended, “there are a lot of things I don’t get about you. Why does Hell acknowledge Olorel? I saw Michael’s last memory of him. He didn’t sacrifice himself to create the Unseelie Court. He did it to—”
“—close the Door that Persephone opened,” Lucifer finished, looking unsurprised. “Yes, I am aware. I suppose I might’ve left some things out when I told you our story.”
“You ‘left it out’ because you didn’t want me to know I could close the Gate,” I countered, giving him a look of pure loathing. I tugged at the cuffs to test their strength.
A muscle in Lucifer’s jaw flexed. “Yes,” he said bluntly. “But not for the reason you think. When she created the tear, Persephone didn’t know how much energy it would take. The price such powerful magic would extract.”
He stopped, and I knew it was because he’d already told me the ending to this story. Those words echoed through my memory.
She survived for three days.
My gaze flicked to the tattoo on Lucifer’s wrist, and I knew his grief wasn’t feigned.
Once, I would’ve felt pity for him. Seeing the gleam of pain in his eyes would have weakened my defenses.
But tonight, I looked at the devil and only felt loathing.
“So Olorel drained his entire life force to stop you from coming through,” I said flatly.
Lucifer made a low, bitter sound and took another drink.
“Even with all that power, Olorel couldn’t end someone else’s spell or destroy the Door.
He could only close it. The Unseelie Court was a cover story, a way to explain his death.
It was decided amongst the Order that no one could ever know there was an opening to Hell.
They buried the secret so deeply that even I didn’t know where to find it.
And that, my lady, is why Hell acknowledges him—Olorel is the reason we’ve been locked out for so long. ”
He gave me a humorless smile and tossed his drink back, finishing it this time. I fell silent. Once again, I thought back to the other conversation we’d had about Olorel. When I’d discovered that Hell acknowledged the day just as the fae did, I questioned Lucifer about it.
It holds a different meaning for us, but yes, we celebrate it. To an extent, he’d told me then.
What meaning does it hold for you? I asked.
It’s a promise.
“A promise,” I echoed now, remembering.
Lucifer’s expression hardened. “My promise. I will kill Olorel’s son, and then I’ll use the dust from my brother’s bones to undo what he sacrificed himself to accomplish.”