What was happening?
Serah pulled back from Michael and forced a smile upon her lips. "I should really be going."
"Stay with me."
She slowly hook her head, ignoring the tempting voice in her mind that shouted, "Stay with him!" "I shouldn't. I really can't."
Michael begrudgingly loosened his hold on her, softly, chastely pressing a kiss upon her forehead. "Next time, then."
Serah returned to the playground in Chorizon, startling a form lurking in the shadows. It was well after nightfall, approaching midnight, the only thing thicker than the natural darkness that of malevolence in the air.
The loitering demon turned toward her. His black eyes flickered as a quiet defensive growl vibrated his chest. Serah stared into the bottomless pits of his eyes before her attention drifted to his clenched fist. Instinctively, the creature opened his hand, a stalk of pinkish-purple flowers falling to the ground. The blooms were small, each with four petals, combining together to make a miniature bush.
"Who are you?" she demanded. "Why are you here?"
"I'm whomever I want to be." A smug smile twisted his lips as he ran his hands down his face, admiring the body he'd possessed. "I kind of like this suit, though. I think I'll keep it for a while."
"You'll do no such thing."
"Who's gonna stop me?" he asked. "You?"
An answer came from Serah in the form of Latin as she tackled the man and pinned him down, the exorcism incantation flying from her lips. The demon fought viciously before finally erupting in laughter, conceding. He knew he couldn't win. Fighting was senseless. "He said you were a fiery one."
The body convulsed, the demon expelled in a burst of light, as the man's heartbeat kicked in again. Serah stared at him, her hand still pressed against his chest, as his words ran through her head.
He said you were a fiery one.
A groan of aggravation tore from her as she snatched up the discarded flowers and headed straight for Hell.
Her feet stomped heatedly against the sediment toward the last gate, holding up the stalk, not waiting for him to appear before addressing him. "It was you? Really? You?"
A moment of silence passed before he briskly appeared in a crack of thunder. "Excuse me?"
"You did this," she accused, shaking her fist that clutched the flowers. "You!"
"What makes you think that?"
"Because no one else sends demons to do their dirty work," she spat. "What were you thinking? What was the point? Ordering your vile minion to shadow me around Earth, leaving flowers wherever I went! You're dreadful! Truly disgraceful! It's sick!""
Hands in his pockets, Lucifer stared blankly at her, his carefully controlled tone carrying through the gate. "You seem a little angry, angel."
She glowered at him. "Of course I'm angry!"
"Are you mad because I did it?" he asked. "Or are you mad because my brother didn't?"
She opened her mouth, prepared to respond, to give him a verbal lashing for toying with her, but the words were trapped inside of her, imprisoned, unable to escape their confinement inside her head. It wasn’t in her to lie, even when speaking to the greatest liar ever created, and the bitter truth brewed inside of her.
She wasn't really mad at him.
"That's what I figured," he muttered.
"You know nothing," she seethed. "Your pride makes you think you do, but you don't! Arrogant rage fills every inch of you! You’re insufferable!"
Lucifer raised his eyebrows. "You're the one lashing out here."
"At you! Sin has poisoned you! You think you're an almighty leader, worthy of praise, when you're not! There is only one God, and He certainly doesn't live down here, Satan!"
Lucifer just watched her, flinching as she spat his title like a curse, but he retained his outward coolness, taking the insult in stride. "Are you done now?"
"No!"
He flippantly waved his hand for her to proceed, but Serah could think of nothing more to say. She wasn't sure where her argument was going, or what point she was trying to make, when he wasn't even disputing her words.
Serah hesitated. "Fine. Yes. I’m done."
"Good," he said. "Now that you got all of that out of your system, it’s my turn."
Every muscle in Serah's body seized up in anticipation as she braced herself for the full force of Lucifer’s rage. She'd seen glimpses of the monster here and there, but she'd yet to face him completely unsheathed.
Lucifer opened his mouth, his devilish eyes ablaze, but his voice was a soft murmur instead of a magnificent scream. "You might be right about me."
"Oh, you're so full of yourself! You. . ." She trailed off, perplexed by his words. "Wait, what?"
"Maybe I'm the enemy. Maybe I'm evil. Maybe I am this Satan creature you make me out to be, the one the kids up top call the devil." He smirked, the devious red in his eyes fading away as his features softened, tension receding from his jaw. "It's possible, right?"
"Absolutely."
"But, then again, maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm just misunderstood, and you'll never know because you refuse to have an open mind about it."
She scoffed. "You expect me to believe you're the good guy?"
He barked with laughter. "Fuck no. Never think that. I'm not the hero here, angel, and I don’t want to be. But I'm not the bad guy, either."
"Then who is?"
He shrugged. "Hell, I don’t know. Maybe it's you."
"Me?"
"Well, you did just show up here and berate me for my kindness."
"You call ordering your wretched demons to stalk me kindness?"
"I meant the flowers, not the followers," he said. "Or didn't you like them?"
Her eyes darted to the flower still in her hand. "I liked them better when I thought they were from Michael."
"Aw, you shouldn't judge a flower by who picked it."
"You didn't pick it. One of your lackeys did."
"Technically," he said. "Unavoidable, given the circumstances, but the thought was still there."
"Why?" she asked. "What kind of game are you playing?"
"No game."
"Then what?"
"An apology."
An apology.
He was apologizing? If Serah hadn’t been confused before, she certainly was now.
Lucifer held his hand out. "May I?"
"May you what?"
"See the flower," he said. "I'll give it right back."
She gaped at him. "How do you expect that to happen?"
"Just hand it through the gate," he said. "I’ve told you, it can’t hurt you."
"It’s not the gate that concerns me."
"Come on, I’m not going to bite you. I’m not a vampire."
She rolled her eyes. "Vampires aren’t real."
"They are here. Everything’s real down here. If you can imagine it, it exists somewhere in one of these cages. But that’s beside the point. The fact of the matter is I’m not a vampire, nor am I a werewolf or a shape-shifter or a reaper or a fairy."
She blinked rapidly, thoughts of Nicki’s drawing invading her mind. "Fairy?"
"Evil little bastards. They zigzag in the air, biting anything they can get their teeth into. They’re deadly, so I make sure they’re locked up tight. Of course, they couldn’t kill an angel, though. Very little can."
She nodded slowly. "Only another angel."
"Which is what I am," he said. "An angel."
"A fallen angel."
"Yeah, okay, so I fell—there’s no denying that—but your brother did, too. You don’t fear him or think he’s evil, do you?"
"No, but you’re not Samuel."
He stared at her in contemplation before glancing down at the sigils on his forearms. "These aren’t just decoration. My brother carved them into me with his blade of fire to keep me from hurting innocents. So even if I wished you harm—which, I don’t—he made it so I couldn’t hurt you."
He traced the black lines with his pointer finger, spelling out th
e words condemning him, as he let out a long, exasperated sigh. Timidly, Serah took a calculated step forward, then another, and another, until she closed the distance between them. The gate was so close she could hear the electricity crackling, the air glimmering like an enormous soap bubble. Slowly, she reached toward it, nearly touching the gate when Lucifer flew forward, abruptly closing the distance between him and the entrance. Startled, Serah let out a shuddering breath, suspicious eyes focused on him. He smiled guiltily, holding up his hands as he nodded for her to proceed.
There were no fireworks, no torturous screams, no massive explosions or eruptions of brutal pain. The reapers hardly even noticed as her fingertips skimmed the surface of the enclosure, carefully dipping into the enchantments. She’d half expected the bubble to pop, but instead it flickered, spreading around her fingers and forming to her skin as if she’d submerged her hand under water.
Lucifer watched intently, saying not a word, his hands still rose as he remained statuesque, more rigid than the ground beneath their feet. He waited until her shaky hand appeared on his side, clutching the stalk of flowers, to break his stance.
The moment he moved, Serah’s senses kicked into overdrive, her intuition sending alarms off in her head as he grasped her arm. An astonishing sensation surged through her, foreign and frightening. A tingle, deep in her gut, ignited a spark that ripped up her spine, so intense her teeth chattered. Gasping, she braced herself to be yanked onto his side, but he merely pried the flower from her grasp before letting go.
Serah pulled her hand back and clutched her wrist, wide-eyes watching Lucifer as he took a step away from the gate. "What was that?"
"What was what?" he asked.
"That thing inside of me. That sensation. That feeling."
She'd answered her own question. That feeling. She'd felt something, truly felt something raw and powerful for the first time.
Ignoring her, Lucifer’s attention fixated on the flowers, wilting only slightly in the infernal air, the light purple nearly as vibrant as it had been in her hand. That both shocked and saddened her, seeing something so beautiful, so alive, caught on his side with him. She’d almost expected the color to die, to fade away, tainted from his touch.
"This is called a—"
"Cleome serrulata," she whispered, cutting him off. She could identify every plant in existence.
"I was going to say Spider Flower, but that works, too," he said. "They’re opportunistic plants, and that’s exactly why they survive. They’ll grow anywhere—abandoned fields, vacant lots, cracks in concrete. Wherever the seeds fall, they’ll sprout roots."
"Amazing, isn’t it?" Serah asked.
"Yeah, it’s something, all right," he said. "Our Father offered more freedom to it than he did us. This thing does what it wants with no regard, grows where flowers aren’t supposed to grow, takes over fields and smothers everything else that lives there, killing it, and yet it’s hailed as one of His magnificent creations. A fucking plant is given more leniency than me."
"A plant doesn’t think. It doesn’t make conscious decisions."
"And what about mortals?" he asked. "His beloved humans, His favorite creation. He absolves them of everything as long as they ask. Why wasn’t I shown that same mercy? I wasn’t even given the chance to apologize."
Serah gaped at him. "Would you have apologized?"
"No. I did nothing wrong."
"Nothing wrong?" she asked incredulously. "You tried to take over the world!"
He scoffed. "I merely asked questions. I had the audacity to doubt Him, to take a stand when he let mortals run amuck. Over half of the world doesn’t even believe in Him, doubts He even exists, and they’re easily forgiven. Even the angels who fell with me—around me—were offered a chance. But not me."
"Is that why you’re doing this?" she asked. "Is that why the war is still going on?"
As usual, Lucifer ignored that question, his attention returning to the flower in his hand. He brought it to his nose and inhaled, a shudder running the length of his body as he grimaced. "Are you aware Spider Flowers stink? One of the foulest odors, if you ask me, so strong I can taste the bitterness on my tongue, but it’s still not as repulsive as Michael’s scent on you right now."
Lucifer held his hand out, the tip of the stalk of flowers penetrating the translucent shield. Serah stepped forward, taking ahold of them, yanking the flowers back to her side without making contact with him. Once she had them, Lucifer turned away, vanishing soundlessly without uttering another word.
Hesitantly, Serah brought the flower to her nose and sniffed for the second time, wondering what it was he inhaled, wanting to know how he tasted the air.
"Beat you there!"
Samuel leaped from the ground, his wings fully expanding as he took off into the sky like a rocket. The darkness of night swallowed him up within a matter of seconds, sending a baffled Serah rushing after him. "Beat me where?"
She struggled to catch up with her brother as he soared through the air, never slowing down, refusing to take it easy on her. A quarter of a mile separated the two as they weaved in and out of the clouds, speeding past airplanes as if they merely hovered, closing the distance between them and the radiant stars. The orbs of magnificent light burned in the atmosphere, far past the ozone, their exploding gasses releasing strong energy—the same energy that flowed through Serah’s body. A small star burned inside of her, fueling her life, emanating Grace, like blood pumping through a fragile human heart.
The two raced from one side of the world to the other: past the protesters covering the streets of Beijing, along the soon-to-be demolished Berlin Wall, through London’s Purley Station, still reeling from a deadly train crash. They flew across the Atlantic Ocean, Samuel plunging into the depths of the water as Serah stayed airborne, her fingertips skimming the surface of the ocean and causing waves to appear.
They crossed the border into North America, where Samuel abruptly stopped mid-air. Serah skidded to a stop as he dropped, hurling toward the ground like an atomic missile. He landed on his feet with a thud in the playground of an elementary school as Serah appeared by his side, shaking her head. "Where are we?"
"A little town called Chorizon," he replied.
"Okay," she hedged. "And why are we here?"
He waved his hands in front of him, gesturing toward a building across the road, a "Grand Opening" banner still hanging from the roof. Chorizon Community Center. Cars swarmed the area around it, loud music thumping from inside. Beyond the noise, meshing with the vibrating bass, Serah could hear the frantic racing of over a hundred heartbeats.
Behind them, the air shifted as a current crackled, Hannah popping up. Serah barely had time to look at her friend when another noise sounded, louder, less restrained. Michael appeared, silencing both girls before they could start their chattering.
"Glad you could make it, man," Samuel said, greeting him.
"I appreciate the invitation," Michael replied. "Although, I’m not sure what would interest us here."
"Apparently that," Serah said, motioning across the street. "I don’t really know what that is yet, but I’m sure it’s something big if Samuel dragged us all here for it."
She glared at her brother. He'd been inviting Michael everywhere recently, and Serah still hadn't gotten used to his imposing presence.
"It is big," Samuel confirmed. "From what I’ve heard, anyway. I’m still a bit rusty on human customs, though, so I may be wrong. As soon as I get a grasp on them, they change."
Serah’s brow furrowed. "What’s going on?"
A wide grin nearly split Samuel’s face in two. "Prom."
Hannah and Michael both stared blankly, neither knowing what Samuel meant, but that lone word told Serah all she needed to know. Prom. "Seriously?"
"What’s a prom?" Hannah asked. "I don’t get it."
"It’s a celebration," Serah explained. "Teenagers come together, dressed up, and dance the night away. It's kind of a human rite of passage."
<
br /> Matching expressions glazed Hannah and Michael’s faces, lingering confusion with a dash of dismay.
"Yeah," Hannah said. "I’m out."
Hannah vanished as Serah and Samuel turned to Michael. Serah expected him to bow out too but he remained, his perplexed appearance not lifting as he nodded across the street. "Are we staying out here, or are we joining their festivities?"
Serah stammered as Michael stared directly at her, awaiting her answer to his question. She wasn’t quite sure what to say. Samuel let out a hearty laugh, nudging her playfully as she finally gave a non-committal shrug.
"Come on," Samuel said. "It’s going to be totally bitchin’."
Serah burst into laughter as Michael’s expression briefly hardened with disapproval. Samuel clapped him on the shoulder, chuckling. "Relax, it’s just something the kids say these days."
The three descended upon the prom. Serah wasted no time immersing herself in the sea of frilly neon dresses and outrageously teased hair, twirling across the dance floor to the trendy pop song, her wings folded away as she took on her human form. She purposely remained invisible, a ruffling breeze as she passed, moving through them and around them, blending in.
Samuel mingled through the crowd, also in undetectable human form, while Michael stood along the back, wings fully engaged like an Archangel bodyguard. The mighty warrior seemed ill at ease with the high school crowd, but he didn’t leave, instead choosing to watch, apprehension in his bright eyes as they remained affixed to the wildly dancing angel. Serah could detect his presence in the air, intense, overwhelming. How could the humans be near him, around him, brush against him, and not feel the powerful life force? It left her spellbound.
She was swept off her feet—literally—when Samuel popped up behind her, grabbing her around the stomach and swinging her around. She spun in a circle, twisting like a tornado, and laughed when she came to a stop face-to-face with her brother.
"Having fun?" he asked.
She nodded, brushing the hair out of her face. "What in the world gave you this idea?"
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