by Michael Todd
You have betrayed this and abandoned me. Come back. I will send the Leviathan for you if you do not respond. I have been told you are somewhere in Korea, and I will kill every human in my path. Be warned.
Yours in Darkness,
Lucifer
Damian’s mouth dropped open for a moment, and he chuckled. The handwriting seemed to be in some sort of red liquid, thinner than ink and soaked into the paper. He removed a glove and rubbed the page between his fingers, considering the texture. It felt strange, as if it were made of some sort of hide.
Human, Ravi said abruptly. Human skin.
He dropped the letter on the desk and wiped his hand on his shirt. Once he’d cleared his throat and replaced the glove, he picked the other page up carefully. Thankfully, it appeared to be some sort of thick paper. This letter was considerably shorter.
Lucifer,
I told you my time there would be limited, yet you insisted on pulling your masculine bullshit and tried to control me. I do not care that you have a title. You will not force me into what I do not wish to do. Like I told you before, my time with you is limited. I will return soon to run the kingdom, and we can discuss our future. You were aware from the moment I took the throne that my wings were still there, waiting to be brought to reckoning. I do not do well in your kind of hell.
Please walk my precious Cerberus. I will arrive when I please. If you send your Leviathan, I will make a mockery of it. I promise you.
XO… Lilith
The priest’s eyes widened, and he folded the letters quickly and shoved them into the pocket with his cross. He sat in silence, completely stunned that he had just read what amounted to love letters between Lucifer and Lilith. That was something he definitely needed to keep to himself. And what did she mean by wings?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Damian struggled to assimilate all the information he’d received that day. He tried desperately to get Ravi to talk to him, but she either gave him one-word answers or didn’t respond. After several hours of trying to hide his frustration in the quiet library, he slammed the fallen angels book closed and shoved it in his bag.
He tapped his fingers on his thigh for a moment and considered ways to shift Ravi from her silent mode. You know, I was thinking. My bag is pretty old, and I could possibly use a replacement. You wouldn’t happen to know a shop where I could find one, would you?
She perked up immediately. Shopping? Did I hear that you need to go shopping? Has hell finally frozen over after all these millennia?
Damian chuckled. Calm down. It’s just a bag.
Ravi giggled. Actually, I know the perfect place. It’s been there for a very long time and has some of the best and most fashionable custom bags for a man like you.
I’m not sure what ‘a man like me’ means, but okay. Where are we going?
The demon was shamelessly excited. House of Fraser. They opened their first shop in 1849, selling finery in Glasgow, and now have a huge store in London.
Damian gathered his things and left the library. Just so you know, I am considering a new bag. That doesn’t mean I’ll go nuts and buy one, but I will be straight and honest with you. I will not wear a man purse. I want something similar to the one I have now; something classic, and I want it to last thirty years like this one has.
Ravi chuckled. What you refer to is actually called a Murse, and don’t worry, I don’t want you to embarrass me. No small shoulder bags for you. I won’t even make you look at the ones that go around your waist.
He cringed at the thought. I appreciate that. It’s not really my style, although I’m not sure I really have a defined style. I like to think of myself as exotic.
She laughed loudly as they climbed into a cab. I don’t think “exotic” came to my mind, but okay, we’ll go with it.
They arrived, and Damian was relieved to see it was a larger department store like a Macy’s back home. They wandered through until they found the bags section.
As they meandered, happily distracted by the different styles, he decided it was time for him to ask a few questions. Let me ask you something. Do you like hell? Is it homey and comfortable for you?
Ravi scoffed. Please. It’s hot as balls, and there are no cushions on anything. The food is terrible. You can’t relax because of all the shrieking and moaning. It’s a hideous place. I tried to make my house there comfortable, but it was pointless. I now spend as much time topside as possible.
Damian nodded and ran his hand across a leather bag. How long have you been a demon? I mean, from what Rose says, you are more than a demon, but you have yet to confirm that.
Ravi sighed. I am not Ameretat, although the thought is sweet. I am related to her in a long succession I knew nothing about until after death, but I am not a fallen angel. I merely know a lot of them.
Before your death? Damian asked.
She cleared her throat with obvious discomfort. I guess it’s time I let you in on my secrets. Especially if I’ll be stuck with you for a while. I was a human many, many years ago, born and raised in the new Baton Rouge. It was a time of excess for many, not excluding myself. I did not know my mother, and my father never spoke of her. He owned a large shipping company and was very rich, and I spent my days traveling the world, seeing the sights, and doing whatever I wanted. Mine was a life without lack. I partied and danced the nights away in Paris, London, Egypt, and the islands, and had many lovers but only one true love. My life was what every woman of that time wished theirs could be.
Damian listened closely. Did you have a family?
Ravi went quiet for a moment. No. No family of my own. When my father decided he wanted to pass the company on to me, I realized that everything would have to change. I wasn’t happy about that.
He was shocked. I don’t mean to be surprised, but I assumed you were a demon created in hell like so many of the others. I didn’t realize you were a trapped soul, damned there for living a less than godly life during your human time on Earth.
She chuckled. I wish it were that simple. Sure, I didn’t live the godliest life, but I wasn’t a bad person. I fed the hungry, shared my wealth, cared for others, and did good deeds. I tithed, and I gave godly advice to others. But when it came down to it, I had no choice but to enter hell when I died. There was no option for me to even linger on Earth as a spirit.
Damian stared at a bag without really seeing it. I don’t understand. I know we don’t have a choice in our destiny once we have died, but you make it sound predetermined.
Ravi groaned. I really don’t want to talk about this yet. I made a wrong choice in life, the last one I ever made. That, coupled with my family heritage, predetermined my future in the fiery pits of hell. I was not sent there as a common demon, but to me, there is no real difference. Hell is hell.
Damian nodded, surprised by the surge of sadness he sensed in her. I suppose it is, for those who don’t want to be there. Whether you are in chains or on a couch, none of it is the preferred scenario. I do feel sorry for you, and I hate to say it that way. You lived what sounds like a magnificent life. You saw the world at a time when it was only a shadow of what it is today. Were you young when you passed?
I was in my late twenties. Now, of course, it would be considered very young to have died. But again, this isn’t the time or place for that conversation. I think I have given enough of myself to the wagging tongues.
Am I a wagging tongue?
Ravi laughed. No, it’s an expression. I used to hear my aunt say it all the time when I was alive. The gossips, the old biddies who liked to tell everyone’s business. That’s probably why I am so good at privacy now. I had a lot of practice as a human. I was pretty much the same girl alive that I am dead, only in hell I have scales. Dreadful things, and they fucking itch.
Damian wanted to press further. He wanted to know who she was and why she’d been predetermined for hell. He began to ask a question, but Ravi had already changed the subject. She gasped and pushed his attention to the right.
; Look at that bag. It’s exactly what I had in mind. Sturdy, with lots of pockets. You can lock it, but it’s still soft to the touch. Brown leather with thick stitching, so you’ll have it for a very long time, just like the hobo sack you carry now.
The priest frowned at his bag. Hey, this thing has been through the wringer. It has seen serious things during our time together.
Ravi maintained an even tone. Mmm. So, have I, but you won’t find me wrinkly and worn.
Damian rolled his eyes and picked the bag up. It definitely had a more fashionable flair, but he liked it, which surprised him. He seldom liked what Ravi chose. Like the suit, though, she had managed to grab his attention with that one. It was sturdy, too, and he thought he could store a good number of weapons in the thing. A latched leather-lined pouch on the front would be perfect for his cross when he didn’t wear his trench.
He knew the demon had distracted him on purpose. While he wanted badly to delve into her background, she was determined to end the conversation. She had revealed more than he’d expected, so he decided it would do for now. And she was right about one thing—they had plenty of years ahead of them, so he had time to discover more. There was something deeply hidden, something bigger than being related to a fallen angel. It was significant enough that she wanted to hide it from him at any cost.
With the current state of the war, any secret about demons and angels could be the key to victory. He hoped that hers didn’t impact the conflict because he wasn’t sure how he would handle it if it did. Katie had been created to handle Pandora, but he was not equipped for anything remotely close to their relationship. The secrets nagged at him, and God knew he held his fair share of them. Between his demon, Pandora, and the cardinal, he was about as full of secrets as one man could get.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Damian opened the front door of the house and entered with a large paper bag. He closed it and tossed his house keys on the side table. The place was chilly, but he wanted to square his things away before he made another fire. He placed his old bag on the dining room table and the new one beside it.
He whistled intermittently as he removed the books from of old bag and dumped the pens and loose papers. One by one, he stationed the items neatly in his new bag, even discovering a hidden inside pocket where he could keep things he didn’t want visible.
The fallen angels book would fit easily, making it the perfect hidey-hole for it when he was on the move. Well, it looks like you made another fantastic choice.
Ravi was smug. I told you I was good at this stuff. Now all I have to do is get you to invest in new boots, and we will be on the right track.
He looked defensively at his footwear. These will do for now. They aren’t even worn yet.
She groaned theatrically. Yeah, yeah. I guess I can’t be too picky. I got you farther than I thought I would.
Damian returned the books to the safe and hung his new bag in the closet. Ravi protested. Do you mean to tell me you’ll hide a beautiful leather satchel that you just paid twenty-five-hundred dollars for in the deep, dark recesses of your dungeon closet? Oh, no. No! I cannot allow this.
He muttered and removed it, then walked to a dining room chair, and hung it over the back. The demon wasn’t pleased and, conceding defeat, he hung it on a hook on the wall. Better?
She sniffed. I can live with that.
The priest smirked and removed the letters from his jacket pocket. Quickly, he returned to the safe and slid them into the fallen angels book, and after a short hesitation, he locked the safe and opted to pursue his search another night. Needing the distraction of human contact, he knocked on Max’s door. When he didn’t get a response, he knocked again and waited, finding it hard to believe the trainee would be asleep at that hour of the day. Finally, he creaked the door open and peeked inside.
Max wasn’t in his room, and his bed was made. Damian scratched his head in thought and shut the door, then meandered through the dining room to the kitchen. Everything was spotless, and the young priest was nowhere to be found.
Ravi sniffed. I smell him and his demon, so he is here somewhere. Maybe he discovered that closets are comfortable after all. See what you did to the kid? You damaged him for the rest of his life.
Damian rolled his eyes. I did no such thing. If anyone damaged him, it was him. He’s the clumsiest person I have ever met in my life. No motor skills at all.
She snorted. Maybe he will grow into them.
He chuckled as he grabbed a grape and tossed it into the air, then caught it deftly in his mouth. I saw his shoes on the stoop when I came in, so he is either here somewhere or is wandering the streets of London barefoot.
Ravi grimaced. As much as I love this city, I would not advise that.
Just then, a loud crash sounded upstairs, followed by Max yelling and groaning. Damian looked at the ceiling with wide eyes and rushed to the stairs. He raced up them two at a time and swung around the wall, taking the corner fast. At the door to the training room, he stopped. Ravi tried to hide a laugh. Oh my.
Max hung upside down, his shirt over his face. He had managed to somehow get his foot caught in one of the full-sized practice dummies and now swayed back and forth, his head hitting the plastic leg.
Damian shook his head in disbelief. “How in God’s name did you get yourself into that predicament?”
The young man lifted his shirt from his face. “I kicked the damn—I mean, dang—thing and somehow got stuck. Then it tipped over and swept me right off my feet.”
His foot slipped, and he hit the floor at a ninety-degree angle with his back flat but his sock still trapped. All Damian could do was laugh as he walked over and pulled. Max tried to pull with him, but it only tangled the material more firmly in the plastic, and the older man struggled to hold back his laughter. “Hold still. You can’t— Stop pulling or I’ll leave you like this.”
Finally, Damian simply yanked the trainee’s foot free. “You need to make sure there is supervision when you train. Apparently, it’s more dangerous than fighting demons.”
Max pushed to his feet and straightened his shirt, frowning at a hole near the hem. “Hey, I had some serious momentum going there. That thing attacked me.”
His mentor regarded him in stunned silence for a moment before laughter overwhelmed him. He pushed the dummy with one finger, and it fell and bounced across the floor. “Oh, sure, this seems like a real mean one. Maybe we should get some rope and tie this bad boy up. We wouldn’t want him attacking anyone else. We live here, and he could kill us in our sleep. I’m glad you tamed the beast, though. You’re a real hero.”
The young man faked a laugh and yanked his towel off the bench. “You don’t know what I go through. You had an entire team of mercs to train you when you started out. I have you—and you’re lost in books most of the time—and my demon. He’s an asshole most days, but at least he helps me.”
Damian smirked. “Oh, yeah, he came running straight to your aid when the killer plastic man attacked you.”
Max frowned. “I guess it’s not his fault I have no coordination. At least the dummy was there. I might have gone straight through the window otherwise. You would have found me in the courtyard with crazy Ms. Rose trying to drag me back to her lair.”
“Oh, I don’t think she’ll be much of a problem anymore,” he responded cheerfully. “At least, not for a while. She had a bit of a meltdown earlier, and I had to scare her demon into the recesses of her soul. Hopefully, it stays there for a while.”
His companion raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Does that explain the shards of wood on the doorstep and the hole in our doorframe?”
Damian exhaled a long breath and shrugged. “That it does, but don’t ask. It was a wild ride. In the meantime, you are tackling the villains at our backs.”
Max’s face dropped, and the older man smiled and draped his arm around his shoulder and shook him gently. “Hey, we all get attacked by an inanimate object at some point in our training. Luckily, I was here
to save the day.”
“Really?”
Damian shook his head. “No, you are definitely the first. Go ahead and take a shower, get dressed, and come downstairs. I know this little place that serves tapas and amazing coffee. I think both you and your demon will enjoy it. Sound good?”
Max nodded as Damian walked down the hall. The young priest flipped the lights off and rolled his eyes at the dummy. “Fucking mannequin.”
His mentor hopped down the steps, his grin wide. “Language!”
Exasperated, Max threw his head back and shook his fist in the air, then tripped over the small table near the top of the steps and flailed wildly. “Whoa…whoa.”
Damian stopped at the bottom of the steps and turned with his hands on his hips. Solid thuds were interspersed with Max’s pained grunts as the trainee thumped all the way to the bottom and rolled onto the hardwood floors. He groaned and held the top of his head, staring up at the ceiling. Damian gave him a quick once-over, relieved to see no blood or protruding bones.
He looked at him and shook his head. “I’d have to say, you’re doing much better at exorcising than hand-to-hand combat. That’s a compliment. Trust me. If the opposite were true, you’d be missing a limb or two.”
Max opened his eyes and moaned pitifully. His mentor smiled widely and tapped him in the side with his boot. “Come on, slacker. Let’s go. We got tapas to eat and coffee to drink.”
Damian walked away, and the young priest stared up at the rafters, willing his head to cease pounding in his skull. It didn’t help that Astaroth was having a field day with the entire situation. That was the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life, the way you hung from that mannequin. The only thing that would have made it better is if it pulled your shorts down.
