by Kim Faulks
“He’ll turn you into a pile of cinders?” Rival growled. “Oh no, wait. He’ll leave you in the lower levels of Hell. You and Absolon can be roomies.”
A tremor tore through me at the mention of his name. “What did my father do with him?”
“Let’s just say he won’t be bothering you anymore. He won’t be bothering anyone anymore.”
“He’s killed him, hasn’t he?” I murmured.
“Hasn’t touched a hair on his head,” Rival growled. “Can’t speak for the demons in Hell, though. Those things love to fuck with your head.”
Even though I stood in the bright, glaring light of my world, a touch of the Unseelie cold tore through me, chilling me to the bone.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lorn
Lucifer stepped out of the black limousine and buttoned his jacket. He lifted his gaze, and the dark infernal power of Hell trembled through the air.
But he wasn’t alone. The faint call of power drifted across my skin as beside him came the biggest, baddest-looking Hellhound I’d ever seen.
Dark eyes, jet black hair, and a scar that cut across his eye and the bridge of his nose. He was battle-worn, but not weary…and every cell of my body cautioned every move.
“Lorn,” my father called, and for a second, his long, languishing strides and stony gaze were business as usual, until he stepped up onto the grassy area and lunged into a run.
His heavy steps trembled the earth. The Hellhound beside him watched me with a killer’s gaze.
“Dad,” I punched my boots into the ground, stumbling on tired legs.
He opened his arms, catching me and slamming me against his chest. His strong arms wound around me, his voice a growl through flesh and bones. “I never thought I’d see you again, never thought I’d get you back safe.”
He gripped my shoulders and pushed me away. I lifted my gaze to his. Gray flecks peppered his jet-black hair at his temples. There was a tiredness in his eyes, one that hadn’t been there before. The Lord of Hell was as weary as I felt.
Car doors opened and closed behind me. Still my father never lifted his gaze. He searched my eyes, trying to find the answer to a question left unspoken until he finally found the words. “Did she hurt you?”
I shook my head. “No more than you have.”
There was a flinch before he nodded and pulled away. I’d hurt him.
“Lorn,” Betty called behind me.
I dropped my arms from my father and turned. Betty smiled, tears shimmering in her eyes, and wrapped her arms around me. “Thank God…thank God. I prayed for you morning and night.”
She was soft and warm. She was comforting, and for a second, that tension inside my chest eased. I hugged her back, watching as Director Alistair Horton peeked at Rival, Titus, Gabriel, and Redemption from the corner of his eye as he neared.
“Lorn,” he muttered, jerking his gaze to my father standing beside me. The sonofabitch paled. “It’s good to see you back.”
“We have things to tell you,” Betty gushed. “Alistair here has found the rest of the Nine. They’ve been charged with hate crimes against the Supernaturals and are awaiting sentencing.”
Hate crimes?
Sentencing?
“You got them all?” I murmured.
Horton’s chest seemed to swell with pride. “Everyone you didn’t kill first.”
I glanced at his perfect suit, but his tie was gone, leaving the first two buttons of his shirt open. There was a difference in him, a massive difference. This wasn’t the same lying, cheating scumbag. This…asshole was more relaxed, with a smaller stick shoved up his ass.
A lot smaller.
I glanced to Betty, who positively shone with goodness. Maybe this was a perfect working relationship after all? Horton glanced at Betty and then did something I hadn’t realized he was capable of.
He smiled.
Actually fucking smiled.
Not smirked, not sneered.
He smiled.
Jesus, I wanted to reach out and feel the guy’s forehead, or maybe check for a scar to make sure the right asshole was here.
“Well,” Betty murmured and looked to Lucifer. “We just wanted to come and see you, give you the good news, and now we’re off, aren’t we, Alistair?”
He swung his gaze back to me, and stuttered. “Y-yes. We’ve got bad guys to catch.”
“And staff to take care of,” she added.
“Y-yes that, too,” he followed, as though he needed to remind himself that he was a normal fucking guy.
Betty leaned in, gave me one more quick hug and then was off, tugging Horton’s sleeve on her way. They left with as much fanfare as they’d arrived, leaving me once again with that sinking feeling of despair.
I stared at Betty’s little car driving away, not wanting to face him. Not wanting to return to that feeling of loss and lies.
“Listen, dad,” I took a step toward him and turned, smacking into his outstretched hand.
The paper crumpled under the impact. I looked down, finding his perfectly neat scrawl. Convent of Heavenly Christos.
I flinched with the name and lifted my head. I knew this place, knew it from the diaries my grandmother kept, knew it from the medallion I’d seen around Ace’s neck. “What is it?”
“A convent,” he answered dryly. “Nothing more. I’m not sending you to your doom, child. You should know me a little better than that.”
But that was the point, wasn’t it? I didn’t know him. I didn’t understand him. And sometimes, I didn’t even like him.
But I loved him regardless. I loved him for the fire in my blood and the well of untapped rage in my soul. I loved him because he tried…he tried as hard as humanly possible. It was just the inhuman part that held him back. “Are you trying to get rid of me so I can’t ask you why?”
“No,” his voice deepened to thunder. I saw the clouds move in, and the first flare of lightning in his eyes as he answered. “I’m giving you all the answers I have to give.”
“Is this about Mom?” I reached out and grasped the piece of paper.
“In a way. It’s also about you and me. It’s about all of us.”
“Whatever this is, I haven’t finished with us. I want to know more. Things just don’t add up. Absolon…the Nine, you and Mom.”
I could almost smell the ozone on his breath as he answered in a dangerous tone. “There’s more to the story, Lorn. So much more than even your stubborn-as-Hell grandmother ever knew. So much more than your mother’s diaries told you.”
It wasn’t true. I shook my head. “They showed me everything.”
“They showed you what she wanted you to see. Come find me when you want the rest of it…or don’t. It’s not really PG rated, and Hell if I want my own daughter knowing the darkest parts of my life. I wasn’t the man you see today, except for one thing. I’m in love with your mother as much today as I was all those years ago.”
He looked so lonely in this moment…like a wrecked ship adrift at sea. I wanted him to be happy once more, even if it wasn’t with the love of his life.
I glanced over his shoulder to the men waiting for me, and then to the piece of paper in my hand.
I wanted to stand and speak, to hold my ground even when my soul trembled. I wanted to understand him, as well as anyone could understand the Lord of Hell.
I wanted to catch, for just a second, a glimmer of what he’d been like. I’d heard the stories, the whispers and whimpers of the kind of man he’d once been.
Others were terrified of him, of the man he’d once been. But he glanced once more at the paper in my hand and murmured. “Once you see, then you’ll understand.”
He gave me a smile and then turned. There was a snarl from the Lord of Hell, and every one of the men in my life flinched, even Redemption.
I glanced at the address, unfolding the paper all the way to find two words scrawled at the bottom…
Go alone.
The words made me still. I lifted my gaze
to find my father, but he was gone, leaving behind four men who waited for an answer.
“Well?” Gabriel called and strode forward. “Did you tell him?”
Did I tell him? I shook my head and folded the piece of paper, slipping it into my pocket. “You’re all a bunch of wimps, every single one of you. Four over-muscled, dangerous-as-fuck guys, and you still send a woman to do a man’s job.”
“This is your father we’re talking about here,” Titus murmured and followed the Archangel as he headed toward me. “I’d like to keep my head right where it is.”
I dug my fingers into my pocket, pulled the ring free, and slipped it onto my finger. “Well, someone’s going to have to tell him.”
“I’m voting at the same time as we send out the invites,” Rival murmured.
“Me, too,” Redemption agreed as they all swarmed toward me. But his gaze drifted to my pocket. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” I answered, slipping the ring off and onto my finger once more.
“It didn’t look like nothing,” the Unseelie urged. “Remember we made a promise, no more secrets?”
I winced at the memory and lifted my head. “It’s an address, the Convent of Heavenly Christos. Dad…Lucifer, said it’ll answer my questions. But he wants me to go alone.”
“Do you want to go alone?” Titus murmured and reached for my hand.
No, I’d had enough time being on my own as it was. “If I asked you to go with me, can I go in on my own?”
“Sure,” Gabriel shrugged.
“Doesn’t worry me,” Rival answered. “As long as we’re together.”
“There you have it,” Titus turned on one step, then lunged for the massive Hummer. “I call shotgun!”
“Like Hell!” Redemption roared, taking off after the cop. “It’s my damn car!”
They raced like a bunch of school boys, jostling and shoving. There was a snarl from one and a swipe from the other. I could do nothing but watch in utter disbelief.
I wanted to ask Rival about the Hellhound with my father. But he was gone, too, jostling for a seat he’d never win.
I gripped the paper and strode toward the car, taking my damn time, because the less time I sat in a confined space with four hungry, whining, farting males, the better.
Smashed flat white feathers blocked the view of the backseat as Gabriel tried to fit two hundred pounds of pure muscle and feathers into the tiny space.
The tip of his wing punched through the sunroof, casting torn-free white feathers into the air.
They fought, they bickered. But it always ended up the same, with Redemption in the driver’s seat, and shotgun reserved for me.
I yanked open the passenger’s door and heard the first moan.
“Gabriel, you need to lay off the muffins, dude. Your ass is over the line,” Rival barked.
“What line, Rival?” The Archangel growled in a tone that just fucking dared Rival to continue. “What goddamn line?”
I had a feeling my father’s warning at the bottom of the paper in my hand was for my own mental well-being. I climbed in, yanked the door closed, and handed Redemption the address.
“Got it,” the Unseelie warrior murmured, and shoved the Hummer into gear.
We drove, weaving through the city streets until we were far from the city. My soul sighed at the sun and sounds, even the snarls and growls in the backseat. This was home. This was my home.
Every annoying, exhausting, panic-driven, soul-searching moment of it. Redemption reached out and grasped my hand, cradling it in his against his thigh, and drove.
The convent wasn’t like anything I’d seen before. The towering sandstone buildings surrounded a bell tower. The steps were grand, climbing all the way up. I tried to remember the name on the letters Alma had kept in her safe, but my memory was hazy.
The convent was in a quiet town three hours’ drive from Harbor. There was nothing but apple trees as far as I could see. We passed along the main street, catching a small diner and a newer looking service station before we found our way to the convent.
Elouise.
The name surfaced inside my mind as the rear doors of the Hummer opened and, with a rush, my lovers spilled out.
I shoved open the passenger’s door and climbed out, following their lead ,and remembered the images Alma had of me when I was young, standing on these very same steps. I thought maybe it might trigger a memory, give me something to go on. But I had nothing. Not a memory, not a glimmer of anything other than frustration.
“Anything?” Redemption murmured as he lifted his gaze to the towering building in the middle of nowhere.
“Not a damn thing,” I took a step forward, shoving the passenger’s door closed behind me.
“Still want to go in alone?” Concern seeped into Rival’s voice.
“They aren’t going to abduct her,” Gabriel growled. “She’s safe.”
“Just make sure you don’t go anywhere, okay? Not even if they need you to,” Rival moved closer. The brush at my back was soft, needy…
“It’s okay, I’ve got her.”
I stilled at the familiar male voice and turned my head. Ace strode toward me from what seemed like nowhere. He smiled at the others, nodding at Redemption, before he lifted a hand. “Nothing’s going to happen to her while I’m here.”
“No offense kid,” Rival started, but Redemption lifted a hand, stopping the Hellhound in mid-sentence. “Let him go. She’s safe around him.”
Rival just glared at Redemption, who seemed oblivious to the daggers aimed at his back.
“It’s okay,” I reached for Ace’s hand. “I’m fine, guys. Just while I’m in there, try not to kill each other.”
“The Sisters loathe the sight of blood,” Ace murmured. “Believe it or not.”
I let him lead me, heading toward the steep incline of stairs, and as we walked, I was hit with a faint sense of déjà vu.
The steps rose up above me, and that familiar feeling raced. “I’ve been here before.”
“No, you haven’t.” Ace kept climbing with barely a labored breath, while I gasped and blew until we were finally at the top.
He stilled for a second, letting me turn and look down from above. It almost felt like…
“Heaven, it almost feels like Heaven,” he answered for me.
“How in the Hell did you know what I was going to say?”
He just smiled and shook his head, before turning and heading toward the nearest building. “This way, I called ahead and told them to expect us.”
Movement came from the shadows, fleeting, slipping away before I could get a bead on the direction. But the place was silent as the damn grave. “How many people live here?”
“About forty, give or take.”
Forty people and not a damn sound. I fought the urge to look over my shoulder, with a feeling in my gut I’d find my guys down on the ground, squabbling and fighting like a pack of school boys.
But I kept walking, just wanting this to be over. My mind was racing, tearing me back to that moment I’d stepped through the portal and into a proposal of marriage…four of them, to be exact.
Four marriages.
Four husbands.
Four times the fighting.
Four times the fucking…hmmm….
“Sister Elouise will see you now,” Ace motioned toward an open door, leading into the belly of one of the sandstone buildings.
I glanced at him, and then the quiet surrounds, before stepping inside. If this was what my father wanted me to do, then I’d do it. I’d listen to a sister preach to me about Heavenly sins of the flesh and leave this place none the wiser from when I came in.
Shadows spilled across the polished wooden floorboards through the open door. My heart was hammering for some strange reason.
“Hello?” I called and stepped into the doorway.
She was hidden behind the open door. The small, high window above her captured the glare of the sun, so her darkened outline was all I could se
e.
“Come in,” the soft-spoken voice held not a trace of apprehension.
I expected more. I expected fear, maybe a touch of anger, anyone would feel being forced to meet Lucifer’s daughter. I stepped inside, stilling at the chair in front of her desk before I sat.
She was small, and old, soft wrinkles gathered at the edges of her jaw, reminding me of Alma. My chest tightened, an ache flared, crawling along my throat to grip me tight.
Soft brown eyes smiled before her lips even moved. She motioned for the chair and then sat herself. Her slate-gray skirt and white pressed blouse were immaculate, as was the brushed back short silver hair. But some of the strands were unruly, curling against her ears in soft waves, making her look even more honest and loving.
She stared at me without saying a word, capturing my hair, my mouth, and my nose. “You are so very beautiful,” she murmured and leaned across the desk for my hand. “So beautiful.”
My body betrayed me as I reached across the desk like my actions weren’t mine anymore. I grasped her hand in mine and felt the softness of love.
“I’m so sorry to hear about Alma, she was a magnificent woman. A warrior to the cause if ever there was one.”
And with her words came the memory of the letter. “You wrote to her. There was an accident, an attack…”
She nodded. “Sister Carolina, a terrible…terrible night. But that isn’t why you’re here, is it?”
The truth was, I didn’t know why I was here.
“Come,” she urged, gripped the armrests of the chair, and shoved to stand. “I’ll take you to her room.”
“Sister Carolina’s?” I copied her movement.
She stilled, turned her head, and met my gaze. “No, child. Your sister’s.”
The floor seemed to open up and swallow me. “My…what?”
“Your sister, your twin, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Lucifer was always such a secretive sonofa—” she stilled, shot her gaze to the ceiling and crossed herself before kissing the wooden cross that hung from rosary beads around her neck. “Forgive me, Father.”
