Lucifer's Pride

by G. P. Ching

  “Oh, so we’re still discussing the possibilities. I see.” Gabriel didn’t move.

  Slice. Punch. “Gabriel!”

  A ball of fire passed over Mike’s shoulder and lit the scorpion’s head on fire. Mike did not waste the opportunity. Positioning himself on the clawless side, he put all of his weight behind a final blow to the thing’s middle and sliced it in half. He watched the entire demon explode into black confetti, peppering the room with sulfur-smelling filth.

  “Very good,” Gabriel said, clapping his hands. “I’m impressed.”

  Mike ignored the angel and rushed to his aunt’s side. Something was wrong. She was barely breathing. Eyes staring at the ceiling, she lay sprawled on the bed. Her wrinkled hands clutched the wound in her chest.

  “Aunt Millie?” He shook her shoulder. “Aunt Millie!” She stopped breathing. Michael wasted no time and started CPR.

  “It’s amazing what we take for granted until it’s gone,” Gabriel said from behind him.

  “Call 9-1-1.” Michael delivered two big breaths into his aunt’s mouth, then returned to chest compressions.

  “9-1-1? You’re a Healer, Michael. If you accept what you are, you can heal her, no ambulance required. You won’t need CPR. You have the power, waiting inside you.”

  “How?” Mike turned on Gabriel. “Tell me how to help her, right now, or I will rip those wings off your back and shove them somewhere they won’t be nearly as pretty.”

  Gabriel took a step back, his mouth twitching. “There’s a saying, Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m a messenger angel, Michael. I didn’t do this to your aunt and I can’t stop it from happening. But you can. If you accept the role you were meant to fill.”

  “I thought I had a choice!”

  “You do. You can deny the call, but then your aunt will die. The demon poisoned her. The poison is killing her.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Then save her. Become the Healer.”

  Mike’s eyes burned. He had no choice. He couldn’t let her die. Not like this. “Fine,” he yelled. “How?”

  “Simply choose it. Decide, right now, that you will take on the role of Healer.”

  “This is blackmail.”

  “This is how it works. You’ve been called,” Gabriel said. “You can deny the call, but you can’t deny the consequences.”

  Michael cursed.

  “What will it be?”

  Mike compressed his aunt’s frail chest, feeling her ribs crack under the pressure. “Yes. I’ll do anything.”

  Everything stopped. It was as if time itself had taken a coffee break. His aunt’s ceiling fan stopped spinning. The dust stopped floating in the air. His aunt stayed exactly where she was.

  Gabriel picked the triquetra up from the place on the bed where Mike had dropped it and dangled it in front of Mike’s face. “I promise you, she will be fine, as long as you pass the initiation waiting for you on the other side.”

  “I really hate you right now,” he said to the angel.

  “I never said I was here to make you happy.” Gabriel brought the pendant closer to his face. “Try to relax. Stare at this and let your mind go.”

  “You’ll take care of her?”

  “God will take care of her. He wants you in this role, Michael. He won’t let anything happen to her if you cooperate.”

  Heart pounding in his ears and breath coming in pants, Mike did as he was told. He stared at the triquetra. Gradually, the silver ovals blurred and spread like liquid mercury. Scales morphed and shingled around him, reflecting light as if he’d entered a hall of mirrors. Gabriel was gone, and Michael was falling, sliding down the smooth silver, until he crashed into a hard surface and came to an abrupt stop. His teeth rattled. His body ached. He blinked rapidly, but the reflective room had left him temporarily blinded. What his senses could pick up was ticking, layers of it, as if he were in a room with a hundred clocks. He rubbed his eyes with both fists and was relieved when his vision cleared.

  One hundred was an underestimate. Michael wasn’t in his aunt’s room anymore, but he was surrounded by clocks. Cuckoo clocks of all sizes lined an entire wall: this one carved to look like bears in the forest, that one a log cabin with lumberjacks. There were shiny gold grandfather clocks with pendulums that swung in time with the ticking. Kitschy kitchen clocks filled another section, one with an hour hand painted to look like a carrot and a minute hand like an asparagus stalk. An hourglass rested on an end table. Strange silver orbs spun like revolving planets in the corner. Aside from a fireplace and two empty chairs, every visible surface of wall and table was covered with a timepiece. As he took it all in, he realized with some amount of horror, they were all about to strike midnight.

  He pressed the heels of his palms over his ears as the world exploded into a dreadful cacophony of chirping birds, cathedral bells, and tinny alarms. Even through his hands, the noise was deafening. He closed his eyes against it as if closing off one sense could dampen another. The chiming rattled his bones. He curled into a ball and screamed.

  “Are you in pain?” a female voice asked. The clocks had struck twelve; they were back to ticking again.

  Michael shut his mouth and opened his eyes. There was a girl there among the clocks. Young, Latina, maybe nineteen, with a pierced lip and a hot pink streak that ran from her widow’s peak to her chin. She was cute but definitely not normal. Her eyes were weird, like her pupils took up most of her eye. And her presence felt too large for her body. She filled the room. It was almost as if she were part of the ticking clocks and they were a part of her.

  Mike smoothed a hand over his hair and then his shirt. He climbed to his feet.

  “Hi. Uh, not in pain,” he said, trying to regain his composure. He gestured toward the walls. “It’s loud in here with all the clocks.”

  She furrowed her brow, an action that made her nose wrinkle adorably. “Is it? I don’t even hear them anymore.”

  There was something wrong with the girl’s eyes. Not just the large pupils but… Mike stepped closer to get a better look, extending his hand toward her. “I’m Mike… Carson.”

  With a glance at his hand, the girl pointed at the red velvet wingback behind him. “I know who you are. Have a seat. We have much to discuss.”

  Mike lowered himself into the opposite chair. “Who are you?”

  “When I was human, they called me Mara. You may call me by that name if it makes you comfortable, although here, now, I am called Time.”

  So, she was one of the immortals. “Time. Like Cronus…” Mike muttered, remembering his Greek mythology.

  “Who’s Cronus?”

  “Never mind. My mistake. You said we had something to discuss?”

  “As Gabriel must have told you, you have the potential to be the next Healer.”

  “So they tell me.”

  “Did they also tell you that you must survive an initiation before you can be deemed worthy to fully accept the role?”

  “Gabriel and Hope might have mentioned it, but they were sketchy on the details.”

  “That’s appropriate, considering the initiation is different for every Healer. If they’d given you details, they would most certainly be wrong.”

  He rubbed his palms on his thighs. “I’m here. What do I have to do?”

  “For you to become what you were born to be, you must face and overcome your greatest fears. You must release what you desire most, and you must choose your course based on your wish to serve, knowing you may do so alone.”

  “Okay. That sounds… cryptic.”

  “Mind you, Soulkeeper, should you fail, you will be returned to your body. Unfortunately, that hasn’t ended well for others in the past. Full disclosure: it is common for failed Healers to suffer premature death or insanity.”

  “Great. I’m surprised people aren’t lining up around the block for this gig,” he scoffed.

  Straight-faced, she scrutinized him, as if she were discerning if he was joking or not. He squirmed in his ch
air. This close, he could tell that Mara’s strange eyes were not a trick of the light. Her pupils were filled with twinkling stars, universes revolving around each other, galaxies exploding and colliding, eternity and the power of a split second all contained in the body of a girl who looked small enough for him to throw.

  She leaned toward him. “With that in mind, do you choose to attempt the initiation?”

  Mike thought of his aunt. “Yes,” he said, attempting to keep the sarcasm from his voice. It wasn’t like returning to his life was an option. She’d made it clear that death or insanity was probable, and that didn’t even begin to take into account what could happen to his aunt if he didn’t become a Healer. If that wasn’t good enough reason to continue, there was something else, something he wasn’t ready to admit to himself. A tiny niggle at the back of his brain thought he could do this, and that maybe, the Soulkeepers needed him. “I’ll do it.”

  Mara smiled and nodded. “Then I have a gift for you.” She stood and moved to a table of clocks behind her. After shuffling a few, she reached between a gold carriage clock and one made entirely of gears and withdrew a pocket watch.

  “Hey, that looks like—”

  “The watch that once protected your soul? It is an exact copy. The original is in Victoria’s office at Revelations.” She opened the face and closed it again. “I believe there are no coincidences in life. There’s a certain poetry to you having this now. Time protected your soul once. Time was chosen as the guide to your initiation.” She pointed at her chest. “And I believe time will be both guide and teacher for you. Keep this with you always, and consult with it when you feel lost and alone.”

  Michael accepted the gift from her and was shocked that when he reached for it, the sleeve of a pinstriped suit covered his arm. Confused, he turned toward the grandfather clock behind him and checked his reflection in the glass. He was wearing an old-fashioned suit, with a vest that included a pocket for the pocket watch. His hair was slicked back on the sides and left natural near the front.

  “Why am I dressed like this?” he asked.

  “Every immortal who welcomes an initiate is allowed to give him or her guidance in the form of a gift. I’m giving you time. Not all of it, of course. You wouldn’t be able to survive if I loaned you the power I carry inside me. No, this is a taste. The watch and your clothing are a link to your past. The past can give us power over the present, and our command of the present can frame our future.”

  He was beginning to think Mara was speaking in code. He understood what she was saying, but not what it meant. “What does this have to do with the suit?”

  But Mara didn’t answer him. “You have three days to pass three tests. Look at the center dial on your watch.”

  He removed the pocket watch again and this time noticed a small gauge on the face with a needle pointing to the number one. The gauge ended with a four, the start of the fourth day. In between, markers representing days one, two, and three were depicted as the sun in various stages of passing over a moon.

  “Three days to do what?”

  Mara frowned. “Follow the path and survive.”

  “Survive.” He sighed. “That’s vague enough to not be any help at all. Which way to the path?”

  “I’ll show you out.”

  At first, Mike was confused because the room did not appear to have any doors, but as Mara passed him, the clocks seemed to part for her. Seemed to. He never noticed any movement. It was more like the path out of the room couldn’t be seen until she was walking on it, like the space was folded, and her presence opened it.

  He followed her from the room of clocks to a foyer of blown glass and sand, the smooth, translucent walls giving way to grit that crunched under his shoes. Once she led him outside, he could see where the sand came from. Her home was in the middle of a desert. She walked with him a few yards along the stone-lined path that led from her glass castle. When she stopped, he looked back at the place, finally taking in the panoramic view.

  “Oh, it’s a sundial,” Mike said when he noticed the shape of the place and the shadow it cast. He chuckled at the desert around him—the sands of time.

  “Aren’t you a smart one?” Mara tipped her head and smiled. “I hope that serves you well out there.”

  “I keep following this path?” he asked.

  Mara faced him and became brutally serious. “What you are about to experience is both truth and illusion, the In-Between world and the magic of who you are. Make no mistake. If you die on this journey, you die in real life and nothing can bring you back. Follow the path, face the three challenges, and return here before you run out of time. Or don’t, in which case I will say my goodbyes now. Goodbye, Michael.”

  “Goodbye,” he said, wishing he could think of something else to ask her. But she was gone. He was left standing in the sun, sand blowing against his pant legs and sweat blooming beneath his jacket.

  He turned and continued down the stone path into the blowing sand, thumbing the watch in his pocket and wondering what was to come.

  11

  The Coven

  “Good work, Wendy.” Finn watched the takeout container hover in the center of the circle with delight. Although Theodor tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair as if he found the spell underwhelming, he knew as well as Finn did that she was coming along faster than either expected. They’d been practicing three times a day, almost since the moment they’d rented the place, and Finn couldn’t believe how easily the three of them gelled. Already, they’d made huge strides.

  Of course, part of it was the binding spell. All three had bound themselves to each other at the start. A pang of uneasiness had rattled Finn when Wendy had placed the card against her skin and uttered the spell, but it wasn’t like she was a Soulkeeper. She had less to lose and none of them planned to have her incorporate more than the one spell into her skin anyway. Plus, she knew what she was getting into.

  The bond had done more than mark them as a coven. It had bolstered all of their magic. When one of them performed a spell, Finn could sense it like a dull hum in his bones. And he knew the others could draw on him as well.

  Wendy lowered the card in her right hand until it slapped the palm of her left and the container landed, skidding across the wooden floor. “Hot wings must agree with me. I think this was easier than before dinner.”

  “Try starting it on fire,” Finn said.

  Wendy switched the cards in her deck and whispered, “Ignite.” The cardboard container smoldered but didn’t catch.

  “Try again. This one took me a long time to master as well. You are creating fire from energy in the air. It takes practice.”

  Wendy raised her cards again but paused when her phone’s ringtone cut through the flat. “That’s my parents,” she said. Her brows knitting. “They wouldn’t call if it wasn’t an emergency.”

  Theodor gestured for her to answer it. He looked tired suddenly, and Finn couldn’t miss that his skin seemed thin and his eyes held a tinge of yellow. “I need a moment of rest anyway.” He smiled at Finn as Wendy moved for her phone. “When you are as ancient as I am, you will understand.” He stood from his chair and stretched his back and neck, which made a disconcertingly loud crack.

  Finn glanced at Wendy and then at the clock on the wall. It was only 8:00 p.m. He didn’t feel tired at all. “We can start again when she’s finished.”

  The magician placed a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “You go ahead. I need to stretch my legs. It might be good for Wendy to practice without the help of the coven’s circle.” He headed toward the door.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Finn stood. “Do you need some company?”

  Waving his hand, Theodor flashed a yellowing smile, his cheek tight as if he were hiding something in a secret pocket behind his teeth. “I’m fine, fine. I simply need a moment and some fresh air.” He slipped out the door and closed it behind him.

  Wendy finished her call and plunked her phone back on the counter. “Get this.
Someone broke into my parents’ house.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “Yeah. But nothing was stolen.”

  “What?”

  “They trashed my room. Nothing else.”

  Finn stiffened.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What if he knows you’re back? Lucifer.”

  “How could he?”

  Finn could think of several possibilities. Lucifer knew he’d brought back Theodor. He’d seen him in the cemetery trying to undo the damage. It wouldn’t be a leap for him to guess Finn would try for Wendy and Mike. “I need to talk to Theodor. I’ll be back.”

  “About the break-in? Finn, do you think it was him?”

  “I don’t know, but you’re safe here. Keep practicing.” Finn squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” He disseminated to the base of the stairs, then noticed a neighbor smoking in the shared garden. The woman gave him a little wave through the window. Not a good idea to disappear if she was watching. He walked out the door the old-fashioned way and looked both ways for Theodor.

  Movement in Dr. Beauvoir’s window caught his eye. Behind the voodoo dolls and the shrunken head, the books and dried herbs, Finn saw the white of a shirt cuff. A candle flickered to life. He glimpsed two familiar faces.

  With a twist of his shoulders, Finn turned into a column of silver smoke and passed through the door back into the hall. Silently, he came back together with his back to the wall next to the inner door to the Voodoo Emporium.

  “It’s getting worse,” he heard Theodor say.

  “I told you it would.” Dr. Beauvoir’s double bass thrummed through the room. “This potion can slow things down, but it can’t stop it. You’re aging. It’s natural.”

  “There’s nothing natural about living as long as I have,” Theodor said. “But I need more time. My protégé isn’t ready for my departure.”

  “Here. It’s ready. Drink.”