The Devil's Lullaby (The Devil's Advocate Book 2)

by Michaela Haze

  Each of the discarded body parts began to twist and writhe as the darkness thinned enough to allow me to see the outline of the room. The hounds began to grow from almost nothing. Their fur was thick, black and shaggy. Their ears were alert and their canines were bared. Amber eyes watched the circle of demons, glowing as the last of the darkness poured into the creations.

  Lucifer clapped and every Hellhound’s attention shifted to him. All hostility drained from their bodies. Each of the hounds lowered themselves onto the floor and exposed their bellies as if they were perfectly trained puppies.

  Each canine had their own identity already, based on the heritage and memories of the souls that had created them. The circle of demons parted, and the hounds left the room in a line. The beasts walked through the thick oak doors as if their motion was choreographed. I doubted that anyone else could see the silver wisps of smoke that dispersed when the Hellhounds moved, but I knew that Luc was the puppeteer of the entire routine.

  As if a breath has been loosened, the room relaxed and those that had succeeded in replacing their missing limbs in a short amount of time applauded.

  I stood up as well. My face beamed pride like sunlight.

  Chatter began to filter into the room as the circle became small clusters of friends. A sense of relief washed over me. The castle would be safer with the Hellhounds around. A weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

  I found Miriam’s umber eyes in the crowd. As a Gemini, she had one soul split between two bodies. One resided in Dis and the other in Camden. She shared thoughts and feelings with her other half.

  Miriam’s smile dimmed as she touched her mouth and saw blood from a split lip. A black eye blossomed purple against her ebony skin. The Gemini hunched over and gripped her middle in pain as her eyes rolled back and she collapsed to the floor.

  Her body back in London was damaged.

  “You need to go the Human Realities at once.” Abaddon came to my side and lifted Miriam's head. “You need to find out who did this.”

  Lucifer opened his mouth to speak; his hand was outstretched but it was too late. I had grasped the sceptre in one hand, and Miriam’s hand in the other as I whisked us both to the Human Realities.

  Miriam had to be reunited with her other half to heal. She was too damaged to travel. Her energy leaked out into the air and melted away. Gemini's were extremely rare, but not that difficult to kill if you managed to separate them from their other body when they needed to be healed.

  There were no goodbyes as I used Ba'el sceptre to travel back to Camden market. I held Miriam in my arms, her limbs were dead weight.

  It was night time in London and the internal part of the market was closed for the night. There was no central heating and my breath fogged in front of me as I navigated to the new age stall where Miriam's other half could be found.

  I did not know what to expect, but every book had been ripped from the shelves and the cabinet of healing crystals behind the counter had been smashed to dust. I sighed and rubbed my fingertips together; the residual sensation of the thin slivers of glass clung to my hands like a phantom.

  A Birkenstock sandal hung from a foot, peeking out from behind the counter. I laid both halves together and watched Miriam's body meld into one. Her dark eyes blinked and cleared and her wounds knitted together and healed.

  I waited until she had finished coughing up the thick black sludge of her internal bleeding to ask her who had done it.

  “Was it the Leviathan?” I asked, almost certain that she would reply in the affirmative.

  She shook her head. “He had red eyes, Dahlia. The Leviathan does not.”

  A prickle of doubt had wormed its way into my heart.

  Abaddon?

  “He wore a mask. He cloaked his energy but I was certain he was looking for something.” Miriam pushed the top half of her body up and rubbed her hand over her forehead as if she was struggling to remember.

  “Did your intruder say what?” I looked at the debris of the store and searched for anything that could have disappeared since my previous visit a few days ago. It was difficult to see much of anything in the mountains of ripped pages and splintered wood.

  Miriam exhaled a slow breath and shook her head. “He asked about Devil's Silver. That was it. I don’t hold onto it in the Human Realities. It’s too risky. I keep all my artefacts in the City of Dis.”

  I nodded in response. The sceptre that was tucked into the waistband of my trousers felt heavier than before. The image of the Leviathan’s expression when he first saw the artefact in my hands flickered across my mind.

  Miriam's attack was not random. It was not a move against the First Circle, it was against me. It was personal.

  There was another player in the game. A new unknown element. If the upcoming war was a chessboard, it felt like I was playing with only half of the pieces.

  Miriam had a studio flat in Camden, above a tattoo studio named InkWitch. The shop window was covered in depictions of various scenes from a standard tarot card deck.

  The Gemini remained in her single form to stabilise her energy, but I made sure that her home was free from threats as she would have been unable to protect herself for a short while.

  Miriam and I weren't close, per se, but we had known each other for a long enough time to be comfortable around each other. As a purveyor of magical objects in both the City of Dis and the Human Realities, her knowledge was unparalleled.

  I held her by the shoulders as she unlocked her door without a key. Her home was crowded with various statues and every wall was covered in piles of books that had no order or reason to them. Miriam tossed a pile of old newspapers to the floor, revealing a purple velvet loveseat. She slumped down and kicked her feet over the armrest.

  “Do you have a list of all of the artefacts in your possession?” I crossed my arms over my chest to prevent myself from succumbing to the urge to touch anything.

  Miriam tapped her forehead. “It’s all in here. I don’t make my wares known.”

  I took the sceptre out of the waistband of my underwear and rolled the warm silver between my fingers. “It’s not a coincidence that you were attacked shortly after Ba’el Sceptre was used for the first time in an age.” I murmured.

  “Do you think that was what they were searching for?” Miriam closed her eyes and leant back.

  “Perhaps.”

  “Who do you think is behind the search?” She asked.

  “It can’t have been the Leviathan. He saw the sceptre in my possession. As did Abaddon.” I paced the room slowly, as I verbalised my theory.

  Miriam nodded and agreed. “Unless they were looking for something else?” she suggested.

  My lip twitched and I cocked my head to the side as I thought about it. I shook my head to dismiss the suggestion. “There is only one artefact that allows anyone to travel between heaven and Hell and I am holding it.”

  “Apart from your daughter.” Miriam rested her head against the back of the sofa. The revelation was said with such glibness that it took a second for her words to register.

  “Excuse me?” I hissed. “Petra is human.”

  “If you say so.” Miriam trilled in a sweet voice.

  “If you have enough energy to sass me then I assume that your wounds are healing nicely.” I bit back, snidely.

  Miriam rolled her eyes and stood up. The short bald pixie-like woman darted around me and stood on her toes until she successfully pulled a large tome from the top of her bookshelf. She smoothed the dust from the leather cover, and the book fell open at a page without any coaxing.

  “More powerful than fallen.” Miriam said. “If the prophecy of your daughter is correct then one would assume that she can transverse the Lord's pesky rules forbidding demonic entry to the Summerland.”

  “It works both ways,” I said defensively.

  Miriam crooked a brow with attitude. “And yet, you only seem to be able to flap your wings. Despite being locked out of Hell, you don’t have any o
ther Angelic traits.”

  I bristled but found myself agreeing with her.

  Miriam placed the book back on the shelf and brushed the dust from her hands. Her skin glowed and her voice layered as if two people spoke at once.

  “I need to get back my stalls. Both of them.” With a rip and pop, two Miriam’s stood in front of me side by side like identical twins.

  “You are welcome to stay and peruse my selection of books if you wish?”

  “Whilst the offer is tempting, I should go home.”

  “To Hell?”

  “To my daughter.” I clarified.

  Part 3

  Chapter 14

  Entering my own penthouse required a plan that wouldn’t be out of place in a Mission Impossible film. First, I needed to change my clothing. My outfit consisted of a torn men’s shirt that came down to mid-thigh, and a pair of lace underwear. Not to forget the leopard print heels. I couldn’t help but feel like my standards had slipped. I needed to call Maggie Clements and request an appointment to update my wardrobe. Especially considering that Lucifer had ruined enough Haute Couture dresses to create a parachute over London.

  I shuddered. If I could have shed a tear for my dresses, I probably would have done it.

  The second part of the plan involved Lacing to my front door. The third part involving introducing myself to my child.

  How? How could I approach such a momentous occasion? Granted, she had seen me once before, but I was a stranger. There was no context for my appearance in her home.

  I could make a man’s head explode simply by redirecting his blood with just a thought, but the notion of introducing myself to someone that I had birthed was beyond me.

  I had been born of Sin. Raised by Hell. I lived my life surrounded by Treachery, and actively sought it out. What did I have to offer her?

  Dressed in a black pencil dress and my trusty patent Louboutin’s, I raised my hand to knock on the front door to my penthouse. I had decided against the private lift that led straight to the living room. I did not want to waltz in and cause more confusion. I found myself clenching my fist before it could hit the wood.

  I had never feared much in my life. I had met death with a smirk and a witty retort. Why did meeting my own progeny cause a blood-curdling fear to seep into my bones? Whispers of unease licked at the edges of my mind and I shook my head to clear it.

  What if she didn’t want me?

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I rapped my knuckles against the solid wood and waited a few seconds. I resisted the urge to chew my thumbnail, or any of the other filthy habits that people generally fell back on when they were nervous.

  Luiz greeted me. He opened the door just a crack, as if he did not want me to see the inside of my own apartment.

  I tried to smile. It was a grimace. I clenched my fists and tried again. Lip twitch, demure and coy. Not exactly promising but I had apparently lost control of my facial muscles.

  “This is ridiculous.” I muttered to myself, as my eyes rolled towards the ceiling as if I was speaking to God herself.

  Luiz bit back a chuckle and I gave him a look that could freeze water. Typically, the kind of cold glare that I prided myself on would have stopped his laughter in its tracks. It hadn’t. I could only assume that something was wrong with my face. I reached up delicately and placed the pads of my fingers against my cheeks and prodded.

  “Petra is colouring.” Luiz said in a low voice. “Are you here to stop in? Or…?” He left the end of the sentence hanging, as if giving me the choice to run.

  “I need to see her.” I replied simply. I forced my spine up straight and my head high.

  “Dahlia…” Luiz shook his head sadly and stepped into the hallway with a quick look backwards. “You’re not going to war. You are not brokering a soul. You are not in the First Circle Court right now. You are about to introduce yourself to your daughter for the first time.”

  “You’re right. Why am I frightened?” I chuckled nervously. “I could always erase her memories and keep introducing myself until I get it right.”

  Luiz gave me a look that said that he could not tell if I was serious or not. Welcome to the club, Hound.

  “How did it go with Lucifer?” Luiz asked, brushing his dark curls out of his eyes.

  I shook my head. “Better than expected.”

  “I’m willing to bet a Lydian coin that he didn’t see you and immediately wake up from whatever grief hole that he had buried himself in.” Luiz said lightly.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” I grunted.

  “He won’t come here, will he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  We stood in silence for a long time, staring at each other. I wanted to reach out and touch Luiz in some way. A pat on the shoulder or a quick hug. Something affectionate to show my appreciation for his care and devotion to my daughter. I felt like my arms were made of cement and unable to leave my sides. Physical affection made me nervous. Unless it was fucking. Until I grew a penis then it was unlikely that Luiz would take me up on my offer.

  “Shall we go in?” Luiz whispered.

  The moment for physical affection had passed, and it was just as well. I probably would have messed it up anyway. I nodded and we walked into my apartment.

  The pristine white sofa was covered with broken crayons and there appeared to be a blonde doll in a pale blue dress on the floor. I halted when I reached the edge of Floraki rug. My enhanced sense of smell told me that someone had vomited on it, and it had been professionally cleaned quite a while ago.

  I bent down and picked up the plastic doll. Her dress hung from her shoulder, exposing a nipple-less breast. I rearranged her outfit until she was decent and turned to my child. Petra was sat at the glass dining table with her head over a piece of paper. Her little hands moved in exaggerated circles and with her tongue stuck out in front of her teeth.

  I watched her, silently, as she doodled. My child did not appear to have a care in the world.

  If I could sweat, my hands would have been dripping. I cleared my throat and licked my lips, both had run dry when I had caught a glimpse of her snow-white hair.

  Petra’s eyes swung to mine. Silver with a burnt black ring around the iris. Her hair was poker straight, partially obscuring her face. Her lips were naturally puckered, her body was tiny, but for all intents and purposes she looked like a perfectly proportioned adult. Just smaller.

  Luiz had mentioned that she was human.

  I could confirm his statement to be correct from the energy in the room.

  Even though I was certain I could control myself, the idea that I could shatter her ribs if I squeezed her too hard made me sick to my stomach.

  Better play it safe. I decided. No hugs.

  I had hidden my wings as not to scare her; I did not know what else I could do to remain unthreatening.

  “My name is Dahlia.” I whispered, as I took an awkward step towards her. I held out her doll at arm’s length. “I think this is yours.”

  Luiz watched our exchange from the kitchen island with his arms crossed over his chest and a tiny smile on his lips. Petra glanced at the Hound before he nodded his permission.

  My heart broke a little. I hadn’t been there for her. In another life, it would have been me that she looked to for safety and assurance.

  Once the unsaid permission had been granted, Petra beamed. The smile lit up her entire face. Gone was the timid and fragile creature and in its place was pure beauty.

  My heart swooned.

  I forced my feet forward and pulled out a chair beside her. Petra continued to draw. She did not look at me again.

  What could I say to her?

  Hello child. I am your mother. Your father is Satan and he gave you away because he thought I had died. No hard feelings.

  Whilst it may have been true. I did not ever want my child to ache with the thought of her father’s rejection. Instead, I placed my hand on her tiny hand, halting her frantic rendering of a red eye i
n crayon.

  Petra looked up slowly, her innocent face was inquisitive.

  “You were always wanted. From the second that you existed, you have always been wanted.” My voice broke with unshed tears. Luiz moved to my side without a word and put his hand on my shoulder.

  “Petra,” he whispered. “This is Dahlia. Your mother.”

  Petra did not speak a word, but from what Luiz had told me, it was to be expected. I could hear the suction of her lungs expanding and shrinking. The slosh of her blood as it rushed through her heart.

  I did not care that I had birthed a human child, but I could not stand the thought of her fragility. I did not want to outlive my own child.

  After watching a film titled Frozen, about a woman that bore a striking resemblance to the semi-nude blonde doll of which Petra was especially attached, she fell asleep on the sofa with her head resting on Luiz's lap. He stroked her hair.

  If I did not know that angels were arseholes, I would have said that she was as beautiful as one.

  “How do you do it?” I whispered, as I did not want her to wake up.

  “I had to.” Luiz did not take his eyes off her sleeping face. “She needed me. She was only a day old when Abaddon thrust her into my arms.”

  A pang of heartbreak stole my voice.

  Luiz looked up, his hazel eyes softened when they saw my expression. “You would have been a wonderful mother, Dahlia.” He said. “A fierce and protective one.”

  “Not warm and loving?”

  “If you set your mind to it.” He shrugged with a playful smirk. “I am warm and loving enough for the both of us.”

  “If only you could have been her father.” I rubbed my eyes and tilted my head back to hide my expression.

  “Petra has parents that rule over an entire dimension.” Luiz said proudly. “Her mother is an angel. Literally. You gave your life for hers. She was created from the most powerful love, by parents that would rip apart worlds for her.”