Soul Conquered
Of Demons and Angels
Book 3
By Lisa Gail Green
To Harrison, Allie, and Annabel—my three Hell-raising Angels
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Noah
Chapter 2: Grace
Chapter 3: Keira
Chapter 4: Josh
Chapter 5: Noah
Chapter 6: Grace
Chapter 7: Keira
Chapter 8: Josh
Chapter 9: Noah
Chapter 10: Grace
Chapter 11: Keira
Chapter 12: Josh
Chapter 13: Noah
Chapter 14: Grace
Chapter 15: Keira
Chapter 16: Josh
Chapter 17: Noah
Chapter 18: Grace
Chapter 19: Keira
Chapter 20: Josh
Chapter 21: Noah
Chapter 22: Grace
Chapter 23: Keira
Chapter 24: Josh
Chapter 25: Noah
Chapter 26: Grace
Chapter 27: Keira
Chapter 28: Josh
Chapter 29: Noah
Chapter 30: Grace
Chapter 31: Keira
Chapter 32: Josh
Chapter 33: Noah
Chapter 34: Grace
Epilogue: Josh
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Chapter 1
Noah
I’m the Antichrist.
At least, that’s what Lucifer—the Devil—says, and he always tells the truth. I don’t feel any different than I did before I killed a guy and became the Antichrist, though. Hale was a dick and a drug dealer who constantly hurt other people, so my ridding the world of him isn’t, like, a huge loss for mankind or anything. But somehow it made me the Antichrist, Lucifer’s “hand on Earth.” According to him, that means I get to rule the world.
So the fact that I’m sixteen and getting home from school on a Friday after basketball—just like I normally would—feels way too ordinary.
I thought maybe I’d wake up and everything would change, but no. It’s the same old, same old—sharing the house with my mentally absent parents and dead sister’s room-turned-dusty shrine. I’d think I dreamed the whole thing if it weren’t for the Devil himself waiting for me in my room every day to give me more instructions and lessons and all the other crap adults with authority tend to value, when all I want is to do something so I can move toward the goal of taking over the planet. I’m starting to wonder if Lucifer is so used to immortality that he’s forgotten I have a human timeline to work with. But he must remember—he’s the one who keeps reminding me how important it is that I’m “one of them” so I can rule here on Earth.
I’m about to turn the knob on my bedroom door when Lucifer appears in front of me, making me jump. Damn it. I hate it when he does that.
“You’re sulking,” he says. “You’re about to rule the world. What could be the problem?”
“That’s the problem,” I say, puffing out my chest so I look like I have authority. “You say I’m going to rule the world, but my life continues to suck.”
Lucifer chuckles. “Ah, the impatience of the young. I have a gift for you, Noah. I know it must be difficult not seeing results yet, so I thought you deserved to feel like a king.” He throws the door open with a wave of his hand, and I step into my room—or what used to be my room.
It looks more like one of those entertainment rooms in a millionaire’s house—a huge leather chair up on a dais, some sofas with cup holders on either side, and a giant flat-screen mounted to the wall. Granted, millionaires probably don’t have blue torches burning on either side of the screen or a deep-crimson shag carpet that looks like the river of blood from The Shining.
“Um, thanks?” I say, looking around.
“It’s identical to my own throne room in Hell.” Lucifer claps his hands together. I guess he’s excited, but he looks more like he’s plotting something evil.
“What about my bed?” I ask, throwing down my backpack and basketball and climbing the double steps to the leather throne.
“You know you have enhanced strength, did you not think you could do more? You will find that some powers are quite natural to use. You have control over the furniture; simply will it to appear, and…” Lucifer waves a hand and one of the sofas turns back into my bed. “And if your parents or anyone else happens in—” Lucifer begins.
“They won’t.” They haven’t bothered to come upstairs in months.
“If they do, it’ll look just like your old room to them.” Lucifer adjusts his tie, which matches the carpet perfectly.
The supple leather welcomes me home as I settle back into the enormous throne-like recliner.
“What’s that smell?” I ask. It’s light but persistent, like charcoal. At first I thought it was the torches. Now I’m not so sure.
“Brimstone,” Satan answers. He inhales deeply. Not weird at all.
“What about my clothes?” I ask, changing the subject. “And my other stuff?”
Lucifer grins, which is something I still have to get used to. I guess he means it to be friendly, but he is the Devil, and it’s kind of disturbing. “That’s what servants are for. I’ll assign you a Demon right away. I have the perfect one in mind. I imagine you’ll enjoy telling her to do whatever you want.”
My pulse speeds up, though I try not to show it. Even so, I can’t help but grip the arms of the chair tighter. Is he sending Keira back to me? She had ulterior motives when she met me, but there was no denying we were drawn to each other. What started out as attraction turned into real feelings faster than I expected. I’d thought she was playing me, but it turned out to be Lucifer’s doing.
I’m pissed that he’s been keeping us apart, but Keira’s begged me not to say anything. And now that I understand that she really does want me—thanks to the letters she secretly sends—then if Lucifer’s changed his mind about separating us, well, that would be an amazing gift. Way better than this stupid furniture. No more hiding our relationship. Talking is nice, but if I think the chair is supple… Well, let’s just say I’d rather have her within physical reach.
Lucifer snaps his fingers, and I nearly puncture the chair’s material with mine. It isn’t Keira’s sleek, black hair I see kneeling before me. It’s the golden curls of my ex-Angel sister, Grace.
“Noah.” Grace’s voice is hoarse as she raises her head and sees me in the chair. She starts to stand, and I feel queasy when I see the slutty outfit she’s in. I know she didn’t pick it; she’d never wear something so revealing. Lucifer better not think I’m going down that road with my sister, because he can go fu—
“Stay on your knees,” Lucifer barks, and she freezes in an awkward stance somewhere between a bow and a faint. Her face wipes blank of emotion as she complies, lowering herself back to the floor, but she’s silently trying to say something with her eyes. Probably telling me to pray for forgiveness. Why couldn’t she just leave me alone and stay up in Heaven?
“You weren’t kidding when you said she’s a Demon now,” I say, speaking directly to Lucifer. It’s easier to pretend she’s not right here in front of me. I remember him saying that during one of our first meetings in my bedroom after school. But…
“You couldn’t believe it?” Lucifer asks, back to his oily voice, the one reserved for placating me. When he does that I have to wonder if he’s worried about my reactions—if maybe I have more power than he’d like.
“No. I believed you, I just couldn’t picture it.” I stand, feeling the need to escape Grace’s vicinity. I notice a comb in her hair as I pass, the turquoise color catching my eye. It’s the shell I left at her gr
ave. I keep moving away from her and closer to Lucifer.
“And you’re not happy? I thought you’d be thrilled with my gift. You did want to see her. That was part of your original request when you called me.”
“But our deal was for my parents to see she’s fine and forget her. So they’d move on. They won’t move on if they think she’s in Hell, so this does me no good.”
“Noah,” Grace’s voice calls to me from behind, but I cut her off and speak louder.
“It’s a little weird. I’d rather have someone else.” I straighten, ignoring the tiny gasp that comes from behind me. It isn’t my fault she’s a Demon now. She did this to herself, and I’d rather have no part in it.
“I’m afraid I don’t have many other Demons who are not on assignment at the moment. Perhaps I can create one to your specifications. I’ll show you the list of the expected incoming, and you can choose.” He throws an arm around my shoulders and leads me back toward the throne.
“I’d like Keira.” In her letters, she’s been clear that she doesn’t want me to say anything to Lucifer about her, but I can’t help it. I need her.
“Ah, well.” Lucifer’s grin gets creepier, and his hold on me tightens. He snaps his fingers again, and I sense Grace’s disappearance from the room. “I’m afraid that’s just not possible at the moment. Keira’s on a special assignment. Don’t worry. I’ll tell you what, Noah. I’ll give you more than the ability to change the furniture around. I’ll give you a magic closet.” He snaps his fingers, and a giant wardrobe appears. He chuckles like it’s the coolest thing in the universe. “Just tell it what you need and open the door.” He practically shoves me in front of it.
“Um, my new jersey?” I ask, glancing at my discarded basketball on the carpet near the sofa. My team is supposed to get new uniforms any day now.
Lucifer throws open the door, and a deliveryman stumbles forward with a box, almost dropping his electronic signing thing as he looks around, disoriented. I grab the box, and Lucifer snaps, making the guy disappear and the door slam shut. He snaps again, and my jersey’s out of the box and hanging there in midair. Number 666. Ha ha.
“The extra two sixes were a ‘mistake’ at the printers,” Lucifer chuckles. “But one they couldn’t fix before the first game.”
This time, I act grateful. Best to keep the Devil appeased—at least for now. “The guys on the team will love it. I’ll intimidate everyone on the court.”
“Remember, you won’t have time for basketball once we’ve begun,” Lucifer says. It’s a command, not a suggestion.
I grip the jersey hard, but don’t turn around. “I know the ultimate plan is for me to rise through positions of power and influence. I have to make people trust me.” I repeat it so he won’t. He’s only told me this about fifty times since introducing me to the whole Antichrist Concept—the “AC,” as I like to call it. “But don’t I have to, I don’t know, graduate before I run for office?”
“No need. I have…influence. And so do my minions. Our minions. Go ahead, call Grace. You can send her back again with a simple command, but I want to show you how it works.”
I sigh, resigned. At least I’ll be prepared to see her this time. And there is something I’d like to get from her.
“Grace,” I say.
She appears before me, not kneeling this time but still expectant and hopeful. Damn. No matter what the situation, she always has these expectations of me that I can never meet. Why can’t I just get rid of her? She makes me uncomfortable.
“Noah.” The corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly, drawing tiny curves in her cheeks. I guess she hasn’t smiled in awhile. “Please. Let’s talk.”
I reach out and stroke her hair, not quite able to smile back before yanking the comb from her head, letting her hair fall loose in her face. One of the comb’s points digs into the soft flesh of my palm, stinging as it punctures my skin. Without taking my eyes off her, I place the shell in my pocket and watch her brown eyes turn red. Good. She’s capable of Demonic anger. It’s the most human reaction I’ve ever seen from her.
“Go away,” I tell her. She vanishes.
“You have command over the same army I do,” Lucifer says, and I turn toward him, fingering the smooth shell in my pocket before I pull my stinging hand from my jeans and examine the cut on my palm. A small pool of blood gathers in the center, and I shake my wrist, trying to rid myself of the pain. Tiny droplets rain out from my hand, spattering Lucifer’s arm. Smoke curls from the dot that connects with his bare wrist, and he hisses at me, eyes glowing red, making me jump back.
Lucifer straightens his sleeve and collects himself. “This is my favorite suit,” he says, indicating the tiny droplets on his sleeve. “Not to worry, my boy. I’ll have your diploma by the end of the week, your Harvard Law degree by next Sunday. No need to let a few minor dips in the road slow us down. Not when I’ve waited so long.”
“I’ve always preferred Yale,” I say, though, in truth, I’ve never seen either up close. I have to be careful. I want Lucifer to know I’m not some puppet he can control—I’m not one of his Demons—but since I also want to finally get started on this whole rule-the-Earth thing, I have to go along with his plans.
Lucifer rubs his hands together. “Then Yale it is.”
Chapter 2
Grace
At first I was mad that Noah could hurt me like that, but now I consider it progress. After all, he noticed the shell, and he wanted it. He wanted that connection between us. And if he pushed me away? Fine. It means I affect him. He cares. He just hasn’t realized how much yet.
Immediately, I start to second-guess. Noah wouldn’t even look at me until the moment he stole the comb. Maybe my plan isn’t really working. I don’t get to see him often, and it’ll be all but impossible to save him if he won’t even talk to me. And I need to save him from making the worst mistake of his life. He can still choose to be good and not Lucifer’s minion. I know it.
I gave up Heaven for him.
I gave up Josh.
Kicking at the gravel on the side of the road, I watch as a few pebbles scatter over the asphalt. The sun beats down from the clear Nevada sky, but I still keep my arms wrapped around myself. I feel naked in these Daisy Dukes and off-the-shoulder top; it’s so see-through I may as well not be wearing it. Undergarments would help, but I have none. It’s all part of Lucifer’s plan to shame me into submission. And I’ll let him think it’s working as long as he continues to allow me access to Noah—whatever his reasons. I’ll make Noah listen next time. Somehow.
I hear the caw of a raven and pull out my cell to check the time: 9:22 a.m. Despite my stilettos, I have to reach the closest rest stop sign in the next six minutes and then step out onto the road. Those are my instructions. Easy enough. Lucifer assured me the car would stop before hitting me. Of course, I can’t die, but I can still feel pain. Anyway, death isn’t the goal—the goal is to delay this guy from reaching Vegas on time so he can’t stop the woman he loves from getting married. It’s all very soap opera-esque.
The whole scenario makes me feel icky. I don’t like ruining this guy’s life. Still, true love isn’t always enough. I ought to know.
Lucifer’s instructed me to seduce Josh the moment I see him so that he’ll fall from Heaven. And despite my own insistence that Josh stay in Heaven and away from me, I can’t help but selfishly hope he won’t listen. But he hasn’t been on Earth since I fell. I keep reminding myself that’s a good thing—he doesn’t deserve Hell. Lucifer seems pretty sure he’ll show up, though. He even set an alarm on my phone. It’ll play “Highway to Hell” when Josh makes an appearance, and when that happens, I’m to drop whatever I’m doing and go.
I stopped checking my phone after about a week. It’s been twice that. I hate myself for still wanting it to ring in spite of everything.
Right on schedule, I arrive at the rest stop sign. The sound of a motor rumbles down the highway, and I take a deep breath. This scene reminds me of my own dem
ise. I’m sure that’s no accident on Lucifer’s part. He loves adding extra meaning to everything he can. “Layering,” he calls it.
My pointed heels nearly trip me up for real as I pretend to stumble near the thick white line of the shoulder. I see the car now, and it takes concentration not to follow my instincts and pull myself back.
But no, I play the good little Demon and fall on my hands and knees in the street, managing to skin myself in the process. Yet one more thing I’m sure Lucifer intended when he picked out my outfit.
Screeching brakes. The smell of burnt rubber. I close my eyes, waiting to be struck like the last time I was in this position. Except I fell that time because Irma Alvarez pushed me—and it was Josh who ran me over and put this chain of events into motion.
The sounds stop, and a breeze picks up the small hairs at the nape of my neck, the rest having spilled over my shoulders in front of me. I open my eyes and find the bumper an inch from my face.
“Are you okay? Oh my Lord. Oh, I can’t believe this. I’m so sorry. I’m so—are you okay? Can you stand?” The man keeps falling over his words as he helps me up. I brush off my hands and knees, where dirt and a few small rocks have worked their way inside my wounds to mix with blood.
“I’m fine,” I say. It’s the truth. These scrapes and bruises are nothing compared to what I’ve been through, and they’ll heal in a few minutes. “You were in a hurry,” I say, meeting his eyes.
He’s about twenty, younger than I expected, with light-brown hair and gray eyes. He’s nice-looking. I wonder why the girl he loves ran off with another guy but shake off the thought. I don’t know anything about him or her or what happened between them, and I don’t want to. The more I know, the more I’ll care, and it will only make me feel worse about what Lucifer’s making me do.
Soul Conquered Page 1
