by J. J. Dean
All humor seeps from his face, dripping off like melted wax. "I was joking, Luna. Of course I know how serious this is."
"This is not the time to find your sense of humor, Devon. Tell me the fucking plan, or I swear I'm going in alone," I threaten, glaring at him while I feel my anger grow.
He looks guilty for a moment. "You didn't ask where I'd been when I disappeared."
"Because I didn't think it was any of my business, and I was still angry at you," I answer quickly, narrowing my eyes on him. Not that he can see what the hell I'm doing.
"Then I lied by omission. I followed you into the restaurant. I was two seats away and overheard the conversation. I saw the menu and the address on the inside, and I went to check it out. I searched the house but had to leave quickly when I heard something outside. I'd been watching the house until I came to the hotel where you checked in. Using your last name was a stupid move," he explains quietly, the guilt so thick in his tone that I almost choke on it.
"You followed us? That's a stupid move! What the hell is wrong with you?" I sputter, torn between slapping him silly and punching him in the balls. Both sound pretty good right now.
"Only because I wanted to make sure you couldn't accidentally read my mind," he explains remorsefully. And now I'm choking on regret. Great.
Growling before finding my cool, I breathe deeply through my nose, trying my very best to keep calm. It's a struggle, but I haven't killed him yet, so I'm calling it a win. "I am two seconds away from punching your teeth down your throat. Tread carefully, Devon. Tread very carefully."
"I'm sorry, Luna. I really am. It was wrong, and I understand that. It's why I insisted I help. I'm trying to redeem myself here," he pleads, looking down at me with sorry eyes. Even in the dark, I can see honest repentance deep within, making it pretty darn difficult to stay mad at him. At least for this part. I'm still mad at him for leaving, but that's for another time.
I bite the inside of my cheek and nod slowly, telling him, "You're doing a terrible job, but continue."
His mouth twitches, but he wipes it clean when I raise an eyebrow. Clearing his throat, he turns to face me fully. "Alright. This is what we're going to do. There are two angels inside, and only two. I didn't see anyone else enter or exit the house the entire time I was watching. There's a back door, unlocked. You're going to go around back with your bow and arrows, I'm going to climb through the open window on the side. The moment you're in the house, I want you to start singing, lulling the two into a sense of false serenity. I'll knock them out, then we hide them on the couch to make it look like they're sleeping. Once that's done, we're going to go down to the basement. There's a door built into the wall the stairs are built on. If my hunch is correct, Ms. Frenchie is down there. I went back to get you because I know you need this."
If I wasn't calming down from my anger, I'd actually hug him. Instead, I bite my lip and think the plan over, nodding slowly. "Okay, that works. Are you sure there's only two of them in there?"
Dev nods quickly, and says, "Yeah, but I don't know when the other two are going to come back, so we need to get in and get out as fast as we can. No time to lose, right?"
"Right," I answer, nodding and flashing a brief smile. Devon offers one in return before his eyes light up in the darkness, an emerald green pulsing where his mint green irises sit. He holds his hands in front of him, and in a blink, he's created my bow and a quiver full of silver arrows. A moment later, he's wielding a lethal-looking silver axe, the sleek, sharpened blade flashing under the moonlight.
"Alright, Robin Hood. Are we ready?" he asks, smirking when I strap the quiver over my shoulder.
A surprised laugh escapes me, and I roll my eyes. "I hate you so much right now."
Devon snorts but turns around, holding his hand out for me to take. I slide mine into his. A shiver wracks my body, but I blame it on the chill in the air and not the way his large hand feels wrapped around my smaller one.
"Let's go," Dev whispers, tugging my hand and leading the way across the road. I'm sure we look like total weirdos creeping across the road wielding weapons, but I'm more than thankful that it's late enough for most of the neighbors to be tucked away in their homes by now.
We reach the house in record time, and Devon lets go of my hand, raising his own hand to press his finger against his mouth.
I nod quickly, and he gestures to the gap between the house and a rickety fence, mouthing, "Back door."
I give him a thumbs up and make to turn around, but Dev stops me with a hand on my arm. I look up at him with questioning eyes, and he mouths, "Please be careful."
"And you," I mouth back, my eyes boring into his for a moment before I turn and leave him. I walk close to the brick of the house, checking behind me every two seconds. Sneaking behind the house, I find the back door. The thing looks like it's barely hanging on to the hinges, so it's no wonder it's unlocked.
Slowly, I take the two steps that lead to the door, reaching my hand out for the handle. It gives way easily enough, the door sliding open so fast it almost knocks me back down the steps. It makes the slightest creak, and my eyes widen. Without much thought, I begin humming under my breath, infusing the melody I'm improvising with my power and sending it through the house.
I pause before entering, pulling the bow in front of me and loading it with a pointed arrow. Armed and ready for anything, I slip into the house, carefully planting my feet on the wooden floor in case they creak and stupidly give me away. I've watched enough horror movies to know how that goes down, and I refuse to become a statistic.
Creeping down the hallway, I take in the grungy interior. The wallpaper is peeling, mold lining the ceiling where it meets the top of the wall. The floor looks as dirty as a sewer pipe, and I'm sure the naked lightbulbs hanging from the ceilings have been there since the eighties. Peeking into the kitchen on my way past offers the same view: dirty floors, a rusty sink, and an old table packed with yellowed newspapers.
Still humming under my breath, I reach a corner and pause, hoping Devon has already knocked the two angels unconscious. I inhale slowly and round the corner, holding my bow and arrow at the ready. Only, no one is in the living room.
I lower my bow slightly, looking around the room with a shrewd eye. Devon isn't anywhere in sight and neither are the two angels I was expecting. All that fills this room is a couch with springs and stuffing sticking out, curtains that are hanging haphazardly on the wall, and an old television box with crooked antennas on top of the large square box. There's a broken grandfather clock discarded to the left and a vintage turntable coated in dust. But no angels. And no Devon.
Worry begins to pool in my stomach, the eerie feeling that something isn't right causing my heart to beat a little faster. I roam the living room, gliding to the window and taking a peek outside, checking to see if Devon is still there. I don't see anything, and I bite my lip, the worry expanding. My gut tells me this isn't right, that perhaps something has gone wrong, but my mind is arguing that this could be the only opportunity I have to rescue Francis.
My head wins out, the life of my best friend too important not to seize this opportunity. Taking a deep breath, I move further into the house, finding the stairs just as I step out of the living room. I creep down the smaller hallway, spotting the door amongst the wooden panels and damp wallpaper.
Keeping my footsteps light, I sidle closer to the door and grip the door handle, turning it slowly to check if it's unlocked. Luck must finally be on my side because it turns without resistance. Even as my anxiety grows, I tug the door open, listening to the slight groan it makes as it swings open on rusted hinges.
Stairs lead down to a lit basement, highlighting the dampened walls and the bare bones of the stairs as the ceiling. The stairs look rickety and unstable, likely riddled with woodlice, but I begin my descent, grudgingly holding on to the splintered handrail to keep my balance.
The light grows brighter the deeper into the basement I go, and my anxiety builds until my p
ulse is fluttering so fast that I'm almost on the verge of completely freaking out.
It all completely falls away the moment my eyes land on a bruised and beaten Ms. Frenchie. She sits, tied to a chair in the middle of a completely bare room, under a bare light. The only light that seems to have been updated in the house.
With a quick inhale, I hook my bow over my shoulder and slip the arrow back into my quiver, rushing over to my best friend. The worry is long gone, replaced by such a bone-crushing relief that I'm surprised I'm still standing right now. I crouch in front of her, cupping her hands with a gentle touch. "Francis? Francis, wake up."
Her eyes flutter, but they don't look right. They're... dimmer somehow. Not quite how I remember them. I put it down to the trauma she must have suffered and look her over a little more thoroughly. Other than the scrapes and bruises, she seems fine. A little disoriented, likely from dehydration, but she's in one piece and breathing. That's all I can really ask for.
"Come on, old lady. Let's get you home," I tell her with a shuddering sigh, looking for something to cut the rope that has her tied to the chair.
Only, when I turn my head, I see a flicker at the corner of my eye. Slowly, I turn my head and eye Francis. Her entire body flickers, like a scratched DVD skipping in the movie player. My heart freezes in my chest, and I move away from the chair quickly, staring into Ms. Frenchie's eyes. They're a shade too dark. That's why they didn't seem right.
"Well, I'm so glad you could join us, darling Nevaeh. We've been waiting for a while," a voice tells me, a posh English accent echoing in the room.
Looking around quickly, I see the entire room begin to flicker in and out of whatever the hell I'm looking at. The image becomes distorted before completely falling away and revealing a torture dungeon. And Lucifer standing but a mere three feet away from me.
It's what's behind him that churns the content of my stomach, bile rushing up my throat and threatening to choke me. I slap a hand over my mouth, but a pained cry escapes my lips when I take in the crucifixes that stand to the left and right of Lucifer, Asher and Eli chained like animals to the posts and bleeding profusely onto the floor. Noah is in a glass case in the corner behind Eli and Asher, unconscious on the raised floor. My eyes fill with tears, and my heart breaks all over again.
"I had to start without you, I'm afraid. We sure have been busy. Won't you take a seat?" Lucifer asks with a smarmy grin, his silver hair slicked back, his dark tailored suit pressed nicely, and a ridiculous bowtie tied neatly at his neck. "We have much to discuss, sister."
Chapter 38
Luna
I step back, my eyes darting between Lucifer and my strung up angels who look to have seen better days. It hurts my heart even more. Especially when Asher raises his head weakly, his eyes black and blue, blood dripping from his mouth and sweat coating his face. His eyes widen, and I hear him whisper, "No."
Looking over to Eli doesn't offer me a better sight. His head is hanging between his shoulders, blood dripping from his mouth and nose, pooling on the floor in a small puddle. The tears that had been precariously balancing on my lower eyelids finally fall, the pain I'm feeling right now rivaling that of my Fall.
"Quite a sight, don't you think? And yet, they still haven't broken. I admire their determination. It's why they were my best angels before my sweet little sister stole them away from me," Lucifer goads, turning to look behind him with a crazed glint in his eye.
Before I can throw him the verbal lashing that's turning to acid on my tongue, his words finally sink into my mind. Sister?
Voice hoarse and the sickness in my stomach growing, I ask, "What do you mean 'sister'? You're no brother of mine."
Lucifer turns back to face me, his smile looking equal parts lethal and amused. "I didn't peg you for an idiot, Nevaeh. Surely you can see the resemblance. We were born of the same coin. Two completely separate sides but the same coin regardless. You didn't think you were His only child, did you?"
This isn't making a damn lick of sense. My mind is racing, trying to keep up with what he's saying, most of my focus on my guys who are bleeding streams onto the dirty floor.
When I look back up at Lucifer, he steps directly under the light and, sure enough, I spot the resemblance as if it just smacked me in the face with an open palm. Silver hair sits atop his head, the exact same shade as my own. Gray eyes only a shade darker than my lighter irises watch me intently. His cheekbones are just as high as mine, and his lips a little fuller, but the cupid bow is a mirror image to my own.
I think I'm going to throw up.
"I can see from the horrified look on your face that you believe me. We were both created from the same veil, the very same power. Of course, He favored his little girl. You were his daughter, his greatest accomplishment. You were the golden child if you will. The prodigy. Imagine my surprise when I found out you'd Fallen too. Following in your brother’s footsteps without even realizing it. I'm truly proud, Nevaeh," he tells me, strolling closer until he stands only five feet away from me. It's like looking into a warped mirror, staring at the male version of myself. My jaw clenches tightly, but I dare not look away from those calculating eyes. Lucifer tilts his head, his mouth turning up in a bemused smirk.
"I must say, I find it entirely too amusing that you chose the name Luna to live by for your time on Earth. Luna and Lucifer. It's just like the good old days." He begins pacing around the room slowly, not a care in the world as his shiny loafers tap the floor with every step he takes. "You know, many have come to refer to me as Satan. Did you know where the name Satan came from, sister? I'll tell you. Just as Nevaeh is Heaven spelled backward, Satan was derived from my true name: Natas. Natas and Nevaeh. Lucifer and Luna. What are the chances? It's almost like fate intervened. Isn't it brilliant?"
He's fucking insane. It's nothing more than some messed up coincidence. My jaw clenches even tighter, swallowing the thick bile that's surged up from the bellows of my stomach.
Lucifer takes a step forward, drawing closer to me. On reflex, I move a step backward. I hear Asher choke out something unintelligible, but Lucifer's sharp clap startles me enough to draw my attention back to him.
Eli and Asher cry out, hoarse cries of pain departing their bleeding mouths, and my anger builds. My eyes remain on Lucifer, watching his giddy grin grow, his eyes alight with a child-like amusement. I've never wanted to kill someone so much in my life.
"Now, now, Nevaeh. Don't look at me like that. A punishment was in order, and they are now paying the price for their insubordination," the Devil explains, jerking a careless thumb over his shoulder.
"Insubordination? You stripped them of their wings! Isn't that punishment enough?" I blurt, outraged and furious. I know firsthand how much pain it is to have our wings taken. They've suffered enough. More than they should have ever had to. And this asshole is making them suffer more because he's butthurt? That's a joke.
"NO! It is not enough! No angel will defy me. I will not be made to look a fool, not by Him, not by you, and certainly not be the angels who followed me then decided the lives I provided them wasn't good enough. They will pay for as long as I deem necessary. Until they finally learn that defying the Devil will not be tolerated," Lucifer snaps, a vein in his head pulsing scarily. His silver eyes grow wild before he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes briefly, and gains control once more, slipping back into the slimy façade he's opted for. His eyes open, the wild look gone and only a glint of danger and menace dancing in their depths. Lucifer straightens his suit and tells me, "Now, if you will. We have other things to discuss. Other things such as your alliances and the question as to where your loyalties lie. Please, take a seat."
Lucifer steps forward, and I take a matching step back, falling into a chair I didn't know was behind my legs. My ass meets the solid wooden seat, and the moment I'm sitting I find I can't actually get back up. It's as if my body has been superglued to the chair, my limbs completely frozen.
"What is this?" I growl, my temper teste
d and a bubbling rage burning through my veins.
Lucifer looks over at me with a bored expression. "Hm? Oh, that's just to ensure you don't get any funny ideas. I can only imagine escaping would be an attractive option, but it's not a card on the table, I'm afraid."
I try to push myself out of the chair to no avail. Lucifer smiles and walks around my chair. Suddenly, there's a cool metal pressing against my neck. I try to flinch away, but it's no use. "What are you-"
"Can't be too sure you won't try something funny, now can I? We need to build our trust. We're not there yet," he explains dryly, cutting off my question before it can leave my mouth. His cool fingers move my hair away from my neck, and he snaps the collar shut with a sharp tug. "There. Now that wasn't so troubling, was it?"
"You'll be surprised," I snark, my eyes drawn back to my angels. Asher is watching me with a horrified expression, dried blood plastered to his head and beads of sweat trickling down the contours of his face. Movement in the glass case draws my attention, my eyes scanning over Noah's form as he begins to move slowly.
"Ah, yes. A great invention, that glass case. It's the only thing I could create that would hold one of Heaven's angels. The glass is containing him and his abilities. Since Asher and Elijah are both from my neck of the woods, it was much easier to create something that would stifle their powers while I punished them. The spikes that are currently bone deep in their spines are infused with my power. They're currently nothing more than humans," Lucifer explains, the tone of his voice bordering on bragging. "Just as I have now immobilized you, too. Try to use your abilities, and an electric charge will shoot through your neck and into your whole body. That would be highly unfortunate."
I don't think I've ever felt more of an idiot. Why didn't I think to use them before now? I could have fought Lucifer and got us out if I was thinking straight! The shock of seeing the projection of Francis and then my three angels locked up and brutalized... it would be enough to knock anyone stupid. Which reminds me.
