The Third Throne: Angel of Darkness

by Tabitha Barret

  Come to me. Deep down you know it is what you want. You belong with me. I can ease your agony, and take away your loneliness. No one understands you, no one really knows you. I understand you. I know the real you. All you have to do is come to me and everything will be perfect.

  The voice became hypnotic and pushed every other thought away. Yes, he could ease her pain. She had been in pain for so long, suffering from all the horrors that had plagued her and having no one to help her. They would condemn her for her strange abilities. They would lock her away, and take her freedom from her. Not only would her nights be unbearable, but so would her days. Sitting in a room, doped up on meds for the rest of her life would be worse than the nightmares. They would fear and hate her if they knew what she could do.

  Yes, he understood her as no one else could. Yes, everything would be perfect. All she had to do was join him. But how, how could she join him? The image came quickly to the forefront of her mind and blinded her for a moment. Yes, it was so easy. Join him, and make the pain go away.

  Michelle looked into the bathroom mirror, unsure how she had gotten there. She saw her reflection for the first time in days, or maybe weeks. She was pale and gaunt. She had lost so much weight and the agony was reflected everywhere in her features. She was trembling and dizzy.

  Join me.

  Yes, she had to join him. It was the only way. Yes, it was so simple. Michelle noticed movement in the reflection of the mirror. There was water running in the sink. She must have turned on the faucet. She looked down into the sink, but the dizziness increased.

  I’ll just take a drink of water and I’ll feel better, she thought.

  She moved her hand down to reach for the water, when she noticed something on her wrist. The room spun and she felt herself falling to the floor. The white bathroom seemed even brighter than usual.

  Lying on the floor made her cold. She shivered. Moving her hand, she felt something wet on the tile.

  The sink must have overflowed. I really should get off the cold tile, she thought, but she couldn’t move. She pushed her legs around, trying to remember how to stand up.

  Michelle felt something in her right hand as her fingers began to tingle. She lifted up her arm just enough to see something metal in her hand.

  How odd, I don’t remember picking anything up, she thought.

  The coldness increased and spread through her. She was relieved that the voice had quieted down. The only sound that remained was a pounding in her ears. The rippling pain in her head was gone, replaced by shooting pains in her wrists and arms.

  Join him, she thought. Her breathing became labored, but the pain drifted away.

  Yes, I want to join him. He sounds so lonely, she thought as the room grew darker and the cold overtook her.

  ∞

  The screaming was loud and yet distant. Instinctively, she knew she was dreaming. It was unbearably warm, and the smell was the same, sulfur and burning flesh. It seemed that her headaches hadn’t stopped the dreams, though she quickly realized her head was no longer throbbing. In fact, nothing hurt. The main question was; why was everything so dark? Typically, she saw the eerie red glow from the fires immediately. Why was it so dark? Hell didn’t have a nighttime or daytime.

  Her eyes fluttered open and she felt stupid.

  Opening your eyes usually helps, she thought dryly.

  It took a moment for her eyes to focus, but when they did, she saw the familiar flickering shadows on the walls from the firelight. It was strangely comforting after seeing nothing but darkness.

  Darkness? What was it about the darkness that should concern her?

  It suddenly dawned on her that the fire looked like it was reaching toward her instead of climbing high into the sky.

  That’s not normal, she mused. Why am I not crawling through the realms, writhing in pain, she wondered.

  She realized with a start that she was lying on her side on the floor and staring at the reflection of the fire on the black marble. She carefully picked up her head and tried to sit up. That’s when she noticed the soot covered black boots on the marble dais.

  “I was wondering how long it would take for Sleeping Beauty to open her eyes,” the man wearing the black boots chuckled.

  Michelle carefully sat up, as she looked around the room. She recognized the Throne Room, which meant that she was at the top of the middle tower in the castle. She had never been in the other two towers. The room had curved black stone walls and a black marble multi tiered dais, which was the focal point of the room. Behind the dais was a large roaring fireplace that extended to the edges of the dais.

  The scones on the walls that lit the rest of the windowless tower revealed nothing new in the room. The three thrones sat upon the dais, just as she had seen before. The two thrones on the lower platform were different from each other, but both appeared uncomfortable. The one on her left was made of black metal with a seat back that looked like a shield. The metal was ornately carved with branches, though it had no distinguishable markings, aside from a few squiggles and swirls around the branches. The throne to her right had been carved out of a solid block of black marble. It had a high back, but no armrests.

  Upon the highest platform sat the Skull Throne made of metal holding three skulls in place, one at the top of the throne and the other two at the ends of the armrests. The top skull had rubies for eyes. It was a typical sight. What was out of place was the man sitting in the Skull Throne, looking at her with a mix of curiosity and amusement. He smirked at her from the throne, looking regal, and yet sinister. She had never seen anyone sitting on the thrones before.

  She forced herself to look at the man, though something told her that she should probably run. He was more handsome than beautiful, but had a cruel, cold look to him, especially as the firelight flickered across his face. He had shoulder length wavy brown hair and brown, almost black eyes. He had the beginnings of a beard though it had probably only been a day or two since he’d last shaved. He was dressed in a tight black button-down shirt and leather pants. She had never seen him before, despite all her visits to Hell, so it took longer than it should have to connect all the pieces.

  “Lucifer,” she whispered, afraid that saying his name aloud would make him real.

  Dear Lord, she wasn’t crazy after all. After so many years of being afraid that people would think she was nuts, she was finally vindicated, not that it made her feel any better. Crazy or sane, she was sitting in Hell, the real one.

  “So you do know me. I was starting to wonder. The mortals have so many different versions of what they consider to be the devil, yet not all of them are actually based on me. Their stories and fables speak of a creature who tempts people to do wrong; unfortunately, they don’t have their facts straight. I am, however, the ruler of Hell. You can probably get off the floor now, unless you enjoy sitting at my feet,” he smirked wickedly.

  Michelle rose to her feet and found that she was wearing the light pink pajamas she hated, which looked very out of place in the morbid room. In her dreams, she wore her normal clothes. She glared at Lucifer, embarrassed that she was wearing nothing but her PJs.

  “Oh, don’t look at me, my precious pink petunia. I certainly didn’t put you in that frilly thing. I had no idea you would be wearing that when you arrived,” Lucifer chuckled at her misfortune.

  That laugh. The world froze and Michelle’s insides turned to ice. Her hope that this was simply another dream vanished when she realized Lucifer was the voice inside her head. How stupid could she have been?

  No, she had never seen Lucifer in all the years she’d dreamed of Hell. She’d seen the punishers and had overheard some of their names, yet she had neither seen, nor heard mention of Lucifer. Years ago, she had decided that Lucifer or the devil didn’t exist. He was a story made up to scare people and force them to be good. Sadly, it seemed she was very wrong.

  “My mother must have dressed me while I was suffering from the headaches. They were always her favorite, even thou
gh I told her I looked ridiculous in them,” Michelle murmured as she tried to swallow past the thickness in her throat. She didn’t want to contemplate anything more than her current PJ issue; otherwise, she would fall apart.

  A tingling sensation caused her to look down at her hand. Thankfully, her ring was still on her finger. She took some comfort from that, though her new necklace from Uncle Bob was gone. She rubbed her hand and adjusted the ring to ease the strange feeling.

  “Your mother, the one who raised you from birth, yes, I’m sure it must have been her. It’s true; most souls come here in whatever clothing they died in, truly unfortunate for the people who died naked. Of course, it’s really worse for us than them. Most people don’t look good without their clothes,” Lucifer smirked.

  He seemed amused by the conversation. She had the distinct impression he was picturing her without clothes.

  Michelle decided he was definitely crazy and didn’t entertain guests often. She also didn’t appreciate the way he was looking at her with hunger in his eyes. She decided it was best to ignore him for the moment.

  “Dear God, I hope they don’t bury me in this…” Michelle stopped breathing. No, this was no longer a dream, she had accepted that part, but the rest of her brain hadn’t caught up to the real reason for her current dilemma. If she were in Hell and wearing a horrible outfit, never mind speaking to the devil, she must be well and truly dead.

  Shit, she thought as reality set in.

  Lucifer followed her train of thought and replied, “Yes, I can only imagine what your mother would consider a suitable burial outfit for her deceased daughter, who was no longer walking the earth, who was having a conversation with the Prince of Darkness, given that outfit,” Lucifer seemed very pleased with himself for making light of her death. He even winked at her when her knees began to shake.

  “The Prince of Darkness,” Michelle repeated absently.

  “I do love a good title, don’t you? I have many titles. Of course, with so many to choose from, might I suggest that you call me, Master?” Lucifer’s eyes lit up when he said the last word. He leaned forward on his throne and watched her reaction with anticipation.

  “Master? Why should I call you that?” she asked. Michelle was cold and trembling despite the incredible heat.

  “Because, my dear, you are in my Hell, and you are here of your own free will, as one can plainly see,” Lucifer motioned to Michelle’s wrists.

  Michelle looked down at her wrists and saw two thick raised scars on each wrist beginning just under her palm, and ending two inches down.

  Her head became fuzzy and her vision blurred. She remembered the bathroom sink. It wasn’t water running into the sink; it was blood, her blood and a lot of it. As she thought back, she realized she was missing time. She didn’t remember picking up the razor or cutting herself. She only remembered the burning sensation of the cuts.

  “Yes, suicide is a messy affair, I’m afraid. It’s very emotionally draining. Most people don’t even remember doing it. They are usually confused when they arrive here. There are so many questions like “why” and “what happened” to answer. It’s tedious really. The simple answer is they threw their lives away, and now they belong to me,” Lucifer hissed as he stood. He slowly descended the three steps from his throne and approached Michelle.

  “Why do they belong to you?” Michelle’s mouth was dry as he moved closer to her. She could feel the heat coming off him, which was odd given the raging inferno all around her. She was too nervous to look at his face. He had definitely taken an interest in her, as a woman, though she doubted he treated most of his guests or prisoners this way.

  “The worst crime against God one can commit is suicide. He doesn’t like having His gifts thrown away. Those who spit in the face of God became my servants in the afterlife. Only after we believe they have learned their lesson are they returned to the world. I’ll admit some have yet to learn, even after all these eons,” Lucifer tsked at all the poor souls still stuck in Hell, though he didn’t seem very sorry for them.

  Michelle’s thoughts whirled as she considered his statement. She had somehow killed herself, though she didn’t remember doing it. It hardly seemed fair that she should become someone’s servant in the afterlife, since she had never consciously decided to kill herself.

  She lifted her hand and bit her nail, lost in thought. She needed to figure out what was going and how to get back home. Waking up seemed like an impossible solution, so she went back to her original plan of running.

  “That is an interesting piece of jewelry, may I see it?” Lucifer was staring at her hand. His voice suddenly sounded hollow.

  Michelle raised her hand without thinking, but she pulled back when he tried to touch her ring.

  “Where did you get such a beautiful ring? It looks very old,” Lucifer wouldn’t take his eyes off her hand.

  “My uncle gave it to me. I’ve had it forever,” Michelle shrugged. Something told her to keep it close to her if Lucifer was curious about it.

  “Of course, a family heirloom, I’m sure. Make sure you don’t lose it. It’s lovely,” Lucifer replied coldly.

  He snapped his fingers and a man came running out of the shadows from the right side of the dais, near a door she had never noticed before. The man was carrying something draped across his arms. As he moved closer, she realized it was a long black dress.

  Michelle closed her hand around her ring. She thought it was strange he told her not to lose it. What did he care about jewelry? He almost seemed afraid of it.

  “Well, you needn’t worry about that abominable outfit any longer. I have the perfect solution right here,” he looked pointedly at her clothes and waved his arm toward the dress.

  “You want me to wear that?” she gulped back bile and fear at the thought of wearing something Lucifer offered. She had never seen anyone else wearing a dress like that before. There wasn’t any consistency in the clothing the souls in the realms wore.

  “Yes, this is the only outfit you will need for the rest of your afterlife. I insist that you put it on. Now!” Lucifer’s eyes tightened as he focused on her body. She became very aware of how much closer he was standing and how eager he seemed for her to put on the dress.

  “I somehow don’t think this is standard issue for every woman who enters through the Gates of Hell. Why am I special?” Michelle sounded braver than she felt.

  “Because, my dear, you are very special. You are my personal servant from this day forward. You will wear what I want, you will do as I say, and you will never question me. This dress is a symbol. All who lay eyes upon it will know that you are in my service. They will know you are mine and mine alone,” Lucifer’s eyes reflected his excitement.

  “Where should I change?” Michelle’s voice shook. She knew deep down what the answer would be, but was still hopeful for a different outcome.

  Lucifer took the dress from the man, who was obviously a servant. The servant was tall and attractive, despite his pale grayish skin tone. His hair was dark and complimented his jade green eyes. He was dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt. He stared blankly at Michelle, never once looking Lucifer in the face.

  She was surprised to see the servant’s sins from when he was alive. He was an ancient Greek farmer, though no older than a teenager. He had killed the invaders on his land to survive their attacks. He had made a deal to save his village. Apparently, he hadn’t read the fine print if he ended up a servant of the devil.

  She looked to Lucifer and was thankful that she couldn’t see his sins. He was a blank slate.

  “Leave us, Aganon, and do not return unless something is on fire that shouldn’t be,” he snapped at Aganon, who turned and ran back the way he came from.

  Lucifer presented the dress to Michelle with an expectant look on his face. Michelle couldn’t breathe. She had never undressed in front of a man before, let alone one that could potentially hurt her. The term “servant” didn’t put her at ease. She assumed he had many “servan
ts” who did “all sorts of things for him.” She wondered why he wanted another and why her. He was certainly wrong about her being special.

  She wracked her brain trying to think of a way to stop this, but she didn’t think she could outrun him, and pushing him into the fireplace wouldn’t accomplish anything other than pissing him off.

  Lucifer’s face changed from expectant to annoyed and cut off her mental relay. She swallowed, took a breath, and went to work on the first button of the hideous pink outfit. Lucifer’s expression worsened. She guessed that he didn’t like the slow and steady approach that she was working with.

  Lucifer quickly grabbed her by the elbow and glared at her. She jumped, startled by his sudden intensity. He hurt her arm as she squirmed. She winced, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Enough games,” he was growling through his teeth, and then licked his lips in anticipation.

  She made it to the third button when Lucifer’s eyes fixated on something behind her. The source of his anger was made clear when footsteps from behind her echoed through the Throne Room.

  “I thought I made myself clear. I am not to be interrupted!” Lucifer roared, his voice rattled the walls.

  Michelle cringed and shook as the booming voice went through her. She was flustered by Lucifer’s lustful gaze. He looked like a starved man waiting for his steak dinner.

  “My Lord, you know I would not interrupt if it weren’t an emergency. Caleb motioned that I shouldn’t go in and I naturally assumed you were very busy, though he neglected to tell me what was going on. I swear that boy needs a sound thrashing. Perhaps we could do that later. Now, if you don’t mind, I need your assistance. Jeremiah is missing and Stefano is practically being overrun in the Hall of Winds without him. You killed Philippe yesterday, so now I’m short staffed. I also have Mark up my ass about some soul mix up, though I think he is just being a nuisance. He’s demanding to see you at once. And no, I can’t deal with it, so don’t even ask,” the newcomer ranted on and on as he quickly walked the length of the room, not allowing Lucifer to yell again.