“The text is infamous for being written in no known human language.” Uriah crossed his arms over his chest.
“That’s Cyclian,” I noted as I eyed the familiar scrawl of my native tongue.
Uriah nodded. “I thought so.”
“Two roses. One thorn.” My heart left to my throat, and I could not speak the rest.
“Your prophecy. Correct?”
I nodded.
“Would you like to hear mine?” He laughed, it was the first time that I had heard him release such a sound. I was in shock at the change in his arrogant and taut demeanour.
He pointed to the scrawl on the right-hand side of my own prophecy.
“Golden wings take flight. The Lord’s favourite: blighted and fallen. The Lord’s Purest: corrupted by Hell. Green is the Circle. Red is the World.”
“How do you know that’s about you?” I asked.
“I have been known as the Lord’s Purest.” Uriah placed his hand near the glass but did not touch it. When he spoke of the Lord of the Summerland, his eyes filled with a sense of pride and longing that I did not understand.
“Did you know what I have been called before?” I could not help the smile the spread over my face like butter. I turned back to the glass. “The Thorn.”
“I don’t doubt that you can corrupt the purest of us.” Uriah said without humour.
I nodded and turned away to look at the other exhibits. The curling script of Cyclian had added another layer of heartache to the homesickness that was spreading through my bones like a plague. In the case, next to the Yoynich Manuscript, sat a sceptre made entirely of tarnished Devil’s silver. I could feel the dusty air surrounding the regal object pulse with familiar power.
I read the card to the side of the exhibit. Artefact of Unknown Origin.
“I know this object,” I said, reverent of the Hell Magic that rolled from the silver in waves. I closed my eyes, drunk with the power.
“What is it called?” I did not hear Uriah approach behind me. The crowd around us had thinned enough and moved onto another floor, apart from a gaggle of Chinese tourists that were taking selfies with a suit of armour on the other side of the floor.
I shook my head. “Ba’el sceptre. I think. Pascal mentioned it once in one of his rants.” My heart swelled with excitement. I turned to the Angel but he had gone white.
“Ba’el Sceptre?” He croaked.
I held out my hand to the Angel. “Give me your shirt,” I demanded.
Uriah crooked a brow. “Why?”
“The fact that you did not deny my request outright is amusing, but please do not ask inane questions.” I looked over my shoulder for a guard. There was not enough space in the glass cabinet that I could have Laced inside comfortably.
Uriah crossed his arms over his chest and waved his hand, inviting me to answer his question.
I signed as I surveyed the pressure points and tiny red lights of the alarm system. Worst case scenario, I could control a guard and ask him to unlock the case.
But everyone knew that breaking the glass was more fun.
“Ba’el Sceptre is the only thing that is able to transverse Heaven and Hell.” I breathed. “I did not know that it actually existed. Lucifer told me that it had been destroyed.”
Uriah eyed the object as if it would lash out and kill us both. He shrugged off his shirt and handed it to me with a straight face.
“They call it Ba'el's sceptre because Ba’el stole it from the Lord. It was why he fell.” I explained.
Uriah rolled his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “That’s not exactly how I remember it.”
I was positively giddy. I wrapped the black material around my hand, and with a punch, I made a hole in the safety glass. The alarm was a shrill wail that made the Angel flinch. Excitement shook the Sinner inside of me as I stole the artefact. Drunk on my theft, I hung off the Angel as giggles shook my body.
We winked out of the gallery and into an alleyway, outside. Uriah shook the raindrops of broken glass from the material of his shirt as I hunched over and laughter took over my body.
“I’ve done it.” I breathed, facing the sky and closing my eyes in joy. “I found a way back.”
Uriah clasped my elbow as I threw my arms wide and basked in the beauty of the hissing rain. Euphoria was a bright bulb in my chest. He tugged my arm and I flew to his chest as his arms wrapped around me. I was frozen in confusion.
His lips were on mine without prompt. Without warning. My eyes remained open as electricity raced from where our skin touched.
Uriah wrenched himself back as if he had been burned. He rubbed his lips were the back of his hand. His face coloured with disgust. The egg-shaped ruby on the hilt of the sceptre glowed red.
The earth disappeared beneath my feet.
I was going home.
The sky above the City of Dis was the colour of a burnt log on a heath, black as the last sparkling embers flared out and died.
The tall craggy buildings looked like rib bones, curled over the walkways. Each of the paths was lined with fabric store fronts. The canvas rustled with a wind that did not exist. The ground was red dust, it clung to fabric and was stubborn to remove. The cobblestones had long since been buried under the sand. Slowly swallowed by encroaching desert.
Dis sat on the edge of the Fourth and Fifth circle, but belonged to neither. It was governed by trade and little else.
The force of my fall splintered my kneecaps but I forced my body upright, refusing to appear weak.
Somehow my wings had become dislodged from their hiding place and I felt them stretch like another limb and raise over my head.
I stood on top of a blackened husk of a building that overlooked the main market. From my position on the ledge, I was unsure if anyone could see me. I took a long second to soak in the familiar smells of the City. I would often run from roof to roof when I was a Youngling, lacing and escaping from my Demonic babysitter.
Speaking of which; Abaddon had arrived on the rooftop, behind me. I heard his hand on the hilt of his sword.
An Angelic presence in Hell obviously needed the Second in Command to the Devil as part of a welcoming committee.
“Hands up. On your knees.” Abe commanded. I heard the zing of metal against its scabbard as Abe drew his sword.
“Three seconds.” He warned.
I raised my hands as he suggested, as my wings flicked against the threat, beyond my control. I turned slowly, my leopard print heels were unsure against the gravel rooftop. I watched all manner of emotions run over Abaddon's face. Anger. Confusion. Fear.
“You think to come to Hell, wearing the face of our dead Queen, Angel Scum?” he stepped forward and placed his sword at the based on my collarbone.
I did not move, but forced my eyes to remain on his. I said nothing.
My Hell Magic wove through the air and wrapped around my oldest friends like a charmed snake escaping a basket. It wrapped around him and teased the edge of his skin.
His arm dropped and his sword hit the floor with a heavy thunk.
“Dahlia?” the hardened warrior whispered, his voice was weak. I had never seen the bulky and sure male ever hesitant about anything, ever since I had known him. He clasped the tops of my arms and stepped into my personal space. His red eyes met my silver ones.
“You’re not a trick? A spy?” he spoke to himself, not to me.
I simply nodded. “Take me to him.” I said.
Part 2
Chapter 8
Once in Hell, a Pureblooded Demon could travel in many ways, one of which was via Hellfire. Much in the same way that Lacing was instantaneous, travelling through Hellfire burned through less energy. Although it was only possible if you held a large reserve of power.
It was disconcerting when I found myself unable to travel through Hellfire. Downright uncomfortable when I tried. Instead, I folded the world in two and Laced to the sterling silver doors of Lucifer's castle.
“Wings?” Abaddon was wa
iting for me, leaning against the closed doors.
“The Lord’s idea of a joke.” I explained with a wave of my hand.
“She is a bit of a weird one.” Abe rolled his eyes. “Did you tell you all the sordid details of the greatest Falls of our times?”
“No,” I reached forward and placed my hand on the enchanted silver. It sprung open with a loud groan and let us both inside of the courtyard. To the left, the white tips of Abe's sculptures were visible over the ring of hedges. The blackened stone hounds in the centre of the courtyard fountain gushed the same golden water that stood stagnant in the river Styx on the outskirts of the First Circle. Each of the hounds had a set of onyx eyeballs. The same pale orange as the real thing.
The grass was crisp and dead and I knew it to be sharp on bare feet. The ground was hard enough to support the heels of my stilettos, for which I was thankful. Walking into the Kingdom of Lies and The Devil's Domain with unsure steps was not a way to inspire confidence in my subjects.
Although, it made me wonder, was I still Queen?
Abaddon gripped my elbow lightly to halt my stride through the courtyard, as I headed to Lucifer's wing of the castle.
“I want you to be prepared.” My friend's eyes were sad in a way that I had never seen before. A sense of unease rushed through my bones.
“Tell me.” I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat. I kept my eyes forward to appear stronger than I felt.
“Your death was difficult for him. He was not certain if he got you to the Ice Prison in time.” Abe explained.
“And Petra?” I said, as I tried desperately had to keep my voice level. “Was my death so difficult that my daughter was an inconvenience to him?”
Abe shook his head. “Petra is with Luiz. That Hound would lay down his life for hers. He is warm in ways that Luc is not. I wanted the best for her.” His voice broke. “She deserved better than a father eaten alive by his own madness.”
I brushed off the front of my dress to avoid the closeness that Abaddon's admission caused. “Thank you.”
Abe nodded stiffly and released my elbow. His crimson irises flicked to my wings and I caught the shadow of longing drift over his features.
“Do you miss your wings?” I asked. “Did you lose them in your own fall?”
Abaddon shook his head and laughed bitterly. “Sometimes I forget how young you are, Pet. Wings are not spoken about.”
I brushed a finger along the inseam of my golden plumage. “Were your wings like mine?” I asked.
Abe's eyes shone with pride. “Oh yes. Resplendent.”
“And now?”
“I do not show them. They are burnt, tattered and broken.” Abe looked at the thick grey sky overhead, the clouds rolled and lightning flashed but all sounds were cut off as we had passed into the First Circle.
“I’m sorry.” I said. “I never wanted wings, and it would not pain me to lose them, so I cannot imagine what you are feeling.”
Abe shrugged; his contemplation rolled off his shoulders like water off a duck's back. “There is more worth in being fallen than in being blinded by a master that despises the different.” Abe did not sound bitter, for it was as if he was merely stating facts. He ran his hand through his short dark hair and then smiled brightly before parted me on the shoulder. The force was enough to make me rub my arm.
We walked towards Lucifer's quarters. Our feet were silent against the frozen blood floor. The scent of the chilled coppery tang caused a pang of nostalgia for what I hadn’t realised I had missed.
“We all missed you, Dahlia.” Abaddon stopped at the threshold of Luc's wing of the castle. “Please bring him back.”
My brow furrowed in confusion and Abe cleared his throat and turned away before I could ask what he meant.
I had never been allowed in Lucifer's personal quarters, and I had long since learnt never to ask. However, all signs pointed to my need to approach him. I had to see him and I knew that Luc would not believe anyone about my resurrection until he had physically seen me.
I could not waste time passing messages and waiting for appointments. Even if I didn’t have permission to see whatever Lucifer kept secret in his chambers, I would deal with his punishment. If he was lucid enough to give one.
In the thousands of years that Luc and I had danced around the issue of love and partnership, even when we were intimate, it was never in Lucifer’s domain. Always mine. It was always on his terms. Never mine.
My stomach roiled when I reached his patterned oak door. The iron knocker and door handle were there to repel any magic that might try and encourage entrance. I was stuck knocking the old-fashioned way.
I raised my fist and knocked once.
No reply.
I knocked again and the latch clicked. The sound was heavy as it echoed across the empty corridor like a stone skipping the surface of a lake.
I slipped inside, as if dawdling would result in a much harsher punishment. Though I knew the notion to be inside my head.
“Master?” I cleared my throat, but my voice was still weaker than I had wanted it to be.
The room was pitch black. Enough that not even an outline of the objects inside was visible. My high heels clicked against the floor and drew to a stop when the vibrations of a low beast’s growl sounded from the corner of the darkness.
“Luc?” I whispered as I turned to face the sound.
I could not stand the uncertainty anymore. I allowed my magic to rush to my hands and bathe the room in a silver gloom.
His outline was not human. His form bore no resemblance to the leonine, platinum-haired warrior that I knew. Hunched over, with curled ram's horns that poked through his sheet of white hair. Cloven hooves on his feet. Clawed fingers. The snapped off stubs of his own wings poked from his shoulder blades like broken tree branches.
“Lucifer?” I knelt down to his level and tapped my fingers against the floor as I had learnt when training Hellhounds. I waited for his reaction.
I had no idea if the man was inside of the warped chimaera of animal parts.
His head snapped to the side and his eyes met mine. I saw every shadow of the perfect features of his face bathed in silver light. God’s most beautiful child.
As if his body reflected his internal turmoil, his horns drew back and grew taller until they became antlers. He stood up; his cloven hooves shifted to bare human feet as he did so. Lucifer brushed an invisible speck of dust from his shoulder. His stance was regal.
“I am in awe of my own imagination.” He laughed bitterly. “Even down to the Human-made stilted footwear?” Lucifer slow clapped and turned to speak to someone that wasn’t there. “The attention to detail is striking.”
His movement was so quick that the only evidence of it was the whip sharp crack of the air parting to make way for him. His hand reached out and gripped my chin. His fingers were strong enough to leave bruises. I did not flinch.
“It's me.” I said. My voice was even as I examined every inch of his face. His plush lips; his eyes like glowing coins. His expression was harsh in a way that I did not expect.
My Lucifer would have slunk around my form, and probed me with questions. Dancing on his heels as he playfully deduced if I was real or not.
The man in front of me was barely concealed violence. In the same way that Samuel Rose had been full of rage. I did not like it.
His antlers shone like liquid mercury. His head cocked to the side like a bird of prey.
“Nova. You have outdone yourself.”
“Nova?” I knew I had heard the name before but I could not place the context of it.
Lucifer breathed a chuckle. His lips were a hair's distance from my own. I felt the heat radiating from his skin. My body was on fire. I ached for him. My fingers twitched and I wanted to grab him. I did not. I held myself back like I had always done.
A part of me wished that I had the same bravery that Uriah had shown as he had kissed me. Even if his disgusted expression was enough to make me want to si
nk into a pile of sludge with embarrassment.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts.
“What?” Lucifer's nose touched mine. “Am I not to call you by your true name, lover? Do you prefer your title, Lord of the Summerland?”
His fingers reached out and grabbed a handful of my seraphim feathers. He tore them from my skin, and a shriek of agony ripped from my lips.
I managed to dart away, skippering backwards on the floor like a crab as his fist lashed forward where my nose would have been.
“I am not the Lord.” I breathed. Adrenaline rushed through my bones as I rose to my feet behind the Devil. “I am your Pet. Your Dahlia.”
“Lies.” Lucifer hissed, slamming his fist against the wall in anger. “I will never seek repentance for my Fall, no matter what form you take.”
“I don’t...” I ducked out of the way as Lucifer took a heavy amulet from the side and threw it at my head. I looked around to the chaos in the darkness. My Hell magic was the only light but it also made for an easy target when Luc decided to throw things at me.
“Listen to me, you fool!” I slammed my fist into the side of his head. His elbow dug into my rips but I caught my lover in a headlock.
“You used to braid my hair. You once removed my hands for insulting you in front of the original seven. The reason I love shoes so much is that you once made a comment about how much you loved my feet. My name is Dahlia Clark. I am your Queen. Your Consort and the mother of your child. Wake up from whatever madness holds you.”
I slapped him to punctuate each one of my titles as I hissed them in his ear.
Instead of waking from whatever haze had claimed him, he disappeared in a flurry of Hellfire.
When had I lost my shield against Lucifer’s darkness? I had never been hurt by his words before. I thought that I was immune.
“He called me Nova.” My words were numb and my steps were jerky as I arrived in the dining room.
The Devil's Lullaby Page 9
