A shockwave passed through my body at the unexpected event of seeing my one night stand again. I quickly dismissed the situation, not caring why he had his hand on a frail daemon’s throat.
Instead, I lazily perused the room for some clue as to why I had been pulled into the situation with such urgency.
“Samuel Rose. Vincent Rose.” Luiz nodded to the two men on the other side of the room. Vincent was a carbon copy of Samuel, minus the intriguing scar. I could have sensed more from them if I was tuned into the threads of Hell, but so far all I could smell was the stench of their Incubi heritage.
“Dahlia Clark.” I offered simply. My eyes languished around the room, taking in my surroundings. I had not been in a Fold in an age. It was a step closer to Hell than I would have liked.
I shivered at the thought.
“A pleasure to meet you, Dahlia.” Samuel released his captive, but his smile was predatory as he faced me. “This is your human lie detector?” he asked Luiz.
My Hellhound nodded stiffly.
Samuel Rose was going to pretend that he had never met me before? What a compliment, I rolled my eyes internally.
“You smell like fresh cotton,” a voice almost identical to Samuel’s chimed out, catching my attention. It was Vincent. His eyes sparkled with manic energy.
“Thank you,” I said, but I did not return their smiles. “What do you need from me?”
“You can tell truth from lies?” Samuel asked, his eyes narrowed.
I nodded stiffly. I knew what he was thinking. Only First Circle Purebloods had that ability and there I was, what looked like a little human, professing to be able to do the same. He would have been right to be suspicious.
“How long have you had that ability?” Samuel asked.
I shrugged. “Always.” It was the truth.
Samuel’s full lips pulled into a teasing smirk as he offered his hostage to me with the grace of a game show host.
“Have at it then,” he said jovially.
My lip curled; my mood soured further as he mocked me. I was already a Hairsbreadth from slaughtering a mass of people, I only needed one little push to take me over the edge. How dare a Seventh Circle daemon forget me?!
“You ask the questions and I will tell you if she is truthful or not.” I murmured, playing the part of the timid human.
Samuel walked behind me, his steps were cocksure just like the man. He dragged a chair across the floor, the wood screeched and made me flinch. I disliked being cut off from Hell around other predators but needs must if I wanted to appear as a human.
I took the chair and faced the blonde she-daemon. Her head dropped to her chest, blood had crusted around her nostrils and a lump marred the perfection of her nose. It had been broken sometime that day and healed quickly without being set properly. One of the downsides of Daemon healing.
“This is Vinca,” Samuel crooned, dragging his finger down the side of my face. I felt the coiling tendrils of his Incubus magic. It curled around my body with certainty. Even his touch felt different. If not for the presence of his twin in the room, I would have questioned if that man was Samuel Rose at all.
“She has some interesting news and I wish to know if I can believe a word that she says.” Samuel patted my cheek in a condescending manner.
I crossed my red bottomed heel behind my ankle and folded my hands on my lap. Taking a deep breath, I stared at the she-daemon. Her face was one metre from mine, like an interrogation suspect.
“Ask the questions then.” I urged impassively.
“Vinca, tell Dahlia what you told us when you arrived at Denmark Place this evening.” Samuel ordered.
Vinca looked up, her aquamarine eyes darted from mine to the Daemon twin behind me. Vincent. It appeared that he was the one to watch if her reaction had any justification.
Vinca cleared her throat, “Two Roses. One thorn. Bloody and infected. Lucifer will come to claim her. A child will be born. More powerful than fallen.”
I hid the abject terror that shot through my veins like a syringe full of ice water. I nodded numbly in response to her lyrical words. “She doesn’t believe that she is lying.” I shrugged. “But I can’t tell you if her words are true or not. Just that she isn’t deceiving you.” It was a prophecy and one that I had heard before. I schooled my expression into mild curiosity.
“Anything else?” Samuel asked.
Vinca's eyes had taken on the Celestine opaque quality that came when the connection to Hell grew stronger. The blonde woman heaved a wet cough as she peeked at the twins through blurry eyes.
“Go on Vinca,” I urged gently.
Vinca heaved a forlorn and defeated sigh. “That’s all I know. It came to me in a dream.”
This time it was Luiz that spoke, “Daemons don’t sleep. They can’t dream.” He said thoughtfully.
“What she said has been known for hundreds if not thousands of years.” I shrugged. “It’s in the book of Prophecies.”
Samuel and Vincent's heads snapped in my direction. Their faces shared identical looks of incredulous suspicion.
Luiz laughed nervously. “Dahlia does a lot of reading. She’s a PHD student, specialising in Anglo-Christian mythology.” He lied with ease.
Vincent seemed mollified but Samuel did not.
“You are full of surprises, Dahlia Clark.”
I was expressionless as I peered at Samuel through my thick lashes. I should have had the foresight to change my appearance before I stepped into the fold, but then again, I hadn’t been expecting to see someone that I knew. It was too late to shift my facial features now that Samuel Rose had seen me for a second time.
“Can I leave now?” I turned to Luiz, internally rolling my eyes at my attempt to appear human.
Samuel’s expression was shrewd and he licked his bottom lip, his gaze hovered over my body as if my clothes were non-existent.
“You may take your leave, Ms. Clark. But I may have need of you again.” His voice was low and dangerous.
I couldn’t help myself. I had faced the Devil almost every day of my life for millennia. If Samuel Rose thought that he could scare me, he had another thing coming.
“Try to book an appointment,” I called over my shoulder. “I am a busy woman.”
Being almost invincible and older than dirt meant that it was not often that I was manipulated into doing something I did not want to do.
It was clear that Vinca, the she-daemon, was a Seer of sorts. Extremely rare. The problem with Seers though, was that people often shot the messenger.
I stepped into the space between worlds, commonly known as Lacing in demonic circles. Emerging behind my desk, I slid out my office chair and sat down. Pulling my laptop towards me, I threw myself into my work. A new email waited for me, it was from the Italian office.
Lucifer had voided another contract. Mr. and Mrs. Deluca’s transplant request.
I could only think of one reason why, because I had cancelled my afternoon of appointments.
Luc did not like it when I did not jump through his hoops.
Unfortunately, even though he had had two centuries to deal with fact he couldn’t make me do anything from afar, it did not mean that he wouldn’t find petty ways to punish me.
My phone chirped with a reminder. Thursday was Scrabble Night with the Ferryman.
Looking out of the floor to ceiling windows, I saw that it was early evening. I walked over to my bookcase and slid the green box into my manicured hands. The Scrabble set was worn with age and bleached by the sun. An effect of spending long periods of time in Limbo.
Popping in and out of purgatory was more difficult that Lacing through the human reality. Even though I was Pureblooded, I was limited to travelling through a Fold to get to Limbo.
I took out my compact mirror from my Hermes bag and began to rearrange my face like Plasticine. I changed my hair into tight raven black ringlets and my eyes from a delicate green to a chocolate brown. Creating mass was difficult, so I opted for becoming shorter but wider. I did not look like Dahlia Clark anymore - which was my aim.
I laced back to the Denmark Place Fold as its location was fresh in my mind. As it was evening when I returned, the samba bar in between Hell and here was full of daemons.
If I did bump into Vincent or Samuel, they would never have known who I was. I masked my Pureblooded presence but did not cut myself off from Hell completely.
Daemons of all varieties undulated and writhed to the acoustic trance music. A strange combination that I had never heard before. I allowed myself a cursory glance, telling myself that I was the dance floor for potential clients but I was looking for Samuel.
I caught a glimpse of his wild Auburn hair in a dark corner. I allowed my senses to climb over every surface and towards him. He was not alone. He was in the arms of a human woman and seemingly orgasmic.
I quashed the niggling and sickly feeling in my stomach. It wasn’t jealousy, and our foray had meant little to nothing.
Perhaps the reason for my reaction was because I had not allowed another to touch me in a long time.
I strode towards the back door of the bar. The pressure dropped and became stifling when I neared the entrance to Limbo, but it was a comforting feeling for me.
A succubus narrowed her eyes as she watched me go towards the door. Daemons did not often venture into Hell. The human part of them feared it. As a Pureblood, I did not have the same problem.
The divide in Hell Society was clear. Purebloods thrived in Hell. Daemons (in their families) flourished on earth.
I could feed anytime, connected and sustained by Hell Magic. The woven threads of all sin. Daemons had a diminished connection and needed to feed from humans, so it made more sense for them to live near them.
Limbo looked almost exactly like London but in Greyscale. It was all built from the mind of one Pureblood. Charon. I had no idea why he had chosen the capital to fill the swirling abyss between Hell and Here as I had never asked him.
I walked through the empty streets; my only company was my handbag with an aged board game box poking out near my armpit and the squirming souls in the air.
Souls took all forms. Butterflies. Ravens. Dragonflies. Anything winged. They collected together like writhing black patches of fungus on the famous London landmarks.
I reached Shoreditch quickly. Charon lounged outside of a cafe, his Doc Martin’s were propped on top of a bistro table as he reclined in relaxation.
A halo of sparrows circled about a metre above his head, but his bearded flannel Lumbersexual ensemble was clear of avian shite. Which was surprising.
Charon had an affinity with the bird-like souls. There was no rhyme or rhythm to the form that a soul would take, but every person that the black winged creatures represented was a lost soul with no destination to which to go.
Charon stretched his arms behind his head. “Are you ready to take a beating?”
I rolled my eyes and took the Scrabble board from my handbag. Charon scratched his ginger beard as he watched me set up the board.
“I think you’re delusional. I’m the reigning Hell-Scrabble champion.” I said with a straight face. Charon guffawed and slapped his knee, which caused the glass table to rattle and the pieces in the box to jump.
“It’s all fun and games until someone loses an 'I',” Charon started off the match with an impressive 'dog' in the centre of the board.
“That old prophecy has come up again.” I sighed as I placed a letter onto the board.
“Which one? That damn book is full of them.” Charon rolled his neck and stretched.
“The one about Lucifer’s child.”
Charon stared at me intently as if he was trying to gauge my emotions. “Does it still bother you?” he asked.
I laughed without humour. “Do you remember when I was in the First Circle? Whenever someone would mention Luc's potential heir and that cryptic bullshit about Roses and poisoned thorns, I would lock myself in my chambers for days.”
Charon's lip twitched and he smiled sadly. “Luc banned anyone from speaking about it. I think it’s been ripped from the pages of the Book.”
I watched him place a tile on the board. He gained a triple score from a heinously rude word. “How’d it come up again anyway?” he asked.
“There’s a new Seer in London.” I murmured.
“Daemon or human?”
“Daemon. Succubus.” I replied.
“Damn,” he whistled.
“I think that the Rose brothers are involved. It would make sense, based on the content of the prophecy. The Seer has somehow ended up in their hands. It can’t be a coincidence.”
Charon placed his hand on mine and I quickly realised that I had been picking the skin on my thumb. Dirty. Filthy habit.
I pushed my tongue into my cheek with force to keep from voicing my true anxiety at the situation.
“Please don’t involve yourself in this.” Charon pleaded gently.
“I cannot have a child. It is a physical impossibility. The prophecy is not about me. It never was.” I focused on a spot on the table. My voice was dead and emotionless.
“Do not seek out the potential bearer of the Devil’s child. You will only hurt yourself. You need to leave this alone.” Charon placed his hand on my cheek. His touch was gentle. The Ferryman was like a brother to me. Our very fabric of existence had come from the same threads of Hell Magic.
“I have an 'in' with the Rose brothers and I plan to take it. Perhaps if I find Luc's potential mate... I can come home.” I said hoarsely.
“Would you want to come home? If you had to see him every day, happy, with the mother of his child?” Charon urged.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I miss him so much, Charon.”
“It’s been two centuries.” He shook his head sadly.
“A blink of an eye compared to our time together. He sent me away, and I never knew why.”
Sadness crested through my heart like a crippling wave. “If you ever tell anyone what I said today, I will kill you, Charon,” I said in a low and deadly voice.
Charon let out a whistle. A sparrow dropped down and began to peck at the tiles I had just placed on the board. All seriousness was forgotten as I chided the Ferryman for using lost souls to cheat at Scrabble.