We escape out the back door just as approaching sirens sound. I understand the need to remain invisible, but I don’t feel good about leaving a dying man on the street. We should have done something. But, honestly, what could we possibly do?
“I thought I told you not to call Lilith,” Lucifer snaps as we turn a corner onto a side street.
“I didn’t call her,” Cain retorts, just as bitingly. “She knew we came here. She must’ve followed us.”
Toyol and Cain have an SUV parked a few blocks away, and we make our way through the unusually thin crowd of shoppers and bar-hoppers to get to it.
“Someone needs to explain this to me,” Toyol says, jumping into the passenger seat. Cain is at the wheel. “Did Lil do this? And what the hell does she have to do with Pestilence?”
“She is Pestilence,” Cain answers. “She’s one of Lucifer’s Horsemen, along with the Dark Queen and Eden.”
Toyol turns around to face me, his expression one of disbelief. “Eden?”
I nod. “Death. I’m the fourth.”
“And the queen. She’s…”
“War,” I answer. “The bombings overseas. She’s the reason.”
“Holy fuck. She did that?”
“It’s not exactly her fault,” Lucifer answers, surprising us all with his honesty. “She can’t control it, just like Lilith can’t. This deadly flu strain that’s circulating is the first plague, and manifests the strongest when she’s near. Gabriella couldn’t stop it either. She had no idea she was the cause of mass destruction.”
“So what’s next? Famine?”
Lucifer nods. “Saskia. The Black Rider.”
Toyol frowns in confusion. “And Saskia is…?”
Lucifer huffs out his reluctance before answering. “Irin’s daughter. I had her in captivity after Irin could no longer control her. And she’s already here.”
Bewildered, Toyol looks to Cain who barks, “She’s here? When the fuck were you going to tell us that?”
“When it became necessary for you to know.” Lucifer opens his palms in mock acquiesce. “Now it’s necessary.”
There’s a growl from the driver’s seat, but Cain fumes silently as he maneuvers the SUV away from the French Quarter.
“Where are we going?” I question as we pass Canal Street.
“Se7en safe house. That’s where Lilith would go,” Cain all but grunts.
“Absolutely not. Take us back to The Saint,” Lucifer commands with a flair of authority.
“Hell no. You know we can’t step foot inside, and there’s no fucking way I’m letting Eden out of my sight. And I’m damn sure not letting her run off with you again. Legion would have my head.”
“If you take Eden to the safe house with Lilith, we’ll all lose our heads. Do you not realize what she is? She’s Death. Meaning, if she’s activated, this world and everything in it will perish. The closer she is to the other three Horsemen, the sooner she will fulfill that destiny.”
“We’ll protect her like we’ve always done.”
“Like you’ve always done? You didn’t even know where she was for nearly a week. And lest you forget, I captured her on the Se7en’s watch. Uriel captured her on the Se7en’s watch. Her sister nearly died…all on the Se7en’s watch. This isn’t your fight anymore, demon. Let the grown ups handle this one.”
I glance up to find Cain looking back at us through the rearview mirror, his glare as black as night. He’s waiting for me…waiting for me to choose. The Se7en, the ones who showed me mercy and compassion when their mission was to kill me, or Lucifer, the ruler of Hell who stole me away from them and damned me to this fate. It should be a no-brainer, yet I’m left with a wave of nausea roiling my gut as I try to determine the best course of action.
“He’s right,” I mutter, conjuring my voice. “Lucifer is right. It’s too risky with us not knowing where Gabriella or Saskia are. If staying with Lucifer is what we have to do to ensure I’m separated from them, then maybe I should do that for now.”
I peer over at Lucifer to find him staring at me, his expression unreadable. Is he surprised that I agreed with him? Or surprised that I chose him over the Se7en?
Cain hisses out a curse then without a word, pops a U-turn, nearly causing a collision. Horns honk behind us as he speeds towards The Saint. I can feel the heat of his fury emanating from the back of his seat.
When we pull up at the hotel, Lucifer hops out without so much as a goodbye. Toyol turns to me before I can open my door.
“Here,” he says, handing me a phone. “Call us if you need us—if you need anything. We’ll find a way to get you out.”
I nod, and reply, “Thank you. But he’s actually been ok. I’ll let you know.”
Cain and Toyol watch intently as I exit the car and join Lucifer’s side at the entrance of the hotel. They still haven’t budged after we’ve entered the lobby. An amused smirk plays across Lucifer’s lips.
“Don’t gloat,” I say when we stop at the elevator. When the doors slide open with a ding! seconds later and we step on, Lucifer has the nerve to look perplexed.
“Gloat? Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m here. And you know they’re pissed about it.”
“And you?”
“What about me?” I frown.
“Are you pissed about being here with me and not with them?”
I make a face, mostly because I don’t know how to answer that question honestly without giving him the wrong idea. Does it make me feel good that the Se7en still are willing to have my back even after I’ve betrayed them? Yes. But am I glad to have Lucifer in my corner, who knows more about the Horsemen than anyone else? Also yes. However, knowing what I know now—remembering what we shared that night after Aurora’s party—I can’t get the images out of my mind. I can’t scrub away the memory of his hands on me, his lips on my body, his hips rocking between my thighs while I raked my fingernails down his back as we moaned in unison.
How do I forget that? How do I forget him? And how can I risk it all to save Legion, the male I proclaim to love, knowing what I’ve done?
You don’t come back from that depth of betrayal. And I can’t erase my actions from my conscious.
We make it to the suite without incident and Lucifer goes straight to the television. I shrug out of my jacket, kick off my shoes, and join him in the sitting area.
“Checking the news for updates?” I ask grabbing the laptop and settling in on the couch.
“Not exactly.”
I Google more info on the food shortage to see how far it has spread. The gulf was hit the hardest, which isn’t surprising, considering the devastation we witnessed today. It’s like Mad Cow on steroids. The plague hasn’t only affected cattle, it’s affected all animals, even domestic ones. From exposure to expiration, there only seems to be a four-hour window. Four hours from infection, a living creature drops dead. It’s unlike anything the country has ever seen, and with the hit we’re taking from Pestilence, the death tolls are astronomical.
“Holy shit. Are you seeing this?”
“Nope.”
I only briefly spare a glance in Lucifer’s direction to find him flipping through the channels. He settles on Pay Per View.
“What are you doing?”
“Finding us something to watch. What are you in the mood for? Comedy? Drama? Porn?” He wiggles his brows playfully.
“What? We’re not watching a movie.”
“Actually, that’s exactly what we’re going to do.” He plops down beside me and removes the computer from my lap. “At some point, you’re going to have to realize that this is out of our hands, Eden. You can stress and curse and worry all you want, but what will be will be, no matter how you try to fight fate. You can’t control this. You’re going to be who and what you are. And that’s all right with me. So we’re going to watch a movie. You’re going to shut up about the end of days, The Many, and all other demon and angel related topics, and you’re going to enjoy it. And when I order up room service and cover this table with whatever fried, fattening foods they can scrounge up, you’re going to stuff your face and wash it down with a cold beer. Got it?”
I’m stunned into silence at his unexpected diatribe, which he must read as acquiescence because he chooses some cheesy romantic comedy. The corny music signaling opening credits begins, and I try like hell not to pay attention. But it only takes a few minutes of seeing the quirky, neurotic female lead stress about some unattainable guy to draw my eye, and sure enough, I’m sucked in. I even remember to laugh at the funny parts. No, not remember. I do so easily, and Lucifer does as well. The character is hopelessly likeable. The thought of being out of work and single seems like the end of the world for her. And for a second, I envy her and her so-called problems. What I wouldn’t give to be back in my old, rundown apartment with Sister, stressing about bills and hating my dead-end job again. I thought my life sucked, but we were healthy and we had each other. We were content with our ordinary, mundane lives.
Lucifer orders room service towards the end of the movie, and sure enough, the kitchen is struggling to keep up with guests’ needs. I want to tell him to just nix the entire plan—how could we possibly take food out of someone’s mouth who actually needs it? But he reminds me that thinking that way is futile. If Famine doesn’t get them, Pestilence will. And if War goes another round on U.S. soil, there won’t be much to save. And if Death…if I’m activated, our world is as good as gone anyway.
We settle on French fries covered in gravy and cheese curds, chicken strips, and the promised beers. While we wait, we finish the flick and Lucifer chooses another—a silly movie that’s so dumb it’s funny. Once the food arrives, we huddle over the coffee table, sipping beer, and gorging on what may be our last supper.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” I say after swallowing down a mouthful of gravy-smothered fried potato and washing it down with a swig of my bottled brew.
“Do what?”
“This,” I say waving a hand at the junk food then at the TV. “Pretend like this is your thing. Pretend that everything is fine for me. I’m a big girl. I’m not going to fall apart.”
“You think this is for you?” He raises a questioning brow. “I happen to like stupid movies and bad food. Most people do.”
“Yeah, but you aren’t most people. You aren’t even a person.”
Judging by the slight grimace and the way he quickly looks back at the TV screen, I underestimated the bite in my words and try to recover.
“I mean, you’re…you. You throw lavish dinner parties with food I can’t even pronounce. You drink bottles of wine I wouldn’t be able to afford in a month. You wear a different designer suit every day. This isn’t you. The fried food, beer, movie nights…this isn’t your life. I should know, because just a few months ago, it was mine.”
When he turns to me, there are shadows stirring in his eyes. “Did you ever think that I might be envious of the simplicity you once had? The simplicity of these people, this world. You look at me, and all you see is Lucifer, the ruler of all evil. The fallen angel who was once his Father’s favorite, and was so unlovable, that he was cast out of Heaven and abandoned by his family. I am the single most hated creature in the history of time and the scapegoat for every bad thing that has ever happened. Yes, you’re absolutely right. I wear the suits and I drink the wine and I exude elegant superiority, and I have for a very, very long time. But maybe, just once, I wanted something different. Maybe I wanted to be different. Maybe I just wanted you to look at me and really see me.”
My unblinking stare is my initial response. And just when I regain the function to speak actual words, he laughs.
“Nah. I’m lying. Why on earth would I want to change? You can’t alter perfection. Even the idea of pretending to be human makes me want to hang myself.”
Reflexively, I punch him in his shoulder. “You asshole. Why do you have to be such a dick all the time?”
Lucifer rubs his arm as if my hit could actually cause a sting. “You make it too easy. But in all honesty, I happen to like awful television. And besides, you’ve been kind of a Debbie Downer lately. If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I’d say you had a two-by-four lodged up your ass.”
“And if I had any sense, I’d use it to impale your arrogant ass.”
“You can try, sweetheart,” he begins, picking up a fry. “But then I’d be forced to ruin my Tom Ford and pluck your pretty little head from your shoulders.”
“Hmmm,” I reply, tapping a finger to my chin. “That’s doubtful. You’re the Devil, yet you can’t even stop the Horsemen, especially the worst one of them all. And, oh, that happens to be me. Not to mention, I have the ability to wield holy light, which saved your ass just a day ago. So talk your shit all you want. We’ll see who really has the last laugh.”
“Touché,” Lucifer counters, pointing the fry in my direction. “But maybe it’s not that I can’t stop you. Maybe I just won’t. Maybe I just like seeing you squirm.”
I shake my head. “You’re diabolical.”
“So I’ve heard. Especially since that word derived from devil. You see that? I inspired the very language you speak. I’m woven into the fabric of all people of every culture. There are many demons, even more angels, and four Horsemen. Yet, there’s only one me. Don’t forget that.”
I roll my eyes, but don’t continue to egg him on, hoping to let the conversation drop. But I am left with his words still echoing in my skull. What if Lucifer actually doesn’t want to stop the apocalypse? He’d have more to gain than lose. He could single-handedly wipe out his enemies and rebuild his empire. Hell, what’s stopping him from reclaiming Earth for himself?
I try to focus my attention on the movie, but between my incessant inner ramblings, a full belly, and the overall suckiness of the day, my eyelids feel like lead. The moment the closing credits scroll up the screen, I climb to my feet and stretch.
“I’m going to turn in,” I announce mid-yawn.
“What? I was thinking Marvel next. How about a marathon?”
I shake my head. “Some other time.”
My room is dark, but I don’t bother with lights or pajamas. I kick off my jeans, whip off my bra, and climb into bed, eager to sleep away the last twenty-four hours. But I find that even in my exhaustion, it’s hard to turn off my mind. Our days are numbered. I can literally count them on one hand with fingers to spare. And it feels like we’re more lost now than we were when we first arrived.
At this point, I feel like giving up. I can’t keep waiting for another crisis, another tragedy, knowing that it will be even worse than the last. Nephilim or not, I’m not strong enough for this. I put on a good show for Lucifer and the Se7en, but inside, I’m terrified. At what point do I stop being surprised? When does it all stop hurting so much? How can I learn to turn it all off and just stop caring?
I was almost there. After Grant Park, as I sat on my bed at Irin’s, I told myself that this was it—this is when I stop caring. This is when I stop feeling. And maybe I would have truly achieved that. But then…
Lucifer.
It was as if he forced me to feel, even when it was anger and frustration with him. He wouldn’t let me go numb to all the pain and strife in my world. He refused to let me become…like him.
I don’t know how I succumb to slumber, but by some miracle, my eyelids shutter closed and my breathing deepens. I fall asleep in my bed, at The Saint, with the sounds of drunken partiers enjoying their last moments on Earth.
Then I wake up in the cemetery. And I’m not alone.