Chapter 14
Entering my own penthouse required a plan that wouldn’t be out of place in a Mission Impossible film. First, I needed to change my clothing. My outfit consisted of a torn men’s shirt that came down to mid-thigh, and a pair of lace underwear. Not to forget the leopard print heels. I couldn’t help but feel like my standards had slipped. I needed to call Maggie Clements and request an appointment to update my wardrobe. Especially considering that Lucifer had ruined enough Haute Couture dresses to create a parachute over London.
I shuddered. If I could have shed a tear for my dresses, I probably would have done it.
The second part of the plan involved Lacing to my front door. The third part involving introducing myself to my child.
How? How could I approach such a momentous occasion? Granted, she had seen me once before, but I was a stranger. There was no context for my appearance in her home.
I could make a man’s head explode simply by redirecting his blood with just a thought, but the notion of introducing myself to someone that I had birthed was beyond me.
I had been born of Sin. Raised by Hell. I lived my life surrounded by Treachery, and actively sought it out. What did I have to offer her?
Dressed in a black pencil dress and my trusty patent Louboutin’s, I raised my hand to knock on the front door to my penthouse. I had decided against the private lift that led straight to the living room. I did not want to waltz in and cause more confusion. I found myself clenching my fist before it could hit the wood.
I had never feared much in my life. I had met death with a smirk and a witty retort. Why did meeting my own progeny cause a blood-curdling fear to seep into my bones? Whispers of unease licked at the edges of my mind and I shook my head to clear it.
What if she didn’t want me?
Before I could talk myself out of it, I rapped my knuckles against the solid wood and waited a few seconds. I resisted the urge to chew my thumbnail, or any of the other filthy habits that people generally fell back on when they were nervous.
Luiz greeted me. He opened the door just a crack, as if he did not want me to see the inside of my own apartment.
I tried to smile. It was a grimace. I clenched my fists and tried again. Lip twitch, demure and coy. Not exactly promising but I had apparently lost control of my facial muscles.
“This is ridiculous.” I muttered to myself, as my eyes rolled towards the ceiling as if I was speaking to God herself.
Luiz bit back a chuckle and I gave him a look that could freeze water. Typically, the kind of cold glare that I prided myself on would have stopped his laughter in its tracks. It hadn’t. I could only assume that something was wrong with my face. I reached up delicately and placed the pads of my fingers against my cheeks and prodded.
“Petra is colouring.” Luiz said in a low voice. “Are you here to stop in? Or…?” He left the end of the sentence hanging, as if giving me the choice to run.
“I need to see her.” I replied simply. I forced my spine up straight and my head high.
“Dahlia…” Luiz shook his head sadly and stepped into the hallway with a quick look backwards. “You’re not going to war. You are not brokering a soul. You are not in the First Circle Court right now. You are about to introduce yourself to your daughter for the first time.”
“You’re right. Why am I frightened?” I chuckled nervously. “I could always erase her memories and keep introducing myself until I get it right.”
Luiz gave me a look that said that he could not tell if I was serious or not. Welcome to the club, Hound.
“How did it go with Lucifer?” Luiz asked, brushing his dark curls out of his eyes.
I shook my head. “Better than expected.”
“I’m willing to bet a Lydian coin that he didn’t see you and immediately wake up from whatever grief hole that he had buried himself in.” Luiz said lightly.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I grunted.
“He won’t come here, will he?”
“I don’t know.”
We stood in silence for a long time, staring at each other. I wanted to reach out and touch Luiz in some way. A pat on the shoulder or a quick hug. Something affectionate to show my appreciation for his care and devotion to my daughter. I felt like my arms were made of cement and unable to leave my sides. Physical affection made me nervous. Unless it was fucking. Until I grew a penis then it was unlikely that Luiz would take me up on my offer.
“Shall we go in?” Luiz whispered.
The moment for physical affection had passed, and it was just as well. I probably would have messed it up anyway. I nodded and we walked into my apartment.
The pristine white sofa was covered with broken crayons and there appeared to be a blonde doll in a pale blue dress on the floor. I halted when I reached the edge of Floraki rug. My enhanced sense of smell told me that someone had vomited on it, and it had been professionally cleaned quite a while ago.
I bent down and picked up the plastic doll. Her dress hung from her shoulder, exposing a nipple-less breast. I rearranged her outfit until she was decent and turned to my child. Petra was sat at the glass dining table with her head over a piece of paper. Her little hands moved in exaggerated circles and with her tongue stuck out in front of her teeth.
I watched her, silently, as she doodled. My child did not appear to have a care in the world.
If I could sweat, my hands would have been dripping. I cleared my throat and licked my lips, both had run dry when I had caught a glimpse of her snow-white hair.
Petra’s eyes swung to mine. Silver with a burnt black ring around the iris. Her hair was poker straight, partially obscuring her face. Her lips were naturally puckered, her body was tiny, but for all intents and purposes she looked like a perfectly proportioned adult. Just smaller.
Luiz had mentioned that she was human.
I could confirm his statement to be correct from the energy in the room.
Even though I was certain I could control myself, the idea that I could shatter her ribs if I squeezed her too hard made me sick to my stomach.
Better play it safe. I decided. No hugs.
I had hidden my wings as not to scare her; I did not know what else I could do to remain unthreatening.
“My name is Dahlia.” I whispered, as I took an awkward step towards her. I held out her doll at arm’s length. “I think this is yours.”
Luiz watched our exchange from the kitchen island with his arms crossed over his chest and a tiny smile on his lips. Petra glanced at the Hound before he nodded his permission.
My heart broke a little. I hadn’t been there for her. In another life, it would have been me that she looked to for safety and assurance.
Once the unsaid permission had been granted, Petra beamed. The smile lit up her entire face. Gone was the timid and fragile creature and in its place was pure beauty.
My heart swooned.
I forced my feet forward and pulled out a chair beside her. Petra continued to draw. She did not look at me again.
What could I say to her?
Hello child. I am your mother. Your father is Satan and he gave you away because he thought I had died. No hard feelings.
Whilst it may have been true. I did not ever want my child to ache with the thought of her father’s rejection. Instead, I placed my hand on her tiny hand, halting her frantic rendering of a red eye in crayon.
Petra looked up slowly, her innocent face was inquisitive.
“You were always wanted. From the second that you existed, you have always been wanted.” My voice broke with unshed tears. Luiz moved to my side without a word and put his hand on my shoulder.
“Petra,” he whispered. “This is Dahlia. Your mother.”
Petra did not speak a word, but from what Luiz had told me, it was to be expected. I could hear the suction of her lungs expanding and shrinking. The slosh of her blood as it rushed through her heart.
I did not care that I had birthed a human child, but I could not stand the thought of her fragility. I did not want to outlive my own child.
After watching a film titled Frozen, about a woman that bore a striking resemblance to the semi-nude blonde doll of which Petra was especially attached, she fell asleep on the sofa with her head resting on Luiz's lap. He stroked her hair.
If I did not know that angels were arseholes, I would have said that she was as beautiful as one.
“How do you do it?” I whispered, as I did not want her to wake up.
“I had to.” Luiz did not take his eyes off her sleeping face. “She needed me. She was only a day old when Abaddon thrust her into my arms.”
A pang of heartbreak stole my voice.
Luiz looked up, his hazel eyes softened when they saw my expression. “You would have been a wonderful mother, Dahlia.” He said. “A fierce and protective one.”
“Not warm and loving?”
“If you set your mind to it.” He shrugged with a playful smirk. “I am warm and loving enough for the both of us.”
“If only you could have been her father.” I rubbed my eyes and tilted my head back to hide my expression.
“Petra has parents that rule over an entire dimension.” Luiz said proudly. “Her mother is an angel. Literally. You gave your life for hers. She was created from the most powerful love, by parents that would rip apart worlds for her.”
I nodded sadly. “I cannot speak for Luc, but she is my heart.”
“Lucifer did what he had to do.” Luiz pulled his arm free delicately so that he could tuck a lock of my hair behind my ear. “He was blighted by his guilt. Blinded by his grief. He could not hold form for more than an hour at a time. His magic took advantage of his instability and it rained chaos down on the First Circle. He shut himself away for the good of Hell.”
“I did not know that.” I whispered.
Petra sighed in her sleep and Luiz shifted her into his arms in a princess hold. With a movement that could only have come from practice, he stood up and whisked her off to her bedroom down the hall. I was left bathed in the glow of Elsa and her talking snowman.
I looked down to the glass coffee table, and saw the photo album on top. Petra Dahlia Clark was stamped into the leather cover. My fingers twitched and I held the book reverently. I gazed at the years of my child’s life that I had missed.
Luiz Ramirez may have been a Hellhound, but he made a brilliant father.
Each birthday was marked with balloons and cake. Each tantrum was marked with a silly face and a selfie. Petra grew from a squawking infant to the stoic flower that I had met for the first time. I touched the clear plastic that covered the photograph. I traced the lines of her face.
Luiz stood in the doorway watching me.
There was a knock on the door. Moving quietly as to not wake Petra, he unlocked the chain and answered the door.
Uriah and the Guardian had arrived.
The bronzed warrior was dressed in jeans and a plain white t-shirt that stretched over his broad chest. His wings were hidden. His expression of thinly veiled contempt had not changed from the last time I had seen him.
When he had kissed me.
I blinked and looked away to gather my thoughts; my gaze was drawn to the white dog that sauntered into my apartment as if it owned the place and sniffed the air, searching for intruders.
Uriah stepped over the threshold. His large statue made the room appear to shrink. Luiz turned to me and winked before disappearing into the office and closing the door behind him.
“You need to come to the Summerland. The Lord has requested your presence.” Uriah said. There was no room for argument in his tone.
That did not stop me from trying. “I disagree. I have finally gotten to spend some time with my daughter and I plan to make the most of it.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“She is asleep.” Uriah crooked his brow.
“Nothing gets past you.” I snarled.
Uriah rubbed his hand over his face, exasperated. “Please.” He said through gritted teeth.
I looked at the closed bedroom door and then back to the golden eyes of the Angel. “I need to be back before she wakes up.” I brandished my finger like a weapon.
Uriah walked towards me and held out his elbow for me to take. “Of course.” He agreed and we Laced to the Summerland.