CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lucifer stared down at his phone, blinked a few times, and closed his gaping mouth. Deus, that asshole, was getting too fucking bold. Shaking his head, he walked out of his office and swore loudly as he caught the pocket of his Armani jacket on the door handle. The ripping sound might as well have been a battle cry. He closed his eyes, mumbled about remaining calm, and unhooked himself. Swearing again he entered the kitchen to the smell of cooking food. It smelled like Gluttony was on a binge—funny thing was he couldn’t eat a mouthful—he just loved to cook.
“Belor, I swear you cook enough for the Demon Legion for a month.” He walked to the counter, eyes wide at the amount of food that filled the space. Pastries, pancakes, waffles, cooked bacon, eggs, omelets, and potato scrambles. Hell, he even had fresh caramel going on the stove.
Lucifer watched his brother, Sin of Gluttony, as he looked down at the food and sighed. He loved to cook; he owned his own branch of restaurants. Lucifer wished he could help. The poor man had a curse that none of them could have survived. All the Sins had their issues, but Belor’s was one of the worst, next to Deus, who could not even touch physical objects half the time. At least when he was in a form he could eat.
Belor turned his almost flickering flame orange eyes to his brother and shook his head. “Yeah, I know, but I like the smell. It keeps me distracted.” It was clear to Lucifer that Belor was not about to tell his leader and older brother what it was his mind needed distracting from. The silence stretched, and he inwardly sighed. When had it become so hard to speak with his brothers?
“I have to find Asmodeus a house in Montana of all places. Sounds like we may have found another Seer—which is perfect, except that housing prices in Montana are exorbitant.” Belor did not even look up from the stove. Grabbing a cinnamon roll from one of the many plates, Lucifer paused, looking at Belor before he headed off, biting into the sweet sticky mound of perfection. Damn, his brother could cook.
If Lucifer had to get a house sorted today that was going to cost a lot of money and a few favors. He headed out of the apartment. One trip to the realtors and he would have what he needed. If Asmodeus required a cover, then a cover he would have. But it was a challenge, one he accepted. It meant he could do nothing more than complete it in the time allotted. He felt the rush of energy at the issues he faced. It didn’t matter if it was a major battle or a drive across town that needed to be completed in record time. He would do it. His curse, Pride, would allow him nothing else but perfection and success.
Belor watched his brother leave with a shake of his head. He had recently cut his dirty blond hair, and he was still getting used to it hanging a little in his eyes. With a sigh, he ran his hand through it, only to have it flick back into his eyes again. Damn it. Isabelle, the Seer of Empathy, said it looked good on him. At this rate, he was going to shave it all off.
Looking down at the food he’d made he licked his lips. It smelled so good and his stomach craved the taste. Yet no matter how much his stomach cramped and his mouth watered he knew if he took a bite it would turn to ash in his mouth, and he would be throwing up for a day. Still, the craving was too much. Reaching out he plucked a fresh blueberry from the top of the pancakes and rolled the glistening fruit in his fingers. He lifted it to his nose and breathed in the sweet scent. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth, popping the berry onto his tongue. Biting down he felt the flood of juice, but what should have been an explosion of sweet tangy taste was more like vomit. He spit it out quickly into the stink, then grabbed a glass of water and rinsed his mouth out.
With a roar, he threw the glass across the room. It hit the wall and shattered into sparkling shards that rained down to the floor. He leaned over the sink, feeling his stomach start to roll and his mouth start to water. Even though he had not swallowed the berry his stomach rebelled; dry heaves instantly began to wrack his body. There was nothing but bile in his stomach and it burned as he vomited into the sink and coughed hard.
It took a few minutes before he could take a breath. God he hated this shit. Turning around he came face to face with his brother Abbadon. His pitch-black eyes looked on his sibling with pity. Belor didn’t know how long he had been watching. He grabbed a towel and wiped his mouth.
“You okay?” He hated seeing that look of fucking pity in his brother’s eyes.
“Do I fucking look okay? Just once, I fucking swear, just once I want to taste something!” With a roar, he swept his hand over the counter, sending all the food he had prepared flying and crashing to the floor.
“Feel better?” Abbadon raised an eyebrow at him. Belor knew he was being a damn child—it wasn’t like he hadn’t lived with this curse his whole life. But recently he wanted more. Since Mammon and Ze had found love, he craved more than this hollow semblance of life.
“A little. Look, I have to get out of here. Luci was talking about buying a house in Montana or some shit for Deus. Go find him.” Belor pushed away from the counter, stepping over the pile of food and plates.
He needed a release, he needed something that could sate the endless clawing hunger in his gut. He knew of only one place where he could find that. He had sworn to himself after what happened in Iowa with the Seer of Hindsight he would not return to Club Hex. He had been so high on energy he had completely forgotten about his family fighting in that town. He had needed, craved the fix, and given in. He had been feeding so deeply on the energy that days had passed before he realized and managed to pull himself out of his high. As a result, he had been absent for the whole event, and now Lucifer watched him just a little too carefully.
That had been weeks ago, but now he craved again. He could not go another day and feel this crippling pain in his stomach. He would only be there a while, just to make the pain stop—a quick trip. His mind was already focused in anticipation of the club, and he did not hear his brother shouting his name. He grabbed his jacket and threw open the door, pushing past Mammon and his wife, Isabelle.
Mammon and Isabelle stepped aside, watching Belor leave before entering the room. Seeing the mess right away, Isabelle’s eyes went to his back as he walked toward the elevator. He was getting worse, more irritable, and he was hiding something. She could feel guilt flowing from him, guilt and no small amount of overwhelming eagerness.
“You’re just going to leave me to clean this up?” Abbadon shouted from the kitchen. His loud swearing made her smile. He was not the Sin of Sloth for nothing. The idea of having to do actual work was no doubt giving him heart palpitations.
She turned back to the closing elevator door and frowned. She had a gnawing feeling in the back of her mind that something was terribly wrong. They had all been under stress recently, and Belor more so then the rest. The mix of emotions confused her a little, but she put it down to his issue with the food. She went to help Abbadon clean up the mess, dragging her husband behind her.
Abbadon was on his knees growling, swearing, and picking up some of the broken shards, but was hardly making a good job of it. Isabelle shook her head and touched him on the back. He looked up and let out a sigh of relief.
“Excellent, someone who can clean this with way more efficiency than me.” He made a move to stand, and came face to face with his brother Mammon, Sin of Greed.
“If we’re cleaning this up you are helping, lazy ass.” Abbadon opened his mouth to argue, but at the look on her loving husband’s face, he quickly reconsidered. In silence, he went back to work with the soft chuckling of the Seer of Empathy clearly mocking his pain.
She shook her head and grabbed a cloth to help with the cleanup. A sudden drop in the air pressure caused all three of them to stand and face the living room. Her husband was beside her in an instant. Mammon pulled her behind him, his body shielding her from the imminent attack, his low growl making the room shake.
Abbadon dropped into a fighting stance. The shadows in the room came alive at his command, the darkness blotting out the light from the windows. It was only at times like this when Isabelle saw the Sin of Sloth lose his air of lighthearted fun. His ebony skin seemed to flicker with almost invisible flame as he prepared to summon the shadows to his aid.
The air before them literally ripped apart in a wash of energy that sent the furniture flying across the room. A hole of rippling, sparking energy like lightning formed. A figure emerged and the opening closed behind the man with a pop of crackling air, leaving behind the smell of ozone.
All three stared in awe at Gabriel. The angel was panting hard, his body wracked with tremors. A girl was in his arms, her blood dripping to the floor. His eyes flicked back and forth between them, stopping on Isabelle. He implored her in a way he could not voice in words. His pain hit her square in the heart. She gasped and stepped from behind her mate as the angel attempted to move. His wings were drooping at his sides and sweat glistened all over his skin. The girl was limp in his arms, and he was barely managing to stand. The words that came from his mouth were filled with anguish.
“Help me. Please.”