The Last Hallelujah

Chapter 4

Sebastian Lightwood: Hello there, may I introduce myself? I am the handsome devil so to speak, who is in this media box above.

LadyNesbith: Sebastian go away! I dont need you here now!

Sebastian Lightwood: *turns to audience*

That's not what she said last night while editing this chapter...

*blushes*

Sebastian: Now that she has been rendered silent, I think its safe that we continue with the story.

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"I know" Damien replied.

To say I was shocked was an understatement, but I was curious as to why he never bothered to tell me of this in the first place, oh yeah he was too busy mucking around like a man who had no sense of self-control. I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbow on the mahogany dinner table. Two mugs of coffee sat on the table piping hot.

 "You knew this whole time Brother Zachariah was planning to take over heaven and that he threw out Brother John?" I asked tapping my foot indignantly. Never trust anyone. Damien's words echoed at the back of my head. I guess that also applied to him.

Damien took a sip of the fowl concoction in his mug and cleared his throat.

"Sebastian don't look at me like that. It was done out of good intentions I swear." Damien hung his head, staring down into his coffee.

"And what are those good intentions?" I asked my voice rougher than I intended it to be.

"I spoke to him" Damien stuttered still refusing to look up at me. He stroked the handle of his mug and ran his fingers through his hair absently.

"You spoke to who?" my voice softer than before.

"My father... Lucifer." He said his voice quivering. I suddenly forgot to breath. No good came out of Damien talking to his father. Yes, Damien was the spawn of destruction, chaos and more so, pure evil but over the past few years he had wanted nothing to do with his father. Lucifer had disowned his own son on terms that he wasn't suitable to take on the position as ruler of the underworld and to accept the responsibilities that came with being the second half of the scale that kept the world balanced.  Before banishing him to the mundane world, he was locked up in a dungeon. The unimaginable torture he went through was definite through the numerous scars etched across his skin. Although he never said it aloud, I could always see the inner turmoil in him whenever the subject of his father was brought up alongside a profound longing for acceptance.

Damien took another sip of his coffee, his hands shaking as he continued, "He has a plan to overthrow Brother Zachariah."

This was a bitter sweet situation, indeed we needed to get rid of Brother Zachariah but the devil wasn't the best candidate I had in mind.

"He invited me for dinner so that we can discuss his battle plan," Damien drew in a long breath, "Don't you see Sebastian? This is redemption at hand! My father will take me back if we can prove to him that we are capable of executing his plan."

I inwardly groaned Damien was so gullible. "Your father probably doesn't have your best interests at heart with this so called plan of his, remember what he did to you." I paused looking at Damien; his head was still hung and his hand tracing a faded scar on his left cheek.

"And why are you so hung on his approval? You don't need him! He's nothing but a cold hearted bastard I thought you wanted to be good, well he isn't good!"

"I don't care he's my father!" screamed Damien tipping over the cup of coffee onto the floor. His nostrils flared in rage as he gripped the edge of the table; His chest rising and falling with each laboured breath. My eyes widened at my sudden realization or rather epiphany at what I had done. I had insulted Damien's father. Despite the fact that Lucifer was a cruel, vindictive overlord of the underworld that everyone had painted him out to be, I hadn't yet understood that Damien saw him under a different light.

"I am so sorry, I didn't..."

"It's alright. I understand, but it is still a good idea to attend this dinner. It will give us some prospect as to where we stand before all hell breaks loose in the heavens. Something tells me this battle, though ephemeral will be most memorable."

I nodded my head in agreement and attempted to take a sip of the rancid liquid in my cup. Damien smirked and cocked his head to the side.

"So, why are you still looking at me? Didn't you hear we have a dinner to attend?"

Damien stood up from the table kicking the shards of the broken mug lying on the floor as he walked to his room.

"And Sebastian dress nice."

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"Is this really necessary?" I whined while fiddling with my bow tie. Since I had no formal wear of my own I borrowed a black suit from Damien which was a tad bit snug on the bottoms. European men sure liked there clothing tight.

"I am not European," mumbled Damien, "and besides between you and me who has the British accent?"

He seriously has to stop reading my thoughts it was getting seriously creepy.

"So, any idea on how to get to hell? Should we use the highway?" I asked inwardly chuckling at my pun.

"Sebastian, do me a favour and shut up for the rest of the ride" replied Damien irritably.

After a few minutes of silence we pulled over at St. Patrick's cathedral. Oh the irony. The portal to hell was surprisingly inside a church.

 It was now seven o'clock in the morning. New Yorkers had begun to dominate the sidewalks armed with nothing but mugs of coffee constantly nudging each other out of the way. We cautiously evaded the conundrum and climbed the steps of the cathedral and entered the church. Hardly any of the congregation was present at the time; although there were a few who stood at the confession boxes or sat at the pews waiting for the arrival of the priest.

 Damien pulled me by the sleeve and dragged me forcefully down the aisle; occasionally nodding in the direction of those who gave estranged looks.

At the end of the alter a red velvet curtain hung creating a partition between the congregation and the mysteries that lay ahead. Damien picked up a golden chalice that sat on top of a stool and took a sip of the amber liquid before placing it in my palm. By the look and smell of the liquid I knew for a fact that it was demon blood. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of me drinking the vile substance, but I was a fallen now; I had nothing to lose but all to gain, so what was a little demon blood to me? Hesitantly I took a sip. My eyes bulged and I instantly gagged at the fowl taste of the demon blood. Disgusting. The liquid burned as I forced it down my throat bringing tears to my eyes. The dip wad beside me let out a chuckle; he intertwined our fingers shoving the curtains aside before walking straight to hell with a smile.

A/N

Hear ye! Hear ye!

Sorry I couldn't help myself  ;)

Thank you so much for reading this story. Don't forget to comment, vote and all the other good stuff. And if you would be so ever kind as to help me in editing by commenting on any grammatical errors that would be fantastic!

-          The Lady Has Spoken...