The Devil's Son (II)

Chapter 4: Hell is home

'Are you excited to be home?'

Kayn was a shapeshifter, who visited the mortal world often – in a constant chase for drugs, women and copious amounts of alcohol. He had been badgering Lucian since his arrival at the Nephetium.

Instead of answering, Lucian's glare would've made any lesser immortal freeze in place, 'Scatter,' he spat in a venomously cold tongue.

Kayn rolled his eyes, oblivious to the danger the Devil's offspring posed, 'I thought you having a girlfriend would make you softer. But look at you... still the same angry spiteful little urchin'.

Lucian sighed, cracking the spine of the Almanac he was currently studying and looked up at the ceiling.

The Nephetium was the central building for all things immortality related. Every issue from soul processing to punishments were dealt out here in the numerous amount of courts and rooms which layered the Underworld. Despite the cliché of hellfire, the Nephetium felt relatively cool and the dome that stretched a hundred or feet so in the air only flickered occasionally with punishments that were held in Eternal.

Columns of crystal marble arched up to form a centre peak, supporting the glass dome roof of the Nephetium. Pixies and faeries alike flickered in the large air space, delivering notes, gossiping or discussing immortal affairs. Their multifaceted wings threw colourful lights over the glass, forming small rainbows. Lucian often wondered how they had managed to make something relatively beautiful in the Underworld. If he could guess, it would be to accommodate those that were just visiting Hell.

'When does the gathering start?' Kayn continued, resting his chin on the table, 'We've spent an eternity in the library already'.

'It's not like you're invited,' Lucian hissed, looking down at his friend.

Kayn had been a regular acquaintance while growing up. But shapeshifters were unreliable beings and could never really be called a friend. They thrived off of impulsivity and were only ever interested in subjects that affected them directly. Even now, Lucian knew that the only reason Kayn was here was that he was bored but that he didn't care much about what happened between Hell and Heaven.

Kayn blew at his shaggy brown bangs and closed his eyes, 'Is Lucifer going to be there? At the gathering?'

Lucian tightened his grip on the Almanac and nearly laughed out loud in bitterness. Ever since arriving back in Hell, Father had had no time to meet him. If Lucian dared to wager a guess, it was because of what he had proposed. If he helped resolve the dead angel issue, Elizabeth would be exempt. After all, why was he reading an Almanac titled: "Lucifer's bargains: an inclusive summary of all of the Underworld's forbidden exchanges".

There had to be a way for him to bargain for Elizabeth's existence without becoming enslaved, someone must have been too smart for the Devil at some point in time.

'He better be,' Lucian replied, his eyes sliding back to the dusty pages of the Almanac.

∞

The whispers of the gathering folk did not elude Lucian.

It had grown to a low buzz ever since he entered council room 805, and he could hear snippets regarding his choice of life, and more importantly, his choice of partner.

'A human'

'How shameful'

'The mortal world?'

Lucian gritted his teeth and slid into a high-backed gathering seat, and closed his eyes. He tried to think of Elizabeth instead. The feeling of her hair through his fingers, her sleepy eyes peering at him over white bedsheets and most importantly, the tear that had tracked a wet trail across her cheek the night he left her.

His fingers squeezed the wooden arm rest of his chair, and from beside him a soft voice sounded, 'Try not to vandalize the furniture'.

Lucian's eyes slid open slowly, and his blue orbs moved to the right. A female was propped up on the highchair next to him, her bare toes curling over the edge of her seat. She had short electric blue hair and irises so pale they looked nearly white. There was not a hint of colour on her porcelain white complexion except for pale pink lips and the alarming blue of her eyebrows and eyelashes.

'And who the fuck are you?' Lucian snapped, his eyes sweeping over the rest of her outfit, which consisted of a white robe and an amulet at her neck that glinted a moss green.

The small female wrinkled her nose, a faint splatter of freckles shimmering over her nose bridge, 'You really have lost your touch'.

For a split moment, the air around her face seemed to tremble and a face appeared that made Lucian burn with first shock then anger, 'Ursula?'

The face of his pizza parlour colleague shimmered once more with a sarcastic grin before it disappeared – replaced by a much younger face that held no emotion, 'You were a very cruel co-worker,' the girl commented.

'How long have you been watching me?' Lucian growled, getting up from his chair. He could feel his hackles rising and just the sight of this small shapeshifter was pissing him off, 'Who told you to keep tabs on me?'

The double doors of the 805 opened then, sending a hush over the low buzz of voices. The air quietened, evolving from a tense buzzing to a calm reverence. The archangel of justice had black hair and eyes the colour of cold steel, he was wearing a tailored suit of blue that accentuated a lean frame and he exuded an aura of humble but absolute confidence.

'Gabriel?' Lucian hissed under his breath, watching one of God's favourites seat himself in one of the speaker elect seats placed at the front of the council room, 'Things must be serious'.

'They are,' the small shapeshifter piped up, not shrinking back when Lucian turned back to glare at her, 'It is really not the time for you to be losing your touch'.

'You and I are going to have a talk,' the demon hissed, his fingers gripping the girl's forearm. However, instead of flesh, Lucian felt like gripping sand. In front of him the girl seemed to disintegrate slowly, and in a second, she was gone. Her last words echoing in Lucian's ears.

'See you soon'

∞

The apartment was dark, except for the buzzing of the tv – turned to a funny talk show that punctuated the living space with audience laughter every few minutes. The kitchen light was on, but there was nobody in. The steady drip of the faucet into a stack of pots occasionally tipped the filled-up basin over, and the sink gurgled occasionally as if in protest.

Elizabeth was in bed, her bare feet dangling over the bed and her face buried into her pillow. She was asleep, yet her body was tense and sweat beaded her forehead.

Although Lucian had left, Lizzy had vowed to keep going to work, and keep her head back until he returned. However, a few weeks into his absence, she had found herself more and more distraught. After discussing with colleagues and friends, Elizabeth had decided to take her leave for at least a month. In which time, she had binged several series and stuffed her face with comfort food.

Even in her dreams, Lucian's absence seemed to hover over her – sending her into a cold shadow where sunlight never touched.

On the tv, a talk show was happening, and colourful screens and figures floated to and fro. If Lizzy had been awake she might have noticed something odd about her screen. In particular, how this talk show had been showing for the last few days at the same hour every single day – for over six hours.

And that everything was the same, from the guests to the scripts – except for one thing.

A blonde man, who occasionally stood up and turned himself to her living room. In some rare instances he had touched the screen but every time, the tv would get too bright and turn itself off.

Although Lizzy had not been awake to witness these events, her dreams were never peaceful, and seemed to always try to awake her using frightful nightmare scenarios.