Essence - A Lillian Sparks Novel

Chapter 1

I was born of both worlds. The word of God would have you believe there was only one holy trinity born, but In all things, there must be balance, and so, I was created. Born of fire and light, Lucifer could not be undone when Jesus was made. Creating his own sacrificial lamb, I was born of virgin blood, touched by his unholiness, blessed by God, I was made to walk between worlds and ideologies, towing the line of complete salvation or damnation. Eternal in my own right, I've watched the pitfalls of humanity stain the earth, and yet, I was created to protect them. A demonic mercenary who works for both sides of the coin, constantly playing the field of purgatory. I'm not Lucifer's child, on the contrary. He branded me. But more on that later.

Never announcing my entrance I drop down into Lucifer's throne, my heavy black combat boots slamming into the glossy marble floors that streak with white and gold. A mocking play on the golden road depicted in God's scriptures. My well fitted leather plants cling to thick, strong legs while my white tank top nestles gently against my tanned skinned. My waist length Blonde hair the color of honey wheat on a summer's day always seems brighter here. Rising slowly, I see Lucifer surrounded by his usual herium of demonic soul suckers, who hiss and skitter in my presence.

Upon seeing my presence, Lucifer commands them out, barking orders as they screech like the soul eating sirens they are back into the shadows. A warm fire crackles in the corner of the room, lavish rugs warm the floor. As many times I've been here, I'm still not quite comfortable with the richness of Satan's domain.

"Lillian, my love." Lucifer purrs at me, his voice a rich baritone washes over my body like silk and a shiver runs down my spine. Dark, boyish curls hang gently in amber eyes, strong cheekbones and an well etched jaw mold a perfectly handsome face that would make any woman stop dead in her tracks. Tall, lean, and draped sexuality, he strides towards me powerfully, his eyes ablaze with lust and desire. Shirtless, as he usually is, black satin pants hang low on well etched hips. I bite my lip and look away, he's hard to resist even for me. "How's my favorite demon hunter."

"Don't boast your flattery bullshit to me, Lucifer, I'm your only demon hunter."

Closing the distance between us he runs his thumb over my full bottom lip, my hazel blue green eyes burn up at him, my brow furrowed in frustration.

"You still haven't told him, have you?" I bat his hand away and rotate my body away from him. The energy buzzing between us is magnetic.

"There's no reason to tell him, nothing is going on."

"Yet." Lucifer smirks before taking his leave to pour himself a glass Merlot. I turn towards him, the distance between us making it easier to face him.

"Your herum of demonic sluts doesn't boast well for you, you know that right?" He smirks at me then, shrugging his broad shoulders before offering me my own glass of wine. I take it, feeling like I deserve a small treat after the slaughtering I just came back from.

"I need something to keep me entertained while you deny me."

"I deny Jesus too, so you're not special." He glowers at me then, his strong expression burning into my soul. "Don't give me that look, you know I tow the line, always have, always will, it's my job." Softening his expression, he takes my tanned hand into his pale one, and I sigh, my body slightly relaxing in this small embrace. He leans in then, cupping my chin in between his thumb and index finger, letting his full lips hover just above mine.

"You belong here, with me, and you know it just as I do."

"Never going to happen." I murmur, looking up at him, my inhibitions about him slowly melting away. I loathe how safe I feel in his presence, how gentle he is, and even borderline respectful. He never crosses any boundaries. He never forces, he merely entices, it's what he's best at, after all. Brushing my lips against his for just a moment, I pull away, breaking the trance we both cast on each other. Growling low in his throat he turns from me, his muscular back rippling with self control and his whole body tenses, the wounds from where his wings used to rest pulsing.

"Did you need something, demon hunter?"

"Payment would be nice for killing that Succubus that went rouge."

"You got her?" He turns his body back towards me now, seemingly more relaxed but keeping his distance all the same.

"Finally. I had to go into purgatory to grab her soul and then shred it." He smirks at the nonchalant retort of my killings, arching one dark eyebrow.

"You never cease to amaze me, Lillian." As he speaks, a large pouch of money appears at my feet and I scoop to fondle the velvet lushiness of the fabric. Opening it contents, I eye the amount and confirm it's accurate payment for the work done.

"Yeah well, maybe one of these days you'll have better control over your minions and I won't have to kill them when they stop reporting back." I mock. Laughing gently, he brushes a bit of his boyish curls from his face, giving me a wicked grin.

"But where would the fun in that be, my Queen?" I roll my eyes at his last remark as I tuck the money into my belt loop, fastening the draw strings of the velvet money pouch into a knot. Turning to leave, he calls to me "Leaving so soon?"

Looking over my shoulder at him I smirk before taking my leave "There's no rest for the wicked, my love." Giving me a seductive look, I turn and take my leave from his presence, the gates to the underworld groaning as they open for me and I stride through them, feeling powerful and free as I walk the eternal like of limbo.

Yanking my keys from one of the side pouches, I unlock the red front door that supplies a cherry accent to my Town home. Walking upstairs and flicking on the light, my adorable and always faithful golden retriever comes padding up to me. I know, you'd think being dressed and leather and practically in bed with Satan himself I'd have a 'meaner' looking dog. But Samson found me, or maybe we found each other, I'm not really sure. All I know is that when I pulled him from the garbage at six weeks old, I would murder anyone who tried to do him harm. Kneeling down, I give him a big hug which he responds with by giving a big kiss on the cheek. Patting his head, I stand and turn towards the kitchen, sighing as I gaze upon what lays on the white marble counter-tops. Two dozen gold roses. I* don't even need to read the card to know what it says.

"To my Queen, from Lucifer."

Rolling my eyes, I fling the card across the room and walk to my bedroom, stripping down as I do so and crawling into my fleece pajamas. I may be a demon hunter, but nothing quite beats crawling on the couch with your dog and watching Netflix. Grabbing my favorite blanket I lay across the couch with Samson next to me, his large body keeping me company and keeping me warm. As we catch up on one of our favorite shows, "Santa Clarita Diet", I begin to doze off as my body slowly relaxes from the day I've had.

"LILLIAN!" Jumping awake at the sound of my name being bellowed I lurch forward grabbing a knife from behind one of the couch cushions.

"Michael!" I shout over Samson's protective barking. "What the F-"

"AH! Language." He mocks and I swallow my cuss words like venom as I move to calm Samson. "Why doesn't your dog ever like me?"

"What can I Say, he's a good judge of character." I smirk up at him as I get Samson to settle back down. Moving off the couch, Michael crosses his arms over his armored chest and arches an eyebrow.

"Excuse you? I'm an Archangel."

"Doesn't make you any less of a douchebag" I murmur under my breath as I walk to the kitchen to get some water. "What do you want, Michael?" I turn back toward the broad Arch Angel whose blonde hair with hints of red glisten in the sun. Silver and gold armor adorns his seemingly enormous body as his wings stay tucked neatly behind him. He smiles at me, a small dimple appears in the corner of his left cheek as blue eyes gleam at me.

"His holiness wishes to see you."

I groan and slam my water glass down on the kitchen counter "now?"

"Now." Michael replies.

"You know one of these days I'm going to revise my contract that says 'no paranormal fuckery once in pajamas.'"

"Are you done complaining?" Michael retorts, seemingly bored of my tantrum. I stare at him then, my face flat with boredom and annoyance as I untuck my middle finger and flash it at him, never moving an inch. He groans then, grabs me by the arm, and teleports me to the Golden Gates.