Chapter 8

eight

LUCIFER

It was late. Past midnight.

After lunch, Nathalie disappeared to flit around the city tending to her business. Despite the massive problems going on in her personal life, the woman was determined to keep up her presence in New Chicago. It was funny, when I ruled New Chicago, I didn’t do half what Nathalie managed for the people here.

Granted, I didn’t care quite as much.

But still, my power over New Chicago had done something I hadn’t realized I would miss—fill my time. I was working hard to respect this inane need for “space” from my little witch. What I hadn’t expected was to actually experience true boredom for the first time in my nine thousand years. While Nathalie spent the day fulfilling her purpose, I moved around this apartment coming to the realization that having a person who didn’t want to be around me all the time meant that I had nothing to do apart from them.

That was a problem I didn’t even know how to solve.

I was serious when I said I was not going to return for my throne. Not only did I not want to face a demon conduit as powerful as Piper, but I genuinely had no desire. Ruling didn’t fulfill me. It’s part of why I’d grown complacent. Something greater was now leaching into my existence. Anhedonia.

Nathalie saved me from that.

But it appeared she could not save me from boredom. Not when she had a life of her own she was hellbent on living. So what the fuck was I supposed to do?

Nathalie’s teasing voice from weeks ago telling me to pick up a hobby came to mind, but I didn’t have the first idea of what I’d want to do.

Thinking about the things I enjoyed in life . . . there were very few. Fucking. Punishing. That was it.

The only person I was interested in fucking was my little witch. So that left punishing.

Maybe I could take to hunting down scum and making them pay for their crimes. It’s not like Piper could be everywhere. Surely she could use the help . . .

My thoughts were interrupted by the distinct sounds of Nathalie’s nightly routine wrapping up. I shifted on the couch, glancing toward the hallway as I waited for her to emerge. When the bathroom door opened, Nathalie stood with wet strands of brown hair clinging to her face and shoulders. She was dressed in silk shorts and a tank top.

“What are you doing?” She walked into the living room, stalling in surprise.

I gestured towards the TV that was playing some random show.

“Just hanging out here, catching up on some of your shows,” I replied, trying to keep my tone light.

Nathalie raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her lips. “Oh really? You always refused to watch any of the shows I had.” She dropped her voice a few octaves, mimicking me. “‘TV is mind-numbingly dull.’ Remember?”

I flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “True, but I’m finding that it’s strange being so alone after spending months attached to one person,” I admitted, a hint of vulnerability creeping into my voice, despite myself.

There was a pause, a moment where the air seemed charged with unspoken words. Then Nathalie surprised me. She hesitated just for a moment before she spoke again.

“Do you want to sleep in my room?” she suggested softly.

I met her gaze, searching for any hint of hesitation, but all I found was warmth and a flicker of something else, something that made my body buzz with awareness.

“Obviously,” I answered. “But are you sure?” I asked, wanting to be absolutely certain.

She nodded, her eyes steady. “Yeah,” she said with a small smile. “Second chances, right?”

I got up slowly, crossing the room to where she stood. Without another word, she turned and led the way. The soft glow of lamplight spilled into the hallway as we entered her bedroom. It was true. I’d grown used to this room, used to her presence most of all. The quiet and stillness without her was something I didn’t care for.

Nathalie climbed into bed, and I followed, slipping under the covers beside her. She twisted to face me, and I reached out, looping an arm around her slender waist to pull her close. Her head came to rest where my bicep met my shoulder. I lowered my face to her hair, inhaling her scent.

“Today with Sasha was disconcerting,” I commented after a long moment of silence, my hand sliding up and down her side.

“Yeah, well, it’s not Sasha,” Nathalie retorted with a snort. “Disconcerting is an understatement. You weren’t helping, though.”

“Who is Not-Sasha?” I asked point blank. She tilted her head back to look at me, taken aback by the directness of my question.

“I told you; I don’t know for sure,” she said with a sigh.

I gave her a look, not backing down. “You do,” I replied evenly. “I can tell.”

Nathalie groaned and sat up, pulling away from me. She ran a hand through her chestnut hair, the wet silky strands sliding seamlessly. “Why are we doing this again?”

“I can help,” I offered. “I’m on your side, Nathalie. You have to know this.”

“Oddly, I do.” She shook her head, eyes softening. “But you have a hard time containing your tongue. Today was bad enough. I don’t want it to get worse.”

“He’s just trying to help. He wants to fix it for us, isn’t that romantic?”

The voice I heard in my head was Nathalie, but her lips weren’t moving, and her eyes had a slight haze to them. She was in her memory loci.

“He’s not exactly good at fixing things, Peace.” Another Nathalie, this one sounded less breathy and more like the Nat I knew.

“His choices are what led to the Magic Wars, followed by his own death, which need I remind you triggered the death of millions.” This Nathalie sounded stern and calculated. The pull of the voices was unreal. They were like a siren’s call.

One moment I was laying in Nathalie’s bed, the next I was staring at an ebony round table of variously dressed Nathalie’s. Every pair of brown eyes turned to me.

“That wasn’t very kind,” I said to the one I’m guessing spoke. She wore glasses and a designer suit. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail that swished when her head turned. “That was a low blow, blaming a guy for his own death, especially when a certain someone held the knife.”

She narrowed her sharp eyes, adjusting her glasses. “Was it low, or was it truthful? I didn’t have a choice in the hand I played. Your choices—pursuing Piper, punishing the witches for starting the Magic Wars—those led you there. I thought I was rescuing someone dear to me at the time.”

“Dear to you?” I asked, an edge entering my tone. By the way she described them, it wasn’t Baggage or the Incubus. No, this was someone else. “Dear to you how exactly?”

“Unimportant.” She waved her hand dismissively.

I turned to the Nat dressed like mine in the real world. The one I knew her others called Prime. “What’s she talking about?”

Prime sighed. “There was a boy . . . I was close to him. I thought we were friends. I was wrong.”

Jealousy licked at my skin, but I didn’t let it show. Boy or girl, it wouldn’t have mattered. Someone was close to my witch. As if that wasn’t bad enough, they hurt her.

Perhaps if I took up punishing as a hobby, I would pay this person a visit.

“Ann is right,” Prime continued after an extended silence. “He’s unimportant. What I’d really like to know is why you’re here. Again.”

“I have no idea. One minute I was hearing different versions of your voice in my head, next I’m here. Somehow you’re pulling me into your head with you.”

“Hmm,” the Prime hummed.

“I’m starting to think you’re doing this on purpose,” another Nat countered. This one wore jeans and an eighties band t-shirt, and she watched me with guarded eyes. The Warden, surely.

“He can’t lie,” another Nat scoffed. This Nat had her feet kicked up on the table, a cigarette dangling between her fingers as she pointed at me. Bad Nat. Fitting.

“Okay,” Prime cut in, “so you’re not doing it on purpose.”

“Nope, but since I’m here, can a demon get a chair?” I tutted at them. “Where are your manners, little witches?”

A chair appeared in between two Nats who hadn’t spoken. One wore comfy clothes and a shawl with her hair tied back in a messy bun, the other dressed in shorts and a feminine blouse with her hair down—the way I liked it best.

“I’ve got it, Luci,” a soft-spoken Nat said.

I strolled over and folded myself in the chair. Leaning on the table facing her, I used my free hand to lift her chin toward me. “You have to be the sweetest one, aren’t you?”

“I’m Peace.” She blushed and giggled, holding a romance novel to her chest. My eyes skimmed the cover, and I suppressed a chuckle at the shirtless man embracing a woman half-spilling out of a corset. I heard a gagging sound and turned to look at Bad Nat.

“Why are you flirting, Peace?” The Warden sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You know he can’t do anything with us.”

“We should ignore them,” Ann said. “Peace isn’t useful most of the time anyway, and Lucifer . . .” Her sharp gaze raked over me.

“And Lucifer what?” I prompted.

She turned her chin, the slightest blush rising to her cheeks. My, my. Even my analytical Nat wasn’t unaffected by me.

“Is too interested in toying with me and my others to be of any real help,” Prime said firmly. Her gaze settled on me, unamused but not upset. She saw me and accepted my hedonistic nature for what it was.

“I disagree.” My hand dropped from Peace’s chin as I settled back and crossed one ankle over my knee. “But I do love games, and I find I’m quite good at them. I could be an asset—if you let me.”

“Out of the question,” Ann muttered.

“He’s been respectful of our wishes even though it goes against his nature.” Caretaker Nat said, setting her tea aside. “I think we should give him a chance.”

The Prime closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, it wasn’t me she was looking at. It was The Warden. “And you? What do you think?”

“We can handle this. It’s not outside our power, and if it were, Piper is the one we should be going to.”

“Exactly,” Ann cut in. “So we’re in agreement.”

Bad Nat scoffed. “I wouldn’t exactly call that a consensus. You never asked my opinion.”

“Or mine,” Peace muttered.

“Do you actually care?” Bad Nat asked her, hiking a brow.

“Well, no?—”

Bad Nat snorted.

“Do you?” The Warden shot back, side-eyeing Bad Nat.

Bad Nat lifted a shoulder and rolled her eyes.

And a door in the house rattled violently.

“What’s that?” I asked, lifting my gaze to the ceiling.

The Prime tensed, her expression guarded. “No one.”

Ah, so not a what, but a who .

“Why must you insist on hiding things and lying? You know I can taste your dishonesty, little witch, even here.” My voice was coaxing and smooth. “Who is it?”

She sighed, narrowing her eyes slightly in irritation. “It’ . . . she’s my rage,” she admitted, albeit reluctantly.

“Prime keeps her locked away,” Bad Nathalie cut in, clearly disapproving. “Even when we could use her help.”

“She unpredictable,” The Warden sighed, as if they’d been over this a hundred times. “And inevitably makes most situations worse.”

“We’ve been over this,” Ann spoke up. “We can’t let her out. She isn’t in the right mental space to be an actual asset.”

“I’m going to have to agree with ‘Bad Nat’ over there,” I began, using air quotations around her name. “I don’t think that’s very healthy. Naming a subset of yourself as bad because it’s not logical, or protective, or taking care of everyone else”—I looked at each version of her as I spoke—“or wants to just enjoy life and be at peace, isn’t exactly good for you, either.” Bad Nat looked at me sharply, her expression shocked, though there was a hint of interest.

“I don’t recall asking your opinion,” Prime said, lifting a brow. “Or wanting it.”

Ah. The situation was becoming clearer. For as well rounded and strong as Nathalie was, she was also breaking apart at the seams. Her personality was fracturing under the weight of the world.

“Who are you, exactly?” I asked Bad Nat. “What’s your purpose? Are you simply the rebel?”

She smiled, and it wasn’t soft or kind, neither was it cruel or caustic—but something hid behind it. A sadness of a sort.

“I’m the truth.”

“Enough.” Prime held up her hand ending the conflict. She shot a glare at her rebellious alter ego before turning back to me. “You can stay, or you can go, but I’ve got work to do.”

“Come on, little witch, don’t ice me out,” I murmured, trying to keep the pleading out of my voice. “I was just trying to?—”

“You can stay and hang out with Peace if you want to, but leave me alone.”

And with that, Prime, Ann, and The Warden stood and filed out of the meeting room. Peace turned to me and smiled sheepishly.

“Want to see my greenhouse?”