Epilogue

T he pain was over in an instant. In fact, as the seconds ticked by, the pain of his death became nothing but a fuzzy, distant memory. Almost as if it was a dream. But Z knew it wasn’t. He was dead.

And he was in Hell.

Z clenched his jaw as he took in his surroundings, refusing to feel fear. In life, it hadn’t been an emotion he was familiar with. And I’ll be damned if it is now that I’m dead, he told himself silently.

The barren, dark red landscape, with its wide-open plains of sharp rocks and thick dirt, dipped into what looked to be a deep valley in the distance. All he could make out was an abrupt shift from red to black. Endless black.

“The kind of black you could get lost in and never find your way out of,” Z muttered softly.

“That’s the pit,” a voice said from behind him. “And you’re right. Many a soul finds endless torment there.”

Z spun quickly, finding himself face to face with the King of Hell himself. “Lucifer!”

Lucifer grinned and bowed. “The one and only.”

Z prepared himself for battle, taking up a fighter’s stance. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Lucifer didn’t move, keeping space between them as he responded, “Yes, you are.”

Z ignored the statement, scoffing instead. “I can withstand any torture you can dole out.”

“Sure you can,” Lucifer drawled mockingly. “But that’s irrelevant. I’m not here to torture you. I’m simply welcoming you to your new home.”

Z didn’t believe the handsome bastard for one minute. “Yeah, right. I’m in Hell. I know the drill. Eternal torture and all that.” He flicked his hand dismissively, ignoring the fine tremor in his fingers.

“Hell is a place for punishment; make no mistake about that,” Lucifer assured him. “But I’m not responsible for it.”

Z had no idea why Hell’s king was standing around conversing with him. But for now, he figured it was better than the alternative. He observed the other male, looking for signs of an attack or weakness, anything he could use to get the upper hand. Things hadn’t worked out for him in Purgatory, but taking over Hell would be a nice consolation prize , he thought happily.

“Of course. You have employees for that,” Z proposed with a sneer. “I should have known the devil was a pussy. What, are you too worried about getting your hands dirty?”

Lucifer looked down at his hands, turning them over before flexing them, causing the muscles in his forearms to contract. “Oh, I have no problem getting my hands dirty when the situation demands it. That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” Z demanded angrily. “Or are you trying to talk me to death? Is that your plan?”

“You’re already dead,” Lucifer pointed out flatly. “And you’re going to stay that way until you understand the consequences of your actions.”

“ Until ?” Z questioned, jumping on what he perceived to be a slip of the tongue.

“Right. Until . Hell isn’t permanent any more than Heaven is,” Lucifer revealed calmly.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Eternity is pretty permanent,” Z snarled. He didn’t know what type of game Lucifer was playing, but it was starting to piss him off. He was an Ace. By now, he should know everything about Lucifer, right down to the size of his boxers. But he couldn’t get an accurate read on the man.

“Permanence is rather relative,” Lucifer replied obscurely, gazing into the darkness in the distance. “For example, Hell is a permanent place, but your place in it needn't be.”

Z was unimpressed. “Who are you, Yoda?” he asked sardonically. He snorted, adding with a mutter, “I had no idea the devil was such a douche.”

Lucifer laughed, an amused smile gracing his lips. “I’m speaking plainly. In fact, I’m revealing secrets that few souls know. It’s not my fault if you don’t understand what I’m saying. I’m a little surprised, I admit. I thought you were supposed to be a genius.”

“I am!” Z shouted.

Lucifer tsked, waving his pointer finger chidingly. “No need to get cranky. I’m offering you a learning moment here.”

Z forced himself to calm down. He inhaled deeply through his nose, immediately regretting it. All he could smell was sulphur. “Putting up with this smell will be torture enough,” he muttered.

Lucifer chuckled, taking a deep breath himself. “You get used to it. Besides, not all of Hell stinks—just the clichéd parts, like this barren wasteland you manifested,” he pointed out.

Z stilled, his breath catching in his lungs. “I didn’t manifest this,” he stated, refusing to consider the idea.

“You sure did,” Lucifer retorted, linking his hands behind his back as he began to stroll around Z. “And you’ll manifest a lot worse before your time here ends. You see, every soul is responsible for their own punishment. More often than not, I feature in those punishments. Or my demons do.” Lucifer shrugged negligently, halting next to Z. “That’s because it’s what they expect. You know, the whole devil, hot pokers, and an endless supply of fire thing.”

“But that’s not what they have to get?” Z sought to clarify. He was beginning to get excited. If what Lucifer was saying was true, the soul was self-determining. Which meant he could determine what punishment he deserved. And I deserve nothing, he told himself. The last images of his brothers flashed through his mind, but he pushed them away. He’d given them one last act from the man he used to be, essentially killing himself and sparing them. He’d also warned them about Styx. He’d always loved the big dumb mutt. That was enough, he assured himself. He smirked because Hell suddenly looked like nothing more than an extended holiday.

“It’s not, no,” Lucifer admitted. “They could get a psychiatrist and a couch and an endless supply of questions about their daddy issues. But not many choose that.”

“Let’s say I believe you,” Z began. He didn’t trust the angel one bit. “What if I chose a tropical island with a couple of naked sirens for company?”

Lucifer chuckled and shook his head. “Nice try. This is Hell, not Heaven. If you were topside, you could conjure all of your happiest dreams. But here, the part of your soul that needs redemption can only ever choose pain.”

“No part of my soul needs redemption,” Z said swiftly.

Lucifer raised a single eyebrow. “Oh, no? Then why are you rubbing your chest?”

Z looked down to find his right palm covering his chest over his heart. It was making small, gentle circles as if trying to soothe him. He dropped his hand to his side, thoroughly mortified. Even more disturbingly, when Lucifer put his hands on his shoulders, turning him so they were face to face, Z didn’t try to pull away. Instead, he stilled, feeling almost eager to hear what the angel would say next.

“A soul can never truly be made black. There will always be a part, no matter how minuscule, that clings to the light,” Lucifer revealed, his white eyes pinning Z in place. “And that is what Hell is for, to free that light.”

The words made Z feel as though he was about to have a panic attack. “No …” he whispered.

Lucifer shook Z a little, maintaining his grip. “ Yes . Think of Hell as a rehabilitation centre of sorts. You get to relive all the wrongs you committed, over and over and over again, until you finally see the error of your ways. Once you do, you get to work on reconciling the guilt, the shame, and the regret you feel from those actions. The self-inflicted punishment and torture part? That’s a perpetual loop. But hey, we can’t have it all. Am I right?”

Z didn’t move, even when Lucifer released his grip and moved away. He didn’t know what to believe. Lucifer could just be fucking with him as a form of mental torture. But what was worse? The possibility that it was the truth. Because that was much more terrifying than a hot poker up his arse.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Z finally asked.

Lucifer’s smile was small. “Call it a favour to an old friend.”