Chapter 22

CHAPTER22

Iwaited more than a week.

Partly to make sure Lucifer really wouldn’t just show up with some delay, but also to give Azazel a chance to simmer down and settle back into his routine. All the better for him not to suspect anything.

I passed those days in a constant bubble of fear, determination, more fear, heartache, grief, and the deep-seated knowledge that I had to do this, because if I didn’t, I’d one day break under the strain of guilt and anguish.

As I waited in one of our elaborate rooms for welcoming guests, my foot tapping the black marble of the floor, I checked and double-checked my outfit. Totally unnecessarily so, seeing as I wore pretty much what I did on the regular—jeans and a black tank top. I’d considered dressing up in one of those beautiful gowns of my collection that filled an entire room in my quarters, but in the end, I’d gone with the kind of apparel I felt most comfortable in. That, in itself, was a different type of armor.

Besides, any pretty dress I’d wear would just get ruined.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.I could do this.

The double doors leading to the hallway flew open, and Mammon strolled in, his arms raised in greeting. “Dearest aunt,” he crooned.

I gave him a warm smile and met his hug.

His hands on my shoulders, he held me at arm’s length and peered down at me, a twinkle in his eye. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?” Here he quickly scanned the room, narrowing his eyes. “It’s not another ambush in cahoots with my uncle, is it?” Absent-mindedly, he rubbed his throat.

“No,” I said truthfully. “Azazel isn’t here.”

“Oh, good. Not that I don’t enjoy his grumpy company, but I’d like to evenly space out the times where I annoy him to the point of assault.”

“It is a kind of ambush, though.”

His clever gaze zeroed in on me. “What?”

“This meeting.” I shifted on my feet. “The reason I called you…”

I trailed off, my palms suddenly clammy, and the words I’d practiced seemed to sink back into the dark depths of terror within me.

Mammon tilted his head. “Yes?” he drawled. When I just stared at him in mute paralysis, he sighed. “For Hell’s sake, you’re making me antsy with that heavy silence and the impending doom of whatever you want to say. Out with it!”

“I need you to take me to Lucifer.”

The volume of my own heartbeat almost drowned out my words. Something flipped in my stomach as I spoke them.

Mammon laughed, not even missing a beat. It was entirely, impossibly, unfair how handsome he became when he laughed like that. It was like his whole face lit up with the kind of magnetic charm that would have a roomful of people turn his way and draw closer.

He wiped his eyes. “Oh, that’s a good one, kid.”

“It’s not a joke.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean it.” I put my hands on my hips and glared at him, the bottled-up fear in me veering sharply into indignation.

“Totally cute, that look.” He wiggled a finger in my direction. “Tell me, does that one usually work on Azazel?”

“I’m serious. I need you to fly me to Lucifer’s palace so I can walk right up to him and get this whole punishment thing out of the way, and then Azazel and Azmodea will have no reason anymore to forgo their right to see their mother.”

Mammon crossed his arms, raised one hand to his chin, and stared at me for a few seconds. “That,” he said and waved at me. “Is that what lunacy looks like? I’ve never seen in the flesh quite like this.”

“Listen, I’d walk there myself if I could, but it’s fucking far, and I don’t know the way, and I don’t particularly want to end up as fodder for whatever lurks out there in this hellscape. So I need a demon to fly me there.”

He laid a hand on his chest. “And you picked me? I feel like the Chosen One.” His radiant expression turned sour. “By which I mean, chosen to have my wings ripped off by my violently inclined uncle. For starters.”

When I made as if to speak, he cut me off. “You do realize that besides surrendering yourself to Lucifer being the stupidest idea in the history of idiocy, if I were to fly you, Azazel’s cherished wife and prize jewel of his realm, to be adoringly delivered into the torture-loving claws of Lucifer, that Azazel would kill me? As in, actually murder me?”

“No, he won’t.” I crossed my arms. “He might posture a lot and threaten you with all sorts of bodily harm, but in the end, he wouldn’t actually kill you. I know him. Family’s important to him—well, at least the part you belong to.” I gestured at him. “You’re part of his inner circle, his only nephew, and he’d never hurt Azmodea by murdering you. In all honesty, besides Azmodea, you’re the only demon who could get away with delivering me to Lucifer at my request and not be killed by Azazel. If I chose anyone else—one of the demons from this estate, which means I could actually order them to do my bidding—they would most certainly meet their untimely death when Azazel found out. So, really, you’d be saving someone’s life with this!”

Mammon massaged his temples. “The audacity.”

“That’s rich coming from you, considering you’re the reason my best friend has made it onto a powerful demon’s shit list and will have to evade his wrath for the rest of her life.”

He flinched. “I didn’t intend—”

“You can shove your real intentions up your ass,” I hissed.

Stumped, he blinked at me.

“Yeah, I’m not playing, Mammon. Do you want my forgiveness for putting Taylor in harm’s way? My oldest and best friend in the whole wide world? The person I love like a sister?”

He had the good grace to look chastised.

“You owe me.” I poked him in the chest with a finger. “Big time. You will take me to Lucifer, and when Azazel finds out that it was you and he rips off your wings, maybe that’ll make you truly regret the dangerous game you played with my best friend’s safety.”

“Damn, girl,” he whispered. “You really picked up a few things from living in Hell.”

“I learned from the best.” I bared my teeth at him.

“I can see that.” He tilted his head. “You know, Spicy Zoe is even hotter than Regular Zoe.”

“Oh, shut it.”

“No, I mean it. I’m both frightened and aroused.”

“Perv.” I rolled my eyes. “Now let’s go.” Before I lost my nerve, after all.

Mammon fell into step with me as I marched toward the exit leading to another huge balcony/landing platform jutting out from Azazel’s fortress-like mansion.

“Will you yell at me some more?” he asked, an eager note in his voice.

“Mammon.” I gave him the biggest side-eye as we came to a stop on the platform.

“Do you yell at Azazel in bed?”

“I swear,” I said through gritted teeth, “if you make this flight awkward, I will punch you in the throat.”

He shivered and made a delighted sound.

I buried my face in my hands. “Ugh.”

* * *

Gettingpast the patrols along the border to Lucifer’s territory was only possible because Mammon played the family card.

Well, that, and the fact that apparently the guards recognized me as the awkward human who’d made a fool of herself at the Fall Festival and had somehow ended up as a person of interest to Lucifer and Lilith. I’d have felt like some kind of celebrity if it didn’t also make me cringe.

But Mammon’s presence as a member of Lucifer’s extended family truly helped to smooth the way, which was another reason why I’d chosen him to take me there. I was sure that some other, lower-ranking demon from Azazel’s domain would not have gotten as far as Lucifer’s palace.

Just as we’d done at the Fall Festival, we touched down in the wide-open courtyard of pristine white stone—still immaculately clean, which meant that servants surely stood by to swipe off any flecks of ash touching the floor—and to my surprise, we weren’t the only ones here. Other demons seemed to be coming and going at a steady pace, observed by guards and ushered to and fro by staff.

Of course, I thought. Even outside the Fall Festival, Lucifer’s palace must be the center of political and economical business here in Hell. It made sense that it was a place bustling with activity. Azazel’s territory saw regular visitors for all sorts of purposes, and he wasn’t even among the highest-ranking demons, his domain not one of the linchpins of Hell. How much more commotion must there be in the heart of the dominion of the supreme ruler of Hell?

As soon as we landed, a member of staff approached us, recognizable by the black-and-gold livery she wore. Her uniform featured more embroidery than that of the guards, filigree threads of gold woven into the black fabric of her tunic. Her dark red hair was pulled into a severe bun, emphasizing the stern look she gave us.

Ignoring me completely, she bowed her head at Mammon. “What is the purpose of your visit, my lord?”

He gave her a genial smile, and her features visibly softened. “I am here to escort Lady Zoe to His Grace for an urgent matter.”

After a few seconds, she wrenched her gaze away from Mammon’s face to finally give me her attention. Her eyes narrowed. “I know you,” she murmured.

Oh boy.

“You’re that human. The one from the Fall Festival.”

Mammon leaned forward. “Lord Azazel’s wife.” He cleared his throat. “Lady of his estate.”

Her brows shot up, and she straightened. With some redness darkening her cheeks, she took a stilted bow and said, “Apologies, my lady. What is the nature of the matter for which you wish to see His Grace?”

“Um.” I glanced at Mammon, who shook his head ever so slightly. Focusing back on the guard, I said, “That is between His Grace and me.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mammon give me a furtive thumbs-up.

The female demon studied me intently, then nodded and stepped back. “Follow me, please.”

I was pretty sure that it was, yet again, the fact that Lucifer had taken a public interest in me at the Fall Festival that spurred the staff member to grant us entrance to his palace. I could very well imagine anyone else having to make an appointment or plead for an audience. There had to be hundreds of demons vying for Lucifer’s attention at any given time, trying to talk to him in order to curry favor or solve some issue. Access to him surely had to be tightly controlled, or else he’d be swamped by supplicants and sycophants. I had no doubt there was some system in place to prescreen visitors based on Lucifer’s priorities and interests, and his staff would know to filter arrivals accordingly.

That I was waved through and would apparently be ushered directly to him was a sign of how much of an impression I’d left. I suppressed a grimace at that thought. I’d really rather not be of any special interest to Lucifer, but at least it made it possible to quickly get an audience with him, so I could settle this score.

Mammon and I followed the staff member as she walked us through the giant water garden—I kept hearing Mephisto’s disgusted description of the wastefulness of it—and then the entrance hall with the infamous glass floor, underneath which the many, many demons were chained who’d wronged Lucifer in some way over the millennia.

The first time I’d come through here, Azazel’s warning not to look down had come a second too late, and then the damage was already done. I’d struggled to keep my gaze off the floor after that, the horror I’d glimpsed forever etched into my mind.

This time, I was prepared. Lifting my chin, I deliberately looked far ahead and made sure my gaze never strayed too low.

I heard the screams, though.

Even muffled through the thick glass, there was no ignoring the shrieks of pain, the wailing, the pleas for help. This time, there weren’t as many other demons walking through the hall as at the Fall Festival, and the lack of more background noise made the sounds more audible.

I dimly wondered how much it would break someone’s mind to be chained down there, year after year, century after century, to watch countless others walking right over you, hearing you, seeing you, yet unable to help.

All while hellrats gnawed the flesh off your bones.

Demons had fast healing and could even regenerate limbs, which made them a never-ending, open buffet for the rats scurrying around in the subfloor. The demons’ flesh, muscles, organs would regrow, only to be chewed off again.

I shivered, and nausea fizzed in my stomach.

“You okay?” Mammon asked quietly, slowing a little to put more space between our staff escort and us.

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Better than last time.”

“I’d like to say it gets easier, but I’m afraid this is probably as good as it gets.”

I cast him a quick glance. “You’re still affected?”

I wouldn’t have thought that. Mammon always seemed so cheerfully aloof, and right now, he even looked nonchalantly bored.

“Always,” he murmured even more quietly, not breaking the mask he wore like a second skin. “Not the best attribute to have in a place like Hell.”

I raised a brow.

“It’s considered a weakness,” he stated, and centuries of lived experience among bloodthirsty, coldly cruel beings echoed in his toneless whisper.

I shook my head slightly. “Compassion and empathy should never be a weakness.”

He looped my arm through his and patted my hand. “Oh, my sweet spring baby.”

I snorted a laugh at his butchery of the famous line from George R.R. Martin’s Game of Thrones. “That’s not how the quote goes, Mammon.”

“I know.” His smile was beatific. “Just wanted to hear you laugh.”

I squeezed his arm, grateful for his distracting me, and we continued following the staff member the long way through the hall of horrors. The intimidation of this part of Lucifer’s palace didn’t just come from the demons chained underneath the glass floor, but also from the hundreds—thousands?—of wings pinned to the walls. Azazel’s collection was impressive. Lucifer’s put his to shame.

It was yet another visible reminder of how many times Lucifer had triumphed over those who sought to cross him, an unfathomable display of his power and cruelty.

It made it all the harder to put one foot in front of the other, considering I intended to offer myself up to him for punishment.

Doubts crept in.

Was I really going to do this? Did I really need to do this? Lucifer hadn’t come for me yet. I could just sit this one out. Not too late to turn back yet. My visit hadn’t been announced, Lucifer didn’t know I was coming, so I could just make a beeline for the exit again, and Mammon would all too gladly fly me home.

Azazel probably hadn’t found me missing yet. I’d be back before he knew it, no harm done, nothing amiss. He didn’t want me to do anything about this, and I could just take him at his word and accept his—and Azmodea’s—waiver of their right to see their mom to keep me from being hurt.

Something pulled tight and twisted in my insides, and my breath faltered. A heavy weight settled on my chest, choking me.

No. No, I had to do this.

I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, knowing I was the reason Azazel would never see his mom again. And considering I was now immortal, that was a hell of a long time to not be able to look at myself in the mirror.

Taking a bracing breath, I pulled my shoulders back, lifted my chin, and walked on.

We exited the hall into the large lobby with two staircases curving up the sides, the giant double doors to the throne room—currently closed—in the opposite wall. The staff member made a beeline for another demon in staff uniform to our right and conferred with him for a few seconds. The male demon jerked his head to the average-sized door behind him.

Our escort signaled us to follow as she marched on through the door the other demon had indicated. We walked through side corridors that, while a fraction of the size of the halls we’d come through, were still decked out in luxurious decorations, tastefully arranged to not overwhelm the senses, but nonetheless screaming, “I’m rich, bitch.”

Even after living in Azazel’s mansion for a year, which didn’t lack in luxurious furnishings and featured more wealth than I’d ever seen in person in my entire life, I hadn’t gotten used to being surrounded by so many ostentatiously expensive things. It still made me feel like a dog who’d rolled around in mud and now tracked it all into a freshly cleaned house.

Finally, we seemed to arrive at our destination. Our staff escort walked out into what appeared to be a courtyard—of giant proportions, of course—where a small crowd of demons lingered, their attention focused on something in the center of the square that was currently hidden from our view. The gloom of Hell’s sky stretched overhead, purple lightning adding to the scant illumination of braziers set up around the courtyard’s perimeter.

“Your grace,” the staff member called out, and sank to one knee, bowing her head.

Mammon tugged on my hand as he kneeled as well, and for a second, I was frozen in indecision. Last time, Azazel had advised me to go down on both knees, a subtle indication of my difference in rank as opposed to the other demons who knelt on only one knee.

But that was back when I’d been playing the part as Azazel’s “pet.” Things had changed since then. My rank was now officially equal to Azazel’s, and it would only be proper to kneel on one knee like the others.

Then again…I was here after breaking an oath I swore to him, coming from a position of debt. Wouldn’t it be more appropriate to kneel on both knees? Or should I prostrate myself completely before him? Would that appease him somehow?

“Zoe,” Mammon hissed under his breath.

I’d hesitated too long. Demons were already turning around to look at us, the crowd parting in the middle, revealing a tall figure with gleaming blond hair—

I made a sound of distress and scrambled to get down to my knees, but my foot slipped on the smooth stone. Arms windmilling, I tumbled down in a graceless heap, slipped again on my knees, and landed on my front, barely keeping my face from kissing the ground as I slapped my hands down to at least break part of my fall.

One year of martial arts training with Azazel, and I still managed to have the elegance and dexterity of a fish flopping around on land.

My breath puffed against the cool stone. All right, then. Prostrating myself, it was. I was just going to stay right here, make it seem deliberate.

The low chuckles coming from the group of demons proved they’d seen my clumsy scrambling for what it was.

“What do you have here?” Lucifer’s voice floated over to me, still melodious and charming despite the shitty character of its owner.

I kept my gaze glued to the floor.

“Your grace,” the staff member began. “Lady Zoe, wife of Azazel, here to call on you in an urgent matter. Do you wish to grant her an audience?”

Silence.

Heart pounding, I dared to lift my eyes to peek through the strands of my hair hanging down over my forehead to check out the situation.

Lucifer, first fallen angel, former brightest star of Heaven, stood over the mangled body of some unlucky demon. The King of Hell’s finely tailored clothes might have been of some dark gray color at some point—it was a bit hard to tell with the splatter of blood painting them scarlet. A few flecks of red dotted his face of pale, angelic beauty, his turquoise-colored eyes glowed, and his usual crown of black metal sat atop his golden hair.

“Lady Zoe,” he purred, smiling with all the sharpness of a shark. “My, my. Do I wish to grant you an audience?”

He leaned down, reached toward the mutilated demon at his feet, and tore something from the body. The demon’s scream rent the air. Lucifer’s bloodied hand came away holding an entire arm, sinews dangling from the point where it’d been ripped off. He nonchalantly flipped it in the air, then hurled it far up with a mighty swing.

The arm flew up toward the gloomy sky—and then a shadow darkened the courtyard. A humongous beast streamed overhead, snatched the arm out of the air, and swallowed it.

A dragon. He’d just fed a fucking dragon that apparently lurked in standby mode to dispose of the limbs Lucifer ripped off some unfortunate demon who’d pissed him off somehow.

Lucifer turned back to me, and his smile chilled the marrow in my bones. “Why, do I ever, my dear.”