by Eve Langlais
“She works to benefit you.”
“Don’t you blame this on me. I was perfectly happy with my life. I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“You’re the Antichrist.” Boldly spoken because it was the truth.
“What if I am? It’s just a name. In case you weren’t paying attention, I haven’t done shit. I’ve not been going around murdering people or starting wars. Hell, I haven’t even shoplifted anything lately.” More to piss off his dad, who hated it every time he paid for something and left a tip.
“The words of the prophecy—”
“Can bite me. Last I heard, there was this thing called free will, and I plan to use it. Also, before you judge me, whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty? How you gonna condemn me for something I haven’t even done?” Yet.
Raphael jumped to the ground, landing lightly on his slippered feet, his height more impressive now that they were face-to-face. “Once you’ve committed to your course, it will be too late. We have to cease the possibility right now.”
It occurred to him that Ralphie was alone. Super odd, given that Chris knew the angels usually roamed in packs. “Why are you here?” he suddenly asked. “Did God send you?”
“Our Lord is tending to other matters.”
“He has no idea you’re here, and neither do your buddies.”
“I undertook this mission alone to plead with you to do the right thing.”
Chris leaned on his shovel and drawled, “What is the ‘right thing?’ Killing myself?”
“I would never ask someone to commit such a sin.”
“Wouldn’t ask, and yet what other choice is there? Tell me, Ralphie, what am I supposed to do? Tonight, I did nothing. Nothing at all. And still, people wanted to pledge themselves to me.”
“They died for their promise.”
“They didn’t die because of me.”
“Not directly, and yet the common link is you.”
Chris began tipping the bodies into the hole. Thunk, thud, squish. “Don’t blame me for the actions of others. I am not my mother. She has her own game. I have nothing to do with it.”
“Then prove it. Renounce her. Forsake your father. Pledge yourself to repent and pay penance.”
Pausing in his burial, Chris gaped at him. “Repent for what? Being fucking born? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“This is not a humorous matter, progeny of Lucifer.”
“I’m not fucking laughing. But I’m also not repenting or dying or anything else either. Not for you, your god, or anyone. I have just as much right to live as the next man.”
“Is that your final answer, Son of Perdition?”
“You can tell God and all your angelic brothers that I am not going to roll over. I might not know what my future holds, but I’ll damned well be the one in charge of it. Not some prophecy by long-dead farts.”
“You’ve been warned.” With that final ominous statement, Raphael sprang into the air, his white wings unfurling and then flapping as he took off, taking his sanctimonious attitude with him.
“Prick,” Chris muttered.
“Actually,” said a new voice, that of his cousin, who came sauntering out of the shadows. “He has none. Dick, that is. The extremely devoted voluntarily make themselves eunuchs so they might better serve my father without the distraction of lust.”
“He cut off his dick?” Chris shuddered. “That’s just wrong.”
“What did he want?” Jesus asked, heading to the edge of the pit and looking down.
“For me to hand myself over and basically renounce everything.”
“It won’t stop what’s to come.”
“Kind of what I said.” Chris began to dump dirt on the bodies. “What are you doing here? I didn’t know the mother-in-law invited you.”
“She didn’t. However, a little bird told me there was trouble. I arrived too late.”
“You missed a visit from my mother.”
“I take it, it didn’t go well?
Chris arched a brow. “Did the bodies give it away?”
“Isobel is alive?”
“I’d be laying waste to the world if she wasn’t,” he grumbled.
“You do realize your mother might try to kill her again.”
“Yeah.” His mommy had issues.
“What are you going to do about it?” Jesus kept yapping and asking questions but didn’t offer any solutions.
Pity, Chris could have used an idea. “Dunno.” Short of killing someone who couldn’t be killed, what could he do?
As if reading his mind, Jesus said, “Now that your mother is on the mortal plane, it might be possible to destroy her.”
“How? Because my understanding is, she can’t be killed, which is why Merlin and my dad locked her away.”
“That happened centuries ago. We’ve gotten better weapons since then.”
Could one of them truly kill his mom? It shouldn’t have caused a pang, but it did. Still, what choice did she leave him?
“Are you offering to take care of Morgana?” Calling her his mom while discussing her murder seemed cold even by his standards.
“Not me, but I can arm some people.”
“Don’t you mean angels?”
Jesus nodded. “But I need your help. You need to lure Morgana out into the open.”
Betray his mom to save Isobel and maybe the world?
Rather than reply, he indicated the other shovel.
Jesus grimaced but rolled up his sleeves and grabbed it. Together, the sons of God and the Devil buried bodies in a backyard under the waning moon while Isobel remained unconscious in bed.
While Chris wondered if he could lead his mother into a trap. Kill the woman who’d birthed him.
Would it save the world?
Would it save him?
And if he failed? What would happen then?
16
Foot dangling off the armrest of the chair, Bambi awaited the return of her father. She’d been summoned into his mighty presence and knew better than to leave before talking to Daddy Dear.
Not that she ever called him “Daddy” to his face. Only Muriel ever survived that privilege. Most of the time, the Devil preferred to pretend he had no progeny. Kids made him feel old. The fact that he’d come into existence at the dawn of humanity never even entered his mental process.
But despite his gruff exterior, she could comfort herself with the fact that he didn’t completely ignore her as he did some of his other daughters. All dead now. It wasn’t easy being Lucifer’s kid. People tried to use them to get to their father. Threatened them if he didn’t comply.
Father never gave in to terrorists or blackmail. He did, however, punish them later. Cold comfort to the siblings who perished.
Since his involvement with Gaia, and the advent of decent birth control, Lucifer no longer fathered any bastards at all, which meant Bambi only had Muriel left for family—and her recently discovered brother, Chris. Although, given Chris’s actions, she wouldn’t wager he’d live long.
He seemed intent on doing his best to poke the Devil. At some point, the Devil would poke back—with a sharpened stake.
Speaking of, the Devil arrived wearing a scowl, smoke pouring from his ears. “Fuck me! This is not what I’d planned to do tonight.”
Noting his suit, which lacked any kind of outrageous color or animal print, she couldn’t help but remark, “You’re looking awfully respectable. Who were you trying to impress?”
Lucifer glared down at his ensemble. “Gaia. She hid my duckies on me. And my sharks. She got rid of all my custom-made outfits, even the sailor suit.”
Thank you, Gaia. “Is that why you look pissed?”
“No, I’m pissed because what was supposed to be a fun evening of taunting and mayhem has now turned into a working one. Damnable woman. She killed them all.”
“Killed who, my lord?” This was one of the times where she needed to be more the employee than the daughter.
“The guests at Christ
opher’s party.”
“My brother had a party and didn’t invite me?” She scowled. “That little fucker. And after all the times I helped him.”
“While I’d usually tell you to hate on him, this wasn’t actually his fault. His mother-in-law arranged it, and it was more business meeting than party, really. Bunch of bigwigs from around the world who wanted to pledge their allegiance to the Antichrist and all that shit. Which is dumb, considering their sins mean their souls belong to me already.”
“Is that why you killed them?” she asked, trying to understand.
“Not me. Her.”
“Her…who?”
“Morgana, his mother.”
Bambi blinked her extra-long lashes—all-natural, and at great cost. “His mom showed up? How did that happen? I thought that spell you cast was supposed to keep them apart.”
“It did. For a while. But the bastard might be a touch stronger than I gave him credit for. The spell I placed on him is completely gone now. Every single layer of magical protection—poof!” Lucifer smacked his palms together, the sound echoing like an explosion. “Which means that his hag of a mother can find him anytime she likes.”
“Which is bad?”
“Depends on which side of it you’re on. For me? Very bad. Because now that they’re reuniting, we won’t be able to stop it,” Lucifer grumbled. “This will mean the end of my reign and chaos on Earth.
“Kind of melodramatic, don’t you think?”
“Don’t mock me. This is a catastrophe.”
“Are you sure? Because you also claimed calamity when Cook ran out of maple syrup.”
“You have no idea how close it came then,” he muttered. “And now, we’re even more fucked.”
“Can you rewind and explain exactly what happened at this party that’s got you in a tizzy?”
“Take a gander for yourself.”
He waved a hand, and an opaque disk stretched and hung itself midair, acting as a screen.
She watched what appeared to be a rather stuffy dinner, attended by her brother, Chris, and his wife.
“Looks boring,” she remarked.
“Wait for it.” The scene sped forward, and Bambi noted the confrontation between Chris and an older woman. Lucifer arrived, and the old broad turned hot.
Bambi poked the image to pause it. “Did I hear you correctly when you said her name was Morgana? We’re not talking the Morgana, are we?”
“Yes, that Morgana. Le Fay. In the flesh. Pissed-off flesh, I might add.”
“Pissed because you locked her up.”
“Because she gave us no other choice.”
“Us being?”
“Me, Merlin, and my brother.”
She blinked in disbelief.
Lucifer shrugged. “It might not happen often, but Elyon and I occasionally work toward a common goal.”
“In this case, the common goal being locking way a pregnant woman. What exactly did she do that was so bad?”
“Went on a rampage with her horsemen. Caused all kinds of death, which, in turn, meant a shit-ton of work for me. Dark days,” he said with a glower. “She had to be stopped.”
“But she was pregnant.”
“So she claimed. At the time, I would have sworn it wasn’t mine.”
Even Bambi had to cringe at his coldness in incarcerating a pregnant woman. But this was Morgana Le Fay, the strongest witch ever known to man. Imprisoning her was merciful compared to other—more permanent—options of removal.
Rebuking her father wouldn’t serve any purpose. Instead, she poked the vision, and it continued playing, showing Morgana turning into a smoky wraith, bodies dropping to the floor, including Isobel.
She leaned close and studied the image. “Is everyone dead?”
“Everyone in that room died, except the Rasputins and your brother. Those outside, having a cigarette or fooling around in the bushes, who missed her banshee cry were slaughtered by the horsemen who snuck onto the property.”
“I assume they weren’t godly men and women?”
“Not even fucking close. All of them despots and murderers and corporate magnates, the worst criminals of all. Which means, I’ll need to process them myself.”
Bambi leaned back. “And that’s why you’re pissed? It’s not that big of a deal. You were going to get their souls sooner or later.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t expecting every one of those dead leaders pledged to Christopher’s cause to join them at the same time,” he grumbled.
“You lost me again.”
“The dinner was a power move by Marya, Isobel’s mum. Bloody witch invited all the Atheos in power so they could meet the Antichrist and give him an army.”
Chris made a power play? No wonder Daddy was pissed. “Now that their leaders are dead, doesn’t that make the deal null and void?”
“No. Because the soldiers have joined their leaders in Hell.”
“All of them?” Bambi’s eyes widened. “But how?”
“Pestilence, Famine, and Death have been busy sowing their seeds around the world. Thousands upon thousands have died this night. With thousands more expected tomorrow and the day after.”
“Does Chris know?”
“Does it matter? It has begun. We are moving toward the final battle.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Fuck if I know. The seers never see past the fight itself. Just the events leading up to it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Pack my suitcase and call it a day.”
Bambi gaped. “You’re leaving?”
“Yup. I am not in the mood to deal with the end of the world.”
“What about your minions? Hell?” She knew better than to ask about her own wellbeing. Daddy liked those who helped themselves—especially if they did it without paying. The King of Lies was also the king of dine and dash.
Lucifer tucked his hands behind his back. “Usually, I would say fuck it, but being a reformed man because of my hot wife, I actually have a plan.”
Given the glint in his eyes and the smirk on his lips, Bambi wouldn’t like it.
“What are you going to do?”
“More like, who am I going to screw?” Lucifer laughed. But no one laughed with him.
When she heard his plan, she could only shake her head. “This won’t end well.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying. If I were you, daughter, I’d plan an extended vacation elsewhere.”
Leave? While not the most altruistic person, Bambi did have some lines.
“We have to tell Muriel.”
“Already did. She thinks I am overreacting.”
“Are you?” The Devil could be a bit of a drama llama.
“Time will tell.”
“If there is such a notion as time when all is said and done,” she grumbled.
“Such pessimism. Don’t you have any faith at all?”
“No. You told me faith was for morons and to sell them fake holy water and then watch as vampires eat them.”
“That’s brilliant.” Lucifer grinned, with too many teeth. “I really should write a book. The Devil’s Guide to Common Fucking Sense. Maybe I’ll do that once I retire.”
Yes, retire, because the Devil’s brilliant plan was to let someone else take over his job.
17
Chris gaped at his dad and blurted, “Me? You want me to rule over Hell?”
Of course, that wasn’t how the conversation had started. It began with, “Dirty peeping motherfucker,” when Chris noticed the old goat at the foot of the bed, leering at him and Isobel.
No knock, because that would imply manners.
No warning, because that was how the Devil rolled.
“Is that lazy wife of yours still sleeping?” his dad asked.
“She’s in a coma, asshole.”
“Then wake her up. Give the girl a kiss. Or you could take a page from that delightfully decadent set of books Anne Rice wrote and try someth
ing a little kinkier.”
“I am not molesting my wife while she’s unconscious.” Although he did find himself stroking her cheek more than once. It stunned him still to realize that he’d almost lost her.
Only Isobel, her mother, and her grandfather had survived. Of the dignitaries who’d promised him an army? All dead. Even the servants had croaked.
Thanks a lot, Mother. So much for finally building a legion of loyal troops. In one fell swoop, his mother had taken it all away, and the demon responsible had returned to cause more shit.
“If you’re not willing to give the girl some tongue, then I guess I can weather Gaia’s wrath and do it for you.” Lucifer approached, and despite Isobel being dressed, Chris drew the covers to her neck and glared.
“Don’t you dare touch her.”
“You do realize that challenging someone as testosterone-charged as me almost guarantees I will do just that.”
“Lay one finger on my wife, and I will find a way to kill you.”
“If I hadn’t made other plans, I’d be curious to see you try. Alas, I am expected elsewhere shortly.”
“Then go.”
The Devil seemed rather put-out. “Not going to ask me where I’m going?”
“Don’t care.”
“Of course, you do. I can see the curiosity burning bright inside you.”
“The only thing I’m curious about is how far I can shove my foot up your ass.”
“Farther than you’d expect. But we digress. I’m leaving,” Lucifer announced.
“Good.”
“As in leaving-leaving. Not only Earth, but Hell. But before I go, I need to put my affairs in order.”
The claim drew Chris’s attention. “What are you talking about?”
“I am talking about naming an heir. Someone to take over, to continue meting out the epic torture that Hell is known for.”
An heir? Chris’s momentary elation quickly deflated. “Let me guess, you’ve come to rub my face in the fact you chose Muriel to take over the family business.”
Lucifer’s face crinkled as he made a moue of displeasure. “Muriel? Take over Hell? But she’s a girl.”
“Since when do you care? You’re always asking her for help.” And yes, that might have emerged a little sulkier than he liked.