However, my aggravation is instantly erased as we travel into the heart of the city. New Orleans is electric. Music, dancing, people everywhere celebrating for no other reason than loving life. The architecture is like nothing I’ve ever seen, and there’s just something so magical about the energy that seems to radiate in every brick and every plank of wood. As if New Orleans has its own pulse, unique from the rest of the world.
The driver pulls the car up to a hotel on Canal Street, and I’m so stunned by the boutique style exterior that I don’t even note the name. It’s not until we walk inside and approach the check-in counter that I lift an amused brow.
“Welcome to The Saint Hotel. Do you have a reservation?”
“No,” Lucifer replies nonchalantly.
The woman’s nametag reads Dawn, a lovely young redhead with a southern accent. The thought of Lucifer fucking her too in exchange for accommodations passes my mind, and instantly my mood begins to sour again.
She taps a few keys and looks down at her computer screen. “I’m sorry, sir. It appears that we’re booked. If you’d like to—”
Lucifer steps in closer, charging the air with static electricity with the movement. The hair on the back of my arms stands straight, and there’s an unexplainable tingle—almost like a sizzle—that ignites my skin.
“Look at me, child,” he gently demands.
Dawn concedes, perplexed.
And then she sees it. I can’t be sure of what was revealed within his swirling, speckled depths, but something clicks into place. Her eyes widen with horror and reverence. I don’t know if she’s on the verge of crying or falling to his feet. Maybe a combination of both.
“Remember whom it is you serve,” Lucifer chides before taking a step back and releasing her from his devastating stare. “Now…let’s try this again.”
Within three minutes flat, we have the key cards to our suite, our bags are already on their way up, and we’re stepping into the elevator with fresh glasses of champagne in hand.
When we arrive at the suite, I can’t help but shake my head and laugh at the door signage.
“Self-absorbed much?”
“What?”
I point to the embossed plaque. “The Lucifer Suite? Can you be any more obviously obsessed with yourself?”
He flashes a disarming crooked grin. “Wouldn’t you be if you were me?”
The suite is exactly what I’d expect, yet I’m still floored by the lavishness. Red walls, black marble, crystal chandeliers, plush king-sized beds, and even a stripper pole. And while it’s all a feast for the senses, I’m less than thrilled to be staying here. With him.
“Isn’t there a way to get my own room?”
Lucifer makes a face. “And why would you do that? This is a two bedroom suite.”
“I know, it’s just…” How do I explain that I don’t want to stay with him without sounding silly and immature? “It’s probably more appropriate that I get another room.”
“So you’d rather be several yards away, knowing there’s a deranged super demon on the hunt, plus whatever rogue Seraphim could be out for blood? Seconds, Eden. That’s how long it would take to tear your pretty little head from your shoulders. Don’t flatter yourself. Instead try to be a bit more grateful.”
He turns around without waiting for a rebuttal and stalks to one of the bedrooms, leaving me alone with my pettiness.
Reluctantly, I carry my dejected ass to the other bedroom, and inwardly admit that I must be crazy to want to give this up. Plus, each room has it’s own full bathroom, so I don’t have to risk any embarrassing run-ins with Lucifer. It’s not like we’ll be spending all our time here anyway. This may be a vacation for him, but it certainly isn’t for me.
After two hellish days, I’m wound so tight that it feels like I have two-ton boulders bearing down on my back and shoulders, so I decide to take a bath in the beautiful clawfoot tub. There are floral scented bath oils and salts provided on the sink, so I throw in a mixture of both and put the water just below scalding.
The moment I submerge my body in the hot water, I feel the tension and stress begin to melt away, letting my mind wander to things I would rather keep buried behind a mask of eye rolls and pursed lips. Part of me doesn’t want to believe that Legion could still be alive. If we do find him, there’s no guarantee there actually is a way to save him. And I can’t succumb to false hope, just to have it crushed by the fate of my reality. I won’t believe in a fairy tale only to have it turn into an American Horror Story.
And then there’s the matter of Phenex and his request. He’s right—Legion needs to be stopped. And he didn’t surrender The Redeemer just so we could have a nice chat with Legion. I could see it in his tear-filled, soulful eyes. He wants me to kill his brother. No, not want. He needs me to. And I don’t know if I could ever forgive myself if I failed him again.
The combination of the warm water, the soothing scents, and the soft lighting put a hex on my eyelids, and within minutes, I’m drifting away. I know I shouldn’t, but for the first time in a long time, I’m able to relax just a bit. Five minutes, I tell myself. I’m just going to rest my eyes for five…
I’m in a long hallway with yellow wallpaper. Yellow wallpaper with tiny pink flowers. It’s ugly, but at least it’s not crying blood. There are eight doors, and all of them are closed. All except one at the end of the hall.
I slowly walk towards it on shaky legs, my breaths short and rapid. I should turn around, but I have nowhere to go. I don’t even know where I am. I look behind me, but all I see is hallway with ugly yellow wallpaper that seems to go on for miles. Those same eight doors with the last one ajar. I can’t leave. The only way out is through.
There’s the sound of running water coming from that room and sheer plumes of steam billow from the door. It must be a bathroom, but why would the water be running when no one seems to be here?
It seems like hours tick by before I reach the door and touch my fingers against the wood to push it open. Steam wafts over me, coating my skin with humidity. I don’t want to do this. There’s no way to prepare for whatever horror awaits me. But I know I have to walk through this door. There’s a reason why this was the only door that was open. I’m meant to be here. I’m meant to see what’s on the other side.
I suck in a lungful of warm, damp air and push against the wood, just enough for the door to slowly swing open so I can step inside. In one blink, it’s a typical bathroom, complete with white tiles, a floral shower curtain, and a modest vanity. In the next, it’s doused in red.
Blood seems to rain down from the ceiling, dripping onto my hair and shoulders. I shield my face just long enough to hurriedly turn and make a run for it, but the door is not only closed, it’s locked. And raggedly carved into the wood is the Demoori Sheol symbol that I saw the night before. The fallen shall reign. This isn’t just a dream. It’s a vision.
No. No. I can’t do this. First fire, now blood? And as I look down, I realize that I’m standing in a thick, warm puddle of it and I’m barefoot. The only way out is through, I try to remind myself. If Legion has purposely led me here, it must be a clue. I have to do this, even if it terrifies me to the point of tears.
I desperately paw at my face, trying to clear the blood from my eyes and nose. I won’t last long in here like this, so I need to be quick. Once my vision is momentarily cleared, I realize that there are razorblades littered on the ground, and all of them form a trail to the bathtub enclosed by a bloodstained, floral shower curtain. Shit.
“Don’t. Don’t look.” I nearly sob at the sound of his whispered voice, although it sounds weaker, raspier. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Then why did you bring me?”
“I didn’t.”
I turn around to call him a liar—to beg him to be a liar—even though I know he’s not there. If he didn’t bring me here, who did? Could it be me that’s conjuring him subconsciously?
The blood is getting deeper, and it has saturated my clothing. I’m running out of
time. So I step forward, working to avoid the razorblades, but there are so many of them, almost like they’re multiplying. I flinch as I feel one nick the bottom of my foot, but I keep going. If I stop now, I’ll never talk myself into starting again.
The very second I make it to the tub, the blood rain ceases. Steam billows from behind the curtain and I can hear the faucet still running. Water, I lie to myself. It’s just water. And even though I repeat it in my head over and over, I can’t make it true. I know that when I slide open the curtain, I’ll find that blood is coming out of the faucet and filling up the tub and pouring down its sides. I’ll see even more razorblades. And I’m right.
It must be raining red again, because there is warmth running down my cheeks. There’s so much…so much and so dark that I can’t possibly see anything else.
But I do.
I do.
Smeared on the tiled wall in thick crimson are four letters. And those four letters are more alarming—more disturbing—than anything else I’ve experienced in this bathroom of horrors.
EDEN
I jerk awake choking on a scream, my arms and legs thrashing furiously as if I’m drowning and fighting my way to the surface. Even that would be better than my reality. Because I’m submerged up to my chin in a luxurious clawfoot bathtub full of red, boiling blood, and I’m being cooked alive.
I barely register a flash of movement before I’m hoisted from the tub in one swift movement. Lucifer grips my raw, naked body to his hard chest, cradling the back of my head to bury my face in his shirt.
“What happened?” he demands, his breathing almost as labored as mine.
“I… I fell asleep,” I sob. “I woke up and…”
I can’t say it. What I saw in that bathroom has burned itself into the forefront of my mind where it can plague me whenever I close my eyes. Even in this moment, as I try to blink away the images flashing through my head, it’s there. Waiting. Taunting. And the blood that has been scorched into my skin…I don’t know if it will ever wash off.
“I’m getting you out of here,” he says, and within a blink, he sweeps me up into his arms and rushes me out of the bathroom.
I expect him to put me on my bed, but he swiftly crosses the suite and goes to his room. Once we’re safely inside, he lays me on the bed, even having the decency to cover my naked body with the comforter.
“Did…did you see it?” I ask. Maybe it was all in my head—just residual terror from the dream. Maybe I didn’t just wake up immersed in boiling blood.
“I did,” he answers.
I don’t know if I should be relieved that I hadn’t imagined it all, or even more disturbed that something like this could even happen. How is it possible? The dream was unsettling enough. The blood, the razor blades, my name smeared in thick red on the shower wall. I know what it means. I knew it in Grant Park as I looked into Legion’s eyes and saw The Many staring back at me.
“He marked me,” I whisper. “They marked me.”
Lucifer shakes his head, but asks, “How do you know that?”
“I was in another dream. There was a long hallway with eight doors. Only one was open. I needed to go through it.”
Lucifer sits beside me on the bed. He doesn’t touch me, but his warmth seems to find me, expelling the haunting chill. “What did you see?”
I suck in a shaky breath. I don’t want to go back there, but I must. “It was raining blood. And on the door, those demon symbols had been carved into the wood. But not with a knife or tool. It looked…it looked like it was scratched in by fingernails. And there were razor blades all over the floor leading to the bathtub.”
I shiver, and Lucifer moves closer, as if he knows that I need his body heat and his comfort. “What was in the bathtub, Eden?”
I shake my head, trying desperately to stop the tears from falling. I’m stronger than this. Yet, all I want to do is run back to Irin’s fortress and never come out. At least there, I’ll know I’m safe. They may find me in my dreams, but they can’t hurt me there.
“I slid open the shower curtain, and the tub was full of blood,” I rasp, my voice trembling. “Gallons and gallons. Thick and steaming, like it was fresh. And on the wall, my name…my name was smeared in it.” I turn to Lucifer, my eyes wide with horror. “They know who I am. They know that I was there—that I was watching. Like they wanted me to come.”
“Could it be Legion giving you a clue?”
“No, The Many. He said it wasn’t him.”
“He was there?” Lucifer’s angelic face morphs into one of unrestrained rage when he rips himself from the bed. “And he didn’t try to help you?”
“I don’t think he could. It was like he was there but he wasn’t. Or maybe I just imagined him to be. Maybe I just wanted him there and my subconscious conjured him.”
“He’s stronger than that.” Lucifer roughly rakes a hand through his hair. “He’s stronger than he even knows.”
I watch as he scrubs a hand over his face, realizing that for the first time since he conned his way into my life, Lucifer is rattled. I don’t know if it’s from hearing my account or the blood bath or frustration over Legion, but something has definitely scared the Devil. And now I’m even more petrified.
“I’m going to go deal with the mess,” he mumbles. But before he can step away, I reach out and grab his arm.
“No. Please. Don’t…don’t leave me. Please.”
I’m pathetic, and begging Lucifer to stay goes against everything I believe, but being alone right now seems ten times worse than swallowing my pride. I can still feel the blood on me—thick and sticky and hot. The metallic tinge still stings my nostrils and nausea churns like a wave pool in my gut. I’m a mess, my eyes won’t stop leaking, and my hands won’t stop trembling. That dream broke me. The Many broke me. And until I can muster the strength to put myself back together again, I need him to stay.
He looks down at me, a slight frown dimpling his forehead. His lips part, but instead he shakes his head.
“I need to handle this.”
“But I—” I begin to plead.
He holds up a hand, cutting me off. “You won’t be alone.”
Lucifer sucks in a breath and closes his eyes. The air around him begins to shimmer and vibrate, the power radiating from his frame a palpable force. He releases a slow, sinuous hiss and then whispers, “Nikolai.”
My confusion only lasts a mere second before I hear a knock at the door. In the next moment, Lucifer dematerializes and he welcomes our guest. He’s aggravated, wondering why the hell he’s been summoned. Lucifer tells him that he’ll see soon enough. Even with a fraction of my confidence restored with his presence, I don’t breathe. Not until Niko’s beautiful face comes into view.
“Eden,” he rasps, when those ice blue eyes fall over me, his expression crumpled. I know what he sees—me, naked in Lucifer’s bed, sopping wet, my skin streaked with blood. The tears fall even faster, but I quickly dash them away.
“She’s been dreaming of Legion. Of The Many,” Lucifer explains, and I’m grateful. I can’t speak of it again. Not right now. “He…they…they’ve been showing her things. Clues. When she woke up, she was in a tubful of blood. And it was boiling.”
Niko rushes to my side, getting as close as possible to assess any injuries. He isn’t afraid to touch me, and for that I’m glad. Even with his icy fingers running over my bare shoulders, his gentle caress reminds me that this is real. My nightmare is over.
“Are you hurt? Let me tend to your burns,” he insists, careful not to pull the comforter down to expose my naked flesh.
I shake my head. “There’s…nothing. My skin feels a little raw, but it doesn’t hurt, promise.”
He doesn’t look convinced and continues to inspect the patches of skin that aren’t concealed by the blanket. “Your flesh should be melting off your bones,” he mutters quietly, his voice marked with awe. He looks to Lucifer. “You were right to call for me. I’ll take care of her.”
Lucifer
nods once. “I need to deal with this.”
Then without so much as a glance in my direction, he’s gone.
Niko turns back to me and tenderly grasps my hand. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
He leads me to the bathroom, insisting that he’ll be right there the entire time. I’m more than a little reluctant to drop my sheet in front of him, even though just a week ago, I was ready to shimmy out of my thong and offer my supernatural essence and my body to him during the breathing ritual. I’m such a fool. I’m stronger than this, yet I’m allowing him to care for me like a child. Like a meek little girl who’s afraid of the dark. Still, I don’t ask him to leave, even after he turns on the shower and offers to wait outside the bathroom door so I can get in. The time for modesty has come and gone, and I’d rather be embarrassed for a few seconds than look up to find it’s raining blood again.
“Are you ok?” he asks from the other side of the shower stall once I’ve stepped under the clear, warm spray.
I look down at my feet as pink-tinged water trickles down the drain, and lie, “Yes.”
“If I would’ve known this would happen, I wouldn’t have left. You know that, right?”
“I know.”
“I thought you were safe. You were back at Irin’s. You had the Se7en and Lucifer and…I thought you were safe.”
“I know.”
I quickly shampoo the blood from my hair before shutting off the water. I keep waiting…I keep waiting for it turn red. Keep waiting for Niko to disappear and for Legion to be on the other side of that shower. Lucifer was angry with him. He believes he could have fought The Many, that he should have done something. At this point, I can’t even fathom what they’re capable of.
Nikolai has a big fluffy towel outstretched for me when I slide open the glass door. As respectful as always, he doesn’t look, even as he wraps it around my dripping wet body. When we reenter the bedroom space, the bed is made and the sheets are no longer stained with blood.
“Here. Put these on,” he says conjuring a pile of clean, fresh clothes from nothing. I smile gratefully, and he turns to let me dress.
Fallen Reign (Se7en Sinners Book 4) Page 5