Niki Slobodian 04 - The Devil Was an Angel

by J. L. Murray

“She's dead, Eli. Gone. She never did wake up after Michael put her to sleep.” I felt a sting behind my eyes and fought the tears that were trying to well up.

  “How...” Eli stopped and frowned, seeming to be trying to find the right words. “How could you let that happen?”

  “What?”

  His face was so unlike the man I had thought I loved. There was hate in his eyes. He despised me. “You're supposed to be Death now, right? Some sort of magical being. But you let her die, didn't you? All that power, and you let the only living person who gave a shit about you die.”

  I straightened up and hardened my eyes. “It doesn't work like that,” I said gritting my teeth. “There was nothing I could do.”

  “It's always about you, Niki,” Eli spat. “I get it. She was in the way for your new career. Your new friends.” He cast a look at Lucifer. “Hell, the way I hear it, you even have a new father to replace Sasha.”

  I raised my fist and punched him. He staggered back and hit the stone wall hard. He touched his jaw, still glaring at me. I stared at him. I had sent him across the room with one blow. I looked at my fist. It was unscathed, no bruises or cuts or broken bones. And a searing heat was running through my veins. Like a red-hot poker had been shoved into my arm. I clenched and unclenched my fist until the sensation dissipated. That was new. Eli turned and hurried out of the room. I heard his footsteps receding from the hall.

  I looked at Lucifer. “See?” I said. “I told you I could handle it.”

  “I stand corrected,” said Lucifer with a smile.

  “I can deal with Eli,” I said. “He's just mad at me. But unless you don't want my help ever again, don't even think about interfering like that. I can take care of myself.”

  Lucifer bowed. “I apologize.” He stood up and offered his arm again. “Will you still dine with me?”

  I looked at his arm. “I'll eat with you because I'm hungry. But you can put that arm away. I'll walk just fine on my own.”

  We walked in silence for a time, going back up the stairs, the air growing warmer with each step. “He loved you,” Lucifer said.

  “What?” I said.

  “Your friend. Eli. He's angry because he loved you.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because love is the only emotion that can so easily turn to hate.”

  “He didn't use to be that way,” I said. “He was genuinely kind. I don't know what happened.”

  “We choose our paths in life,” said Lucifer. “He has chosen his.”

  “He chose the asshole path, apparently,” I said.

  Lucifer smiled thinly.

  “Just because we choose it, doesn't always mean it's the right one.”

  The dinner was laid out for us by the time we got to the dining room. There was a huge, long table similar to the one we had just left, but our meal was set up on a smaller table near the corner of the room. The square top was piled with food and candles.

  I stopped. “This isn't a date,” I said.

  Lucifer frowned. “Of course it isn't. Why would you think it was?”

  “The candles, the dark lighting, the secluded room...”

  “Ah. All of the elements that a human associates with romance,” he said. His mouth twitched.

  “Well?” I said.

  “I would never dream of such a slight,” he said. “The candles are because it is dark in this room. It is dark in this room because, well, I live in a black tower and all the torches in Erebos couldn't light a room this size. And we are alone because I am always alone. I'm sure you understand that.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Just wanted to get that clear.”

  “Can we sit down now?” said Lucifer. “I'm famished.”

  We ate in silence. Lucifer poured a rich red wine. It was eerily quiet.

  “You really were quite spectacular,” he said finally. “With the lords, I mean. You could be quite a leader if you put your mind to it.”

  “I get that a lot,” I said. “Doesn't seem logical for me, though, does it?”

  “Perhaps not,” he said. “But logic has no place in our world, does it?”

  “Sometimes I think that none of us has a place in our world.”

  “That seems quite bleak,” he said. “Things will get easier for you, Niki.”

  “I don't think things ever got easier for Sam,” I said. “Being Death isn't really something you can ever get used to.”

  “I wasn't talking about being Death,” said Lucifer.

  “Oh,” I said. I drank deeply from my wine glass. “I can't even begin to imagine things getting better, if I'm being honest.” I didn't know why I was telling him this. I wasn't exactly the talk-things-out sort. But something about him was comforting. Maybe it was that he reminded me a little of Sam, or that I knew he was even more unstable than I was. Or maybe just the fact that he was alive and here and talking to me. I trusted him, which was strange for me.

  “Every day you get out of bed,” Lucifer said. “It hurts at first. So much so that you feel you can't possibly hurt any more than you already do. Sometimes it does hurt worse, after a vivid dream or when you're feeling particularly alone. But every day you get out of bed. And it starts to hurt a little less. It gets a little easier to do the things you have to do.” He was swirling the wine in his glass and staring at it. I almost felt I was intruding. “And then one day, you can't quite remember their face, or the way they smelled, or what it felt like to touch them. And that hurts in itself, but in a different way.” He paused his swirling and was silent for a long time. He frowned at his glass. He raised his eyes to me slowly and gave me a sad smile. “I'm sorry,” he said.

  “Her name was Cassandra, wasn't it?” I said. “What was she like?”

  “Yes,” said Lucifer. “She was beautiful. She had a way about her, a sense of calm. When I was out of control, I could look at her and the world would just fade away. It was agony to be without her. When she died, I had to bring her back. And when I lost her a second time, it felt as though a hole ripped in the universe in her shape, something that could never be healed. And then I went mad.” He tipped his glass and finished his wine and poured us each another.

  “I did expect to be a more cheerful host,” Lucifer said.

  “Sam loved you, you know,” I said. “He told me about you.”

  Lucifer sighed. “Poor Samael. We had our problems – and don't mistake me, they were big problems – but he was my brother.”

  “It was my fault,” I said. “You should know that. He died to save me. To save the world. He was unmade, but it was my fault.”

  “I don't believe that,” said Lucifer. “He made a choice. If I could have died to save Cassandra, I would have done it in an instant. With no hesitation whatsoever. I envy Samael. To die for love is the greatest act one can take.”

  “For the devil, you're quite a romantic,” I said.

  “Don't forget, Niki, the devil was an angel, too.”

  I took another sip of wine and looked at him. “I'm sorry I was rude to you,” I said. “Downstairs. You were trying to help me and I snapped at you.”

  “You were right, though,” said Lucifer. “You did indeed handle the boy.”

  “I didn't mean to hit him,” I said. “I just...” I searched for the words. “I used to be angry all the time. I used to use it in my job, even before the Registry. Do you know about the Registry?”

  “Yes,” said Lucifer. “My people have caught me up on current events.”

  “I was so mad at New Government, at the world, at God for everything that happened to me. For everything that happened to everyone. I made a lot of enemies. Back then, I would have punched Eli and not given it a second thought. He had it coming, right?”

  “To be fair,” said Lucifer, “he did have it coming.”

  I smiled, but it faded quickly. “I've lost so much,” I said, my throat tight. “Everything I could lose, I lost. Sasha, Sofi, your brother. Even goddamn Eli Cooper was good once and I lost him, too. Not
as a lover, I don't care about that, but as a friend. Eli and me, we were always friends. I think sometimes that's all we should have been. And now I see death all the time. Horrible things. Murder, accidents, even natural death.” I wiped wetness from my face with the heel of my hand. “It makes me forget who I am. I don't know how to explain it. I just feel like I'm lost sometimes. And I can't wish to go back to my old life, because nothing is the goddamn same anymore.” The tears were coming faster now and my voice was growing thick. “Nothing is the same. And no one is alive but my friend Bobby, and I think he's losing it. But the worst part is that I can't wish for none of this to have happened, because then I wouldn't have met him.” I put a hand to my forehead and closed my eyes. “I wouldn't have met Sam. He was the only good thing to come out of this shitty life. He was a beacon of goddamn hope.” I opened my eyes and took a large swallow of wine, setting the delicate glass on the table carefully. I looked at Lucifer. “And now he's gone.”

  Lucifer was watching me. He didn't rush to my side or tell me to stop crying. He just kept listening. And I was thankful for that. I didn't want comfort, but I needed to say it, just the once. I couldn't keep it in any longer. I took a breath and realized I felt relieved. I picked up my napkin and wiped my face with it. “I'm sorry,” I said. “I'm never like this.”

  “Maybe you should be,” said Lucifer.

  “Why?” I said.

  “Don't you feel better?”

  “Actually, yeah. I do.”

  “You know what they say about keeping your feelings in,” said Lucifer. He drained the remaining contents of the bottle into our glasses. He looked at me and smiled, his eyes dancing. “It'll drive you mad.” I laughed. Lucifer's smile faded after a moment. “It does get better, Niki. You must trust me on that. It won't hurt forever. At least not debilitatingly so.”

  “I know,” I said. “But it kills me. Not the sadness. The grief I can handle. It's been three months. I'm getting used to him being gone.”

  “What then?” said Lucifer.

  “The guilt,” I said. I met his eyes. “Have you ever done something that tears you up inside? Something that consumes you? That you can never take back?”

  Lucifer swallowed, but didn't look away. “Yes,” he said gravely.

  “It's like I can't breathe,” I said. “The war, the death, Sam's unmaking. It's all because of me. I know it's not entirely my fault. But sometimes it's just too much. If I hadn't been here, maybe none of it would have happened.”

  Lucifer leaned forward. The wine was making me lightheaded, and looking into Lucifer's eyes made me feel slightly breathless. Which irritated me.

  “Did you ever stop to consider,” he said, “that you're worth it?”

  “Worth what?” I said.

  “Anything. If Samael truly loved you, everything.”

  “I don't understand that,” I said.

  “Then maybe,” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper, “you've never been in love.”

  I tore my eyes away and took a long drink from my glass. “Don't be stupid. Of course I have.”

  “Really?” he said. “Was it mad and hungry and shredding you up inside all at the same time? Did it hurt in a way that made you want to hurt forever? Did it consume you until all you could think about, no matter what was at stake, was getting back to that person? No matter the cost?”

  I remembered to breathe. “Of course,” I muttered. “Hasn't everyone?” But he had thrown me.

  Lucifer smiled. “Then you've truly lived.” He raised his glass. “To Samael,” he said.

  As I drank to Sam, I stole a glance at Lucifer. He watched me as I drank. Was that what love was? The way he had described it made me feel cold inside. Because I had never felt any of those things.

  SEVEN

  By the time I got back to my room, I was exhausted. I collapsed on the bed, sinking into it as if it were a cloud. I closed my eyes and, even with all the torches blazing, felt myself drifting off. I heard a noise, far-off, but distinctive. I tried to ignore it, but it came again, a heavy silence falling immediately after. It was the silence that made me open my eyes. It was unnatural. I heard the noise again and realized that it was screaming.

  I sat up quickly and looked around the room. The sound was muffled, as though coming through a pillow. I looked at the high archways set into the wall. I had assumed they were just part of the stonework. But getting up and examining them, I could see that they were windows, shuttered up tight with heavy black wood. I unfastened the latch on one and gave it a push. It didn't budge. I stepped back and looked it over. I looked down at my boots, which bleary from wine, I had forgotten to take off. Raising my leg, I kicked at the shutters hard. They gave a crack and swung outward, letting in the hot night air of Erebos. I made a mental note to write a thank you letter to whoever invented steel-toe boots.

  The night was full of violence. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it right away, but the dining room was in the center of the tower, insulated from the noise outside. I watched small figures scattering, running from a group shouting after them. One by one the runners fell and stopped moving. I heard screaming from further away, and shapes moving in the distance, scaling the wall. Outsiders maybe. Or demons attacking Outsiders. The smell of blood was so strong that I may as well have been back in the world, back in that cottage with the whole family dead, mutilated, their faces just as invisible as the faces of the dead below.

  “You can't help them, if that's what you're thinking,” said a voice behind me. I jumped and spun around. Lucifer was standing there, looking past me to the city below. “The only way to help is for me to restore order.”

  “I didn't hear you come in,” I said.

  “I heard a noise,” he said. “I was worried about you.” Lucifer looked at me, a wry smile on his face. “I had these boarded up. I guess you found a way around that.”

  “I heard screaming.”

  “Every night,” he said, the smile fading, a hollow quality to his voice. “The man I was before, he would have killed them all and called it justice. He – I – would have struck them down before they could lodge another blow. I would have saved the lives of those that tonight will suffer and die.”

  “Isn't that better?” I said. “There are families down there.”

  “Do you think the men fighting do not have families?” he said. “They are confused, some of them. Others are just doing as their lords tell them to. Still others have been cast out of this society and are so blinded by revenge that they don't know what they do. Is it justice to kill them?”

  “They're murdering people,” I said. “They don't deserve a second chance.”

  “And you?” he said. “You've killed before, have you not?”

  I stiffened. “Only when I had to.”

  “And for revenge,” Lucifer said, a gleam in his eyes. “Those boys in the warehouse still plague your dreams.”

  I clenched my teeth. “How did you know about that?”

  He smiled. “I'm the devil, Niki,” he whispered. “What do you expect?”

  I looked hard at him. “The devil has never been so merciful.”

  Lucifer's eyes dulled and he stood up straight. “Perhaps not,” he said, the fire gone from his voice. “But it's better than the alternative. You don't know the harm I can cause.”

  I flashed on the world unknitting itself while Sam and I watched in horror. I had done that. I had nearly ended the world. “Actually,” I said with a sigh, “I think I can probably imagine.”

  Lucifer stepped past me and pulled the shutters closed. The noise of fighting and dying became, once again, muffled. He fastened the latch. “The only way to save this city is to save everyone in it. Or at least give them a chance to be good. Surely you can understand that. You know of forgiveness.”

  “You're talking about Sasha,” I said.

  “I was talking about me,” he said, with a smile. “I think you have forgiven me, haven't you? For not helping Samael.”

  “Yeah, I guess
I have,” I said.

  “Will you trust me, Niki?” Lucifer said. “Trust me to do this my way. The right way.”

  “I'm not saying I agree it's the right way,” I said.

  “But?”

  “But I'll trust you,” I said.

  He nodded, satisfied. “Thank you.” He reached out and took my hand. His skin was as hot as Sam's had been. Maybe even hotter. Lucifer squeezed my hand, and let it go. I put my tingling fingers in my pockets as I watched him walk toward the door. He turned the knob, then turned to me, seeming to want to say something. “It's not that I can't stop them all instantly,” he said. “It's that I don't think I'll be able to stop.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “I thought you might,” he said. He smiled thinly. “Good night, Niki.”

  He closed the door quietly behind him, and I was alone with the sound of muffled screams. I kicked off my boots and lay on the bed. It didn't seem nearly as luxurious as it had before. And just as I was deciding that I could never sleep with the carnage happening below, I drifted off to sleep.

  I could feel him. I knew he was somewhere in the darkness. Shapes moved just out of sight. I knew this wasn't the Unsung, though, I was dreaming. This was all in my head.

  “Sam,” I said. “Where are you?”

  There was a shifting, like plates moving, grinding against each other. For a second it hurt, but the sensation passed. When had I started to control my dreams? I couldn't remember if I'd ever done it before. Then again, nothing was the same. I didn't even know what I was capable of.

  “Niki,” said a thin, hollow voice.

  “Sam?” I said, turning around and peering into the darkness. “Where are you?”

  “I'm not strong in Erebos,” said the voice. Something flickered and I turned. Just as I laid eyes on him, he was gone. “I don't have a material form outside of the Deep Blue Sea,” he said, the words no louder than a strong wind. “I'm not strong enough.”

  “But I am,” I said, and as I said the words, in my dream reality, I knew it was true. I narrowed my eyes at the place where Sam's glitchy image had disappeared and focused on the thought of him. I felt a warmth in my chest that spread, tingling its way through my arms and legs and fingers and toes. A shadow appeared for an instant in front of me, then disappeared. I concentrated harder, closing my eyes and tensing my body with the effort.