Reignite (Extinguish Book 2)

by J. M. Darhower

  Lucifer's Hell.

  Desolation.

  Lightning flashed, thunder cracking, rumbling the ground, knocking demons off their feet. Lucifer's wings had emerged, overshadowing everything, obscuring Hell in a shadowy darkness. Demons immediately stopped what they were doing and bowed down as he stood there, eyes sweeping along them all, anger simmering inside of him.

  He said nothing.

  With the snap of a finger, they vanished. Back to their cages, forced back into their torment, as Lucifer locked them all away.

  All except for one, that is.

  Lire.

  The demon was not far in front of him, bowed obediently. Lucifer strolled forward, kicking his side hard. "Get up."

  Lire scrambled to get to his feet. "My Lord."

  "Make sure they're all locked up again," Lucifer said. "You find any stragglers, you let me know and I'll make them regret disobeying me."

  "Yes, anything you need." Lire turned to scamper away but paused after a few steps. "My Lord, it's great to see you, but I thought things were well on earth. We were informed you were roaming free."

  "I was."

  Lire stared at him. "So why are you here?"

  Luce had no answer for that. With another snap of the finger, Lire disappeared, vanquished from sight. Why was he here? He didn't know. This is the last place he wanted to be. But being on Earth, being near Serah, not being able to touch her, or be with her?

  Well, maybe there were two things worse than Hell.

  Luce strode right down the long winding dirt path, leading straight to the decrepit castle, passing not another soul along the way. He went inside, went straight to the conference room, retaking his seat on the carved marble throne in front of the long table. Slouching down, he let out an exasperated sigh and pulled the old deck of cards from his pocket.

  He didn't play War today.

  Today, he played Solitaire.

  The plastic bags dug into Serah's skin, cutting off the circulation as she tried to juggle nearly a dozen of them, clutched tightly in her hands and around her wrists.

  Getting groceries was a pain. Literally.

  She strode through the parking lot toward the motel, trying to endure it, but it got to be too much. Groaning, she set down the bags in the middle of the lot and flexed her fingers, bright red from the strain.

  She needed a car.

  She could afford one with all the money she'd saved working and living at the motel. In fact, she'd made enough the past few months to afford to move out into her own place. Living and working in the same place had gotten to her, messed with her head, so much so she'd passed out on one of the beds last week, fell asleep in the middle of her job.

  It wasn't like her at all.

  She'd dreamed about the man again, the man who was always around yet wasn't really there at all. It was peculiar, and she could remember him so vividly, every detail of his face, even the sound of his voice. It was the first time in all the times she saw him that he actually spoke to her.

  Her boss had offered her a new job, a promotion of sorts, working regular hours at the front desk at night, so Serah figured it was time to move on, settle into a normal routine, try to build a life.

  She hadn't seen the stranger since making that decision.

  Not that any of it was real, anyway. Not that he was real. Her imagination was running wild, conjuring up phantom people in her dreams.

  Or maybe you're really crazy, like the doctors suspected. Who has an entire lifetime of memories wiped away in a freak lightning storm?

  Sighing, Serah reached down to pick up the bags again when a voice cut through the lot nearby, calling out to her. "Here, let me help you."

  She quickly looked up at the sound of the foreign voice with a twinge of an accent, seeing a man she'd never seen before in front of her. A blue suit clung to his frame, his hair long and pulled back. He was unusual looking, his features sharp as chiseled stone right down to the pointy nose. He smiled kindly, though, a tingly sensation creeping along her spine when she looked into his eyes. Bright, bright blue… unnaturally blue… the sort of blue that felt familiar, like a crisp lake full of the coolest, purest water.

  It momentarily entranced her. The man wasn't particularly attractive, but those eyes were.

  "Uh, okay," she said, blinking away her stupor as she shivered from the chill. She returned his smile as he easily picked up all of the bags for her. "Thanks."

  He nodded. "Sure thing, m'lady. Lead the way."

  She continued through the parking lot, straight to her room, and unlocked the door. The man set the bags right inside, pausing near the doorway, being nice enough to not enter without her permission.

  "I appreciate it," she said again. "Truly."

  "Don't mention it," he said. "It's what any gentleman would do."

  In the past six months, Serah hadn't encountered many gentlemen. She'd been hit on, catcalled, and even picked on, but not many have gone out of their way to hold open doors or carry things for her.

  It was certainly a nice change of pace.

  "I'm Sarah," she said politely, holding her hand out to him. "Or, well, you can call me Sarah. That's what everyone calls me now."

  He eyed her peculiarly for a moment before reaching out and taking her hand, bringing it up to his mouth, pressing a light kiss to the back of it that made Serah's cheeks flush.

  "Sarah," he said. "You can call me Don."

  "My Lord!"

  The double doors to the conference room flung open unexpectedly, Lire rushing in without knocking. Luce looked up from his cards, eyes narrowed angrily at the interruption. Lire knew better than to just burst in without permission. Luce had been gone six months, sure, but that was nothing compared to the six thousand years he spent down here before that. How soon they forget.

  Luce was up out of his seat and right in front of Lire before the demon could utter another word. Grasping him around the neck, Luce lifted him off the ground, choking him as he slammed the demon back against the wall beside the door. He flailed, grasping Luce's hand as he struggled against his hold. "I don't recall telling you to enter."

  "My Lord," Lire said again, his voice strained. "There's an angel at the gate."

  Luce glared at him for a moment, straining his senses to try to feel the heavenly presence, but the gate was much too strong. He could only barely feel anything beyond it. Michael had outdone himself this time. There was no escaping that magic. "What angel?"

  "A Dominion," Lire said.

  Ah. Luce let go of Lire. The demon dropped to the ground hard as Luce turned around and walked right back over to his marble throne, sitting down in it. He brusquely waved his hand, motioning for Lire to leave when the demon climbed to his feet. "Send them away."

  Lire raised his eyebrows with surprise. "You don't wish to speak to them?"

  Luce shook his head. In the past he got a kick out of his angelic visitors, entertaining himself by taunting them, teasing them, tempting them… but there was no point anymore. He could convince a hundred of his brothers and sisters to fall, but it wouldn't make a difference. It wouldn't change a fucking thing.

  Besides, the Dominion bored him shitless.

  Lire scurried out, leaving Luce alone again. He went right back to playing Solitaire.

  Every day, like clockwork, the Dominion showed up at the gate. And every day, minutes later, Lire would send him away. It went on for a week—a long, tedious week where Luce barely moved from his chair. Nothing appealed to him anymore.

  It was the seventh day, and Luce haphazardly flipped cards around on the table when the doors to the room flung open again. Luce closed his eyes, sighing exasperatedly, as Lire burst in.

  "My Lord," he shouted. "The angel—"

  "I swear, Lire, if you come to me about that Dominion one more time I will gut you every day for the rest of your miserable existence."

  "Not the Dominion," Lire said, his voice bordering on frantic. "It's—"

  Before Lire could finish, Luce
felt the tingle flow through him, the powerful Grace, so damn familiar, so damn appealing, if it weren't for the pungent odor that accompanied it. "Michael."

  Within seconds, the scent of stagnant water filled the air as Lire choked on his words. Luce opened his eyes again, looking toward the doorway to find the demon impaled on the end of Michael's sword. Michael yanked it out, the demon exploding into a blast of smoke and fire, all trace of him vanishing from the room.

  Shaking his head, Luce turned back to his cards, shuffling the ones in his hand. "That was pointless. He'll just regenerate by tomorrow in the pit."

  "Pointless, maybe," Michael said, "but still satisfying."

  "Self-indulgence," Lucifer said. "Isn't there something in the good book that warns against that?"

  "It's not self-indulgence when it's for the greater good," Michael said. "He was evil."

  "But he wasn't hurting you," Luce pointed out. "In fact, he was announcing your arrival. You should've thanked him. He seems to think you're a big deal, brother. He probably would've thrown you a parade had you asked."

  Michael scoffed. Luce went back to flipping over cards, wordlessly playing his game. After a moment, Michael stepped further into the room. "Nice place you have here."

  Luce stopped what he was doing and glanced at Michael, sensing the sarcasm in his voice. So out of character for the hard-ass Archangel. "Why are you here, Michael? Don't get me wrong—it's bold. Before today, Serah was the only one with the guts to step down here, and she only did it because she was desperate for something. So I can't help but wonder what you want from me."

  Michael looked at him, his expression stoic. "The Dominion has been summoning you for a week, but you haven't responded."

  "Yeah, well, I haven't been in the mood for company."

  "You have a task," Michael said, ignoring his mocking remark.

  "Look, I'm back where you've wanted me… what more do you expect? Me to throw a fucking housewarming party to prove I'm settling in?"

  "A different task," Michael clarified. "An important one."

  "Important enough for my little brother to venture into the unhappiest place on Earth to deliver the message?" Luce leaned back in his seat, kicking his feet up as he regarded Michael curiously. He motioned toward the chair at the other end of the table. "Have a seat."

  Michael didn't sit. "There is an uprising amongst the angels. Some of your old followers, ones who were once forgiven for their debauchery, are planning another revolt."

  "Debauchery," Luce echoed. "That's what we're calling it?"

  "What would you call it?"

  "I'd call it differing opinions… having reservations."

  Michael stared at him. "It doesn't matter what we call it. They are planning to finish what you started."

  "Well, good for them," Luce said. "Maybe they'll have better luck than I did."

  "Do you not see the implications of this? What can happen if they're successful? The world will be destroyed, overrun with sin, the humans corrupted beyond saving."

  "So?"

  "So?" Michael stepped even closer, his voice edging on anger. "You cursed them to the fate of mortality, and you say 'so'? You damned angels to fall to Earth, and then you don't care that the Earth could be destroyed? We watched its creation together! How can you not care? How can you not care when she's there?"

  The mention of Serah, even without uttering her name, caused every inch of Luce to tense up. His eyes narrowed as he glared at his brother. "You have a lot of nerve talking to me about her."

  "Me?" Michael asked incredulously. "What about what you did to her?"

  "I gave her a second chance!" Luce said. "When she dies, she'll go back to Heaven, back where she belongs. You tried to damn her to Hell, the one place she should've never been. So who's the evil one here, brother? Who's the one who doesn't care?"

  "I was doing my job."

  "And that's all it has ever been to you," Luce said. "Work, work, work… but I want to live. I wanted to live."

  Michael glared at him for a moment before looking around the room. "Nice life you have here."

  "Fuck you."

  "While you sit here in your self-imposed exile, I'll be off cleaning up your messes yet again," Michael said. "I knew you were corrupted, miscreant, but I never realized what a coward you could be."

  "Get out," Luce growled.

  "I don't take orders from you," Michael said, standing firmly in spot, defiantly staring at him.

  Angrily, Luce slammed his fist down on the long table, the force making the ground rumble as the marble gave way, a jagged lightning bolt shaped fracture running right down the center of it. "Get out!"

  His voice echoed through the room as thunder cracked above them, the scenery shifting as his anger broke through. Flames incinerated the floor, surrounding the both of them. Lucifer could feel the intense heat, could smell everything around them singeing, but he knew Michael sensed neither. Michael felt nothing. He smelled nothing.

  As far as Lucifer concerned, he was nothing.

  Hesitantly, Michael took a step back, nodding. Michael may not fear him, and wouldn't usually stand down, but Luce had the upper hand down here. All it would take was a snap of his finger and Michael would be locked in a cage somewhere, living his worst nightmare.

  Luce was tempted. He wondered what that was.

  Probably disappointing God.

  Turning, Michael started for the exit as the fire wound down, the flames fading back into a floor. He paused when he reached the door but didn't look back. "Abaddon has been showing himself to the humans."

  "Doesn't surprise me a bit," Luce muttered. It wasn't a rule, so to speak, but it was certainly frowned upon to purposely be seen without a damn good reason. "Still don't see what it has to do with me."

  "He showed himself to her," Michael said. "Out of all the humans in the world, why do you think that is?"

  "You're lying."

  Abaddon wouldn't do that… not with her. Not knowing who she was, not knowing what he knew about Luce.

  "I don't lie," Michael said. "You know that."

  He did know that. If Michael said it, Michael thought it was true. He wasn't always right… fuck, he was often wrong… but he believed it.

  Michael walked out without another word, leaving Luce alone. He turned his attention back to his cards, shoving against the table and sending them flying through the room, whipping through the air like a tornado.

  Luce remembered a time long ago when he'd charmed a naïve human into doing his bidding, tainting her without her knowledge, using her as a pawn in his game.

  Seems his old friend was taking a page from his book.

  Lucifer stood at the gate, a mere foot from the magical charms locking everyone inside. He could feel the energy pulsating from it, pressing upon his skin, trying to force him further away. Above, the reapers swarmed, sensing his presence, watching and waiting to see what he would do.

  Sighing, he pulled the heavenly knife out and eyed it. I sincerely hope this doesn't backfire. He wasn't in the mood to be annihilated today. Sure, he'd regenerate, be no worse for wear come tomorrow, or the next day if they completely obliterated him, but it hurt like a son of a bitch being ripped apart, piece-by-piece.

  Pulling off his black shirt, he draped it over his shoulder as he brought the knife up to where his heart should be. He winced as the blade cut into his skin, blood oozing to the surface, drops running down his bare chest, coating it with streaks of red. Light radiated from the wound when he cut deep, the pain nearly unbearable. He grit his teeth as he carved the elaborate sigil onto his chest.

  The mark of Lucifer.

  He hadn't seen it—hadn't used it—in a long time, not since it had been traded in for the mark of Satan instead. Each of the Archangels had their own. He just hoped enough of that angel still existed inside of him for it to work. The mark pulsated, the light dim, but it didn't fade from his skin.

  Clutching the knife tightly, Lucifer stepped straight into the gate. I
t resisted, the pain from the mark radiating through his body like a jolt of electricity, frying his insides, but the charms gave way, pushing him through to the other side. It shoved him so hard he lost his balance, nearly falling, as he breathed a deep sigh of relief.

  The reapers barely took notice of him once he was outside.

  Luce didn't look back, striding away, venturing through the gates and stepping back on Earth. He went straight to Chorizon, straight to the small motel on the outskirts of town. As soon as he arrived, he sensed her there, but she wasn't the only one.

  Abaddon.

  "Son of a bitch," Luce muttered, looking toward the main lobby of the motel in disbelief. He was actually here. Luce strode that way, pausing outside and glancing through the window with the florescent vacancy sign shining from it.

  Serah sat behind a desk, humming to herself, her feet kicked up and a magazine on her lap. Abaddon lurked nearby, stone cold silent as he watched her. He was invisible to the human eye—should be invisible—but there was no telling where Serah was concerned. After all, she'd seen him.

  Don.

  Luce silently called out to him, the name ringing loud and clear in his mind. Abaddon immediately shifted position, glancing toward the window a second before he vanished from the room. He popped up in the parking lot, a grin lighting up the angel's face as he regarded him. "Luce, good to see you again."

  Luce glared at him. "What do you think you're doing?"

  Abaddon raised his eyebrows. "I'm just hanging around."

  "With Serah?" Luce asked incredulously. "You thought that was wise? That I'd be okay with that?"

  Abaddon raised his hands defensively. "Relax, brother. She couldn’t see me."

  "Are you sure about that?" Luce asked.

  Abaddon's gaze darted toward the motel with confusion before he looked back at Luce. "Yeah, positive. She had no idea I was there. I didn't show myself to her."

  "But you have," Luce said, stepping toward him. "You've shown yourself."

  Abaddon laughed lightly, shrugging a shoulder as if it weren't a big deal. "She needed some help. That's what Guardians do, right? Help the humans."