Page 20 of Alastair

“Fair enough.” He peered up at the sky, his cheeks turning pink from the cold. As a demon, he could withstand temperatures better than humans, but he wasn’t immune to the effects. He handled heat a lot better than the cold.

Snow had started to fall, slowly, but in big flakes. They joined the snow already on the ground. It was quiet.

Just as quiet as it had been that night so long ago when I’d left the warmth of my bed and journeyed to the forest outside the castle’s barrier. So he would find me: Lazarus with his white wings and icy eyes, yet a warm hand I had grabbed onto before he’d lifted me into the air and taken me away.

What a foolish child I’d been, believing I could find the boys I’d once thought of as strangers and free them from Lazarus. All in an attempt to prove myself to Lucifer.

Forcing away the thought and the vile-tasting guilt that came with it, I met Phoenix’s gaze. “Take me to the mansion.”

***

Bittersweet memories flooded me as I stared at the remains of the place I’d once called home. Some of the rubble was buried beneath a blanket of snow, though it being covered did little to take away the pain in my heart.

“Hide yourself,” I told Phoenix.

He nodded and dematerialized.

Alone, I stepped closer to the debris, remembering what it used to look like. An arched doorway for the entrance. Bay windows to the right, where I’d watched the rain with a cup of tea in hand. Farther over had been my study. Both it and the decorative garden I had often sat in to read a book on a nice day were gone. Toward the back had been the kitchen where Raiden had cooked so many meals and the dining room where we’d sat as a family to eat.

All of it had burned. Turned to ash.

“Prideful boy actually came,” a whispery voice said before a pair of toxic green eyes illuminated the dark. Purah stepped out from behind charred beams that had made up the frame of the mansion. “Just as Lucy said he would.”

“Predictable,” came another voice, this one smooth. Vepar dropped down from the roof of the garage, where Castor had kept his fancy sports cars. The garage was the one thing still intact. “I don’t know whether to be amused or disappointed. I prefer a challenge.”

As he neared me, the ends of Vepar’s waist-length silver hair drifted up and swirled as if caught in a gentle breeze. His golden skin shimmered where the moonlight kissed him, and his eyes were such a light shade of gray they looked white. Where Purah had the ability to conjure the dead, Vepar was the conjurer of storms. Tornadoes, hurricanes, and blizzards.

“How could I refuse the invitation after you so kindly went out of your way to get my attention?” I casually said. The two of them were no threat to me. I didn’t fear them, even when outnumbered. They were mere pawns in Lucifer’s game. And like pawns, they would fall once the fighting truly began.

Disposable.

“He sounds so much like Lucy,” Purah said, snow catching in the strands of his ashy gray-and-black hair. “But is he as strong? I think not. Weak little lord.”

“Weak?”Pride hissed.“Remove his head. Immediately.”

“In time,”I told my sin.

Reacting to Purah’s words meant I valued his opinion. That would be too great of an honor for vermin like him.

“Anyone else hiding in the rubble?” I asked, focusing on Vepar. “Your dear Belphie, perhaps?” I intentionally used the pet name to get a rise out of Belphegor if he was, indeed, nearby waiting to pounce. “Or is he on his knees somewhere licking Lucifer’s cock?”

Nowthathad been to taunt Vepar.

And it worked, just as I knew it would. He and Belphegor had athing. A fairly one-sided thing, at least in terms of actual intimacy. Vepar cared for Belphegor, but those feelings went unrequited. Belphegor had viewed Vepar as a fun way to pass time until the one he truly cared for—Lucifer—returned.

Vepar bared his teeth. “Hold your filthy tongue, Nephilim.”

“Oh. Too soon? Belphegor tossed you aside the moment Lucifer was freed, didn’t he? Can’t say I blame him. Why settle for the foot soldier when you can have the king?”

“A foot soldier?” Vepar snarled, and the strands of his hair swirled more intensely. Good. People—mortal and immortal alike—tended to make foolish mistakes when overtaken by anger. “You need to check your ego, little boy.”

“Calm yourself, Vepar.”

His voice sent an instant chill down my spine. It was one I would recognize anywhere, no matter how much time had passed.

And, ashamedly I might add, it also brought nostalgia as well. Because for the first eight years of my life, Lucifer had been more of a father to me than my own. He had taught me proper etiquette and how to carry myself as a male of high standing, how to wield a sword, and he’d fueled my passion for knowledge. We had laughed together, and when I was upset, he’d been the one I’d run to.

Lucifer was seen as cruel and merciless by so many, yet I had witnessed another side of him. One almost kind. And it was those memories that combated the logical side of my brain that told me he was a monster.