Rapha
One day, I’m going to blow this popsicle stand and get a real job.
Looking around at the luxurious, if slightly hellish, waiting room in Glutton Hall, I can’t help but wish I’d made different choices in life. Ones that hadn’t brought me straight to, well, Hell. In living color. Or rather, undead color, which could totally catch on as a home furnishing palette.
My recently acquired talons tap against the side table, a masterpiece of marble stone masonry that occasionally shifts into a blood-red stone that screams in agony until it becomes marble again.
Like I said, I’m in Hell. Not, oh I hate my hometown and its narrow-minded people Hell, but actual, Lucifer rules us all, souls are tortured, I’m the demon of greed and a reaper of souls Hell.
I look up when a noise distracts me, but it’s just Lucifer’s personal assistant coming out of his office. I’m here to answer a summons I received two hours ago. Lucifer does like to keep us all waiting. It’s part of his schtick.
I retract my talons and sit back in the pressed-foam chair that should be comfortable but isn’t.
That’s also something Lucifer likes to do—give the appearance of opulence and comfort, then snatch it away.
It’s needling, but not quite annoying. Just another layer of the hell Lucifer brings to life daily.
“Excuse me, sir,” the assistant says suddenly, his red gaze taking me in with a dismissive glare. How can a glare be so dismissive? I don’t know, but the assistant pulls it off. “Lucifer will see you now.”
I nod and stand, tugging the jacket of my black tailored suit to ensure it’s straight. The suit isn’t a necessity, but I thought I should wear it since I’m meeting the Fallen One.
The assistant goes back to typing aggressively on his keyboard, a sound that rattles my nerves.
I’m not the kind to scare easily. I’ve lived for millennia, once as a man, then as a vampire, but now I’m a demon, I’ve seen it all.
Every horror and blight people can produce, every form of torture, and some rather inventive betrayal plots.
And Lucifer? He’s the king of all that’s wrong with the world.
When he summons you, he always has some new, ingenious method of torture in mind. Whether it’s aimed at you or someone else doesn’t matter. It’s the thrill he seeks in his endless, vapid existence. I expect today to be no different.
“Rapha! Thank you for being so patient,” Lucifer says as I walk into the grand hall he reserves as his personal playground.
The large room is as richly decorated as usual, although I’m fairly certain one of the paintings of a half-naked female on the wall has come to life.
I’m sure she’s pulling grotesque faces at me from the corner of my eye but quickly resumes a benign expression when I glance at her directly.
“Of course, Lucifer. I am yours to command,” I say as I approach Lucifer’s throne.
Once, I was striking as a mortal and formidable as a vampire. I may appear unchanged except for my crimson eyes and the talons, but with every soul I claim, I sink deeper into the demon I chose to become.
Lucifer lounges on his throne with the effortless confidence of a rock star crossed with a fallen angel.
Today, he wears a tailored midnight-black suit embroidered with gold thread that shimmers like molten coins, each cuff dripping with red silk that pools like fresh blood around his wrists.
Sharp-shouldered and extravagantly cut, the jacket clings to his lean frame as though afraid to be discarded.
His hair is slicked back to gleaming perfection, and a ruby the size of a pigeon’s egg glitters at his throat, catching the flicker of hellfire that frames the marble dais.
He is vanity incarnate, and he knows it as he flashes me a grin that could melt wax and gestures for me to come closer.
“You are reaping many a fine soul for me to torture,” Lucifer begins before he’s distracted by a tray of jellied eyeballs. I’ve never seen Lucifer eat anything, but there’s a first time for everything, I suppose. “How are you liking your demonic powers?”
“They serve a purpose,” I reply without emotion before asking the question I’ve posed for the last few months since Lucifer transformed me. “When can I expect Drusilla’s return?”
Lucifer tuts, and his eyebrows pull together. “Patience is a virtue, remember, Rapha?” He sits forward on his throne, his all-seeing gaze taking me in. He doesn’t look quite as impressed as he did when I was a vampire. “I’m not certain this role suits you. Do you think I should get Mammon back?”
I know he’s messing with me, goading me, so I inhale softly to calm my churning emotions. He wants me to react with rage so he can bait me further. I won’t give him the pleasure. “If that is what you wish, Master .”
I can’t resist adding a sarcastic drawl to the last word.
I’ve lived a long life, and I had almost as much power as Lucifer when I agreed to take Mammon’s place as the demon of greed—almost, but not quite.
Not enough to achieve the one thing I’ve craved for centuries.
My agreement with Lucifer means the resurrection of the only woman I’ve ever loved after centuries of emptiness without her.
A knot that’s lived in my chest since the day I lost Drusilla tightens a little more as the memory of her taste, her scent, her beautiful, sweet voice comes back to me.
Drusilla.
She’s the only reason I agreed to become the demon of greed. I’ve waited so long, but every minute now seems like a lifetime.
“You’re so serious, Rapha.” Lucifer pouts almost prettily, his eyes cutting to me as his bottom lip pokes out. “Mammon was so much more fun to play with.”
I want to tell him to pull his bottom lip over his head and smother himself with it, but I hold my tongue. I lower my gaze, feigning an air of deference, but it’s not something I’m good at. Not after several lifetimes of being one of the strongest beings on the planet.
“I’m sorry, Master. I have only one desire beyond tempting people into giving their souls over to you,” I say softly, keeping my eyes on the ground.
“And what guarantees do I have that you’ll continue to serve me well if I bring your little girlfriend back?” Lucifer demands. “After all, Mammon became a useless little simp after he married Phoebe.”
“Penelope,” I correct automatically. “And I can assure you I will not become a ‘useless simp,’ as you so graciously put it.”
Lucifer snorts, rolling his eyes in a way that would be almost human if not for the infernal glow behind them.
“That’s what they all say. Until love rots their brains and takes their claws.
” He taps a manicured talon against his ruby cravat pin, studying me as though deciding whether to gut me or grant my wish.
I force my shoulders to stay relaxed, though every muscle is like a bowstring ready to snap. “I will do what I promised,” I say, steady as stone. “Drusilla is all I want. Everything else is yours.”
His grin is slow and sin-slick, stretching across perfect white teeth. “All mine,” he echoes, tasting the words like wine. “You do say the prettiest things, Rapha. The others lack your... flair.”
He flicks a careless hand toward a servant who scuttles in with a platter of honeyed locusts.
Lucifer plucks one up, eyes sparkling with glee, and crunches it with theatrical delight.
“Oh, these are delightful,” he muses, as though we’re discussing the weather.
Then, as if bored by the entire performance, his focus returns to me, and his expression sharpens.
“Keep up your quota,” he warns, voice dropping to a note that chills me even after everything I’ve done. “I will not suffer disappointment.”
My jaw tightens, but I swallow the bitterness clawing at my tongue. “Of course, Master.”
Lucifer leans back on his throne, golden embroidery catching the flicker of hellfire, his smile the definition of beautiful cruelty. “Very good, my pet demon. Let’s get this over with.” He snaps his fingers and huffs with an air of boredom.
Something…changes. It isn’t something I can see, hear, or smell—nothing so obvious. It’s a sensation , a relaxing of centuries’ worth of tension. But even though I can sense Drusilla’s presence in the world, she isn’t where I expected her to be…beside me.
“Where is she, Lucifer?” I demand, trying not to let my anger bite through the words.
“She’s out there,” Lucifer waves behind his head in a vague gesture. “Somewhere.”
“You mean she’s in the Above?” I say, my jaw clenching hard.
Lucifer shrugs. “Maybe?”
I can’t hold back my growl this time. It rumbles out of my chest, and I turn, ready to leave the hall to find my love.
But Lucifer isn’t quite done with me. Not yet.
“She’s in Screaming Woods,” he reveals as I reach the door.
I spin to face him. “The town where the people were transformed by the Frankenpunch?”
Lucifer nods, watching me carefully. “It seems to me she didn’t want to come straight back to you.”
His words punch me right in the stomach. I hate his games, but I have to play them. For Drusilla.
“Why?” I ask harshly.
Lucifer’s shrug is almost delicate, like a cat bored of tormenting a mouse. “Perhaps she no longer loves you. Or perhaps she wishes to find out what you’ve become before committing herself again. Mortals”—he pauses then laughs, a sound as bright as it is cruel—“well, they can be very changeable.”
My talons bite into my palms. “She’s mortal again?” I hiss through gritted teeth, fighting the red haze that threatens to drown me.
“Oh, did I neglect to mention that part?” he asks innocently.
His mouth turns down as he tuts. “Oh, Rapha. Did you honestly think I would return her to you as a vampire?” Lucifer’s eyes gleam with delighted malice as he leans forward, elbows resting casually on his gold-embroidered knees.
“No, no, my dear Rapha. That would hardly be sporting. Where is the fun in reuniting two perfect monsters? It’s so much more…
dramatic to see if you can win her heart again. ”
My fangs pierce my lower lip as I clench my jaw. Blood wells on my tongue, tasting of copper and fury. “You resurrected her human ,” I grind out, trying to keep my voice steady, “in a world she won’t understand, in a place crawling with predators, and you call that sporting?”
Lucifer’s grin is ice and fire all at once. “Don’t look so wounded. You know I adore a good love story, especially one dripping with potential tragedy.”
I stare at him, trying to find the words, but none can contain the rage vibrating through every bone in my body. My talons flex again, itching to rip his smirking face apart.
“She’s vulnerable,” I manage at last, swallowing the scream clawing up my throat. “You’ve left her vulnerable.”
Lucifer’s eyes widen theatrically. “Why, Rapha, you almost sound… protective.” He taps one perfectly polished nail against his ruby pin. “How terribly sweet. And yet you are the demon of greed now. Surely you understand the price of a bargain?”
I look away because if I look at him one second longer, I might truly try to kill him. And that would end with my skull decorating his throne room.
“You said if I took Mammon’s place, you would bring her back to me,” I say, forcing my voice to stay low, steady, dangerous. “ Back to me. ”
Lucifer shrugs again, all breezy indifference. “She is back, is she not? Alive, breathing, with that delectable heart still beating away in her lovely little chest. It’s not my fault she did not choose to come to you directly.”
He leans back and bites into another honeyed locust, chewing as though savoring a fine vintage.
“But look on the bright side, Rapha. You get to chase her. Woo her. Convince her that all of this”—he gestures vaguely at my crimson eyes, at my talons, at the hellfire dancing along the marble—“is still worth loving.”
A muscle in my cheek jumps. I think of Drusilla, of her laughter, her warmth, the way she once looked at me like I was salvation instead of damnation, and I almost break.
Almost.
I draw in a breath that tastes of brimstone. “Where exactly in Screaming Woods?”
Lucifer gives me a fox’s grin, all teeth and triumph. “What would be the fun in telling you? Go on, my demon. Hunt your precious mortal. Let’s see if love truly can conquer all.”
He flicks his wrist in dismissal, a final bored wave. “I will, of course, expect your next quota of souls as usual.”
I turn on my heel, every step coiled with hate, and leave the throne room before I do something that would get me flayed for eternity.
Drusilla.
She’s a mortal. Alone in Screaming Woods. Likely terrified.
My mind chants her name with every step I take, every heartbeat echoing in the hollow place where my soul used to live.
I must find her.
As I walk through the Below, the floor beneath me morphs into a gravel path in Screaming Woods. Pulling the chain from beneath my shirt, I wrap my fingers around the locket I’ve held onto for centuries.
My cold, dead, demonic heart squeezes with fear. Nobody touches her ever again. No one will ever get close enough to hurt her again.
I will destroy any who dare to try.
But first, I must find her.