Page 6

Chapter Six

I stepped into my apartment, where for once, sweet, blessed silence welcomed me, and closed the door behind me.

First order of business: boots off. I kicked them into a nearby corner with a satisfying thud. Next went my coat, toque, and gloves. I tossed them onto the floor without a second thought. And why not? It wasn’t like I had anyone to impress, other than my cat and imp—but they hardly cared.

Next on the docket: weapon care. Because I certainly couldn’t shower until all three weapons gleamed. I hauled my bag onto my small, wobbly, one-seater table, unzipped it, and pulled out my blades. Though mostly clean, they needed more than the quick wipe I’d given them back in the mine. Leaving a bloodied sword unattended, even one stained with the blood of a backstabbing ex-best friend, was just bad form.

I stared at the blades, the night’s event replaying in my mind, sharp and vivid. Deidre was dead. I’d killed her. For years, I’d fantasized about all the different ways I could end her life. And now that I had, I hoped she’d felt every agonizing inch of my blade carving her head from her neck.

On the downside, Lucifer now knew my location. And that couldn’t be good. Giving him what he wanted was always a mistake. I’d learned that lesson a long time ago. If he was this desperate to find me, there had to be a reason, and knowing my father, it wouldn’t be anything good. It never was.

Deidre had claimed he wanted to bring me home, but I wasn’t buying that for a second. She was a natural liar and trusting her was never a good idea. So, I had to consider other possibilities. And there weren’t many.

My father wasn’t exactly complex. Either he needed me to do something for him, or…and this honestly seemed the more plausible scenario, he wanted me dead. Considering who he was, I leaned toward the latter. As for why he’d want me dead, I could think of only one reason: the prophecy. My father would never allow me to destroy his kingdom, or him, for that matter.

I turned, about to head to the kitchen for my sword cleaning supplies, when Vol suddenly darted into my path with Purrgy gleefully chasing behind him. The imp clutched a tangled mess of yarn, his usual manic energy dialed up to an eleven. Strands clung to his miniature horns, looped around his shoulders, and trailed behind him like a colorful cape. Purrgy pounced on the trailing yarn, batting at it with his paws, his eyes wide with playful excitement.

“Lily!” Vol cried, his little voice high-pitched with exasperation. He gripped the strands tangled around his horns and pulled with all his strength, only for Purrgy to take another swipe at the dangling strands. “Help! I—I’m stuck.”

Though both mentally and physically exhausted, I laughed at the absurdity of this scene. “Lost a fight with one of my knitting projects, did ya?”

“Not funny!” he squeaked, tugging futilely at the yarn. Purrgy, oblivious to Vol’s plight, pounced again, and the imp toppled over. A series of impolite—albeit hilarious—curse words erupted from his dark lips.

Sighing, I crouched and slowly untangled the yarn from Vol’s horns, careful not to harm him. “How did you even manage this?”

Vol struggled to his feet and puffed out his chest. “I was making a nest,” he declared, as though I was an idiot for even daring to ask. “Then the furball decided it was playtime and attacked me ! Not my fault your cat’s a menace!”

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”

Vol huffed, clearly displeased with my response. He shot me a withering glare before scuttling off, yarn still in hand, muttering under his breath about ungrateful humans and troublesome beasts. He continued to grumble about his “revenge” even as he disappeared behind the couch, Purrgy in tow.

I shook my head and headed into the kitchen, my thoughts circling back to the problem at hand. I saw two options: stay or go. If I left Edmonton, it would force Lucifer to resume his search. If I stayed, I’d have to face whatever he had planned for me head-on.

I grabbed my cleaning supplies and returned to my blades, wiping them clean. The thought of leaving the city didn’t sit right with me for a couple of reasons. The predominant one being that I didn’t run—from anything or anyone. Running meant abandoning the city and the people I’d come to care about. If Lucifer stepped foot in the city and I wasn’t around to stop him, he would obliterate it just to make a point. I didn’t want Hell encroaching on my life, but I also refused to sacrifice the million lives that lived here just to save my own skin.

So, no. I wouldn’t run. Not if it meant leaving others to face Lucifer in my stead.

He was my father, my responsibility, my burden. I refused to walk away and let him destroy everything that was good here. If he wanted me dead, he’d soon learn I wasn’t about to go down without a fight. Maybe I’d even take him out with me.

Of course, this was all conjecture until I learned why he was so hellbent on finding me. But one thing was clear: I was staying. For better or for worse.

I stared at my sword and daggers, all three now gleaming, and nodded. Whatever my father had in store for me, I could handle it. His people had trained me, forged me into a weapon to fight his battles, but I wasn’t one of his minions. I didn’t obey him, and I certainly didn’t love him. Maybe it was time for him to understand exactly what that meant.

Until then, I needed a shower. No point in worrying about what could happen until it did.

I stole a peek at Vol and quirked a grin at the sight of him sleeping atop a pile of unravelled yarn. Purrgy strode my way, his tail flicking.

“I’ll be quick,” I told him, giving his head a little scritch before hurrying into the bathroom. I peeled off my clothes as I went, then fired up the shower, this time waiting until the water heated before stepping under the spray. The instant the hot water hit my skin, I sighed and dropped my head forward, revelling in the mini massage.

Showers, hot water, electricity—those were all things Hell lacked, and I’d certainly grown fond of the luxuries Earth offered, even if it cost me every last cent to afford it.

I quickly washed up, then turned off the water and wrapped myself in a fluffy towel. Stepping out of the tub, I strode to the sink and wiped the steam from the mirror. I stared at my hazy reflection, my angelic blue eyes staring back at me. Growing up, my father’s people used to claim I was the spitting image of my angelic mother, though I had no way of knowing for sure. She’d died when I was an infant—killed by my father when she’d tried to run away with me, hoping to raise me away from his dark influence. My father had seen that as the ultimate betrayal and killed her.

Still, I liked to believe I resembled her. It was better than the alternative. Lucifer, like all angels, was beautiful, but his inner darkness twisted his beauty into something monstrous. I wanted nothing to do with that.

I turned to catch a glimpse of my back in my mirror. Two long, vertical scars ran from my upper shoulder blades to the middle of my back, jagged and uneven. I reached over my shoulder and touched the top of the closest one. The skin was raised and rough, a testament to the brutality of the injury.

My father had always told me that an angel without their wings wasn’t an angel anymore. There’d been a few nights, when I was at my lowest, when I’d wondered if that was why my father had sent me to Earth. I’d lost my wings. I wasn’t an angel anymore. What good was I without them? I’d assumed he’d deemed me worthless once he’d stripped me of my wings and cast me out.

Now, thanks to Deidre, I knew Lucifer hadn’t been the one to exile me. Which meant I could cross off the only name on my incredibly exclusive list of suspects. So much for that theory.

With no new answers in sight, I resigned myself to sleep. I needed rest if I wanted enough energy to shop with Jazz in the afternoon. After that, I needed to check out the portal, preferably before something else crawled through.

I hurried into my bedroom and grabbed the closest pajamas—a pair featuring My Little Pony—then slid into bed, the bed frame creaking in protest. No sooner had I settled in when a half-asleep Vol climbed up, dragging his favourite scrap of fabric behind him like a security blanket.

“Move over,” he grumbled before flopping onto the pillow beside me.

Purrgy leapt onto the bed next with the grace of a feline twice his size, settled on my chest, and promptly started licking his arsehole. On me.

I sighed and stared at the ceiling. “You two have no manners.”

Vol snuck a glance, then rolled his eyes. “Goodnight, Meat Sack.”

“Goodnight, you wretched menace,” I whispered, closing my eyes. Despite everything, right now, I was content. My ridiculous little family surrounded me and I felt a flicker of peace. One I hoped never ended.

* * *

The early afternoon sun broke through the thick winter clouds as Jazz and I trudged down Whyte Ave, the snow crunching under our boots. The street was lively despite the cold, with bright lights strung along the storefronts and the occasional musician braving the chill to play some tunes. The aroma of hot coffee and freshly baked goods wafted from the cafés, a comforting reminder that warmth was just a doorway away.

Jazz linked her arm with mine, practically bouncing with excitement despite the icy wind. “I’m so glad we’re doing this. We need to find you something great for your date with Jack. What vibe are you going for?”

I grinned, feeling the weight of my worries lift slightly. I woke up this morning in a good mood, determined not to let Lucifer destroy my life. He might come, and he might try to drag me back to Hell, but that didn’t mean I had to go. This was my life now, and if he tried to ruin it…well, he’d learn just how well his minions had trained me.

When I didn’t answer, Jazz snuck a quick glance at me.

“Oh, uh, something that says, ‘I’m effortlessly cool,’” I said, “but also ‘I totally didn’t spend all day picking this out.’”

Jazz laughed, her breath visible in the cold air. “Got it. Effortlessly cool it is. Let’s hit Fashion Bliss first. I’ve had some great luck with them. It might help if I know where he’s taking you. Has he said?”

“Yeah. He texted earlier today, saying he’d made a reservation at Normand’s.”

“Normand’s. Hmm, haven’t heard of it.”

A quick search on her phone later, and we’d armed ourselves with enough knowledge to find me the perfect outfit.

We walked into the boutique and a friendly employee with a bright smile welcomed us, along with racks of stylish clothes. Jazz started rifling through the selection, pulling out dresses and holding them up for me to see.

“How about this one?” she asked, holding up a sleek black dress with a plunging neckline and spaghetti straps.

“Turn it around?”

She turned the dress, and I winced. Nope. That would show my scars as clear as day. I liked to think I wasn’t ashamed or self-conscious of them, but deep down, I knew that was a lie. I was an angel, and an imperfect one at that. The last thing I needed was to draw attention to the scars that marred half of my back.

“Veto,” was all I said.

She frowned, looking at the dress as if she couldn’t believe I’d turned it down. In all fairness, it was beautiful. But I was in no mood to put my scars on display.

With a quiet hum, she returned the dress, then continued her search.

“What about this?” She held up a cozy-yet-chic sweater dress in a deep burgundy.

I took it from her and held it up to my body. “Oh, I love this. It’s cute. And I could definitely wear it again.”

Jazz nodded enthusiastically. “Try it on! And I’ll keep looking.”

I headed to the dressing room, slipping into the dress and checking myself out in the mirror. It was pretty and comfortable but didn’t quite scream “date night.”

Jazz knocked on the door. “How’s it going in there?”

I opened the door and stepped out. “What do you think?”

She tilted her head, considering. “It’s nice, but not quite right for a date.”

I nodded, my lips pursed. Maybe it wasn’t right for my date, but I did like it. And now that my bank account was flush with extra zeroes, I decided to splurge and treat myself.

“I’ll get it anyway,” I told her. “Something cute to wear during the winter.”

Jazz smiled. “Attagirl. Spoil yourself. You deserve it.”

I did deserve it. And I’d never had the opportunity to do so before.

After paying for the sweater dress, we spent the next hour hopping from store to store, trying on countless outfits. Jazz was relentless, determined to find the perfect dress. Finally, we walked into a little clothing shop tucked away from the main street. Jazz’s eyes lit up as she spotted a champagne-colored chiffon cocktail dress with lightly ruffled sleeves and hem.

“This is the one,” she declared, pulling it off the rack and handing it to me.

I took it skeptically but went to try it on anyway. The second I saw myself in the mirror, I knew she was right. The dress hugged my curves in all the right places, covered my back, and had just the right amount of flair to it. I stepped out of the dressing room, and Jazz’s jaw dropped.

“Lily, you look amazing! Jack is going to lose his mind when he sees you in that.”

I smiled. “You think so?”

“I know so,” she said confidently. “That color really makes your eyes pop. Now, let’s get some shoes to go with it.”

We spent another half hour searching the store for the perfect pair of boots, finally settling on a high-heeled pair that both matched the dress perfectly and would keep my tootsies warm in the freezing cold. I didn’t necessarily need to take that level of precaution, but I had a feeling I’d attract unwanted attention wearing strappy heels in the middle of freaking winter.

As we walked out of the store, bags in hand, a sense of normalcy washed over me. Shopping with Jazz, finding the perfect outfit for my date with Jack—it was a reminder that, despite everything, there were still good times to be had.

Jazz linked her arm with mine again as we headed toward a nearby café. “You’re going to knock his socks off, Lily. I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in days. “Thanks, Jazz. I owe you one.”

She grinned. “Just promise to give me all the juicy details afterward.”

“Deal,” I said, already looking forward to the distraction the date would provide from the madness of my otherworldly problems.