Page 124 of The Death Wish

‘This is my library.’ He drew his gaze from the familiar setting to find Seraphiel wincing as he sat. ‘You built a replica here?’

Another tremor struck, and the closed shutters banged against their clasps. Shutters covered both of the two windows, just as Lucifer enjoyed in an identical library in his SiltronRanges’ tower: a place he’d designed so as to hide from the trials and tribulations of Arcadia, and lose himself in other worlds.

‘It’s not quite right, those decanters need work. Yours are finer, if I recall.’ Seraphiel flipped his hand toward the side-table, with its assortment of glass, and scowled at Jacquetta as she lifted his legs to drape them on the settee: deep blue damask against Cherrywood. Lucifer had been torn between blue and red at the time he’d created his library, so he’d simply made another settee and used them both. ‘I thought of bringing you here one day. I thought perhaps it would please you.’ Seraphiel shook his head, his golden strands falling over one shoulder. ‘But that day never came. Stop bothering me, fae.’

His snappish tone had Jacquetta stepping away, her jaw tight, but her decorum unruffled. ‘Of course, your grace.’

‘It pleases me.’ Lucifer cleared his throat. ‘Very much.’

‘What does?’ Seraphiel gave him a narrowed stare. ‘What are you on about?’

Lucifer sank down onto one of the armchairs, tired beyond words. ‘This library. You said you made it for me…and it is beautiful.’

‘Hardly matters now.’ Seraphiel lifted his mirror. ‘This bastard seeks to ruin it all.’ He frowned into the black glass.

‘This instability, the tremors, they are Michael’s work?’ Lucifer asked, knowing the answer well, but hoping to bring the angel’s thoughts onto an evener keel.

Seraphiel grunted, focused on his obsidian.

‘They are, your majesty.’ Jacquetta nodded. ‘The Ferryman resists him for now, and refuses to dock,’ she glanced at Seraphiel. ‘But the Sanctuary’s magick suffers with Lord Michael’s assault.’

‘Can you not add fortification? I could assist, perhaps?’ Lucifer had his flames, though how long before they too dwindled, he could not guess.

Seraphiel sniffed. ‘What could you do? You’re mostly dead, Luci.’

The Child looked appalled, but Lucifer gave her a small shake of the head. ‘What else might be done?’ He spoke calmly, but his fingers dug into the yellow-gold head of the cane.

‘Your offer is gracious, your majesty, but…’ Again, the fae glanced at the angel. ‘This shall take great magick, to withstand him much longer.’

‘Unless that’s what you want, Luci?’ Seraphiel lifted his head, a sharp motion, his white eyes narrowed. ‘Perhaps you wish to see this Sanctuary fall.’

Lucifer sighed inwardly.

‘Whatever do you mean?’ He braced for the fresh wave of madness he knew would come. ‘Why would I wish that?’

‘Enoch has sent you, hasn’t he? He always held you in high esteem. You had his favour, much as I.’ His eyes brightened. He nodded at his own faulty reasoning. ‘Do you work for the lord, and seek to kill me, again? Have you betrayed me, Hadrian?’

The angel grew stiff with his frenzy, dropping the mirror in his lap and pressing himself upright, arms rigid.

‘Settle down, you fool. I am no traitor to you, and you know it, Raph.’ Lucifer scowled, but his pulses beat fast. Seraphiel did not know he’d taken Wrath to the cockaigne, but he feared what insanity it would stoke, should the unstable Seraph find out. ‘I saw that the prince was delivered to you, at a cost I cannot pay. You know me dying. You have seen what Michael’s halo did to me when I fought him –’

‘Trickery. Illusion. You were in the Erlking’s court. Perhaps he too aids you in my downfall.’

‘What utter rot. Listen to yourself.’

Seraphiel’s hair swayed as he shook his head. ‘Don’t try to disillusion me.’

‘You are doing a fine job of that on your own.’

The angel stabbed a finger towards Lucifer. ‘Your vestige! You claim Michael tore it from you, but who is to say you did not hand it over? And that enables his vice grip upon the Ferryman.’

Anger pushed aside Lucifer’s pains. ‘Careful. You go too far, Raph.’ His fingers danced with feeble flame, but therewasguilt there. The idea he’d handed his vestige over was preposterous, of course. Michael had stolen it, in an act of cruelty, along with the piece of Lucifer’s daemonstone. But those thefts had certainly led the Seraph to the prince at the cave.

Lucifer’s inability to fend off Michael, was the very reason the Sanctuary now groaned in its joints.

‘Do I really go too far, though?’ Seraphiel grunted as he shifted, setting his feet back on the floor, though looking in danger of toppling over at any moment. Jacquetta hovered nearby, at the ready. ‘What of the flame? The Primordial Flame that eats at you…you sought to steal it from me…’ His eyes widened, his hands white-knuckled where they clutched at the settee, as he danced onto another wild theory. ‘Youdamaged the simurgh, not the Archangel, nor that infantile Iblis. You are working with that Nephilim, aren’t you, Lucifer?’ Spittle flew from his mouth, the veins in his neck bulging. ‘You both seek to stop me. I will kill you, Lucifer.’ He pushed to his feet, the radiant light from his eyes near blinding. The mirror landed on the rug with a thump. ‘I will kill you here and now.’

Lucifer lunged, grabbing at Seraphiel’s shoulders. He shook him fiercely. ‘Stop this, do you hear me? How many times must I tell you? I am no enemy. I never have been, nor ever will be.’