Page 31 of Wings of Darkness (Daughter of the Seven Circles #2)

Chapter

Ninetee n

LUCILLE

A fter Sam healed me, I went to the library. I asked Cato to enlighten me on two specific Ancient Greek words, along with anything he could tell me about the general—his powers, weapons, fighting techniques, and strategies.

I read late into the night. The words blurred together, and the weight of exhaustion pulled me under, darkness slowly claiming my thoughts.

Snow crunched beneath my boots with each step through the evergreen forest. At the edge of the tree line, I paused.

The branches parted to reveal a familiar house.

Smoke curled into the starry Earth sky, inviting me with its warmth and memories of a different time—a time when my life was simple and secluded.

A time when my mother wasn’t in a coma, I wasn’t battling nightmares and Hell’s military, and I wasn’t locked away in a dimension, unable to help the people I loved.

I shot a hopeful glance up at the stars, wondering if by chance they’d answer the prayer I had never dared to speak aloud.

I had been avoiding her and her condition for weeks, too scared to revisit her. But now, standing in front of the house from my previous life, I hoped this was my mother’s dream.

At our front door, I stared at the handle like it might save me or damn me. Although, I already felt damned. It should be easy to push through the door and suffer the possibility that she wasn’t in there.

But what if she was? What would I say to her? Would she remember what Michael did? Would she know I made a bargain that sentenced her to life in a coma?

Steeling myself, I twisted the knob. The smooth rhythm of jazz music met my ears, tugging at a piece of my heart and pulling me into our house.

Greenery decorated the cozy fire crackling in the chicken-themed fireplace like background music to the soft piano and saxophone. Balsam and clove infused the air, twining with the scent of burning wood. I closed my eyes for a moment and breathed it in, feeling a settling in my soul.

After removing my coat and boots, I walked farther into the living room and spotted two steaming cups of hot cocoa.

One was piled high with marshmallows—courtesy of my mom’s marshmallow addiction—and the other had a melting chocolate ball in it.

Smiling, I drifted toward the kitchen, where voices murmured behind the wall.

Hope fluttered in my chest. I crept forward, paused at the doorway, then stepped into view .

And found another version of myself talking to my mom, who was wearing her favorite sweater dress.

“What the hell?”

Was this a memory? But I wasn’t nauseous and didn’t feel the disorientation of being in two places at once. My dream-walks continued to both confuse and surprise me.

My mom straightened, and the other version of me vanished.

“Lucy?” She pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. “Is it really you?”

“I—”

I stood frozen.

She didn’t hesitate. She skirted the counter and pulled me into her arms. “Oh, Heavenly, I thought you were dead,” she cried. “I thought Michael killed you.” She ran her hand down my hair and buried her face in my neck, tears soaking into my skin. “I thought he killed you.”

Her shaking shoulders and broken sobs shattered my frozen state. “He didn’t, Mom,” I whispered, squeezing her tight. “I’m okay. I’m alive.”

She was here. I could talk to her, hold her, smell the vanilla in her hair. Heavenly, how I missed that smell, missed her hugs.

Buried grief surged, choking my breath. My hands trembled as I clung to her, burying my face in her shoulder. We held each other fiercely, the ragged sounds of our breaths mingling with the music.

Eventually, Mom led me into the living room and handed me the hot chocolate.

I sat in my favorite chair, took a sip of the sugary goodness, and teared up again. “I can’t believe I dream-walked to you. ”

She gave me a gentle, grateful smile. There was no confusion on her face, no question at the term, as if she’d known from the beginning. Just like that, a bucket of icy realization washed away her hug and reminded me my mother had kept secrets—lots of them.

“You’ve always known, haven’t you?” I lowered my mug, my smile fading.

She bowed her head, unable to meet my accusing stare.

“You did it when I was pregnant with you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You did a lot of strange things to me while I carried you—even changed the color of the flames in my eyes. At first, I thought the baby in my dreams was just my imagination—until you started doing it at four years old, and I sensed your vast power.”

I dream-walked at four?

“I tried to ignore it, but then I started researching and figured it out. You’d do it when you had nightmares.

You’d project into my dreams, crying.” She stared into her fidgeting hands, her voice lowering further.

“Sometimes I let you cry it out. But other times… I’d force myself awake so I could wake you, in case?—”

“Someone sensed my vast powers,” I finished for her, bitterness coating my tongue. She’d kept so many things from me. I was sure there were more.

She nodded. The weight of her silence spoke louder than words, and a faint tremor in her hands betrayed the guilt she couldn’t hide.

“I’m sorry, Lucy. I did what I thought was best. But I didn’t know Michael was working with Marcus. It never occurred to me he would ever ally with a demon…” Her voice cracked as her attention drifted to a long scar on her hand.

The scar from Michael’s knife .

The purple halo around my vision darkened, and I squeezed my cup. “He gave that to you.”

“Sweetie, it’s okay. See? Gone.” The scar vanished.

Heat rose up my neck and pushed behind my eyes. I was so sick of her trying to protect me with lies. None of this was okay .

“I’m not thirteen anymore! You can’t just cover it up and hope I’ll ignore it—like when I burned our house down. I was there when he slammed that knife into your palm, and I’ll never forget?—”

She reached out and touched my hand, stopping my heated words. A gentle, cooling energy soothed my boiling blood. Maybe she was right. Everything was ok?—

I jerked away, breaking the emotional hold she had over me and spilling hot chocolate.

“Haven’t you learned your lesson?” I banged my mug down on the coffee table and stood. “We can’t hide from everything anymore! You poisoning and calming me to keep me safe backfired! Everything you tried to protect me from went to hell! In fact, we’re both there right now!”

“I’m sorry, Lucy,” she whispered. Her eyes were puffy and bruised, her posture slumped.

And, dammit, how could I stay mad at her when she looked entirely broken?

I sank back into my chair. “You left me so unprepared, Mom. You’re unconscious because of my deal with Michael, and I’m trying to survive while I train and live in a place I’m only beginning to understand—surrounded by beings who hate my guts because I’m worthless and weak!

I can’t use my powers without endangering myself, you, and potentially the king.

We’re stuck in Hell, unable to kill Michael to save you and I—I don’t know what I’m doing. ”

I dropped my face into my hands.

My mom knelt before me. She lifted my chin and looked me dead in the eye. “You’re anything but worthless and weak. Now tell me everything from the beginning.”

The tenderness in her voice wrapped around me, and I nodded.

I told her nearly everything that had happened up until today, and she never interrupted.

Her eyes would occasionally glaze over, or she’d reach out and squeeze my arm with a trembling hand.

But she didn’t try to control the whirlwind of emotions inside me.

I think she just needed to reassure herself that I was still here.

I left out details about Aspen, focusing instead on Lilith’s general kidnapping me and the significant events that followed.

I couldn’t explain our relationship or what I was planning.

How could I? How could I admit that saving him might come before saving her, when my heart was already so heavy with guilt?

I couldn’t explain the pull I felt toward him—the raw need pushing me every day to find a way out of Hell.

I didn’t understand it myself. But I knew it wouldn’t fade until he escaped Lilith.

When I finished, she gave me a watery smile and hugged me.

“I’m so sorry, Lucy. I never wanted any of this for you. I just wanted?—”

I pulled back. “You wanted us to live as humans and stay safe and sound in our little mountain home.” I surveyed the perfectly imagined house, taking in all the chicken-themed decorations.

This was my mom’s haven. But standing in the middle of it, surrounded by all those familiar sights and sounds, I knew it wasn’t mine.

“That dream of yours has died, Mom. Even if I wanted that life again—which I don’t—there’s no going back while we’re trapped in Hell. ”

Her pink cheeks paled. “You were never supposed to end up there.”

“Because of the prophecy?”

She pressed her lips together, the soft notes of her favorite jazz music filling the silence. I took it as a yes.

“I clearly haven’t been sacrificed. And unless someone kills me in training, I’m not sure you interpreted Miriam’s prophecy correctly.

” I couldn’t outright say it was wrong— after all, nearly everything else had come true.

I was the hidden, protected daughter of the Seven Circles of Hell.

Elora had been concealed from me, and I assumed the whispering ice was either my own power or the king’s, whenever he contacted me.

“Lucifer and his general want me alive.”

“Miriam is never wrong.”

I sighed, frustration creeping in. “Mom, did you ever think ‘awaiting the daughter to sacrifice’ might mean Hell was waiting for me to sacrifice something—not my life?” Her fear still ruled her. It creased her forehead and the corners of her lips.