Ascension, page 4
"D," Malak's voice rumbled, filled with contempt. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Malak," I replied, keeping my tone steady. "Not surprised you're skulking around."
He sneered, exposing teeth that looked more like fangs. "Skulking? No, just enjoying my latest kill." He motioned to a grotesque trophy hanging from his belt—a severed head, still dripping with blood.
Malak’s sneer was a thorn in my side, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. I glanced at the grotesque trophy hanging from his belt, feeling a mix of disgust and indifference.
"Another bounty?" I asked, my voice steady despite the gravelly edge. "Must be scraping the bottom of the barrel if you’re parading that around."
He laughed, a deep, guttural sound that echoed through the stone corridor. "Jealous, D? Heard you’ve been having trouble keeping up lately."
I shrugged, leaning casually against the wall. "I’ve been busy. Got bigger fish to fry than whatever poor soul you’ve managed to drag in."
His eyes narrowed, flickering with anger. "You think you’re better than me? Always did have that high and mighty attitude. But look where it got you—working for Lucifer, just like the rest of us."
"Difference is," I said, pushing off the wall and stepping closer, "I’ve got a plan. You’re just a lapdog looking for scraps."
Malak’s wings twitched, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out. But he held back, perhaps sensing that a fight here would be unwise.
"Plan or no plan," he growled, "you’re still stuck here like the rest of us. And if you’re not careful, I’ll make sure you stay that way permanently."
"Big talk," I replied with a smirk. "But last I checked, you were trailing behind on bounties. Must be tough knowing you’ll always be second best."
His face twisted in fury, and he raised his double-bladed axe slightly before lowering it again with visible effort.
"I’ve got my eye on you, D," he spat. "One wrong move, and I’ll be there to collect."
"I’m counting on it," I said.
For a moment, we stood there in a tense standoff, eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. The ambient noise of the Citadel faded away; all I could hear was the sound of my own heartbeat and Malak’s heavy breathing.
"You think you can waltz in here and get special treatment because you have Lucifer’s mark?" Malak spat on the ground between us. "You’re still just another pawn. And one day, you're going to turn into me. You think he'll release you after you've completed your last bounty?" He scoffed. "Lucifer collects souls like hags collect rings. He won't let you go, and soon, you'll have horns in your head and wings in your back. You'll be condemned to this Hell for the rest of eternity."
"Maybe," I agreed. "But if I'm a pawn, what does that make you?"
Malak’s wings flared slightly at my words, their edges sharp and intimidating. "I embrace what I am," he hissed. "You? You’re just fooling yourself."
"Believe what you want," I said coldly. "Just stay out of my way."
He laughed again, a harsh sound that echoed through the corridor. "Oh, I'll be watching you closely, D. Don't slip up. Anything I can do to keep you from scoring that final bounty, I will. Mark my words."
With that parting shot, he stepped aside reluctantly but not before giving me one last burning glare.
I continued forward without looking back, knowing full well this wouldn’t be our last encounter.
Inside Lucifer’s throne room awaited another kind of hell altogether.
The door to Lucifer's throne room creaked open, and a wave of oppressive heat washed over me. Stepping inside felt like crossing into a furnace. The room itself was a cavernous expanse, its high ceilings lost in shadows. Blackened stone walls were adorned with twisted, grotesque sculptures, each one depicting scenes of torment and despair. The air crackled with dark energy, making my skin crawl.
At the center of the room stood Lucifer’s throne. It was an abomination of iron and bone, a macabre masterpiece that seemed to pulsate with malevolent life. Jagged spikes jutted from its frame, and demonic runes glowed faintly along its surface, casting eerie shadows that danced in the flickering firelight.
Lucifer himself lounged upon this ghastly seat of power. His appearance was as regal as it was terrifying—a tall figure draped in flowing black robes that seemed to absorb all light. His skin was pale, almost luminescent, contrasting sharply with the darkness. Horns curled back from his forehead like those of a ram, and his eyes glowed with a cold, calculating fire.
At first, he appeared bored, one hand resting lazily on the armrest while the other twirled a goblet filled with some dark liquid. But as I entered, those glowing eyes flicked up and focused on me with unsettling intensity.
"D," he greeted, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I wondered when you’d be back."
I stood my ground, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I'm here to report," I said simply.
I reached into my sack, feeling the weight of my latest bounty. The rough fabric scraped against my fingers as I pulled out the severed head of Decimus. With a quick, deliberate motion, I tossed it at Lucifer's feet.
Lucifer’s eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto the head. He stared at it for a moment before leaning forward and picking it up. He turned it in his hands, examining the lifeless face with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.
"You succeeded," he finally said, his voice a slow drawl.
"You sound surprised," I replied, my tone flat but edged with defiance.
Lucifer glanced up at me, his gaze piercing. "You know who he is." It wasn’t a question. "You would think you'd be worried about the repercussions when you're so close to getting your soul back."
I met his gaze head-on, my expression unyielding. "Well now, Prince of Darkness, you underestimate me," I drawled. "Repercussions don't much scare me when I've come this far."
A smirk tugged at Lucifer's lips as he tossed Decimus's head behind him like discarded trash.
"I am surprised," I continued. "The devil himself concerned over a pithy group of humans that you'd need to kill some pathetic piece of shit."
"Suffering is something I endeavor," Lucifer said, his lips pursing slightly. "The Dominion is too powerful for their own good. Collecting women, selling them as slaves, keeping men to work the Abyssal Sprawl. They're trying to mine our magic, and crucifying those that won't give them what they want."
That caught me off guard. I raised an eyebrow. "Then why go for some stupid shit and not Magnus Rex himself? Cut the head off the snake, as it were."
Lucifer’s eyes flickered over to me with a gleam of interest. "You sound like you're actually intrigued," he observed. "Tell me. Are you interested in gathering information for a hefty sum?"
I stared back at him, unblinking. "I'm here to find my last bounty," I said firmly. "And then I'll be back to collect my soul."
"Would you really want it if it means The Dominion is after you?" he asked, his voice softening just enough to hint at genuine curiosity. "You won't have healing abilities."
"Yeah, well." I shrugged, unperturbed. "They fire a shot between my eyes, I'm dead either way, demon or not. Or they use runes on me, and I highly doubt they have the mental capacity to learn that."
"Besides the angels, no one knows runes," Lucifer said, his tone casual but laced with something darker. "Not even most demons." He glanced at me, eyes narrowing slightly. "But you do?"
I took out a cigarette and lit it before taking a deep drag; the ember flaring bright in the dim light of the throne room. The smoke curled lazily upwards, filling the space between us with a haze that smelled faintly of sulfur and ash.
"I've been around a while," I replied, letting the smoke trail out slowly from between my lips.
Lucifer's eyes narrowed further, and he wrinkled his nose in obvious distaste. "Did I give you leave to smoke in here?"
I held his gaze, unflinching. "Now, my Prince," I began, my voice smooth and dripping with that southern charm that masked my steel resolve. "In all the years I've known you—and trust me, it's been a few—I never did take you for one to stand on ceremony."
Lucifer's lips twitched into what might have been a smile or a snarl; it was hard to tell with him sometimes. His eyes bore into mine, as if trying to peel back the layers of my defiance and find something more pliable underneath.
"Now," I continued, tapping the ash from my cigarette onto the cold stone floor with deliberate nonchalance. "My final bounty?"
He gave me another long look, as if weighing something in his mind. The tension between us hung heavy in the air, like an unspoken challenge.
Finally, Lucifer leaned back on his throne, his fingers drumming against the armrest. "You really think you’re ready for this?" he asked softly, almost as if speaking to himself.
I met his gaze without hesitation. "You know I am."
"Elise Harrington," Lucifer said, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Who?" I asked, taking a drag of my cigarette, letting the smoke curl lazily upwards.
"Elise Harrington," he repeated, leaning forward slightly. "How do you know runes and not Elise Harrington?"
I exhaled slowly; the smoke hanging in the air between us. "Now, Prince of Darkness, you underestimate me again. I've been around this hellhole long enough to know plenty of things most folks don’t. But a name like that? Can't say it rings any bells."
Lucifer looked away for a moment, an edge in his eyes. "Elise is the Seraph Bride," he said. "She was born to be sacrificed to Archangel Michael. In exchange, he's supposed to take God's Nephilim Army and eradicate demons from Earth."
"Nephilim?" I asked. "I thought they were crossbreeds between humans and angels."
"They are," Lucifer said. "And Elise Harrington is the most important of them all."
I chuckled, the sound echoing in the oppressive silence of the throne room. "He requires a human sacrifice in order to protect God's creatures?" I drawled. "How Pagan of him."
"Quite," Lucifer replied with a hint of amusement. "But our friend Mikey isn't pleased at the notion of it, either. And by sacrifice, she's to wed him and give him bountiful little half-breeds. God thinks once the angels have skin in the game, they'll actually touch down on Earth and purify it again."
"Why doesn't God do it Himself?" I asked.
"Probably because He's fucking tired," Lucifer said with a weary sigh. "He's already had to restart the earth a few times because His children refused to cooperate. Trust me, I understand the feeling."
"Why can't He just order the angels to do His bidding?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"You ever hear of a thing called free will?" Lucifer countered. "Angels have that, too."
"And yet, Michael's going to marry the girl even if he doesn't want to?" I pressed.
"My brother is an arrogant fool," Lucifer said, his voice tinged with bitterness. "In exchange for the reign of God's army, he agreed to marry one of the Purifiers—one he selected himself—and only when she turned thirty. Now that she's thirty, he has to follow through on his promise to God."
"All for control over God's army?" I asked.
"Power," Lucifer said simply. "That's what it is. Power. And Michael has always craved power."
I took another drag from my cigarette, considering his words carefully. The smoke mingled with the heavy air of the throne room, creating an almost tangible fog between us.
"A girl, then?" I asked, my voice betraying a hint of skepticism. "That's it?"
"Alive, D. You bring her directly to me," Lucifer replied, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
"And how am I to get to her?" I pressed.
"She's in a bunker," Lucifer said, and the words set my teeth on edge. Bunkers were the bane of my existence—fortresses of paranoia and zealotry, filled with fanatics ready to die for their cause.
"I'll give you the coordinates," he continued. "But you won't be the only one after her, I assure you. Hell, The Dominion, The Marauders, even demons—they'll all want their hands on her. Controlling her controls Michael."
"Unless he can just pick another," I said, stomping out my cigarette on the cold stone floor.
"No." Lucifer shook his head. "He picked her for a reason."
I knew there was more he wasn't telling me. There always was.
"I find her, get her to you, and I'm done?" I asked.
"Done," he confirmed, extending his hand.
I looked at it for a long moment before finally shaking it. His grip was cold and unyielding, like a steel trap.
When we pulled away, Lucifer waved his hands, and a bag appeared at my feet. "Your payment," he said. "For Decimus. You'll get three times that for Elise."
I picked up the bag. It clinked with the unmistakable sound of demon shards—probably more than I'd ever seen in one place.
"Do I have a room for the night?" I asked.
"And access to food and drink," Lucifer said, leaning back on his throne. "But leave soon, D. Because if you don't, someone else will grab her. And I will not get you another bounty if that happens. Your freedom will be in limbo. You'll never get your soul back."
"She's in a bunker," I repeated, the frustration evident in my voice.
"You think they care?" he asked with a dismissive wave of his hand. "They're much more resourceful than you give them credit for. If you know where to look, you can find anything up here. And now that she's thirty, they're all going for her. You need to get to her first." He paused. "Oh, and D? If anything happens to her, if she's dead, your long life will be Hell. Do you understand?"
I looked at the bag in my hand, weighing my options one last time, before nodding. "Consider it done," I said.
Lucifer's smile widened as he reclined further into his grotesque throne. "I knew you'd see it my way."
Chapter 5
Everly
I woke to the soft blinking of lights and the persistent beep of medical monitors. The sterile smell hit me first, followed by a dull, throbbing pain in my stomach. I tried to sit up but quickly abandoned the effort with a groan.
"Everly," a voice murmured.
I squinted through the haze and saw Zoey leaning over me. Her dark eyes were full of worry, her skin a warm shade of brown that reminded me of caramel. She was a sharp beauty, with high cheekbones and an intense gaze.
"You can't move," she said, her voice steady but tinged with concern.
"What happened?" My throat felt raw, and the words scraped out like sandpaper.
Zoey sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Where to start?" She glanced away for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "Ev, we were attacked. Scavengers."
My eyes snapped open as the memories rushed back—the chaos, the shouting, the searing pain. "Elise?" I asked, panic edging into my voice.
Before Zoey could respond, Mother Margaret approached. The head MedNurse was a stern woman in her fifties with graying hair pulled into a tight bun and eyes that seemed to pierce right through you. Her presence always commanded attention.
"Everly," Mother Margaret said, her tone as firm as ever but with an underlying softness reserved for moments like these.
I furrowed my brow, staring at my hands. Was that traces of blood under my fingernails?
"Everly," Mother Margaret began, her voice firm but with a softness that wasn't often there. "You were injured during the attack. A deep laceration to your abdomen. We had to perform surgery to stop the bleeding and repair the damage."
I tried to process her words, but everything felt like it was moving through molasses. "How bad was it?" My voice sounded distant, even to me.
"It was serious," she replied, her eyes steady on mine. "We did what we had to do to save you."
I swallowed hard, the pain in my throat matching the ache in my stomach. "What day is it?"
"Monday," Mother Margaret said.
"Monday," I repeated, the word echoing in my mind like a foreign concept.
"Three days?" I asked, struggling to wrap my head around it. "I've been out for... for three days?"
"It was important," she said, her tone unwavering.
"Why?" I pressed, needing to understand.
"The pain was too much," she explained. "You needed... rest."
I lay back against the pillows, letting the information sink in. Three days lost in a fog of unconsciousness while everything around me moved forward. My mind drifted to Elise—where she could be, what might have happened to her in those three days.
"What's being done to find her?" I asked.
Mother Margaret and Zoey exchanged a look before turning back to me.
Mother Margaret placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Focus on healing, Everly. We'll need you strong."
I wanted to argue, wanted to insist on being involved in every step of the search, but exhaustion weighed me down like lead. Instead, I closed my eyes and let myself drift back into the darkness, hoping that when I woke again, there would be good news about Elise.
The next time I woke up, the room was dimly lit. A figure sat in the chair by my bed, head bowed. As my vision cleared, I recognized her fiery red hair.
"Fey?" I croaked, my voice barely a whisper.
Fiona's head snapped up, and she rushed to my side. Her freckles stood out against her pale skin, and worry etched lines into her usually cheerful face.
"You're okay," Fiona said, relief flooding her voice. "Golly, Everly, you had us so worried."
"What happened?" I asked, struggling to piece together the fragments of my memory. "I tried asking Zoey—"
Fiona glanced around nervously before leaning in closer. "She can't tell," she whispered, her breath warm against my ear. "Not with Mother Margaret hovering."
Her eyes darted around the room as if expecting Mother Margaret to materialize out of thin air. "Everly," she continued in a hurried whisper, "Elise was taken by scavengers."
