Page 66 of Endless Terrors
Lucifer smiled at me, and for an instant, it felt like my heart forgot to beat. “Well, I don’t know about circles, but we certainly have seven cities, yes. This world is mostly wasteland and fire. I placed seven settlements throughout the planet, directly where its most valuable resources are. What else would you like to know?”
He waited, and there was a light in his eyes I hadn’t seen before—he liked my questions. He liked sharing this place with me. I frowned, annoyed that I was actually having a civil conversation with the devil. I hadn’t forgotten everything he’d done, and he didn’t deserve civility.
In an abrupt movement, I stepped closer to the low wall and looked far below. I did it mostly to hide my frustration, but then I noticed all the activity. I’d been too disoriented to notice much during my time on those streets. It occurred to me that I could’ve walked right past someone I’d met before. Or something.
“Are they all demons?” I asked. My fingers dug into the stone ledge as a memory lashed at me. Trees overhead. Ian McConnell’s leering face. Headlights on a dark road.
“Demons, souls, and an assortment of other creatures, just as it is in your world.”
“So the dead really do come to Hell,” I murmured, tortured by the thought. The people I loved, the family I’d surrounded myself with, tended to see the world in shades of gray. Some of the things they did might be considered evil, to a judge and jury. Did that mean they were damned?
Lucifer considered this. “Death is simply the degeneration of a body. The soul is untethered from the dimension the body formed in. Hell is one of the dimensions it can travel to. Heaven is another. And there are many, many others in between. Some choose to remain in the world they died in.”
It took me an extra beat to understand his meaning. “Ghosts. You’re saying ghosts are real?” I managed.
“Of course.” He cocked his head. “You find that difficult to believe? In spite of what you are and everything you’ve seen?”
I didn’t answer, because my mind had already moved on to another question I’d always wanted to know the answer to. I was about to ask Lucifer whether it was true, the belief that all Fallen creatures went to Hell. But before I could say a word, the devil lifted his hand and brushed a strand of hair out of my eye.
He’d never touched me before, not in his true form.
The feel of his skin brought heat, and lust, and fear.
Seeing my reaction, Lucifer’s expression shifted, and he didn’t move away. My gaze dropped to his mouth. For the first time, I understood what it must feel like to be one of my victims. To be terrified and wanting at the same time. I fought a rush of urges, all of them conflicting. Run. Move closer. Flee. Find out what he tastes like.
A delicate cough shattered the stillness.
Lucifer didn’t react, but I jumped and moved backward, as if we’d been caught doing something we shouldn’t. My eyes darted to the walkway behind Lucifer, where an old man stood, looking as though he had been plucked from the pages of a novel. He had two tufts of white hair, each one sticking over a large ear. His frame was bony and stooped. His clothes were loose and threadbare.
But then my gaze lowered, and I realized this was no old man. In the place where his feet should’ve been, shoes or bare toes poking out from the hem of his pants, there were hooves.
“Samael is causing trouble again, my liege,” the stranger said, politely ignoring my stare.
Irritation flashed in Lucifer’s eyes—Samael seemed to be a sore spot for him, I noted silently, wondering if this information might be useful later on. Was Samael a person? A place? Oblivious to the way my attention had intensified, Lucifer gestured between me and the newcomer. “Fortuna, this is Roger. I trust him above all others, so he’s been charged with your care. If you need anything, he will bring it. I’m afraid the display of your brother’s good health will have to wait.”
Out of everything Lucifer had just said, my mind latched onto one detail more than the rest. Roger? The devil’s most trusted demon was named Roger?
Then I realized Lucifer was leaving. And he’d conveniently avoided showing me proof that the spell over Damon had been lifted. I also hadn’t asked about the weather in this dimension, and specifically, when I could expect a friendly rain shower.
“Wait. I have more questions,” I said tersely, brushing past Roger to charge after his master. I followed Lucifer up a wide staircase, our feet making soft sounds against the stone. “Wait!”
He didn’t, so I stayed on his heels. As we neared the top, though, the sky distracted me, and I tipped my head back to see more. It was the same dusky red it had been the last time, the roiling clouds flashing constantly, like there was an eerie strobe light hidden somewhere inside them.
Then we emerged into the open, and I found myself in a courtyard. But it was a courtyard from a nightmare or a gothic novel. Pillars lined the circular roof, all of them connected at the top, and they were a different stone than the rest of the tower—they looked older, somehow, and obsidian. The carvings on them were strange and jagged.
Lucifer strode to the center of that stone circle, and I looked up again, noting the frozen creatures perched above us. Gargoyles.
In many ways, they looked fae. Pointed ears, long bodies, high cheekbones. But that was where the similarities ended. These statues had snouts instead of noses, their spines were curved, and they had been given wings. Their wings were different than Lucifer’s, though, as if they’d been plucked off enormous bats and sewn on. The carvings were so detailed that I could see thin, veiny lines in the stone. The toes that curled over the edge of the stone had claws. The way the creatures perched reminded me of birds that gathered on building ledges and laundry lines.
Lucifer’s voice floated across the rooftop. “The gargoyles like you.”
“Funny. What is this place?” I asked, refocusing on him.
The devil was pulling on the wings that I’d seen before. They looked heavy, but he handled them as if they weighed nothing. How does he get them to flap? I wondered. There had to be a spell on the wings so they responded to his thoughts or impulses.
Once the straps were secure, Lucifer faced me, and one of the gargoyle’s shadows fell across his golden features. “This is where I sacrifice innocent souls to the blood moon,” he said.
My mouth went dry. “How often—”
