Page 80 of Endless Terrors
Giving in to curiosity, I pulled the curtains aside. Lucifer’s were also open, revealing that his bedroom was dark and empty. There were no lights on in his office, either. I stared into the unmoving shadows, my mind going backward. I thought of what I’d learned about Lucifer and how he spent his time.
Suddenly, I knew where he was. I could feel the knowledge in my gut, with the hardness of certainty. I got dressed again. I slipped out of the room like a thief in the night, successfully avoiding the mazzikin’s notice.
There was a guard standing in the hall. In a low murmur, I asked him to take me down to the cells.
As soon as the doors slid open, I was greeted by the shoulders of two more security guards. They stood on either side of the elevator. I emerged hesitantly, waiting for one of them to speak or move, but they may as well have been statues.
It seemed Lucifer hadn’t instructed them to keep me out of here. He wasn’t trying to hide anything. It almost felt like a dare.
There was no sign of him, though, or Dagan. The passageway was empty, and low sounds were swallowed by the darkness. Moans. Footsteps. Sobs.
Something drove me forward, away from the brightness of the elevator. Deeper into the ground.
As I passed, I started looking into some of the cells.
Most of the prisoners were souls. I’d expected all of them to be secured against the wall, like the demon I’d seen, but many were sitting or sleeping. Very few of the conscious ones noticed me. The handful that did gave me looks of pleading. One started to get up, shaking, and I remembered what Lucifer had said. Many are broken souls that are too dangerous to be free. I hurried on, feeling guilty and helpless.
Seconds later, I reached the end of the passageway and discovered that it continued in a T. I looked left and right, then back at the guards, who hadn’t budged from the elevator. They were too far away to make out their expressions. I could retrace my steps and ask them, I supposed, but there was a good chance they wouldn’t understand anything I said.
My powers, I thought. I reached for them automatically, thinking I’d try to sense if someone in these cells was experiencing more fear than the rest. To see if anyone’s thoughts happened to be filled with an image of a tall, golden-haired being. But my abilities were still gone, or dormant—I reached for them and felt the same sensation I had experienced after Cyrus had burned the Nightmare part of me away. Empty. Cold.
The reminder made my stomach tighten.
Just like that, I wanted to pace again. I clenched my hands and glanced down both passages, debating quickly now. I had a fifty-fifty shot of picking the right direction. I liked those odds. Following an impulse, I turned left and kept walking. There were no more guards in sight. Save for the eerie sounds echoing through the dark, it felt like I was completely alone.
I passed cell after cell. Prisoner after prisoner. I wasn’t sure how far I’d go, or if I planned to walk the other way. I wasn’t even sure what was driving me right now. Maybe I wanted to catch Lucifer unawares, here where the polished facade fell away and he was his true self. Maybe I wanted a reminder of what he was capable of after days of knowing him only as an attentive host. I glanced into the next cell, half-hoping, half-dreading that I’d find what I was looking for.
I did a double take … and stopped.
It can’t be.
I stared, waiting for the scene to change, hoping this was some kind of fucked-up trick. But the prisoner’s features didn’t change. The details of the room stayed solid and static.
After a few seconds, I reached for the rusted, metal handle and pulled the door open. It was unlocked. That was because the cell’s occupant was chained to the wall, exactly as the demon had been during Lucifer’s “tour.”
I didn’t remember having walked inside, but suddenly I blinked and I was standing in front of him. My nightmare. My enemy. My torturer.
Belanor.
He was almost unrecognizable.
I didn’t know how to feel, what to think. I stood there, frozen and staring. All I could do was breathe, even though I knew oxygen didn’t exist here, and technically I didn’t have a body. But it felt like I did, and right now, I’d half-forgotten how to pull air in and out of my imaginary lungs. I looked at the bloody, blackened lump of flesh hanging against the wall and said nothing, even when his eyes rose to mine. They were the only part of him still untouched, still reminiscent of the faerie who had tortured me.
It felt like the past was in the room with us. Suddenly I could hear the echoes of my own screams. Feel the sizzle of my flesh. I relived the sleep deprivation, the cold, the terror. Belanor’s body began to shake, but then, in a dim burst of clarity, I realized I was the one shaking.
“He can’t hurt you, Fortuna. Not anymore.” Lucifer’s voice was directly behind me, and I knew if I moved, I’d feel his chest against my back. I couldn’t bring myself to put space between us. I was too busy breathing.
When I stayed silent, Lucifer moved, appearing in my peripheral vision. Even down here, in the murky dimness of so much pain and anguish, he shone brightly golden. A thing of beauty, surrounded by the ugliness he’d created.
“You burned him alive,” I said eventually.
In response to this, Lucifer put out his hand. Between one blink and the next, a flame appeared there, hovering just over his palm. It was the same color as Collith’s, but more controlled. It crackled in a cluster of blue heat. So Lucifer had the gift of heavenly fire. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised.
“There’s something so purifying about fire.” The devil studied his hand, turning it this way and that, admiring the blaze. Or maybe considering whether to use it again.
“I thought he was your biggest fan.” My voice was quiet. Hollow. I’d turned back to Belanor. He seemed to have lost consciousness now; his eyes were closed, and the pained movements of his chest had slowed.
Lucifer closed his fist and snuffed out the flames. I felt him looking at me. “No fan of mine would’ve endangered your life,” he said.
