Page 75 of Endless Terrors
I tore my gaze away and focused on the lone figure near the end of the table. As soon as we’d entered, Lucifer had stood from his chair. He wore a suit again, this one gray, and of course it fit his muscular frame perfectly. Dagan stood nearby, along with another guard I hadn’t met. She reminded me of Lyari, in a way, with her pursed lips and straight spine.
“Good morning,” Lucifer said, as if we hadn’t just dueled with swords in a bedroom. Everyone here is so goddamn polite, I thought irritably.
As Lucifer pulled out a chair for me, I realized Roger was gone. Once again, the old demon had quietly disappeared. I really needed to ask him how he did that. With those feet, it should sound like he was wearing heels.
Lucifer waited for me to approach, but I made no effort to hide my reluctance. I stayed where I was and toyed with the idea of sitting at the opposite end of the table. But there was a possibility it would make me look cowardly, rather than defiant. And Lucifer would probably just remind me of the deal we’d made.
Scowling, I walked toward him and settled onto the chair, making a point of yanking it closer to the table without his help. As Lucifer returned to the place he’d been sitting, I noticed a glass of water beside my plate. I snatched it up and drank the entire thing. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Lucifer signal to someone. Within seconds, another demon came up behind me and set another glass down, then took the one I’d emptied. She was less human-looking than the others I’d seen—there was a sharp, black beak where a nose would usually be, she had feathers instead of hair, and she moved strangely—but I still didn’t like her serving me. I didn’t know if she was here by choice, or if she was a slave.
Lucifer, of course, must’ve noticed something in my expression. “Saida,” he said, picking up his own glass with long, graceful fingers, “would you reassure our guest I’m not the beast she believes I am?”
The demon turned to me. Her brown eyes were wide, but I didn’t sense any fear around her. “Safe, in the tower,” she said, nodding emphatically. “Nestlings here. Warm here.”
I glanced from her to Lucifer, wondering if he’d set this up. “So you work for room and board?” I asked.
Lucifer said something in a language I had never heard. Saida listened carefully, her expression attentive. When he was finished, she nodded again, even harder this time. Her feathers bobbed with the movement. She spoke in the same language Lucifer had used, her tone eager. Suddenly, in a burst of recognition, I realized they were speaking Enochian. A rudimentary, rough-edged version of it, maybe, but I knew certain words. Death. Monster. Children.
“She says her people were dying out,” Lucifer told me, translating. “Their land had been overridden by the tol’gadak, predators that breed like cockroaches and are just as hard to kill. She’d lost several nestlings by the time she came to the First City.”
Saida looked at me as he spoke, and there was pain in her eyes. That was the moment I knew it wasn’t just an act. Not all of it, at least. I met Saida’s gaze and nodded at her, speaking in a language we’d both be able to understand. Grief could bring anyone together … even a Nightmare and a demon.
Sparing me from a response, Lucifer addressed Saida in her tongue again. Whatever he said was clearly a dismissal, because she bowed and moved away from the table. I still didn’t like being waited on, but I’d probably hurt Saida by refusing. I reached for the fresh water she’d brought and tried to think about something else. My focus went to the glass in my hand.
“What is that?” I asked suddenly. “Why do we need to sleep, or drink, or shower?”
Before Lucifer could answer, Saida reappeared. She set a plate on top of the one resting in front of me, and quickly retreated again. I peered down at foods I’d never seen before. There were round, white balls that looked like uncooked dough. Next to them was bread, toasted and covered in something that seemed identical to butter. There was also a pile of pink stuff that jiggled when I touched it with my fork. Nasty, I thought. Apparently my stomach didn’t have the same issues I did—it rumbled at the sight.
“The needs you mentioned are all in your head,” Lucifer said, probably hearing the sound. “Technically, you don’t need any of those things. But your mind still believes you do, and that belief is powerful enough to manifest the physical response.”
I gave him a doubtful look. “You forget, I’ve walked through your city. I saw how those souls are living on the outskirts. They’re starving.”
“It’s entirely of their own doing, I assure you. A soul’s suffering ceases the moment they realize their limitations are self-imposed. A good thing, too, seeing as there simply aren’t enough resources on this planet to sustain every soul.”
I stared at the food. Besides the ethical problems I had with it, I’d grown up listening to stories about people who were dumb enough to eat or drink with a faerie. Lucifer wasn’t technically fae, but he had their cruelty, and their craftiness, and their hunger for power. Maybe he’d bespelled the food to make me more agreeable to his plans, or to fall in love with him.
Okay, so I won’t be touching anything on this plate, I thought. Once again, I sought a distraction or a topic change. My gaze went back to the painting.
“Who are they?” I asked, nodding toward the three figures.
Lucifer took a sip from his glass before answering. He set it down and followed my gaze. “On the left side is my sister, Mammon. The other is my younger brother. Asmodeus.”
“He’s your favorite,” I said, hiding my surprise. I could hear affection in the devil’s voice, a genuine warmth I’d never expected from him.
Lucifer made a weary sound. “He’s impulsive and reckless. There are more riots in the Second City than any of the others and I’m always cleaning up after him,” he groused.
“That doesn’t change the fact he’s your favorite.”
Lucifer’s voice softened. “Yes. Yes, he’s my favorite.”
What do you know, I thought, watching him, the devil is capable of love. It could be another act, put on to make me trust him or like him. But either way, it changed nothing. Even monsters had souls. Finding out Lucifer had one didn’t absolve him of all the terrible things he’d done.
Looking at the painting again, I started to ask about Mammon, then stopped myself just in time. His family didn’t matter. The details of his personal life were completely irrelevant. I wasn’t here to get to know the devil. I was here to learn his weaknesses or anything else that might help me escape.
I poked at my food, trying to think of questions that would provide useful information. My mind moved to magic. “How does it work?” I asked abruptly. “The deals, I mean? You can’t travel between worlds, but garden-variety demons can?”
I half-expected Lucifer to dodge the question.
