Sophia's Chronicles
A/N: This chapter features scenes from Hammer of The Gods
Chapter 21: The Unforgiven
"Is there something I should know, Sophia?" Lucifer stood over me, arms crossed and feet tapping impatiently.
"I don't know. Is there?" I said without looking up from my book. I was curled up on the large velvet sofa in his study, placed aptly with a couple armchairs in the centre of a ring of bookshelves. "Sad what happened to the Gnostics, isn't it?"
"Be straight with me," he sounded paternal. He settled next to me the calmest way he could, given the impatience in his nerves. "You did something to them, didn't you?"
"Of course. I did something to someone. Are we done with your extremely specific questions?" I flipped another page.
"Why were they in Minnesota, huh? I never told them to go there," Lucifer questioned with a proper annoyance in his eyes. "The Whore of Babylon was never going to summon real demons. None of this makes any sense. Unless, of course, someone meddled with the plan."
"Damn," I sighed. "Good luck with that."
"Sophia," he exhaled forcefully. "I know you did it."
"Then why are you asking?"
"I- I don't even know where to begin," he threw up his hands. "I told you…" he pressed his palms together in a steeple. "…that those demons were important. They carried intel, Sophie. They knew the ins and outs of what we're doing. So tell me—is there something I'm missing?"
"I don't know, are you missing something?" I asked, shifting the tilt of my head.
He sighed. A hand stroked his stubble. He leaned closer and grabbed the book from my grasp, gently setting it on his other side. Slightly vexed, I simply stared down at my empty hands, until he knelt before me and took them in his own hands. His grip wasn't so gentle as it usually was; it was rigid, unrelenting, fraught with captive anger. "Don't play me," he warned. "I can't even believe that I even have to say this. Our enemies are trying to subdue us on all sides, yet here we are, thwarting ourselves from the inside. Tell me how I can reconcile this. Tell me why your grievances couldn't just be settled between us!"
It would be strange for anyone to know that the King of Hell, an archangel of little mercy, could be so measured with his fury when it came to his Queen. Which was why I knew I had to do my part too. "I know that you're angry. But know that I-"
"Sir?" A demon popped his head through the door.
A unanimous sigh befell our shoulders. The demon gulped. "What is it?" Lucifer asked, annoyed by the interruption.
"There's been a… call, sir. You'll want to hear this," the demon reported.
Lucifer looked back at me with a tight composure. His lips pursed, his eyes paused comfortably between a frown and surprise—all indications that I wouldn't get away with this so easily. "We'll get back to this later," he stated. "I'll be back."
"I'm coming with you," I asserted. He gave me a side-eye but didn't say much more. It turned out the demon was right. This was pertinent. It seemed there were those who would conspire against us and thought they could get away with it.
"Should've put these roaches in the ground a long time ago," Lucifer grumbled as we flew to the given location.
"Or… we could've gotten them on our side, like I suggested," I shook my head in disappointment. "No use making more enemies when friends could bolster our reign."
"And what difference would that have made?" Lucifer criticised. "'Friends' will put up a smile and plot behind our backs. Enemies are just more openly hostile."
"You don't have to be so cynical of things you haven't tried," I berated. "Now, I do wish I had my blade…"
He angled himself away from me. The cold shoulder was always literal with Lucifer. It felt like a barrier had come up between us. Ire had begun to emanate from him before we arrived. Elysian Fields Hotel, a neon blue sign read. The lounge was decorated with white furniture on mahogany floor. Stationed beside the fireplace was a counter that held two computers. It was obviously too fancy for a roadside stay. The scent of magic was thick in the air. Lucifer tapped the bell on the counter. "Checking in."
When the receptionist turned around, recognition immediately flooded his face. It was Mercury, the messenger. "Lucifer," he smiled wryly. His gaze fell on me. "Sophia…" his voice trailed off, like he was hiding his displeasure. He nodded and turned back to Lucifer. "Thanks for coming."
I raised an eyebrow and focused instead on a painting. Lucifer placed his palms on the counter. "Oh, you did right calling me."
"It's just... The way the talk is heading in there, it's... it's insane!" He smiled nervously.
"You know, I never understood you pagans, always fighting, always happy to sell out your own kind. No wonder you forfeited this planet to us. You are worse than humans. You're worse than demons. And yet you claim to be Gods," Lucifer rambled, again with that side-eye to me. Mercury looked between us nervously. In a sudden twitch, his throat struggled to be free. His eyes grew wide with shock. Lucifer orchestrated the increasing pressure with his finger. In a swift flick of the wrist, Lucifer broke Mercury's spine with an audible crack. The messenger fell limp to the ground. "And they call me prideful."
"A great way to return a favour. Obviously," I dryly remarked.
"I'm sure you'd be comfortable with snitches working for us," Lucifer retorted coldly.
The others had been alerted to our presence. Lucifer and I wordlessly sprang into action. In a way, this gave us an opportunity to mark the attendance of all those who would be on our 'naughty list'. I saw Odin first, a balding figure with a large white fur coat. "Lady Wisdom," he greeted with a stern frown. His sealed eye reminded me of our last transaction. "You must hear us out. You must speak justice."
"The time for speaking…" Lucifer interrupted our conversation. He held out a palm and hauled some of Odin's men down the corridor. With a rough shove, he broke their skulls against the wall, leaving splotches of red to drip down. "…is over!"
Odin's remaining eye widened in shock. Without a choice, he brandished his spear and advanced towards us. Age had not been kind to him. It must've been a little hard to retain power without all those believers of old Scandinavia. Yet, even in my weakened state, I blocked his Gungnir with a single hand and spun swiftly to disarm him. "It saddens me to take another eye from you," I apologised. "But it seems you haven't learnt your lesson." I thrusted the spear into his other eye and through his skull. The Nordic energies quaked as the old god fell. The weight of my action was crystal clear to me. I did not like this, but Lucifer left me few choices. He was set on burning any and all bridges, even those that could still be built. And if I couldn't stop him, I could only join him.
The next one to catch us in the act was Ganesha, the elephant god of the Hindus. Poor Odin was still writhing on the ground. I stomped on his neck and broke it, while Lucifer shredded through Ganesha like paper. I suppressed a cringe as blood explosively splattered everywhere. This wouldn't be remembered well by yet another pantheon. Lucifer was willing to piss them all off for a spurt of anger.
A door appeared to us at the end of the hallway. Out came the Voodoo spirit Baron Samedi. The Baron, smelling of rum and cigarettes even from where I stood, aimed a measly punch at Lucifer. I suppressed a gasp. Lucifer caught the punch and tore off the Baron's arm like it was nothing. He collapsed onto the floor, face pale with shock, and tried to squirm away. "Br'ans ti ia," I whispered rapidly. Before Lucifer could finish him, his spirit vanished into the nether world. Lucifer glanced at me knowingly. This would be a fun argument for later.
More of the pagan foot soldiers stormed in our direction. "Go. I'll hold them off," I stood poised for a fight.
Lucifer obliged. One by one the mythical warriors fell. It was sad to see them rush so bravely towards me, as if their cheap tricks would hold up. My body moved in a smooth tango, as a machine of pure instinct. I saw not people but arms and weapons. In a single breath, I wielded my vessel and magic as swords, slicing and kicking and pulling and punching. Fluids burst and droplets sprayed everywhere. Limbs were ripped and organs were crushed. When I was done, I exhaled at the sight of a corpse-ridden hallway. Despite my reservations, there was a strange catharsis in it all. The temptation of pure madness. Footsteps echoed behind me, and abruptly stopped.
"Impossible," I heard a feminine voice say. I turned around slowly. I couldn't imagine how I must have looked with all this blood coating every surface and splattered on my face and torso.
"Kali," I recognised. Her jaw was agape. She was being escorted by the Winchesters who stared mutely in my direction.
"Y-you're alive?" she appeared bewildered.
"What is this that I'm hearing about you?" I did not hide my anger. I slowly walked towards them, carefully stepping over the bodies on the floor. The lights flickered with my every step. "That you convened this traitorous assembly? I thought we were on good terms, Maha Kali."
"It doesn't change the fact that your lover is a megalomaniac," she spat out bitterly. "Had I known you were out and about, I would've come to you first, but…" her eyes despondently roved over the hallway. "…it seems you're just as unreachable."
Kali's shoulders tightened with every step I took towards her. "I expected more from you. I thought us women could find some solidarity, despite the military fetishes of the menfolk," I said. "But all this plotting against Lucifer? I cannot forgive it."
I thought gleefully of creative ways I could end her. Dean stretched an arm slowly, facing his palm towards me. "Stop. Don't do this," he pleaded.
"And why shouldn't I?" I asked sharply. "Why should I listen to someone who massacred my children?"
My fists clenched at the memory. The room was dimming into darkness. The rays of light flowed into me despite the electrical lighting.
Dean gulped. "Y-you're not like Lucifer, right? You talked about saving the planet. You don't want to kill everything you touch, right? Just let this one go, okay?"
"Do you see this hallway? You don't know what I want." Protecting the vessels, my ass. I was ready to inflict my anger again. Just then, however, I noticed he was holding something curious in his hand. "What's that?"
Dean's eyes flicked between the item and me, and then he held it closer to his chest. "Uhh… can't a man keep his films to himself?" he smiled wryly.
I reached out and summoned it forward to my grasp. Dean flinched. "Casa Erotica number 13?" I read out loud. Getting a whiff of it, I detected magic. Archangel magic. As the thoughts clicked in my head, I recognized the magical signature. I inhaled sharply. "Gabriel!"
I slammed the DVD into Dean's chest, and dashed past him into the ballroom. He- he's here? My eyes were beginning to well up. My heart thumped aggressively. The ache to hold him in my arms, hold his cheek in my palm, was too great. As I neared the open doors, I saw Lucifer, facing my direction, talking to Gabriel. An instant warmth came to me to see the figure of him. But my relief faded away just as quickly. There was another Gabriel, this one approaching Lucifer from behind. His arm was raised with his sword, ready to strike. The mere sight launched a thousand needles through my chest.
As soon as he spotted me, he was distracted for a single second. And that second was all that mattered. Gabriel's innocent stare caught mine just as Lucifer's did too. That must have tipped him off. Lucifer spun swiftly, grabbing his brother's blade and stabbing it through his abdomen.
"No!" I yelled, feeling my screams dissolve into nothingness. My limbs all grew weak at once. I held onto the door for support. I would never forget the shock on his once-sanguine face as his hands encircled the handle of the blade. Despite the pain, he continued staring at Lucifer, betrayal clear in his childlike eyes. Gabriel grabbed both his brother's hands and growled in agony as Lucifer drove the sword deeper.
"Here. Amateur hocus pocus. Don't forget, you learned all your tricks from me, little brother." Lucifer sounded cold. My heart sank as Gabriel let out soft groans of pain. With no semblance of mercy, Lucifer jerked the blade upwards, releasing the dying light of Gabriel's essence.
"No, no, no, no!" I bawled, pushing Lucifer away just to catch Gabe as he fell.
My breaths were speedy, as if I actually needed them. My face was damp beyond measure. All I knew was that I was cradling him in my arms, caressing his face. While he still had time, his light eyes stared deep into mine. All I saw in them was a lightening—an alleviation of the great burdens that he bore. His bloodstained lips curved into one last smirk. "Sophie…" he whispered my name, even as the light of his grace flickered noisily from within him.
"Stay with me, Gabe," I desperately said as I pressed my forehead to his. "Please…"
But I was too late. He let out his final breath. The heat of death had already consumed him. It burnt his wings so all that was left of him was a charred silhouette I remembered by heart. All semblance of feeling had fallen away from me then. A cold numbness vibrated on my skin as an impenetrable wall. I felt a complete and absolute nothingness. Nothing was right in this world anymore.
I looked up accusatorily at Lucifer, tears streaming down my cheek. I saw his remorseful expression. Heavy breaths, damp eyes and sores on his vessel from all that fighting. After what he had done, that did nothing more than to anger me.
"I had no choice," he spoke softly.
"There is always a choice!" I shouted. My voice became choked with grief. "He wanted no part of this." Looking down at his face, memories of better days battered my conscience and filled me with rage. Gabriel never deserved this. "Are you happy now? You have proven yourself to be completely unbeholden. When will it be my turn?"
"Sophia-"
"I don't want to hear it." I stood up. Lucifer tried to reach for me. I pushed him away. "Don't talk to me," I told him through gritted teeth, avoiding his gaze. He stepped back to heed my warning. We stood in silence for a moment. Even standing there was difficult. I had the strong urge to tear myself apart with my own hands. So I just left. To where? I didn't know, nor did I care. I just wanted to be away from myself.
The salty sea breeze whistled upon my arrival. The crash of the waves against the shore lulled me into silence. Darkness had enveloped the sky like a blanket. If I listened closely, I could hear the distant wailing of sea spirits in agony. Tonight, they felt my pain as their own and wept a new song in my name.
"Something on your mind?" Shemsiel approached, feet pattering on the sand. He held a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. We sat far enough from his beach club to enjoy some solitude. I took off my shoes to allow the water to reach my feet as he poured me a drink.
"Be generous with it," I requested. "How much do you reckon I'll need to feel anything again?"
"I'm not sure the solution matches the problem," his eyebrows jumped. "Even if it did, I don't think I have enough liquor for that."
I took a sip. The bitter liquid passed over my tongue. "How did you do it?" I kept my gaze fixed on the reflection of the moon in the rippling seawater. "How did you deal with the pain of losing Zaphiel?"
"I… I hardly did," Shemsiel swallowed a sip. "It still hurts sometimes. But it's the memories of our time together that keeps me going, you know? Thinking about how he used to be… it fills me with a warmth. And I get through another day."
Memories of Gabriel came to me, and inevitably with it, the memories of Heaven I'd pushed deep down. As much as I tried to hold myself together, I unravelled completely. Tears streamed down my cheeks silently. I tried to wipe them away but they kept coming.
His fingers twitching, he took off his sunglasses and hooked them on the collar of his shirt. "Slaughtering our own kind," he began. "If it wasn't right for the sinners to do it, then it wasn't right for us either."
It sounded so innocent, as though any part of my existence had ever been so simple. But it seemed absurd to be too much to ask. He too had damp eyes. "I couldn't stop it," I cried. "I couldn't stop any of it."
His hand squeezed my shoulder. "It isn't all in your hands," he reassured me. "It's God's will." Soon enough, we finished the whole bottle. "I'll leave you to your thoughts then."
Just as I'd grown comfortable with the silence, a black raven appeared to me. It was the size of my torso and perched next to me. "Hermod sent you?" I asked it. The raven cawed. It was a messenger belonging to the rider of death. The raven lifted its leg to show me the message it bore. I untied the papyrus. It was a letter. My heart stopped in my throat. It was written by Gabriel. He must have written this long ago. The Norse pantheon often used such birds to communicate between realms. But why would this raven come to me now?
Once I'd acknowledged the letter, the raven left me. Inside, the text, written in native Enochian, said:
Dearest Sophia,
If you're reading this, the worst may have happened to me. To be straight with it, I may be dead. I don't want you to keep an eye out for me if that's the case—if you were looking at all, that is. If you weren't, I don't blame ya. Things have gone into the gutter since we last spoke. After Father left, all of us took one to the keister. I know my brothers still have enough pride to bulldoze through anything, but I have to consider the possibility that I can't. I've never been much of a fighter—you know that. That's why I wrote this letter. I just don't want to leave without ever saying so much as a word to you again.
I know I could've come to you, or you could've come to me. We both know that it would've been too risky. I like to think that when I look at a plant, you're looking back at me. It's been enough to get me through so much. I hope—no, I know—that you're strong enough to deal with so much more than I can. I just hope it doesn't take its toll on you.
As for me, just know that I spent my days in bliss, exactly how you'd expect—motorboating spunky Asgardian women, draped in the smoothest silks and mentally abusing Fenrir. Good thing there's no Child Protective Services here. I've had many flings here and there, but I've never been the type to drop an anchor anywhere. So if you come across any women who're a little too eager to chase 'Loki' down with a knife, you know what happened there. At least there are no little Gabriels running around, not that I know of. I mean, I'm pretty sure I've been careful. Then again, it's not like everyone was big on using protection back in the glory days. Okay no, I'm sure I don't have any mistakes running around. But in the rare, unlikely case, you're the only person I trust to handle it. Do whatever you see fit.
Sometimes I wonder what it would've been like if you'd hopped the fence with me. I liked to think that we'd have the time of our lives. Of course, I know that isn't true. I've seen the way you and Lucifer look at each other. In fact, I knew where your heart lay before you did. It would've been unfair to expect you to give him up. My brother had better not be too much of a dick to you. And if he is, it isn't your fault. It isn't your job to fix him. There's no shame in wanting to get away from that and drowning your sorrows in a soft bosom. Not exactly what nine out of ten psychologists would recommend, but it'd be an improvement.
I hope to Dad that this letter never sees the light of day. But if it does, don't be too upset by it. I had a life. It was good while it lasted. I want you to know that there are places in the world that are sunny all the time. Places where the people are kind and Heaven and Hell don't matter. Give it a shot sometime.
I love you.
Gabe
My fingers trembled like dry leaves in the wind. I hugged the letter to my chest. Beloved Gabriel, I should've come to see you sooner, I thought wearily. My eyes shut, I held fast the image of him in my mind where it would never fade. The thought that he'd left a piece of himself to me gave me some ease, even though the world was dark now that I knew he wasn't in it.
I took my own time to get back to Hell. It was home, after all, and I couldn't stop feeling like a wanderer outside of it. Lucifer was just exiting the armoury to go into the study when we crossed paths in the hallway. He paused at the sight of me. I felt the sweep of his gaze over me, even as I refused to look at him. Zara's voice emerged to speak to me. You can't avoid talking to him forever.
"Watch me," I told her in our shared headspace. With a green flash of the eyes, I retreated into her unconscious mind, leaving Zara to face Lucifer.
Feeling returned to her limbs. She was here again. She was always here, but it had felt more like an unusually vivid dream than reality. Now that I had given her possession of her own body back, she was free to move, free to act, all without her human limitations like hunger, thirst or fatigue. She glanced down at her hands and her body, and then looked back up to see a downcast Lucifer looking back at her.
"Is she serious?" he asked, sounding just about done.
"She really doesn't want to talk to you right now," Zara nervously uttered. With no guidance from me, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. I was sure she'd figure something out. Seeing his dispirited expression though, could make anyone sympathetic. "But I'm sure she'll eventually come around."
Lucifer sighed, gaze sweeping the ground. He rubbed the back of his head while Zara lingered in the awkward silence. "It's just you and me, then," he mumbled. Zara wondered if she should be alarmed. "You should get to work."
"Work? What, me?" she pointed towards herself.
"Yeah, you," Lucifer emphasised. "Did you think you could be a freeloader?"
"W- what can I do?" she muttered. "I mean, what if she comes back?"
Lucifer glared at her like the answer was obvious. "I know how her long silences work. You're gonna be here a while," he replied with narrow, condescending eyes. "You know how to fight?"
"Uh…" Zara stuttered. Where is this going? she wondered.
"Of course you don't. You don't learn that in schools?" Lucifer rolled his eyes disapprovingly. "You're lucky I have time to kill." He pressed two fingers to her head. A short burst of energy surged through her head. "That's the theory. Now get to swinging knives."
It was certainly an unexpected turn. Zara wouldn't have thought that she'd be learning combat from an archangel after letting another one into her body. As far as time alone with Lucifer goes, this didn't seem so bad. He taught her how to wield a knife and sparred with her. She was always on edge, waiting for a switch to flip and something horrible to happen. That didn't seem to happen. Zara wanted to ask him in between the endless repetitions why he was doing this at all, then it dawned on her—it wasn't about her at all. She could tell by how he stared deeply into her eyes. He wasn't looking at her.
When Lucifer thought she was ready, she was a regular on the courtyard for sparring sessions with demons. Like this, weeks in Hell passed. It had taken her a while to fully grasp how warped time was in Hell—it was far slower than time on Earth. She almost didn't believe it when she asked a demon for the date and it hadn't even been very long. I said nothing about this. I preferred not to get involved, although Zara could still sense my presence within her. I knew it made her uncomfortable to know that she wasn't truly alone, but at least she had the courtesy to not make an issue out of it.
In the third Hell month, a crowd had formed around her as she sparred with a demon who had a slightly larger build than she was used to. The eternally red sky cast a dull glow on the courtyard, while the ground was otherwise illuminated by the yellow lights put up around the perimeter. The clash of metal rang as the demons cheered. Some were placing their bets on her, and others on her opponent, a popular demon named Titus.
Titus was a formidable opponent. Although he was large, he was moderately fast for someone his size. This posed a challenge for her. So far, Zara managed to dodge his strikes and keep herself intact. She did as Lucifer taught her – she took a deep breath and channelled her attention towards her sword and her opponent, feeling the sword as an extension of her own hand and looking for weak spots in him. Titus raised a broadsword to strike and Zara dodged, slicing him in the abdomen. He quickly spun about his hips to strike sideways at her and this would have nearly taken her head off, had she not ducked in time. Springing up with her ankles, she slammed her shoulder into his chest with all the energy she could summon, luckily knocking him off balance, even if only slightly.
As fast as was possible for her, she switched her short sword from her right to left hand and slashed at his neck and chest as many times as she could, opening bloody gashes. While she still had the chance, she kicked him in the shin and punched him with her free hand, knocking him down onto the floor. Triumphantly, she placed a foot on his chest and aimed the sword at his face, the crowd noisy with both cheers and boos. Titus, face and torso smeared with blood, simply grinned and raised his arms in defeat. She took a step back and reached out a hand to help him up. They both shook hands as a sign of good faith.
"Well, well, the little birdie's grown up," a deep female voice slithered into earshot. The crowd parted, revealing Meg, with her smug expression, walking towards us. "I'd be impressed if all these vultures weren't so afraid of being incinerated by Mother dearest." Meg took off her leather jacket, tossing it into the crowd. "I'm not. Her Majesty surely understands that a good fight is a necessary one. So what do you say, a little one-on-one, hand-to-hand? I promise I won't kill you, but I might come close."
She eyed Zara with a twisted desire that Zara didn't quite know what to make of, a kind of look that made her doubt herself. Accepting the challenge, she stood ready. The demons grew silent. Zara could feel her heart pounding wildly in her chest. Do it, Zara. She's offering herself up for slaughter. We need this, remember?
"I don't know if I can defeat her," Zara told me.
I'll guide you. Once you get close enough, I will rise up and kill her, that pompous little twat.
"But what about Lucifer? Won't he be mad?" Zara cautioned.
I can handle him. I always have. Anyway, it'll be too late by then. It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, isn't it?
"I'm not sure this is a good idea. Especially now," Zara reasoned meekly.
He won't hurt you, dear. He can't. Not while I'm here. You just give it your best shot and let me handle the rest.
Meg and Zara circled each other slowly. Soon enough, Meg advanced to deliver the first blow. Zara dodged and grabbed her wrist and elbow, deflecting the blow to her side. Hand-to-hand combat was much more manageable, Zara thought. By simply directing the energy of the opponent away from oneself, one could be afforded much-needed distance and space to attack. Still maintaining her grip on Meg's arm, Zara attempted to twist it into an arm lock but Meg retaliated with a kick into Zara's shin and a punch to the face. Not seeing it coming from such a close distance, Zara was knocked back, feeling her cheek swell from the punch.
Again, the two circled each other. This time, Zara attacked first, delivering a punch to the face, expecting it to be blocked by her opponent. When it was, she used her back leg to knee her in the abdomen and used the impact to get a clear shot at her face. This pushed Meg a few steps back, and she let out a hearty laugh. "Looks like she has some fight in her after all."
"Meg!" a demon called out, nearing them from inside the palace. "And uh… Zara. The King would like a word with the both of you."
Meg gave him a short nod of acknowledgement, and did the same to Zara. "Later, then," she promised with a thin smile.
Later indeed, I said to Zara. She was saved now but it wouldn't be for very long. Meg retrieved her jacket from the crowd before joining Zara's side in the hallway. No matter how hard she tried, Zara could not shake the feeling of Meg's diabolical smile aimed in her direction.
"You were good back there," the demon complimented, her voice smooth and sultry.
Keeping her eyes straight ahead, Zara responded, "Thanks."
"Must be tough hosting an archangel, huh?" Meg probed casually. "The both of you must be so different. One being a Queen and one being… divine."
"I think I can manage it," Zara said emotionlessly. I wanted her to ignore the demon's attempts at conversation but even for Zara, it seemed rude. She was stuck in a place between keeping her human habits and adopting an archangel's. The lines were blurred.
Meg released a short exhale. "What do you say—you ditch the archangel and I take you out for a drink?" Meg offered. "See where the night takes us."
That was when the blurred lines became completely dissolved. Zara's eyes widened. In a fraction of a second, all feeling faded away from her limbs. A scorching anger—guilty as charged—like no other erupted from her core, spilling over into her consciousness. I flew to the surface of her mind without any hesitation. Zara's eyes shone with a green light and remained illuminated. Such was the force of my presence. I pushed Meg up against the wall, choking the demon with my forearm.
"Do not speak that way to her, demon whore!" I growled.
"What are you… gonna… do?" Meg asked through a strangled voice, somehow managing a defiant smirk. "Kill…me?"
"It would be like stomping a cockroach," I spat out. The nerve of this bitch! The demons surrounding us looked on with fear and anticipation.
Meg laughed. "In front of all these… eye-witnesses? Didn't work out so well for you… with Father… when you plotted against my colleagues. You're his bitch… just like us."
My steel gaze bore into the demon. I wasn't just about to let this pass. Was it worth it to further strain my relationship over this? It sure as hell was feeling like it. I raised up a balled fist.
"Sophia, stop!"
And there it was. The order of the King himself. He'd come to her rescue like she was some kind of sick animal, except sick animals actually deserved compassion. It was so tempting then to burn out her eye sockets right in front of him. To see the look on his face when I showed him what mattered and what didn't. Yet I held my hand. I squeezed the demon's throat with my forearm and then let her go. Meg fell to the ground, coughing and heaving.
My hardened gaze met Lucifer's for the first time in days. Red sores had reappeared on his vessel. The hallway full of demons was deadly silent as we glared at each other for a few volatile seconds. And then, I sunk back into the back of Zara's consciousness. Her irises turned back to brown. Zara reached for the wall as feeling returned all too quickly to her body. Every pair of eyes pierced her skin like needles. As if they were some hivemind, the onlooking demons all went back to what they had to do in an uncanny synchrony. Zara pushed her weak legs to follow the demon who would escort her to the throne room. Lucifer kept his eyes fixed on her, his face marred with an impenetrable judgment. It was probably the most nerve-wrecking walk of her life.
Her heart beat so hard she was worried it would pop out of her chest. As soon as she neared the table, Lucifer grabbed her elbow and turned her around to face him. His other hand trapped her between him and the table.
She gasped, grabbing onto the table with a free hand. "What the hell was that?" he demanded to know, his teeth clenched.
"I don't know!" Zara's voice was meek. Her fingers twitched nervously.
"No, not you. I'm talking to her." He stared deep into her eyes. "I know she can hear me."
Feeling her tremble under his touch, he let her go. The other demons, including Meg, walked in. Meg eyed Zara with hostile suspicion, rubbing her bruised neck. They all stood around the table, while Lucifer laid out his final plan.
"You will all be personally overseeing our ongoing operations. Go to your assigned locations and deliver a progress report by tonight," he announced.
First, combat training, now this? He's really moving me up the ranks, Zara thought.
I huffed. And if anything were to happen, it'd be my fault for not doing anything. Don't take it personally.
I wasn't going to, Zara assured me. Of course, I felt the little blow to her ego. That wasn't my intention, certainly.
As it turned out, Zara was assigned to Nevada with the demon Timothy. There was time during the car ride to brief her on the details.
"What's the sitch?" Zara asked him.
"You… don't know?" Timothy inquired quizzically. The yellow streetlamps brushed across their faces as they drove down the highway.
"I'm kind of an emergency stand-in for someone else, if you haven't noticed," Zara sighed. I had no idea that being a vessel meant all of this, she thought. "So no, I don't know."
"Okay… so, there's a swine flu epidemic," Timothy began. "One of our pharmaceutical companies is going to distribute a miracle vaccine for it. But it's not a real vaccine. It's a deadly virus created by the Horseman Pestilence himself."
"The ol' bait-and-switch," Zara monotonously joked. "What else is new in this God forsaken world?"
"With an attitude like that, you fit right in. I saw you on the yard too. You'd make a good demon, if that means anything to you," Timothy remarked.
"It doesn't," Zara curtly replied. "So what exactly are we supposed to do?"
"The company, Niveus, is run by one of ours—Brady. We need to check in on him and make sure everything is in place for mass rollout tomorrow," the demon stated. "Simple, right?"
"Is that why I've been assigned?" Zara huffed sardonically. "Because it's simple and you can babysit me?"
"Maybe you shouldn't question the King's plans so much," Timothy warned. "That usually doesn't end well."
"Sure," Zara took a sip of water from a bottle in the car. The cool rush of liquid down her throat eased her tension a little. She focused on the road ahead. Funny how she thought she would be riding shotgun just like this but in her own body, not getting caught up in a feud between two goddamn archangels. Left to her own thoughts now, old demons returned. She wondered a lot of things, like where life was going. She felt unstable, like everything was in a dangerously dynamic equilibrium. What am I now? she thought. Images of the earth, the universe and various people she'd known in her life flashed through her mind – her brother, her best friend, her mother, the Winchesters. It was all flooding her veins at once.
You don't need to have all the answers now, Zara, I told her. It's okay not to know.
Where do I fit in all of this? she asked, her heart in a flurry.
You fit in with me, I answered. I whispered soothing prayers into her heart. You may not be ready to understand it, but you will. Someday. Be patient. Focus on the present for now.
Soon enough, they entered a city area with brick buildings flanking the streets. They stopped in front of Niveus Pharmaceuticals.
A flight of stairs led to the entrance, two glass doors with a header that was illuminated with yellow light. Inside was a reception desk, standing in front of the elevators. It looked like a typical lobby of a business establishment, until the two of them approached the entrance. A limp hand on the floor emerged from behind the reception desk. "Shit," Timothy cursed as he and Zara stepped up their pace to enter the scene.
Their heels clanked on the marble floor as they briskly approached the counter, where they found yet another dead person lying prone on the ground. Both of them had their throats slit. Their shocked expressions were preserved in death.
Timothy pulled out a gun and handed it to Zara. "Be on the lookout," he ordered.
Zara nodded. They both took the elevator up to a higher floor. Ding! The elevator doors slid open. Dead people were sprawled everywhere in a morbid welcome. Upon further inspection, Timothy recognised them to be other demons. At the end of the hallway, the doors to Brady's office were busted wide open. "That's optimistic," Zara remarked softly.
She followed Timothy's lead in creeping up to the doors and checking for any signs of trespassers. Zara nudged open a door leading to another hallway, somewhat expecting to unload half her magazine into any moving object. The building was dead silent. "Brady's not here," Timothy concluded with due alarm. "We need to report this immediately."
Timothy paced around the room, looking for clues. Zara inspected the door they came in through. She knelt to look at the handle. There were splinters protruding from the sides of the door, as though they had been forced open. Looking around at the floor outside the door, she found traces of blood that were fresher than those of the demon corpses lying around. What was more intriguing was the fact that most of these corpses had stab wounds, like they were finished with a certain demon-killing knife. She remembered her encounter at the diner.
As she stood up, a little rigid lump in her pocket became apparent. She dug her hand into the jacket's pocket and retrieved a silver coin with strange markings on it. I recognised it immediately. He can't be serious, I rolled our eyes.
What is it? Zara wondered.
It's a tracking coin. Lucifer's stalking us. He must have put it in your pocket just now. Zara thought back to the meeting. The arm that Lucifer used to trap her at the table was pretty close to her pocket; he could have easily slipped it in then.
Before she could make something of what she had found, Timothy paced past her, beckoning her to follow him. "We need to find the local HQ."
They drove through the busy streets and stopped by a local bar. Inside, Timothy exchanged a knowing nod with the bartender, who then let them into the back room. They walked down a flight of stairs to enter another room. It was more lavishly decorated than the bar itself and was occupied by about six or seven demons. They lounged about and had drinks of their own, while their papers lay strewn on the desks and posted up on the walls. The demons were playing poker when Timothy and Zara ruined the cheery atmosphere of the room.
"Timothy, buddy!" a female demon stood up to greet them. "Did you finally get that time off?"
"No, uh," Timothy coughed. "I actually got a promotion. Guy above me mysteriously vanished so I got his job."
"Woah," the demon gasped. "Well, you're just in time to start a new round. Let's celebrate!" That's when the demon noticed Zara. "Now who's this? Entertainment?"
"That's the Queen's vessel. Her Majesty is resting in there," Timothy remained unimpressed with their invitation. As soon as he said that, all chatter stopped. The other demons now jerked to attention and got on their knees.
It took Zara a while to realise they were all waiting for her command. "Uh, rise," she said. To her relief, they obliged. "I'm here to help out until she chooses to return."
"We just got back from Niveus," Timothy began with an urgent tone. "Brady's gone, Lisa."
"Whaddaya mean he's gone?" a gruff-sounding voice boomed from behind Lisa as the others gathered closer.
"I mean he's missing. Like abducted. And it looks recent, like in the last hour or so. How far could he have been taken?"
Lisa rolled her eyes. "First, Crowley. Now, this? Can't seem to catch a break."
"Crowley?" Zara asked. She recognized that name from her time with the Winchesters.
"Yeah, the little rat's been a handful lately," Lisa told her.
"My reputation precedes me," a deep voice with a British accent sounded behind them. Zara jerked to face him. She still wasn't used to all the teleportation. The famed demon wasn't quite so scruffy as she'd expected—the Winchesters had described him as some kind of sleazy, underhanded demon whose penchants could easily fool someone into a trap. She'd certainly thought he'd be kind of mangy, not well-dressed, shaven and presenting an amiable smile. In fact, with the serpentine desire in his eyes, he even seemed handsome.
Timothy immediately stepped in front of Zara, extending a protective arm around her.
"You came to the wrong party, pal," Lisa didn't hesitate to throw a punch at him. Crowley simply caught her fist, kicked her in the abdomen and then punched her with more force, sending her flying across the room.
"Just leave Brady and me alone!" he exclaimed all of a sudden. "We want none of what Lucifer is offering! That's right, we're lovers in league against Satan!"
The cozy room suddenly became a mess as tables were broken and papers were strewn everywhere. One demon shot fire at him, but he retaliated with a much stronger ball of fire, which incinerated both the demon and her ally. All Zara saw was him shooting sharp spikes of iron into the other demons to incapacitate them before Timothy grabbed her and sat her behind a flipped table for cover. She tried to remain calm but it became increasingly difficult considering the sounds of bones crushing. It sounded like Crowley stomped on their skulls and then squished their brains. That much was confirmed by an odd reflection from a broken shard of glass.
"Stay here," Timothy ordered, before taking a deep breath and facing the demon himself. "Brady has bad taste in men."
With the calm of a summer breeze, Crowley pulled out a handgun from his black coat and shot Timothy in the head. He dropped like a fly, limp, with his torso right in front of Zara. She flinched, knocking against the table. He was still blinking but he seemed unable to move. So her only other protection was unavailable and Crowley knew where she was. Without a choice, she slowly stood up with her hands up to signal peace. That allowed her to truly appreciate the devastation he'd caused in such a short amount of time. Fire climbed up the walls, casting a sensuous orange glow on his face. At his feet, demons lay disfigured and most certainly dead.
As if on cue, Crowley's eyes snapped up and bore into her, instantly filling Zara with dread. But then she remembered – she had an archangel protecting her. She relaxed her muscles and took a deep breath, easing the tension on her face. Maintaining eye contact with him, she slowly walked forward, placing one foot in front of another confidently. She held her chin up, not wanting to show weakness.
"You're certainly something, aren't you?" she began calmly, as if she wasn't shaken to the core. She asked me for strength and out of sheer curiosity, I had to oblige. "I've never seen anyone melt brains so… brutally. I'm terrified."
Crowley smirked. "You like that feeling, don't you?" he winked.
Zara reciprocated the smile. She held out her hand. "Zara," she introduced herself.
He shook her hand in response. "I know who you are. And seeing as the archangel inside you hasn't… struck me down yet, I'd say we're on the same side."
"Don't get too ahead of yourself now. I'm on my side," Zara confidently replied.
His thumb traced the back of her knuckles before he let go. "A strong, independent woman—I like that. Along with tall and mysterious men, of course," Crowley scanned her expression. "Word on the street is Lucifer and his lady are having marital problems."
"It's not my place to gossip," Zara remained firm. "I do have to get back and report this… incident, though."
She gestured to all the dead demons. "You do that, love. And don't skimp out on the details, like the part about Brady and me," Crowley wagged a finger.
"Aren't you a Crossroads demon? Seal the deal," Zara half-teased, raising an eyebrow suggestively. "I won't tell."
Crowley had a smug twinkle in his eye which did not refuse the offer. She placed a hand on his shoulder first, and sensing no resistance, she rested the other on his waist. Before she could react, he pulled her closer by the small of her back, eliciting a pleasant gasp from her.
"I like a man who takes control," she whispered, the space between their lips begging to be closed.
She traced his pocket and carefully placed the tracker coin in it. Crowley smiled in return, enthused by the new opportunity presented. "You're definitely something else," he muttered softly. "What do you say, we take this further some other time? Time's ticking and I've left poor Brady all tied up and stood to attention."
"Don't leave me waiting too long," Zara pleaded. She bit her lip desperately.
"I'll not be as harsh as the Devil, I promise," Crowley traced her bottom and gave it a good squeeze before letting go. "I'll keep in touch, darling."
Within the blink of an eye, he'd vanished.
You got into character a little too well, I noticed. But good thinking. I'll take over from here.
We switched places. I was in control again. Timothy's appalled eyes fixated on me from his still position on the ground. "Calm down, will you? I'm back," I grumbled. Placing two fingers on his forehead, I concentrated on pushed the bullet out. It had been engraved with a devil's trap. A simple construction, but an elegant and novel application of principles that were already known. I was duly impressed.
In an instant, Timothy moved his limbs around and slowly got up. He looked at me nervously. "What was that? What were you doing with him?" he questioned, like it was his place at all. I rolled my eyes. This is what happens when you get no-name demons to do the jobs of those above their rank.
"That was Zara, dear, and I will be giving her a talking-to," I told him with a look that meant there will be no further conversation about this.
I placed a hand on his shoulder and flew us both to the throne room. Timothy landed on his knees, unused to flight. He scrambled to get up and dusted off his coat. Lucifer turned upon hearing the thud of Timothy's fall, previously engaged with a map of the United States. "What happened?" his eyes flickered between us.
"Sir, there's been a massacre at Niveus," Timothy panted for breath as he spoke. He looked to me to elaborate but I remained silent. He continued, "Brady's missing. We went to the local hideout to report it and then… then we were attacked. By that Crossroads demon—Crowley. He and Brady are…" Timothy shuddered. "…'lovers in league against Satan'. He spared the both of us but the others are dead."
He glanced at me questioningly, wondering whether to tell Lucifer about Zara's flirtatious encounter with Crowley. I refused to give a sign. By the look of Lucifer's knotted brows, he was still trying to process the report. He ultimately resorted to a sigh before turning to me. "And you just stood by? Allowing them to be slaughtered?" he asked. I simply shrugged. He threw up his hands. "Of course you did."
I answered, "Well, if I didn't, I wouldn't have been able to get you his location. You're welcome."
He seemed almost surprised that I had chosen to say anything at all. "You know where the two deserters are?" Lucifer asked. "Where?"
I turned to Timothy. "Leave," I ordered him. He obliged without a moment's thought.
Now it was just us. After all this time. My instincts had always favoured being in his arms, even though rationality told me that it wouldn't be right. I was in a battle against myself. Gabriel dominated my mind whenever I looked at him.
"Before I tell you, I have to ask," I began, hugging my arms to myself. "Did you really think there was no other way? Or were you so angry with… with everything that you wanted to kill him? Be honest with me."
Lucifer rubbed the back of his neck in contemplation. He opened and closed his mouth a few times in a struggle to choose the right words. Perhaps it was a sign that he wasn't completely lost to me. "I didn't want to do it, Sophie. It hurt me too. You have to believe me," he said with difficult breaths. "It all happened so quickly. I mean, he tried to kill me. How was I supposed to deal with that? In that moment, all I could see was how much he hated me and I responded as I would with anyone who did the same. I know you hate hearing that. He's my brother, so how could I? Well I never wanted to fight any of my brothers, but I have to. It's been written. It's either them or us, can't you see?"
All I could think of was that last festive night we enjoyed. Back in Heaven, when we all laughed together for once. When we danced, we drank and we sang. Plump droplets fell from my eyes. I sniffled, wiping them away. "Gabriel never wanted to take sides. You know that," I reminded him.
"You should've seen the way he was talking. He wanted to choose humanity over his own brothers. He had already forsaken us. Forsaken you," Lucifer retorted mournfully. "You really believe he wouldn't have tried to kill you too?"
"I know so," I remained steadfast. "I received a letter. It was delivered to me by one of Hermod's ravens. You know what that means—he wanted me to read it in case he died. Because he cared. But what can he do when his brothers are set on destroying everything?"
"You know, this is unfair," Lucifer sniffled too, looking down. "All I have are bad options. You think I don't look in a mirror and wonder what I've become? If I actually stopped to think, I'd shatter into a million pieces. So I don't. I want to be strong. I need to be strong. For both of us. And I'm really sorry, Sophie, that I killed Gabriel. I know you loved him dearly. You practically raised him. I'm sorry I took that away from you. I don't know how to fix this."
"You can't," I honestly said. My heart was so heavy it anchored me to the ground. Yet I found the strength to near him. I held a palm to his cheek and healed his vessel once again. His shoulders relaxed deeply. Placing his hand over mine, he gently kissed my wrist. I gulped more tears away. Talking more about this wasn't going to help. My heart sealed my chest of emotions and set it aside. A heavy silence ensued, before I said, "I found the tracker you placed on me."
He froze. "I can explain-"
"I don't think talking is going to help much," I cut him off. "But lucky for you, the tracker will now lead you to Crowley."
I was about to turn away when his hand rested on my waist, the other caressing my cheek. "You will always be important to me," he said, eyes contorting in pain. He pulled me closer to plant a kiss on my forehead, and then my temple, and then my cheeks. His lips pressed against mine but this time, I couldn't give in to my heart.
I gently nudged him away. "I… I can't even look at you," I muttered. "I need space."
Wiping away more tears, I left his presence. The night was lonely.
