Sophia's Chronicles

Chapter 66: The Number of the Beast

Hell – 17 March 2012

Lucifer stood over a table with a bunch of papers scattered about in his private study, which was located on the top floor of the palace. The whole floor was cordoned off as his personal space, where no one but himself was allowed unless he'd expressly permitted someone else to enter. Typically, that person was his Queen, who had her own room at the end of the hallway. It was where she'd woken up after he found her. Then there was the library, full of books that she would read. There was the armoury, where he'd kept a large collection of weapons and had a training space. This open display didn't include a secret, unviolated cabinet where he'd kept his most prized of arms, of course. The armoury had a large open-air balcony that oversaw much of the Kingdom and the courtyard below, where he'd observe the demons train. Under his watchful gaze, some of the most powerful demons had emerged and rose to the ranks. Over time, of course, their standards had deteriorated badly. He would see to it that his army was as mighty as it once was. Couldn't be a King of losers and pussies, after all.

His first task was to get up to speed on what had been happening on Earth. All these reports were Crowley's – say what you will about the guy, but at least he had the sense to keep tabs on important things. His studious blue eyes roved over all the documents before he picked up a single piece of paper on which he'd drawn a symbol that he'd muddled over for a while now – the Aquarian star encased in a circle.

"I've seen that before," Abaddon told him as she stood with her arms respectfully clasped behind her back next to him. "Men of Letters. Had a run-in with them in the past, unfortunately for them."

"Apparently they have something of interest to me," Lucifer muttered. His hands scoured through some papers and arrived on a folder which he then brought to the forefront. Opening it, he and Abaddon found images of the temporary HQ in America, which Crowley had been keeping an eye on apparently.

"Well, I've wiped them out before. I can do it again," Abaddon offered. Her thick, cherry lips curved into a smile as she gazed at him. Her heart almost skipped a beat at the thought of getting to work with the Dark Lord himself. It was… an honour. Especially to be the highest-ranking demon present – the one he'd give all the responsibilities to. The one he'd reward.

"Yes, we will," Lucifer said, keeping his eye fixed on the folder. "I need updated intel on them. Handle it."

"Yes, sir," Abaddon complied.


British Men of Letters Temporary HQ – 17 March 2012, A cloudy morning

It was another day. Another gruelling day of work with an uncooperative vessel and a wealth of mysteries that needed answering. The scientists were perplexed by the various items found in Zara's possession – an archangel sword, a bronze hawk statue of an unknown and ancient element and some books written in Enochian talking about things that they didn't quite understand. Some statistical analysis combined with rudimentary translations revealed the books to be containing spells. What the spells were intended for, they weren't so sure. The palm-sized statue posed an even greater question. Did the angels have craftsmanship? What was this unique metal that was not known to man? It seemed resistant to any kind of identification and they didn't quite know what its significance was. Five months of investigating all of these things yet not much was known.

A car pulled up outside the wire gates. Tom pulled down the window and displayed his identification, as was protocol. A signal was sounded and the gate shifted open. His face was blank, void of any emotion, as he wordlessly parked the car. Entering the office, he took off his dark coat and went to get a cup of coffee to relax. "How was your hunt?" Toni asked from where she was seated opposite his desk.

"It was successful. The States is ten vampires down," he reported, stirring some creamer into his mug.

"Good," Toni smiled. "I'll write a glowing report of your successes to the home base."

"Sure," he monotonously said, settling at his desk with the same dearth of emotion he had for the last few weeks. Toni's smile faded, seeing as he wasn't reciprocating the gesture.

"We have to celebrate the small victories, Tom. Now more than ever," she advised, maintaining a concerned gaze on him.

"Sure," he said, with more duration and sarcasm this time. His eyes were fixed on his desk. Toni was pretty sure he'd refused to make eye contact with anyone ever since the tragic news had come in. He just hadn't been the same. All life had drained out of him and he'd been a living robot. Not that she blamed him – it must be tough dealing with the loss of a significant other. She just wished she could do something to help him.

Toni shifted her focus back to her computer screen. A new update had just come in. Her forehead creased. "Tom, I have something. Come take a look," she beckoned. As they both looked at the screen, bewilderment eclipsed their expressions. "There aren't supposed to be so many demons near us. We're warded. What's going on?"

"Somehow they've found out where we are. Do you think they're here for Zara?" Tom conjectured.

"How's that possible? It was a demon that handed her over. The King of Hell himself," Toni rebutted. "I'm gonna find out what's going-"

"No, I'll go," Tom interrupted, already making his way back to his desk.

Toni tilted her head, puzzled by him. "Tom, stop," she requested. When he didn't oblige, she continued, "It's my turn to take a field trip."

"It's alright. I've got it, don't worry," he reassured her, all while busying himself and looking at anything but her.

"Tom," she called out again. "You've been doing too many field assignments. It's exhausting. Take a break."

"I'm not tired," he answered.

Toni let out a deep exhale. Someone had to say something. "This isn't good for you, you know. I'm sorry to bring it up but you can't keep distracting yourself from grief. You have to deal with it head-on," she said as sincerely as she could.

Tom paused whatever he was doing. His heart palpitated in irregular rhythms, pounding so loudly he thought it might be using his stomach as a trampoline and would shoot straight out of his chest any time now. His muscles fluttered uncomfortably. An unending series of images and thoughts shot through his head at light speed, uninvited and against his consent. He hated this. This was why he needed a distraction so bad. "How about you don't tell me how to grieve?" he uttered, not even thinking before the words escaped his mouth. "I mean," he shut his eyes, immediately regretting his tone. "Look, you're better at handling things here. And I really need this. It's how I cope."

Toni eyed him blankly. At least he was talking about it. That was an improvement. "Be careful, now," she said, with a gentler tone.

Zara, by now, managed to sit in the same spot for days in a row. No thoughts went through her head. And if they did, they were barely coherent. Some days they just pumped her full of drugs to get her calm down because she was getting more and more psychotic episodes – periods of time when she'd see things, hear things and scream things. Sometimes when the guards came to restrain her, she'd attack them, thinking they were some kind of dark entity come to hurt her. She'd spent some time in a strait jacket from time to time when they were too lazy to monitor her episode for its whole duration. She didn't know what the hell they were giving her but she knew for sure that her hallucinations were of little importance to them – or utmost interest, rather.

The drugs calmed her down, typically, but the hallucinations got worse. They weren't interested in curing her of them. They just wanted to know about the things she saw. Maybe they thought she'd see something that she was hiding from them and talk about it out loud, thinking no one could hear her. If that was the case, they had another thing coming because she didn't know what the hell she was seeing. Some mysterious being who never said anything or did anything. And the only thing she knew to do was scream in his presence and try to get as far from him as possible.

Back in the nearby town, Tom briskly walked down the street in his long coat, business-minded. He was so caught up in his head that he walked straight past a certain angel in a copper-coloured coat. Raziel's gaze followed Tom as he saw the human almost brushing his shoulder. He observed his no-nonsense gait with a frown-riddled expression but didn't pursue him. He wasn't here for the Men of Letters. Not yet anyway. The angel carried on in his trajectory, turning into an abandoned alley. There, a pair of black eyes awaited him underneath a hoodie. "Raziel," the informant greeted him from his position leaning against a wall.

"Demon," Raziel replied expressionlessly. He reached out into his coat and pulled out a piece of paper. "Payment for your boss, as usual."

"Oh that won't be necessary this time," he smirked mischievously, straightening up. Raziel's shoulders tightened. Something was wrong. He turned around to find himself surrounded by five more demons, at least one of whom was holding an angel blade.

"Your boss and I had a deal," Raziel insisted through a clenched jaw.

"Boss is dead," Hoodie snapped. "We had a bit of a spring cleaning and the old boss got the boot. From life. Which means, deal's off."

"What?" Raziel muttered, the situation not getting any clearer for him. "I thought he kept our arrangement out of Crowley's sights."

"Well, Crowley's not in charge anymore," he gloated. The demons grinned, some even snickered. They took a step towards him and he inched away, watching his step.

"Then who is?" Raziel asked. This was… strange. And all the demonic energy in this place… it was all out of whack.

"The one and only," Hoodie half-tilted his head. "Satan."

"No…" The angel's eyes widened in shock. This… this was bad. No, it was horrible. Satan's back? Earth was in trouble. As if they didn't have enough to deal with already.

"Uh, yes," the demon rebutted. "Which means it's Hell on Earth and Earth in Hell, baby."

The demon behind Raziel charged forward. The angel leapt away, narrowly missing the stab of the blade. He brandished his own blade, expertly parrying with them and kicking them away. If what the demon said was true, he needed to discuss this matter with his friends immediately. As soon as he got an opening, he spread his wings and took off, leaving the demons in a daze.


"… take…" A sudden whispering came to senses. Zara flinched. Who said that? She looked around her cell. "Take… his… hand…"

The door creaked open. As per usual, she was escorted to whatever day-time activities they had planned for her. Except that day was different. She had an unusual sense of clarity about her. Her head buzzed here and there but her vision was sharp, which only confused her further. A sense of absurdity overcame her as she remembered the past few weeks. Was I really… hallucinating? She knew it to be fact yet this renewed sense of personhood made it all seem like a dream. But it couldn't be, since she was still trapped in this building, surrounded by all the same walls she'd seen a thousand times.

Her legs seemed to move automatically in step with the guards, as they usually did while her mind was elsewhere. But now that she was present, she could see that they took a left turn where normally they'd take a right. It was a strange dissonance that produced an almost-physical sensation of something being out of place. In all the five months that she'd been held prisoner here, not once had she been allowed this left turn. What's happening? She frowned, almost to the point of hurting her eyes, as one guard held the elevator door open and another kept a restraining arm on her back while she entered. The cold metallic texture of the elevator floor was a sharp contrast to the carpeted interior that she was used to. Every second seemed amplified as the sheer anxiety of what was to come shot through her, making her hairs stand on ends and a sick feeling grow in her stomach.

The basement. It was much darker in here, like a tunnel that led into nothingness. The hallway before them was lit by but a few yellow lights overhead, retaining mysterious dark patches among spots of light. The constant sound of mumbling and footsteps shuffling implied that there were more people here than she could see. Zara felt an uneasiness creep up her back as she was led into a room with a single overhanging light overlooking an empty chair. She immediately knew what this was. Creepy room, single-seater? Yeah, torture.

"Today's going to be a little different," Toni introduced, as Zara was securely tied to the chair. Zara said nothing. Her lips were sealed shut not only from defiance, but also from not having spoken much for a long time. Her vocal tracts felt so unused, just like her sanity. "You may have been averse to answering our questions in the past, but I can assure you that today, you will speak. Ms Watt, please."

A woman that Zara had never seen before stepped forward, dragging a table with what seemed to be instruments of torture along with her. She approached too close for comfort and sharply pulled Zara's head back by a tuft of her hair. "Better play along," Ms Watt snarled in her ear. "Don't want to find yourself running out of blood, do you?"

Zara's teeth clenched, somehow still finding the energy to resist. Inside, she was shaking like a leaf almost. The thoughts of what they might do terrified her. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to care enough about it. If this was the end of the line, so be it. She was drained of all will. She didn't want to do this anymore. In fact, she was morbidly curious about how much pain she could take. Sophia, if you're hearing this… this is what I'm willing to do…

"You've been having hallucinations as of late, yes?" Toni's question snapped her out of her thoughts. Zara's irises, though trained on Toni, slowly came into focus. "What have you been seeing?"

That… that's it? They wanna know about my delusions? "Uh…" Zara cleared her throat. Her mouth felt so dry. "There's… there's a shadow-man."

"What does he look like?" Toni continued.

"A shadow?" Zara puzzled. "Isn't it self-explanatory?"

"Hey! Don't think you can get smart," Ms Watt interrupted with a stern voice.

"Does this shadow-man say anything?" Toni pursued, maintaining her cordial composure.

Zara thought to the voice she heard earlier. It kinda resembled the voice she heard in the sensory deprivation tank. That humanoid thing that she saw in the strange black place that morphed from gooey substance. "No, he just stands in the corner and stares," she answered, gaze wandering to the floor. "He doesn't even have a face."

"Was it a demon?" Ms Watt suddenly cut in. Her demanding schoolteacher voice just put Zara off, but she suppressed rolling her eyes.

"No, it was not a demon," Zara sighed.

"But if you couldn't see his face, how could you have known?" she rebutted.

"He didn't have a face," Zara explained. "Besides, didn't you guys ward the place? Because if you didn't, shame on you," she mocked, a smug smile lighting up her face for the first time in forever.

In a split second, a fist came crashing at the side of her face and the breath was knocked out of her. She almost gaped, having not expected that. She was still reeling from the sudden blow as she looked back at Toni, who stood as she had always been while Ms Watt was poised at the ready closer to her chair. "Don't get snarky, princess. And we'll be asking the questions from now on," Ms Watt said, her beady eyes fixed on Zara.

"Have you, or have you not had any contact with demons in the last few weeks?" Toni asked.

The ridiculousness of the question showed on her face even with the dull, radiating ache from Zara's right jaw. "No," she replied, almost uncertain if this was a trick question.

"She's lying," Ms Watt concluded. "Gotta be."

Toni's eyebrows crinkled a little as she studied the girl before her. Despite her complete lack of trust, Toni couldn't help but wonder if Zara was telling the truth. The whole situation seemed a little suspicious to her in the first place – somehow she thought Zara was incapable of causing it. "You've been astral projecting in the tank. Where have you been going?" Toni brought up.

"I don't know," Zara answered. Another stifled gasp escaped her lips as the other side of her face was struck. "It's the truth!" she spat out, beginning to get aggravated. Her honesty was being rewarded with pain.

"Then what do you see in the astral projections?"

"I…" Her eyes shut as she struggled to recall the details. "It was dark. Really dark. That's all I remember."

"Are you sure that's all you saw?" Toni pressed.

"I don't know what you're expecting me to say," Zara shot back.

"Demons, Zara," Toni pointed out. "Did you talk to them? Communicate with them somehow?"

"No," Zara denied, voice growing cold. "How could I have? If you forgot, Toni, maybe I should remind you that it's a demon's fault that I'm here."

Toni simply stared at her with those shark-like eyes as a brief moment passed. Ms Watt took that as a cue and promptly broke out the toys. Zara's breathing grew rapid and shallow as she saw what was to come. A small knife with a curved blade found its edge tracing her forearm. Her nails dug so deep into her palm that she could feel the marks left on her skin. She grunted through a tight jaw as she felt her skin being torn. Her body inevitably struggled to move away from the source of pain but found no such relief.

"We'll come back to this later," Toni said. "What do you know of Lucifer's powers?"

Zara winced, the pain still coming through in waves. She panted, trying to find a period of relief though her head was swimming. "He can… he can…" she tried to push out the words. "… fuck you up."

Toni gave a short nod and Ms Watt moved in again, this time tightening a garrotte around her neck. She pulled on the leather and Zara's eyes widened at the sudden feeling of being cut off from the rest of her body. Her panic grew every second as she struggled for breath. Cold tingles pricked the tips of her ears and lips. And then, the garrotte released and she gulped air like it was water into her lungs. The friction still stung on her neck. Her vision was invaded by black dots, a protracted reminder of how close she was to death. She bit her lower lip – it felt numb. "Tell us something we don't know, cunt," Ms Watt snapped.

"I… I wasn't around him for very long…" Zara admitted with a breaking voice.

"What did he have you do after you went missing?" Toni asked.

"I don't remember," Zara remained defiant. Toni released a deep breath, shoulders relaxing. She looked at Ms Watt expectantly. This was going to be a long day.


British Men of Letters Temporary HQ – 17 March 2012, A perfect time doesn't exi-

The sky was overcast when Lucifer found himself overlooking the dull establishment. In there, past the wired gates and brick walls was what he'd been looking for. A small cloud of white mist formed as he exhaled. The hill he stood on gave him a good vantage point to see what exactly he was up against. It was nothing special, not really anyway. What was inside was hidden from his supernatural sight, but not for long.

"It's heavily warded, sir," Abaddon chimed in from his right. "How are we going to get past it?"

"Those people in there – they think that the warding's gonna protect them from people like us," Lucifer replied calmly, watching his plan being set in motion right before him. "And they're right. But it's not gonna protect them from more of themselves."

Abaddon's heart fluttered. She didn't know exactly what that meant but she could feel the excitement of what was to come. This was going to be good. Her keen grey eyes spotted some movement down below. First it seemed to be only three men. They charged forward, guns blazing, taking out the security at the front post. At the rate they went in with their machine guns, those guards didn't stand a chance. More followed behind and one of them threw a grenade, ripping open the wired gates with a deafening boom. Just like that, the militia gained entry into the compound. As was expected, a loud siren blared from the building, alerting all its occupants to the invasion. Without wasting a second, the militia got to work rigging the front exterior of the building with explosives. Yelling praises to God, they stood at a safe distance before blowing a huge gap where the front doors used to be.

The Knight's eyebrows knotted in confusion. That seemed counterintuitive. Lucifer chuckled at the sight. "You pay 'em well enough, and they don't even question you," he answered before Abaddon could ask. "Those poor jihadis just wanted to raise a little hell on American soil. And hey, I own Hell. Must irk Dad a lot to watch these idiots. Works for me." Abaddon huffed a smile. Lucifer raised a walkie-talkie to his mouth. "You did well. Your part's over," he ordered in fluent Arabic.

"We don't take orders from you, American," the leader of the militia rebutted in his native tongue. Lucifer rolled his eyes. With a sweep of the arm, he made appear an RPG and steadied it as he pointed it at the building. Specifically, the entrance. There, the mercenaries were gathered as two of them had gone in to scope the place. Just the right moment, it was. The archangel pulled the trigger.

(Cue N.I.B. by Black Sabbath)

~Some people say my love cannot be true

Please believe me, my love, and I'll show you

I will give you those things you thought unreal

The sun, the moon, the stars all bear my seal~

A loud hiss resounded as the rocket propelled straight in its trajectory. The man who'd talked to him earlier jerked his head in the direction of the sound, his eyes wide with the inescapable vision of death heading straight in his direction. Barely a stutter escaped the men's lips. There was only the sound of yet another explosion, the smell of burnt human flesh and the unmistakable splatter of human blood and guts on the doorstep to the Men of Letters' temporary headquarters. Now that the building was physically breached, the warding was unstable.

"Send the boys in," Lucifer ordered, cold-faced.

~Follow me now and you will not regret

Leaving the life you led before we met~

Abaddon did a gesture and within a second, she was poised in front of the compound, an army of demons behind her. At once, they charged into the building. A malicious grin was plastered across her face. Armed Men of Letters came out to face them but in an instant, they were no more. It hadn't even been thirty seconds and the crimson smear of blood lined Abaddon's arms and face, complementing her auburn hair. Empty bullets littered the floor, all having served no use against Hell's army. By the time that the Men of Letters figured out that they were up against demons, it had been too late for many of their members. Abaddon kept walking and never had to stop for a single moment. The last thing many of them saw was the unmoved, nightmarish smile that bore her teeth, reminiscent of the Joker. A snapped neck here, a ripped chest there – she was having the time of her life. And then she found the armoury. Her eyes glistened like a child opening a Christmas present as she opened up the box full of weapons.

~You are the first to have this love of mine

Forever with me 'till the end of time~

Lucifer himself did not hesitate to get in on the action. His mind was set on a single goal. A man with a measly handgun shuddered before him as he unloaded the clip. Unfazed by the bullets, Lucifer grabbed the man by the neck, digging his fingers into the man's trachea. Slowly, he pulled his fingers down, watching as the skin peeled away and the blood spattered out. The man's protesting arms felt like the tap of an ant's legs to the archangel. On the far wall, a crucifix hung. Blood dripped from Christ's eyes, before the fake nails gave way and he fell, leaving the bare crucifix to rotate about its axis. Lucifer raised his arms and closed his eyes, summoning a strong gust of wind. The whole building was rocked as thunder raged in the sky. His brow was furrowed in concentration. Suddenly, his eyelids flung open and he spun around, just in time to catch the handle of an axe as it was being swung by a foolhardy woman, who looked like she instantly regretted every decision she ever made in her life to lead her there. It would have been easy then for him to rip the axe out of her hand and slice her cleanly through with it, but Lucifer chose instead to grab her throat and ask her a single question.

~Your love for me has just got to be real

Before you know the way I'm going to feel

I'm going to feel

I'm going to feel~

Down in the basement…

The three women flinched simultaneously when the earth-shattering explosion rocked them where they stood – or sat, in Zara's case. She shuddered, her body still reeling from the exhausting series of torments she'd just endured. Blood dried on her skin uncomfortably and she was sure she had a broken rib and nose. Her mouth felt dry from taking on the responsibility her nose couldn't handle, which counted as a blessing because that meant she wouldn't be able to smell the burnt skin on her right ankle. "What the bloody hell was that?" Ms Watt exclaimed. The ear-piercing alarm sounded, which only made Zara groan – as if she hadn't suffered enough blows to her gourd already. Another explosion sounded, this time quaking the whole building to its core. The ceiling light dangled slightly.

Toni's eyes wandered upwards in an attempt to glean understanding. There was the muffled sound of rapid gunfire. She gasped, exchanging a look of foreboding with her associate. No words were exchanged between them as they rushed out of the room to find out what was going on. "I'll… just… wait… here…" Zara muttered nasally as she heard the door shut. She spat out some blood that had pooled in her mouth and closed her eyes, her head swimming with nothing but agony. Someone kill me, please. The door clicked open, letting in a clearer sound of the siren. "Here to finish the job?" she asked, not even bothering to lift her head.

"Zara," a masculine voice sounded this time. "You have to get out of here."

Zara's eyes fluttered open. She saw him cutting the ropes that bound her wrists and legs to the chair. Suddenly, a sweet release of coldness erupted in those bound regions as the ropes fell away. "Tom?" Zara was confused as all hell. The Brit looked like he'd seen too much. His blue eyes pleaded her to accept what he was saying.

"There's no time to explain," he rushed. "Here," he thrust a bag in her lap. "All your things are in there. Listen to me very carefully: the demons are here. I think they want to kill you."

She was about to stutter a question when he put her left arm around his shoulder and lifted her off the chair. She limped a few steps forward. As if to deny her this taste of freedom, the muscles in her thighs began cramping really hard. Her knees buckled but before she hit the ground, Tom lurched forward and held her upright. He dragged her out the door, making towards a back exit. It was here in the hallway that the true weight of the situation dawned on her. All the lights had been cut out. There was only a pulsing, deep red light interspersed at regular intervals in the hallway, casting the rest of the long, narrow space in pitch darkness. "Why are you helping me?" Zara croaked as he lugged her in the general direction of an exit. The whole building fell eerily silent.

In the darkness, the only sound she could hear was Tom's shallow breathing. "Because," he heaved a deep breath. His voice was almost like a cry. "Because what we did to you was wrong. Everything was wrong. Having you here was wrong. All so, so wrong."

Zara was practically helpless at this point. It was the combination of stress, bad nutrition, trauma, temporary insanity and now, physical wounds. It was all interfering with her ability to process the situation. But once she'd understood enough, she tugged against him. Lightly at first, it didn't work. Then she summoned all her strength and pulled herself away, almost knocking herself off balance. "Where are you taking me?" she demanded to know. Tom simply stared in shock. They were both standing directly opposite each other, with Zara facing what looked to be an elevator shaft behind Tom. The alarm light on the wall pulsed rapidly, spraying an ominous scarlet on Tom's face while Zara stood shrouded in darkness.

"Zara, there's no time for this," he tried his best to keep calm. He extended a cautious arm towards her as if to show that he meant no harm. "Please trust me. I can get you out of here."

She shook her head slowly in denial. It seemed too good to be true. She limped a step backwards, pain still radiating from where her torturer held a flaming torch to her foot. With all her strength, she held that comforting leather bag close to her chest as if it was her only protection. She didn't know what to do. Maybe Tom was telling the truth – maybe he did want to help her. But then what? He'd probably just hand her over to the Men of Letters again. No thanks. But what other choice did she have? She didn't know what the hell was going on. Perhaps she'd take backtracking and hiding in some dark corner of the basement over following this man who had been nothing but an accomplice to the torment she'd endured.

"I'll let you go, Zara!" Tom begged. "I promise. I don't want anything to do with you anymore. Just please, please come with me."

This was the relief he needed. It had been weighing down on him since Day One, but it had gotten a lot worse after what happened to the love of his life. This project had screwed over everyone involved and it seemed like he was the only one who saw it coming. If he let her go now… perhaps there was room for redemption. A chance to move past the atrocities he'd seen and been part of. A final act to seek forgiveness from the universe. The possibility of having a good night's sleep. Zara almost felt sorry for him. That look on his face… he seemed desperate. She didn't know what his story was but something about him just said that maybe… maybe this was for real. She released a deep exhale. Her warm breath formed a cloudy mist. Zara frowned at the sight. A chilly breeze swept through them from the elevator shaft. Tom too noticed the change – how the hairs on his arms suddenly stood up to protect him from the cold air. He shifted his focus back to Zara and saw her eyes move just the tiniest bit and then widen in shock. "Nick?" she called out.

~Now I have you with me, under my power

Our love grows stronger now with every hour~

Tom turned around. A gasp got caught in his throat. His head craned downwards to see an arm buried deep in his chest. Blood trickled down said arm as Tom's consciousness faded away. The hand jerked out of the man's chest, leaving him to fall with a loud 'thud'. Zara flinched, falling backwards. Her breathing accelerated as she stared at the man before her. She recognised his face – his deadpan expression that regarded her with an ambiguous neutrality. She scrambled backwards on the floor, terrified. When he stepped into the darkness, it all became clear.

~Look into my eyes, you will see who I am~

His eyes… they glowed a flaming red. She trembled as she saw his silhouette shift. He simply reached out a hand to her.

~My name is Lucifer, please take my hand~

She remembered the voice. The haunting voice. Looking into the eyes of fire, her own hand extended upwards, finding his grip like Adam in Michelangelo's famous painting.


Hell

This moment felt unreal. The freedom felt so fresh. And God, was she grateful to have gotten out of that cement concentration camp that she'd been stuck in for so long. But now what? She was sat in this room at a round table in Lucifer's quarters. He was silently observing Zara from where he was seated opposite her. Healed of all her wounds, she still didn't appear her normal self. She looked like she needed a month's worth of bedrest and a shower. She refused to make eye contact with him, unsure of what to say or do. His own silence did not help. What should you say to someone you betrayed, who also rescued you from hell and then brought you to… Hell? And if that someone was Satan? "Listen," he broke the silence. His voice brought back distant memories of momentary happiness. Zara tried to push the thought to the back of her head. None of that meant anything now. "Here's how this is going to work: I'm going to ask you questions-"

"I'll tell you everything," she cut him off. Her left hand traced the intact skin of her right forearm, where a nasty gash was mere hours ago. "Anything you want to know."

"Oh," Lucifer raised his eyebrows in surprise. That was easy. "Okay, then." Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. He could give her points for cooperation; have a little mercy when her due punishment came (and it would). "You hungry? I could get you some food-"

"God, yes," she rushed to answer, eyes widening in desperation. "I mean, Satan, yes."

Lucifer watched her scarf down plates of food, one after the other, as if he was watching a nature documentary. He couldn't understand it – this… need for consumption. Being driven by your body rather than your mind. It seemed to possess her as she attacked a plate of pasta and a cup of juice at once. He sat there patiently for the longest time, one leg over the other and arms folded as she ate to her heart's content, quietly judging her but not saying anything just so he could get to the part where she gave him answers. When the last sip of liquid left her glass, Zara leaned back into her chair, content. A servant entered and cleared the dishes.

Now it was just the two of them. Zara's thumbs fiddled under the table. Her lips parted and closed a few times, searching for the right words in thin air. "I know you're wondering what the hell happened," she began. It was probably bad to speak without his cue, but she did it anyway. She didn't care what happened to herself anymore – not that she did much to begin with. "And you deserve to know everything. I just- I just want to… apologise." Her brown eyes begged him for forgiveness. If Lucifer had a heart, he'd probably feel something. Maybe pity. "There's… a lot that you need to know, Lucifer. I don't even know… where to begin."

Silence fell between them again. "Hm," Lucifer's head bobbed. "You know, I'm gonna be honest with you, Zara: I want nothing more than to hold you down onto the burning surface of the Lake of Fire while your skin tears apart in my hands." Zara nodded, biting her lip in nervousness. "But this honesty from you? It's refreshing. It's exactly what I need right now. I can appreciate that. But that won't get you off the hook so easy."

"I don't imagine it will," she relented, shoulders drooping.

"Tell me about my son," he demanded, maintaining a cold gaze on her. "Is he dead?"

Zara's eyes hesitantly met his. "No," she answered. "But you'll wish he was. Sophia's words, not mine."

"I knew it," he uttered, jaw clenched. Unable to control himself, he let the slightest emotion slip as his face contorted in a mixture of betrayal and confusion. "She lied to me. Why did she do that?" he asked no one in particular.

"I think… she didn't know if she would see him again. She obscured the truth from you so that she could spare you the pain of uncertainty," Zara explained. Her own chest felt heavy with grief.

"Don't try to tell me what she wanted," he snapped at her. She flinched in her seat, her heart racing. "As if you could speak for her."

"Well, I think I can," she calmly asserted. She was walking a fine line here, not knowing what would trigger him. But she spoke her mind anyway, knowing that he needed to hear nothing but the truth. "She was in my head, Lucifer. That kind of gives me access to her thoughts and feelings." He narrowed his eyes at her, shifting forward in his seat, threatening a move. "I think that's why she sent me to find you. To be her voice. For you. And I… I failed you both. I'm- I'm so sorry."

Lucifer rested an elbow on the armrest of his chair, his palm raised upwards. In a swift move, he clenched his fist. Zara half-expected to explode. But a few seconds passed and she found herself still breathing. Okay, good, he's just angry. Okay, maybe not good. Her fingers fidgeted for a while before she finally made a move. She reached into her leather bag and brought out a certain memento. Glancing at it, she found the same relief it always gave her. Her hand was shaking as she slid the photograph across the table. Eyebrows crinkled, he regarded her briefly before reaching for the photo and taking a look at it. A measured exhale made it past his lips when he saw the innocent joy in the baby's eyes. For the first time, Zara saw his features soften. She said nothing. She let him have his moment to see his son.

"Sophia tried her best to protect him," Zara began. He never looked away from the photograph but she continued anyway, knowing full well that he was listening to her. The words were dense on her lips. Still, she tried her best to explain everything that had happened since Luciel was born. By the end, she was so close to tears that she was finding it difficult to speak. She buried her face in her hands, uncomfortable with the thought of letting someone else see her weep. Lucifer was surprisingly patient. "If I had only listened to her…" she trailed off. Now that all her negativity was coming out, she carried on with a sobbing rant about everything that had happened to her since. She was completely undone by the end of it all, wanting nothing but to curl up in a ball and cry herself to sleep. The pain ate her heart with every word she'd spoken, not sparing a moment.

"Alright," Lucifer finally said. In a fraction of a second, his face had switched back to the iciness it always had. "You should get some rest."

He shifted to get up. "What?" Zara asked with a tear-streaked face.

"I said, get some rest. That's an order," Lucifer declared. "You do remember where your room is, don't you? End of the hallway."

"I don't get it," she asked with a choked voice. "Aren't you going to…" He looked at her expectantly, daring her to say another word. "You know…"

"What, torture you?" Lucifer finished her sentence. "From what you've just told me, Zara, you've lost a lover, gotten trapped in a prison, and lost a child. I'd say you've tortured yourself. I can't top that. Unless of course, you want me to try."

"I just-"

"We'll talk again later," he dug his hands into his pockets. "If you need anything, figure it out. And don't try to leave Hell. Now get out of my room." Zara sighed. This was not the way she expected things to go down but she certainly wasn't complaining. Limbs heavy, she dragged herself to that familiar room for a long-anticipated shower. Home sweet home, she thought wryly. Once she'd left, Lucifer dug out the photograph again. He couldn't help it. Now that he had a face to the name – even if it was just a human face captured on the paper – he couldn't help but think of all the possibilities. And the image of Sophia, looking as happy as she did in the photo, it was what he'd craved for so long. "I miss you," he let himself say out loud, admitting it against his own will. As he stared at their faces, a tight knot formed in his chest. He thought nothing of it first, attributing it to his broken heart. As he found out, his chest convulsed suddenly, forcing him to cough. His hand instinctively covered his mouth as his coughs grew more violent. Finally, when they stopped, he looked at his palm. There was a spot of blood on it.

The door to the prison cell slammed open as Lucifer stormed in. The sudden noise roused the witch, who'd finally found sleep despite the massive discomfort of being chained with her wrists bound above her head. Her blurry vision soon focussed on the King, unmistakably making out the look of fury on his face. "You figure it out yet?" Esther drawled lifelessly.

"What is happening to me?" Lucifer growled. "The spell – what did it do?"

"It undid Crowley's control over your vessel," she rasped. She gulped, though it gave no relief to her dry mouth. "But it also undid some other things that keep your vessel… intact."

"How do I stop it?" When she didn't say anything, he lifted her up by her throat, stifling her whimpers. "I wasn't kidding about letting Hades have you."

Esther's eyes widened in understanding. "It's a failsafe…" she struggled to say. He loosened his grip but maintained the position. "It works like a bomb. You have to disarm it with the right spell within the right time or your vessel will… disintegrate."

"I'm waiting," Lucifer urged with eyes that meant business.

"I don't have the spell," she confessed.

"Then why are you alive?" He raised a hand to smite her.

"Wait!" she exclaimed. "I… I can help you find it. I know where Crowley hid it." Somewhat content, Lucifer let her go, leaving her to drop onto the ground in a sorry mess. Esther wished she could massage her throat where he'd almost strangled her but of course, the shackles had a different idea.

"Be a good little bitch," Lucifer said as he turned to leave.

"There's one more thing… you should know," she said as she gulped for air, halting him in his step. "The more you use your power… the faster the vessel degrades."


A/N:

Whew, so there's that bittersweet reunion I've been aching to write about for months. Sorry about the long wait. I've been working on something, which I feel obliged to tell you guys about. I've spent a considerable amount of time rewriting the first 15 chapters of this story, because I'm a self-loathing perfectionist (it's both a gift and a curse). The changes don't affect the plot or its consistency, but I did add a few new scenes and dialogues, with a focus on character development. And I know you guys have been asking me for more Lucifer/Sophia moments since forever. I am glad to announce that, after a year of not doing anything about it, I've done something about it. Read it again or don't read it again, it doesn't really matter. It's there for your reading pleasure. Hope you understand :)