Chapter Thirty

Tell him what you want. Ogden's gentle guidance reins in the stampeding pound of my pulse. You are the one that names your end of the bargain. It is how it has always been.

"Listen to the old man." There is no emotion in his voice, nothing but the slightest cadence of boredom. "I have a tight schedule. My father might come and find me if I don't attend our little meeting on time, and, believe me, neither of us want that…"

I swallow hard. "My sister was captured by angels. They experimented on her – changed her. She's not like herself. I want you to heal her. Restore her to the way she was."

Specific. Be very specific.

I add things onto the end, making the details clearer. "Leave her legs intact; she can do without her disability. I want you to remove the changes the angels made upon her. Leave her memories. Take away her stitches and all things nasty. Don't make any changes on her personality. Bring my Paige back."

My requests are initially met with silence. But when Lucius's voice rings again from the darkness, it's slippery, flavored with spices of deceit and trickery. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

"Allow me to clarify the details of your end of the deal." In the corner of my eye, I catch him stepping forward, leaning down to inspect Paige from afar. "You desire me to remove the changes the angels have wrought. You wish for me to remove all her scars, all the things that you flinch at every time you open your eyes." Paige winces at that. "You want me to remove her implanted thoughts, the ones she thinks only because the angels programmed her to think them." Paige sulks back. "You wish for me to rip those false fangs from her mouth, and to fix all those nasty dentistry issues." Lucius's head cocks. "Not only that, but you want me to leave the positive changes the angels made – but of course, who would want a little disabled weakling? Yes, you want me to leave her with her legs working, and those muscles still pumping. Nothing to weigh you down or drag at the herd, not even a beloved sister."

I swallow, noticing how Paige's previously tight grip around my calves lessen, noticing how she seems to not only hide from Lucius but also from me. But Hugo had drilled something into my head – the more I talked with him, the more chances Lucius would have to corrupt me. Even though my heart aches, I cannot openly refute his words. I can only confirm them.

"That's right." I ignore Paige's hurt start of surprise. "Do you understand? Anything else you'd like to clarify?"

"No, that's all I need to know. Many thanks." Against my own will, I find myself glancing towards Lucius's face long enough to glimpse an oozing black snake tongue flicking over his lips between words. But before I can look away, he fades into smoke, a great cloud of rippling black fog.

"Hello, little girl. Come closer." I nearly jump out of my skin as Lucius appears beside me, kneeling before Paige.

"No!" Pooky Bear slides from her scabbard, blazing in the air between us. I hold it in front of his face, placing myself in front of Paige, shouting, "Get away from her! I will use this and carve your hellish face into a tic-tac-toe board!"

Lucius tilts his head up towards me, a swift reminder for me to angle my gaze downwards. "What a pretty little prize," he purrs. Long, frigid fingers wrap around my own, blanketing my hand on Pooky Bear's hilt. "May I?"

Fueled by both of our rage, I flick Pooky Bear from Lucius's grasp, slicing a long gash into his suit's sleeve, spilling midnight black blood over the white fabric.

The noise that Lucius makes reminds me strongly of a nest of snakes hissing in unison. Disappearing in a puff of black smoke, he appears at the back of the room, directly in front of the torch. Silhouetted against the fire, he lifts his arm, inspecting the wound.

"Now, why'd you have to go and do that?" Lucius sighs, shaking his head of fine yellowish white locks. "This is good silk, little Young. Do you have no appreciation for such things?" He lifts his opposite hand and snaps his fingers, and before my eyes, the suit mends seamlessly.

"Sorry, but this sword isn't part of the auction." I brace myself over Paige. "She does like the taste of your blood, though."

Something new lines Lucius's slender build as slowly turns towards me, haloed by the light. "Is 'she' Raphael's sword?" He strolls leisurely forward, hands folded behind his back. "It is, isn't it? Hmm. How wonderful. The all-powerful Wrath of God as weak as he has ever been. I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard."

"What?" I grit my teeth. "What are you babbling about?"

"Is it not obvious to you?" Lucius chuckles, possibly the most terrifying display of his slithering tones yet. "The labors of Raphael? Delightful. Oh, how you torture him, Penryn." He releases a thrumming cackle, tossing his head up. "The poor, poor archangel. You truly don't see it, either!"

"Shut up," I growl, remembering my vow to keep Lucius as quiet as possible.

"Caught in a storm of his own creation," Lucius laments, ignoring me entirely, pacing deliberately from one end of the room to the other. "Oh, how he lusts for you, little Young – how he yearns he could hold you in his arms, how he wishes he did not feel so emotionally attached to the funny little monkey! He is Wrath of God, after all, as he so blatantly thunders every time he enters a room. His people are in unrest, scattered and wounded, in need of a light to guide the way, and he knows that – they need a leader, a strong one, to guide them from the darkness and away from the ploys of the angel so long caught in the shadow of Raphael's glory. They need a leader that isn't tempted by the fire he's supposed to despise to show them the way back home."

"I told you to shut up!" I snap, beginning to quiver.

"He sees the way you suffer, sees the way you observe your people struggling to survive and thinks of how his own did this to them. How, if they ever get the chance, they'll do it to you. And so he tells himself it's for your own good that he pushes you away – that if he stays strong, if he resists the fires of hell that sweep the floor whenever you walk towards him, he can win the prize of Messenger and save you from his brethren. He believes that" – Lucius flexes his wings irately – "if he can keep you alive and keep his distance long enough, he'll ultimately give you everything he could possibly give and keep his warrior status squeaky clean. But can he, Penryn? Can he?"

"Shut up!" I shout at him, stomach roiling. I lift Pooky Bear's blade, allowing her to glint with torchlight like a mirror. "I don't appreciate you changing the subject when we're on business!"

"I DON'T APPRECIATE YOU WAVING WRATH OF GOD'S SWORD IN MY FACE AS I STUDY YOUR SISTER!" Lucius bellows, the ice in his voice blasting about the hissing. "WOULD YOU PREFER ME HAVING AN OVERPRICED DEAL? WOULD YOU PREFER ME TO MISJUDGE THE SEVERITY OF YOUR SISTER'S CALAMITIES?"

I shrink back, holding out Raphael's sword in a frail attempt to place a barrier between me and the smoldering demon. Every muscle in Lucius's body is tense, his wings folding and unfolding in agitation.

"If you would kindly LET ME EVALUATE YOUR SISTER so I can DO MY JOB without CAUSING A BIG RUCKUS, I wouldn't have to pull your petty romantic situation into the light. Now, little girl, come forward."

Lucius kneels without hesitation, his hooked wings folding by his sides, ready for Paige to scurry forward.

Penryn. Ogden's voice is soft. He needs to analyze her. I don't like it any more than you do, but it must be done.

"Okay." I sigh, trying to calm my nerves as much as possible. "Okay. Paige, baby?" I fall to my knees, sheathing Pooky Bear much to her dismay. "Baby, now's one of those times when you have to follow what I say, exactly. I need you to walk up to the bad man and stay there until I tell you to come back. Close your eyes. Don't open them until I hold you in my arms and tell you that all's safe. If he lays a hand on you, scream and come running back. Can you do that? Please?"

Paige tugs at my shirt, her hands clenching the fabric tightly. "Ryn-ryn," she practically sobs, her eyes wide with fear.

"I know, baby." I clutch her against my chest, blinking bothersome tears from my own eyes. "I know. It's scary. I'm scared. I need you to stay brave for me, okay? Hey, after this, we're going to meet up with Bryon and Sariel, okay? And for once, we're going to just chill out." I overlook the fact that lies are all I speak. "For once, we're not going to worry about demons or angels or anything in between. For a little while at least, we're just going to relax. Alright? But first, we need to do this."

Paige hesitates, a tremble shaking her little body. But she nods against me, and I can feel her determination stiffening her bones and injecting rigid tension into her muscles.

My hand rests on the hilt of Pooky Bear as Paige approaches the demon, quivering with each step, but the precaution is unnecessary. Lucius seems to look Paige over before ordering her to turn around. She does as he says, and Lucius nods almost immediately afterwards.

"Paige." My voice is soft. "Come on back."

She wheels around and practically sprints back into my arms. I stroke her hair from her face and whisper, "It's okay, baby, you can open your eyes, all is good."

"Touching." Lucius is standing once more, straightening his neat white suit back to its precise beauty. "I have my offer, little Young, if you are ready to hear it."

"Right." Patting Paige awkwardly on the head, I stand once more, bracing my hand on Pooky Bear's hilt to seek comfort more than protection. "Name your price."

"Free." Lucius spreads his slender hands in an honest gesture. "This would hurt my plan, anyway."

"Free?" I repeat incredulously, starting with surprise. "What's the catch?"

"None. A dysfunctional wife is hardly a good one. And since you are restoring little Paige here into a near perfect state… well, it serves me in the long run."

"Wife?" Dread clutches my stomach, as frigid as his voice and as strong as the fear pulsing through my body with each pound of my heart. "Did you say wife?"

"Yes, Penryn, it so happens I did." Lucius taps his wrist, as if motioning towards the time on an invisible watch. "Remember, my daddy dearest doesn't particularly like it when I'm late to appointments, so do try to hurry, or the deal's off."

"No." I move towards him for a change, willing to set the demon off balance. "No, you're not going anywhere. Not until you tell me what the hell you meant by that. Why did you just call Paige your wife?"

"Don't be so innocent." Lucius laughs chillingly, throwing back his head, but cuts off swiftly. Though I don't meet his gaze, I can feel its power slowly circling over my body, like a vulture admiring a particularly appetizing carcass.

"Do you truly not know?" Lucius chuckles, seemingly delighted. "Did you think that Paige was of any use to me as a little ragdoll? Did you think that I would prefer her as an ugly creature lined with stitches? What purpose would she serve?"

"Paige won't be serving any purpose, at least not for you," I defy, my fear increasing in leaps and bounds. There is something distinctively feral in the way that Lucius walks now, prowling closer like a lithe cat stalking through a sea of grass.

"Did you think your mother got a freebee when she bargained for your father's life?" Lucius cocks his head, the white gleam of his teeth visible even in the low light. "Did you think that demon haunting her sleep was after her?"

"Stay back," I warn, half-tugging Pooky Bear from her sheath. "I will use her!"

"No, you won't, you want answers, same as any normal person would." Lucius waves a hand to his right, still beaming in the darkness, and the torch in that corner of the room goes dark, bathing him in more shadows. "Maybe you thought I sought your mother's sanity as I struck up a bargain. No, I feed on insanity, I breathe it like you breathe your precious oxygen, but I don't ever bargain for it. It's merely a useful byproduct. Oh, no, little Young, to save your father, your mother traded…" Lucius fades into mist before my eyes. Two icy cold fingers wrap around my neck from behind, the frigid pads lying over my hammering pulse point. "You."

I shriek and whip Pooky Bear around, only to find darkness. Lucius's algid laugh echoes through the chamber, snuffing out the flames of the torches one by one.

"Penryn, you do delight me. Surely it must all be coming together now? Your father's deaths? Your sister's disability? Your mother's insanity? 'The devil's bride' is what she branded you… are you still too stupid to connect the dots?"

"No," I breathe, backing up against the wall, casting one hand backwards to steady myself against the cool stone. "No. No way."

"In trade for your father, your mother gave me the lives of all her female daughters as my eternal servants," Lucius taunts, his grin evident in his hissing tone. "Of course, in the beginning, all my bets were on you – clever, strong-willed, and so beautiful."

A cold hand caresses my collar bone, but Pooky Bear hits flesh and slices into it, and it retracts. Lucius continues without a change in manner. "That all changed, of course, when you learned to defend yourself. You became low-value meat. Even in her current state, I would choose your sister over you. And for that reason, she became my number one choice."

Lucius sighs, the sound of it vaguely on the other side of the room. "She would've been a fine one, too – so gentle and so kind. They always are fun. But your filthy mother made her spoiled meat as well, mangling her legs so that I would never choose her, either. Much like the bitch did with her own pups." I hear a thunk that sounds suspiciously like the thickening crunch of a boot's toe against bones. "Except she went ahead and killed them. Completely unaware that their souls are still mine. Drives her even battier."

"Wait." I hold up a hand to pause his monologue, suppressing anger. "You're saying that Mom did that to Paige's legs because… because she didn't want you getting to her? You're the reason Paige was disabled in the first place?"

Lucius mumbles something unintelligibly before answering. "Damn your mother. I'd kept myself constantly around the house just to keep a steady supply of lunatic behaviors flowing, but only to her eyes. Playing with the building blocks alongside her little infant, the ghost in the mirror stroking her daughter's hair – all in good fun. And most of the time, I got a heavy flow of insane thoughts and mindsets, but your father kept her from tipping to the extents I'd have liked her to. Had to be stopped, he did."

"Wait, what?"

A laugh of genuine amusement echoes around. "Monkeys are so dense. The first time, I didn't have all too much of a motive, I'll admit – I needed a new donor, a new bitch to look me in the eyes. So I killed your mother's lover and offered to save him. My plan worked."

"You didn't kill my father the first time." I swallow my anger, though traces can still be detected in my strained voice. "It was a hellhound. Both times it was a hellhound."

"Monkeys are so dense." Lucius chuckles hauntingly, gruff barks of laughter echoing eerily through the room. "So he lived on, but, eventually, I needed him dead again, for reasons we have already discussed. I lured him out into my willow trees with false promises of a way to stake me through the heart, a way to end all of his family's suffering without the assistance of his glorious older brother. And he came. The Nephilim King tried to help, beat up most of the monsters I'd sent upon him. He couldn't do a thing about me, though."

"My father was killed by a hellhound," I persist stubbornly, glaring at the darkness, hoping I don't meet the gleam of eyes somewhere in the shadows. "Nothing more, nothing less!"

"What was it your uncle said?" Lucius hums, his voice gradually drawing closer. "Ah, yes, I remember."

The crisp snap of fingers pops in the air.

And a whisper of Bryon's voice echoes through the halls, soft and eerie, but exactly as I recall it from our night bent over studying paintings in the Chaza. Paige's arms around my leg feel like they're cutting off all circulation.

"Then the most awful eyes in all of hell burned to life behind him, and the omega of the pack pounced before I could do anything."

"'The most awful eyes in all of hell'… I don't even know how to react to that flattery!" Lucius purrs. "It was quite a shame the Nephilim King didn't meet my gaze fully – too absorbed in the death of your father. Imagine the power he has stored in places he doesn't even realize! Oh, but child, I killed your father." Malevolent emotions thicken his slithering tones. "Do you want to know how?"

"No," I breathe. "No."

Two sets of cold fingers start at the base of my nape, the icy temperature of the flesh causing my muscles to lock in panic. Leaving to frozen paths in their wake, they slowly trail from the bristles of hair at the back of my neck down to weaker skin.

"I took his neck in my jaws," Lucius whispers, his lips stirring the hair near my ears with their quiet, hissing tones. "I took it just like this" – his fingers curl in the soft hollow beneath my jaw, jagged nails leaving claw marks behind them – "and I felt his pulse hammering and his blood pouring through his veins, hot and wet and red, and I bit him."

His fingernails pierce into my skin, the fierce pressure he forces into them causing me to squeak with pain. Other nails sink into my throat at other soft places along my neck, each causing more pain than the last. I shiver wildly.

No more.

It isn't Ogden that'd whispered that into my mind, of that I'm sure – too gravelly, too deep. But before I can ponder longer on the subject, the torches flare with red fire.

In the same instant, they all alight with crimson plumes of flames, belching obnoxiously. Lucius stiffens, then vanishes entirely from me, not reappearing until the red gleam of the torches have faded back into their usual dim glows.

"How very strange," Lucius murmurs, appearing beside one of them, inspecting the base. "I do suspect foul play…"

"Why were you telling me this?" I whisper, a sudden strike of knowledge buffeting aside all other thoughts. "You were provoking me, weren't you? Trying to get me to strike a bad deal?"

Lucius's attention is quickly drawn back to me. "Was it you? No. Old friend, you're nowhere near talented enough. Who was it?"

"I am talking!" I announce, stamping my foot. Lucius halts in his little investigation. If I had to use a word to sum up what he might be feeling at the moment, I daresay it would be "annoyed". Stiffening irritably and turning on heel to face my again, draped in shadows like a king draped in regal robes, Lucius focuses.

"And I was not listening. I am now, though. What is it that you have to say?"

"I want to add something more onto our bargain," I inform him, keeping my tone calm as possible. "Can we arrange that without changing the information and dealings already set down?"

I see Lucius straighten his tie in my periphery, murmuring, "I'm candidly listening now."

"I want you to let Paige out of my mother's deal." I risk a glance up towards the upper half of his body, trying to discern his body language as best I can. "Will that be possible?"

Lucius sighs. "Allow me a second to think of what my offer will be, and yes, we can arrange such dealings. But you're making this tough on yourself, little Young, and a light load will now become much heavier."

"Anything for Paige," I vow, closing my hand around hers. "Don't take forever. You've got a meeting with your dad, and, trust me, neither of us want him coming to find you."

Be careful what you say. This time, it's most definitely Ogden, cautioning me against speaking any further. Allowing him to provoke you usually ends in a sour deal. However, provoking him in turn also never ends up halcyon.

"Lucky for you, little Young, I know what I want from you." Lucius leans against the far wall, the shadows cast by the torchlight dancing over his body in hypnotic flickers, his wings extended like props on a Broadway play.

"Oh?" I question, reluctant to hear his options and finalize some sort of deal. "What is it?"

"Two option, actually." He takes a deck of cards in his suit jacket, and begins rifling through them, the slap of paper against paper grating on my nerves. "Your first choice is the same as your mother's. If you need specifics, I shall provide."

"No." I shake my head firmly. "No way in hell."

"That option, then, is lost to you forever," Lucius amends, and, though his face is shielded by the shadows he dwells in, I get the sense that he's grinning. "Awful quick to dash it out, weren't you? Your last option is slightly more heartfelt. Anything that your beloved Raphael does to you, I shall also be able to do to you."

I blink, a cold stone settling in my stomach. "Clarification, please?"

"If Raphael holds your hand" – though I clearly see him on the opposite side of the cavern, I can feel the ghosts of frigid fingers twining around my own – "I, too, can hold your hand if I choose. If Raphael locks his lips to yours" – foul, frosty breath pours over my face, as if someone is hovering just before it – "I, too, can kiss you if I choose. If things between you and Raphael become even more intimate than that..." Lucius laughs, shuffling his deck of cards. "I believe you get the idea. Personally, I think you're getting a no-brainer."

"What?" I squeak. "Why would you think that?"

Lucius's head cocks. "We have already discussed this, little Young, and I do not fancy having to repeat myself. Raphael keeps his distance from you because, as an archangel, he has to think of his people and yours. And, since he truly cares for you, he will keep his distance to keep me away and focus on getting the angelic bastards off the earth. With all honesty, you and I both benefit with the loss of the angels. And if he does slip up –" Lucius shrugs. "It's rather unfortunate for you, I suppose, but not for me."

Penryn. Ogden's voice is hesitant, reluctant. It's a better deal than what I got.

"How do you benefit from the loss of the angels?" I interrogate, ignoring Ogden, attempting to focus my attention on something other than the problem at hand.

Lucius sighs, irritated. "Is that really something you must know? Uriel is stirring up trouble, little Young. Blaming demons and Fallen angels for his own mischief. If it comes to war, I'm in trouble. People might've neglected to mention that I'm the son of Satan – it makes them nervous. But, as you might imagine, the prince of Hell is one of the first you'd like to assassinate, correct? I don't want a Castiel on my ass."

"If you're the son of Satan, does that make you the anti –"

"I don't want to stall any longer. As you point out, daddy dearest wouldn't be a fun houseguest."

I mull over it, gnawing hard enough on my lower lip to draw blood. My stomach is tight, as if it's being tied into knots. The trickery and treachery forming the sappy glue between words isn't wholly masked by his scathing logic and brumal tones, nor is the boredom seeping into his tones fully concealing the exigent interest, the anxiousness to see my response, but the dilemma he had laid at my feet and told me to solve carries a foreboding future either way I choose to answer its riddle.

"I'll take the deal if you leave out –" I swallow, and start again. "Consider yourself in business so long as the hand-holding with Raffe and other things about on the same spectrum aren't something. Only kissing or other sexual stuff like that."

Lucius is quiet, then he nods in indifferent agreement. "I accept those terms. I accept our deal and all of our terms. But do you? Will you take up my offer?"

This is your last chance to negate any transaction. Ogden's warning is perhaps the first firm thing he's said. I believe it's a good deal, but you're the one making the decision.

I hesitate for a second longer.

And then I give the son of the Devil my answer.

The white of his teeth spreading over his face maps the stretch of his lewd grin from ear to ear. Lucius lifts one hand to the ceiling and snaps his fingers. "Thank you for doing business,, little Young. Good day."

"Penryn!" Hugo cheers, grinning over the screen of his laptop, straightening from his slack lounge against the trunk of a tree. "Penryn, be a dear and, uh, distract your mother." He casts a nervous glance towards where

"Hey, Mom." I smile weakly at her, ignoring the way she's cradling a wooden gnome on her lap, then pat Paige's shoulders. "Look, Mom. Paige is back. She's okay now."

Mom's eyes grow wide, two black, watery disks. "No!" she hisses, throwing down the gnome so that he pointy hat sinks into the ground. "No! Her legs were her shield! Penryn, what have you done?"

Hugo and Ogden had halted their approaches immediately, instead choosing to spectate the meeting from a safe distance. If he had it his way, Scruffy would be all over me, but Hugo pins him against the ground, growling back at his wolf playfully.

"Don't worry, Mom," I croon, inching forward, attempting to appear as nonthreatening as possible. "I fixed it. I know – I know what you did to protect Dad, and it's okay. I made sure that he wouldn't hurt Paige."

My mother blinks, as if not quite comprehending my words. She tilts her head like an animal bewildered by what it sees, lower lip trembling, eyes glassy with tears.

"It's okay, Mom," I whisper, swallowing down the lump of fear lodged in my throat. "I understand now. About the demons and about Dad. About all of it. I freed Paige from your deal. She's free now, Mom. He can't get her. I freed her. Do you understand?"

Mom's head cocks even further. Confusion swims in her gaze. "What about you? Didn't you free yourself?"

We're asking real questions here, aren't we.

I'd like to tell you a short story.

The author moaned, refreshing their screen as often as the thought crossed their mind, which was, to say, very often. Their tired baggy eyes focused on the properties before them – fifty views beneath 10,000, three reviews short of three hundred. Blinking, the author futilely refreshed again, in hopes that at last, the lost reviewers would return. "Three more…," the author whispered. "Three more…"

POLL: Thoughts on Lucius and Penryn's deal?

Ciao,

~wolfluvermh