"Wyr? Is everything alright?"
Wyr snapped to attention, gazing up at the Morningstar princess who hovered over her. Charlie looked tired, eyes bruised with sleeplessness, forehead wrinkled with the weight of what was coming in just two days. Wyr didn't think she looked any better, having been unable to sleep well for the past few nights. Whenever her head touched the pillow and her eyes fell shut, she heard Lucifer's scornful voice, felt his kiss…The conflict raged in her head to the point where it was easier to just get up and work on her preparations for the hotel.
Wyr pushed her chair back, standing and stretching, wincing when she heard the way her body clicked and cracked. How long had she been formulating the barrier spell? The windows were bright with bloody light…So it was at least daytime now. Hours? It must have been.
"Everything is on track, Charlie. Between Alastor and I, I'm confident we can hold off a heavenly barrage."
Her words didn't seem to ease the anxiety she could see on Charlie's face. She wondered briefly if it had much to do with the abandonment of her father, or the way she'd been thrust into a heavy position of power by two absentee parents, or the shocking revelation about Vaggie's history. Wyr had heard the news about Vaggie, through Alastor of course, that Vaggie wasn't a Sinner like the rest of them, but a fallen angel. Not that it mattered to Wyr, but she could see why Charlie was shaken and understood why the two women hadn't spoken much in the times Wyr had been visiting the hotel. Wyr could see where Charlie was coming from and didn't blame her. Someone she thought she knew, someone she cared for had turned out to be someone else entirely. Wyr knew how that felt.
Sinners aren't worth saving.
Vaggie at least, had been acting out of fear of retribution.
If he'd said it without thinking, that was one thing, but Lucifer had spoken with so much conviction, that Wyr couldn't just wipe the slate clean. Maybe he hadn't meant to, but Lucifer had lied to her, about his beliefs, if not his feelings. If they were feelings to begin with, not just excitement and a false sense of closeness.
"Can I ask you something? If it's not too much trouble?" Wyr snapped back to the present and waved to the armchair across from hers. The hotel's lounge was quiet, with the residents and their new guests in the gardens, preparing themselves. When Charlie and Alastor had arrived with the denizens of Cannibal Town, Wyr wasn't able to hide her scepticism. Alastor's sly grin when he looked at the princess, organising rooms for the cannibals, it made Wyr wonder what he'd done. She didn't want to think less of Charlie, because the young woman was capable, but awar? Well, it just didn't seem like Charlie. It did scream Alastor though. Rosie had been pleased as punch to see Wyr two nights ago when Charlie had led the overlord inside. They'd had mint juleps and Rosie had told her about the sudden disappearance and replacement of a certain undertaker. Wyr chose not to think about Elias and why he disappeared, if only so it didn't lead her wandering mind back to the fallen angel haunting her at night.
"Please, sit." Charlie nodded in thanks and sat, sinking into the plush velvet chair like she'd lost the bones in her body. Wyr took a seat and crossed one leg over the other. She ran a hand down the fur of her calf, realising she'd need to de-shed again. She was leaving white hair all over the material of the chair. Charlie was quiet for a moment before she spoke, voice tiny and soft.
"Do you think my dad will come?"
Instant regret she'd agreed to a chat, filled Wyr. She'd not told Charlie about her meeting with Lucifer. Couldn't bring herself to tell Charlie he didn't believe in her ideas for redemption. Wyr didn't know if it was possible, but Eve had been clear, and Alastor for whatever reason was siding with Charlie.
At one point in time, Lucifer had believed, and Wyr would honour that Lucifer. He was buried deep, in the Lucifer of now, but her Lucifer, from her life, had believed Sinners could be more, and so she would keep Charlie safe, keep the princess' ideals safe. Even if that meant keeping her father's opinions to herself.
"I don't know." She answered honestly. Who could say what the king would do? Certainly not her. Wyr had thought she knew the fallen angel, but his words from the other day had been crystal clear. Sinners aren't worth saving. Wyr wasn't one for false hope. She didn't want to give Charlie that hope he would come, because what would happen if he didn't? What if they all waited for Lucifer to come, and he never did? They would be showing a weakness to Adam and his exterminators that none of them could deny.
They needed to plan as though he would never show.
She needed to plan for him never coming for them.
The cut it left on her was deep, stinging more than she'd ever admit.
In a moment of weakness, Wyr reached across the small table covered in papers, to touch Charlie's hand. The kid, this woman, had worked hard, and whilst her mother had disappeared, and her father was convalescing, Charlie was here, working for the betterment of her people…In which Wyr was included. She smiled at Charlie, trying to dredge up the weight of all her years in Hell.
"You can do this, Charlie. In all my years I've never seen someone care this hard about us." She gripped the princess' hand tightly in her own and squeezed it. "I promise you, we can turn the tide. You have my support and whilst I'm not the King or Queen of Hell, I'd like to think being the Guardian of the Damned and a powerful witch both on earth and in Hell is enough of a title to back you." Charlie's tears had already started falling when Wyr had finished speaking. Her hand had turned under Wyr's touch and she gripped it back tightly.
"Wyr…Thank you. It-It means so much." She dashed the tears from her eyes quickly and shook her head. "I'm sorry…It's just been so hard." She hiccupped, tears falling more rapidly. Wyr held back her sigh and stood, coming around the table to sit on the arm of the chair. "I've just never felt so alone." She continued, tears quietly splashing down into her lap.
Wyr understood who Charlie was talking about. Her girlfriend, her partner who'd made a mistake. One that with Wyr's limited knowledge of their lives together could be overcome. Wyr looked down at the princess, and gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. Charlie leaned her head against Wyr's thigh and silent tears wet the fabric of her pants. Wyr looked around the lounge, trying not to be overcome by the outpouring of emotions. She felt awkwardly out of place, not having had this sort of relationship with anyone since entering Hell.
Had it really been so long?
Her coven had been close like this. With casual touches and close bonding. They'd worked spells together, and covered for each other, they'd been sisters in magic if not by blood. She remembered on her birthdays her head priestess would recount the day Wyr had been born, how she'd pulled Wyr from her mother on the shortest night of the year and been bathed in moon-blessed water. The older women in the coven had congregated for the entire night, had eased her mother into death's embrace, and Wyr had been raised by the community of witches. Grandmothers, aunts, sisters, they'd all taken her in and growing up, she'd been at least blessed by the families that had taken her in. In time, when younger witches had entered their circle, she too had been an aunt and sister to them. It was a half-forgotten memory, but the feelings swelled inside her, overwhelming in their intensity.
"Why do you think she hid it from you?"
Charlie wiped at her eyes and lifted her head to look up at Wyr confused.
"I-I don't…I don't know." Wyr nodded and gently tucked a loose strand of blond hair behind Charlie's ear.
"Don't you think, after knowing her for this long you owe her to at least ask why?"
Charlie blinked owlishly at her.
"Ask her why?" Wyr nodded.
"Vaggie doesn't seem like the type to do things just to hurt people. Hasn't she always been your number-one supporter? I think if you don't know why, then ask. There's little point in wondering why if you never ask the question."
Charlie wiped at her eyes, looking down into her lap.
"I-I guess I never thought to ask." Wyr watched the princess tighten her hands into fists and then looked up at Wyr with surprising happiness.
"I don't know why I didn't ask! I-It never occurred to me!"
"You've had a lot happen all at once, it's easy to forget those little questions. But you know now, so maybe you should go talk to her."
It didn't take any more encouragement. Charlie was wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket and jumping up in only a few moments. It threw Wyr off, however, when Charlie turned to leave, only to hesitate and rush back to the chair, wrapping her arms firmly around her. Wyr stiffened as blond hair smothered her face and Charlie's unique scent of fresh apples and flowers overwhelmed her. Charlie was warm, like her father, but softer than him. Charlie pulled away, eyes glistening.
"Thank you Wyr…I…It's nice, to have an older woman around…You have a really calming presence." Wyr made a face, causing Charlie to laugh. The younger woman stepped back and waved before she left the lounge, hopefully, off to find Vaggie and make-up.
The night before the extermination Wyr sat in the lounge pouring over her notes. There wasn't anything more she could do now, having made as many charms as she could for the orders she had left. She'd put down as many charms on the grounds of the hotel as she could, but with such a short amount of preparation time, she wasn't confident she'd be able to hold down a barrier, even with Alastor's help. O'Malley was once again absent, but caches of weaponry, all tipped in angelic steel courtesy of Carmine, had been delivered yesterday.
Lucifer hadn't come.
But Wyr couldn't say she'd expected him… He'd been pretty clear he wouldn't jeopardise his treaty. She couldn't understand him. The treaty would be in tatters the moment Charlie fought back. If he thought they'd keep her from the fighting, he was mistaken. If she'd learned anything from Charlie in the few days they'd been planning, it was that she'd fight for her friends. Wyr would give everything she had to protect Charlie. Not only because Charlie was her princess and her plans gave Wyr a small, piercing amount of hope, but because she was Lucifer's daughter. She'd never forgive herself if Charlie came to harm under her watch.
It wasn't fair. To hold so much resentment for a man, and yet also care for him and the people he loved.
"Such a dick."
"Language, honey. You have got to watch your language!" Wyr jumped, looking up to the overlord who reigned over Cannibal Town. Rosie grinned down at her wolfishly, holding two cocktails. She wiggled one in Wyr's face. "You look like you need a drink." Wyr snorted and took the cocktail from the woman, sipping it. Some fruity, punchy thing. She looked to the bar, where Husk stood wiping down glasses, and Angel Dust sat drinking with the cyclops he'd brought in. Cherri Bomb. When the woman had mentioned magic explosives, Wyr had decided Cherri Bomb was a phenomenal name.
Looking around, the lounge was full of Sinners, most of them from Rosie's territory, all drinking quietly like they were all nervously waiting for the first bombs to drop. Rosie sat down in the chair opposite, and in the other, shadows flickered, materialising into the radio demon. He fluffed out his coattails and sat, crossing one leg over the other and waved his hand, materialising a squat tumbler of amber liquid with a single ice cube. He held his glass out the ladies, wide grin gleeful, rather than worried. Rosie laughed as she clinked his glass with hers, and Wyr shook her head, smiling tiredly at him as she clinked them both.
"So" Rosie started, a conspiratorial grin on her face as her black eyes flicked between Alastor and Wyr. "What's the dirt, dears? Who's the dick?" Her second question slapped Wyr in the face and she wrinkled her nose.
"No one. It's nothing." Alastor laughed, and a few of the nearby tables all flinched.
"Ha, ha, ha. Now my darling, you've been in shambles since your clandestine visit to see his majesty."
Wyr flinched and glared at Alastor as Rosie gasped excitedly, clapping her hands.
"A clandestine visit? Oho Wyr, honey, you've been holding out on me!" Wyr ignored Rosie for a moment, focusing on Alastor.
"You followed me?" Alastor shrugged, sipping his drink nonchalantly.
"Not me personally." Wyr rolled her eyes at him.
"So one of your little minions then." Alastor side-eyed her with a grin that could have been malicious.
"Something like that." Wyr shook her head and sipped her drink, leaning back in her chair, notes finally forgotten. Rosie sat up, black eyes pining Wyr to her chair.
"Now listen here young lady, you'll tell me everything. Why did you go visit that recluse?"
Wyr wanted to tell Rosie off, to tell her that Lucifer wasn't a recluse, he was trying to come back from a dark place, but then, did he actually deserve her defence? Did he want it? Because he'd been clear then. She meant nothing to him. Sinners were Sinners, and he was a king. Wyr looked between Alastor and Rosie, then to the tables closest to them. She pressed her finger to the tabletop, drawing a series of runes and with a small pop, the murmur of the tables died out, leaving the three demons in a soundproof bubble. Rosie shook her head with a grin.
"I love seeing magic, so talented. Now dish." O'Malley wasn't the type of best friend to listen to romantic dribble, so Wyr unleashed on Rosie, making the story out to be a new, unknown meeting…Leaving out the complicated history she had with Lucifer, Eve, Lilith, and the rest. From their first meeting to the day, he'd accompanied her to the graveyard and cried…To their date and then the kiss. Wyr caught Alastor's surprise when she told Rosie about the kiss, the woman clapping her hands to her cheeks, pink with a blush. His eyes narrowed though when she finally described her last meeting with Lucifer, and the harsh words spoken between them.
Rosie sat agape afterwards and Wyr swallowed the dregs of her cocktail, needing the burn that trailed down her throat.
"Well. That was quite the story. I certainly didn't think his majesty had it in him." Wyr quirked an eyebrow at the cannibal.
"Had it in him?" Rosie shrugged, taking a delicate sip of her drink.
"Well…From all I've heard about him, and mind you he was a recluse well before I came down…But well, it was well known that he was a devoted husband to you-know-who." Wyr snorted.
"You can say her name, Rosie. Lilith isn't the boogeyman."
"You can never be too sure with that one. Don't get me wrong honey, what a woman! But whilst she was everything a ruler of Hell out to be, ferocious, strong, temperamental and bloodthirsty…Well…I never saw his majesty exhibit the same tenacious ferocity. Interesting." Wyr nodded slowly. Rosie had come down after her but had worked a lot harder at building connections than she had. Rosie was also almost universally liked by the overlords, whilst Wyr was friends with few, tolerated by less, and actively hated by many. Possibly because she maintained ties with half of them, and had actively backed Alastor's bids in the past.
"Lucifer had…Different ideas on what Hell could have been."
Alastor snorted.
"Yes and how well did those plans pan out?" Wyr shot him a look and waved a hand to the packed lounge.
"You're backing his daughter, who's trying to achieve a nearly identical outcome. Not sure you've got room to judge Alastor." He sneered at her.
"My dear, I told you once before, that you are too good for the king of hell, and I will tell you so again" he sipped his drink pointedly. "You are, without fault, beyond him."
She wanted to be annoyed that Alastor thought so little of Lucifer, but there was a part of her that was small, and hurt, in the back of her mind that greedily ate up his words, feeding the anger that had simmered at Lucifer since their argument.
"You may be right Alastor." The radio demon's grin turned feral with happiness that she agreed with him.
Rosie interrupted Wyr's thoughts with a small noise. The cannibal looked at Wyr apologetically.
"Have you considered where he was coming from honey?"
"Where he's coming from?" Rosie nodded seriously, leaning back in her chair as she took another delicate sip of her drink.
"We all know His Majesty was a family man. When you-know-who vanished, so did he. You said it yourself, honey. Now think. We all know Lucifer tried and failed to redeem Sinners in the past. Just as he tried and failed with Heaven. The outcome of the treaty, whilst awful, protects his only child, and the hellborn demons that you-kow-who cherished above all others. If he interferes, it's the end of the treatise, the only accomplishment he has with Heaven, and the only thing keeping his wife's favoured subjects safe and his daughter. Now let's add the confusing feelings of your relationship with him, his guilt and grief from his separated wife, and the knowledge his daughter is only safe by his signature on a piece of paper with Heaven."
Rosie's logic was peppering Wyr's stinging, rejected hurt with bullet holes. She wasn't able to look at Rosie's sincere expression anymore, instead looking at her hands, twisted in her lap. Much like Wyr had done for Charlie only a day prior, Rosie reached across the table and held Wyr's clenched hands in hers. Her fingers were long and thin, cold to the touch and tipped with delicate claws that pricked her skin. She smelt like roses and copper, probably from the bloody, questionable steak she'd had for dinner. The woman's smile was soft.
"It's alright to be hurt, I certainly wouldn't say otherwise honey…But maybe give the king an eensy bit of slack."
Wyr let the breath she'd been holding go, letting it shudder out of her. Alastor coughed discreetly and his smile had turned to a sneer as he looked between Rosie and Wyr's hands.
"Whilst this is very touching, perhaps we should turn our thoughts away from selfish kings, and romance, and focus on just how many angels we'll be killing tomorrow."
Wyr snorted, withdrawing her hands from Rosie's, whose giggle was like the sound of a bell.
"Oh you! You don't need to tell me twice Al'. Can't let the ladies have a moment can you? Well I promise, I'm not stealing your friend away!" She winked at Wyr and sat back in her chair. Wyr shot Alastor a smirk and he rolled his eyes, before tapping her papers on the table. Jealous like a cat.
"Alastor and I will be holding and maintaining the barrier, bringing it up so we can trap a good chunk of exterminators without getting overwhelmed."
They'd gone over the plans enough to all remember their roles, and as Wyr walked them all through their plans and the contingencies, her thoughts drifted towards the lonely fallen angel, and where he would be tomorrow.
Bone-chilling, mind-rending pain engulfed Wyr. When she'd felt flames licking at her feet on her pyre, she had almost burned the mantra into her mind that burning to death was nothing. Wyr had screamed and screamed until she had choked on her own ashes. Until her heart gave out and her skin flaked away. Until her bones were charred, and her soul began to scatter in the winter wind. Wyr had told herself it was the only time she'd ever be in so much pain again.
She'd never feel that pain again.
The spear, deftly thrown by an exorcist with wicked aim rent the air like divine intervention. Wyr had nowhere to go. Her back was pressed up against Alastor's, and he was facing the First Man. Hers and Alastor's shield had broken apart with one sustained blow of holy power and now here they were, facing off against angels who outranked certainly her, but even Alastor. The barrier had eaten away the majority of her magic, and even if she'd had more power, angelic steel wasn't affected by her. Her lantern lay shattered to one side, the spirits who had heeded her call having vanished back to the cemeteries. She had no more tricks left. It was impossible to dodge this one.
Memories of seven years ago flashed through her mind as the spear fell upon her. She hadn't been able to protect her friend then, and had believed he died in the confusion. Wyr hadn't been the same since.
So she took the hit, and it burned.
The exorcist landed in front of her as Wyr's knees hit the ground. Her throat burned. She wanted, needed to scream. To release the pain, to let it consume her until she could feel past it. She needed the weapon out, but removing it was a death sentence because the holy artifact was buried deep inside her gut. It burned, and seared and blistered. It was hotter than fire, colder than ice, and she was burning.
Alastor didn't look her way if he felt her drop or not. His attention was wholly focused on Adam, his shadow tentacles snapping and twisting in the air as he tried to take down the First Man. She needed not to distract him. She needed to not scream. Wyr's mind felt like scattered pieces of a puzzle, disconnected and lost, jumping from piece to piece without making any sense.
Why had she been so confident? How had she thought herself so above the threat of angelic steel? Six hundred years was nothing. They meant nothing with the spear sticking out of her. Her mind scattered on the breeze, wondering if Eve would appear for her again. Would Lucifer know? Would he feel the bond snap? Or would it fade like there was nothing there at all?
The exorcist didn't care for Wyr's scrambled mind, and stalked up, kicking a booted foot out and catching Wyr in the shoulder. She flew back and bit her tongue as the pain seared its fresh branding into her mind. She was burning. Again. Maybe she wasn't lashed to a beam and being shown off in front of a mindless horde, but the steel in her gut was vibrating, burning from the inside to the outside. From the inside out she burned like flames were making charcoal of her bones.
As the angel gripped the shaft of their spear, Wyr twisted into it, gripping the slippery blood-coated shaft. If the angel ripped the spear out, her insides would be splayed open and she'd bleed out in moments.
Lucifer would come.
The thought felt like a snap of silence in the chaos. Like she'd gone momentarily deaf to the screams below. Wyr had thought those words before. She'd screamed those words before. She'd whispered them into the feverish dark of an oubliette, mouth open to the rain coming through the rusted grate in the ceiling. She had rocked to the motion of those words in the frosted, frozen winter night. She'd prayed to her patron before eating the crust of moulded bread and icy broth. She'd internalized it as her hands were bound to the wooden post, and her feet were shackled. She thought it over and over as the iron witch collar kept her from moving, kept her from thrashing against the flames as they ate at her flesh.
Lucifer will come.
But would he?
There was a cry of pain and Wyr turned, eyes catching Alastor as he fell back against the parapets. His snarl was turning to a grimace as he held a hand to his chest, blood flowing freely from a gruesome wound. Panic dashed at her thoughts as he looked at the spear she was holding, the exorcist trying to yank it from her slick hands. His microphone was broken between them, and the colour was rapidly draining from his face.
"Wyr-" He made to move for her. It was only for a second, but Wyr had seen Adam make his move.
"GO!" She screamed. Her voice scratched, tasting of ash and copper, and she choked as a boot landed on her windpipe, pressing down. She didn't care, instead straining to watch Alastor's shadows seize him and drag him down into the abyss. Golden fury hit where the Sinner had been a moment later and Wyr heard Adam's snarl. She wheezed, trying to maintain her grip on the spear being tugged from her abdomen.
There was a sucking, tearing sensation as her fingers spasmed, searching for purchase while slick with hot blood. The foot pressed down harder, and Wyr could feel her throat giving in to the pressure, as the pathetic noises coming from her mouth quieted. Eve may have pierced her throat, to make a point, but the angel's purpose was clear. The angel leaned down over her.
"We heard about your little stunt you know. We know you're just a little puppet." The angel's mask was a gruesome grin, the crossed-out eye seemingly seeing deeper than Wyr could ever fathom. The words could have been spoken in the language of the angels, or profane, but there was a ringing in her ears that hollowed out the sounds of battle. The edges of Wyr's vision were smearing, black dots exploding around the angel. She was losing and her brain was shutting down to save itself.
Lucifer will come.
"You know what the rule is about witches like you? Beholden to the devil?" The angel kneeled, their heavy body pressing into Wyr's chest, finally stopping the shallow struggle for air.
Lucifer will come.
"You might know this one, try to say it with me."
Lucifer will come.
"Thou."
Lucifer will come.
"Shalt."
Lucifer will come.
"Not."
Lucifer will come!
"Suffer."
He will!
"A witch."
He has to!
"To live."
He'll come.
The angel's firm grip on the spear finally broke Wyr's and she let go as the angelic steel spilled her intestines onto the ground.
Hell had never felt colder as the blood pounded out of her, spilling and rimming her body like bloody wings. The angel, confident Wyr was down, stepped back. Wyr's eyes hazed over, not seeing as the angel flew from the roof. Her fingers felt frozen as she twitched, unable to move, to haul her insides back together, to stop the bleeding, to scrabble at her throat to try to breathe.
If Lucifer was coming, it might be too late for her…But she prayed nonetheless. For his sake, she hoped he'd change his mind. Charlie would need him before the day was over. She hoped he would forgive her. Even though he was angry at her, even though they'd parted on thin terms…She hoped it wouldn't hold him back. Wyr closed her eyes, the sensation of pain dulling and fading as the abyss beckoned.
