Reignite (Extinguish #2) (11 page)

He didn't elaborate. She
didn't press the matter. Her eyes bore into his as her mouth again moved,
sounding out his name this time, a small smile playing on her lips. Fuck,
he
really
wanted to kiss her...

Her eyes eventually left
his, drifting along him, scanning his face and his bare chest before meeting
his gaze again. She quirked an eyebrow, holding her hand out. "Well, Luce,
apparently I'm Serah."

Lucifer reached out and
took her hand, holding it in his. "I know."

"Lucky for you, my memory is shot, which means
you're a clean slate to me. I'm learning from scratch here, trying to make sense
of the world again, but I have a question that I think might clear some things
up."

He hesitated. "I'm
listening."

"How in the world
did you heal so quickly?"

He immediately looked
down, realizing the wound on his chest was now gone. All that was left was the
faint circular scar from the burn of a Heavenly blade. "The wound was
superficial."

"And the round
scar?" she asked. "Where did
that
come from?"

"Can't really
say."

"Pity," she
said, tugging on the neck of her shirt and pulling it down to expose a patch of
skin. "Because I have one of those marks, too."

Lucifer stared at the
scar on her chest. His would fade by tomorrow as he fully regenerated, but she
was human now. Marks on humans remained. Hers became permanent the moment he
took her wings.

He wasn't sure what to
say, so he said nothing, pulling away from her entirely to stand up. "I
really shouldn't be here, Serah."

He turned to leave,
ignoring her feeble protest asking him to stay. He shouldn't be there; he
shouldn't be talking to her, or touching her. The truth would only hurt her in
the end.

As soon as he stepped
outside, away from her eyes, he zapped away and landed on the street outside of
the old bar he'd tracked Abaddon to before. He tried to sense his old friend,
not done with their conversation, but Abaddon's essence faded as soon as he
appeared.

He knew that game.

The angel was evading him.

Luce
.

The name was peculiar,
yet somehow familiar; like it was a name Serah knew intimately, one she had
spoken many times before.
Luce
.

It repeatedly rolled
through her thoughts, springing off the tip of her tongue after having lingered
there for months. It made sense, relatively speaking, considering nothing about
the entire situation was truly understandable.

She wondered if she was
dreaming again.

In the blink of an eye,
her visitor was up out of the chair, his words not registering with her until
he was almost to the door.
I shouldn't be
here
. "Hang on," she called out. "Stay, please!"

She jumped up, running
to the door when he headed outside, stepping out not ten seconds after him to
find the dark parking lot completely empty.

Gone.

"Wait!" she
yelled, looking around. He couldn't have gotten far. "Come back!"

"Looking for
someone?"

She jumped at the
unexpected voice, startlingly close. A man stood on the corner a mere few feet
away. How hadn't she seen him until now? It wasn't Luce, but when he took a
step closer, recognition dawned. She'd met him before, once, not long ago: the
guy who had carried her groceries for her.

Don.

"Uh, yeah,"
she said quickly. "Did you see someone come by here?"

"No," he said.
"Should I have?"

"I, uh… I don't
know." Shaking her head, she scanned the parking lot once more, seeing no
sign of him anywhere. It was like he'd vanished into thin air again.
Typical
. "I guess not."

Sighing, she turned
around and stepped back inside the lobby of the motel, trying to shake off the
peculiar feeling crawling across her skin, the tingling along her spine. She
could sense the man as he stepped in behind her.

"Can I help you
with something?" she asked, grabbing the bloody rag from the desk, the
only evidence she had that her visitor had been real.

"I was hoping
so."

"Do you need a
room?" she asked, raising her eyebrows curiously. "We have some
vacancy."

"No, I'm afraid I
don't need that kind of help."

"What kind of help
do you need?"

"The kind I think
only you can help me with."

He grinned, a sly sort of grin that made Serah's
defenses prickle. She turned away from him, carefully folding the rag up and
laying it in the hamper for laundry in the morning. "I'm not sure how I
can help you, mister, but I—"

She turned back around,
cutting off mid-sentence when she realized she was alone. She stared at the
spot he'd just occupied, that sensation inside of her growing, her stomach
twisting, heart thumping wildly. She hadn't heard the door open, hadn't heard
him leave, but he wasn't there anymore.

I'm losing it
.

After a quick glance
around the lobby, ensuring she was in fact alone, she retook her seat at the
desk, trying to ignore the queasiness building inside of her. There was
something very wrong, something happening that she couldn't understand.
Absently, her hand drifted up to her chest and she rubbed the scar through her
shirt.

She had a feeling it
might be the key to everything.

The one-story house was quaint,
white with blue shutters, located in a quiet neighborhood toward the south end
of Chorizon, just a few blocks away from the local elementary school. The
'for rent'
sign still stuck out of the
shabby patch of grass out front, but Serah had already signed her name on the
dotted line, making her the official tenant.

Or
part
of her
name.

What
she was pretty sure was her name now, anyway.

Her
boss, Gilda, knew the owners and had helped her rent the house, despite her
lack of history, and credit, and whatever else it was people needed to get a
place of their own.

It
was hers now—for the next year, at least.

It
was a warm summer morning, the sun shining brightly already at only nine
o'clock. Serah stepped out of her house wearing a light summer dress and a pair
of white flip-flops, her long hair pulled up off her neck. She had no plans,
nowhere to go or nothing to do, so she just ventured around town as usual,
wandering streets she'd wandered every day the past few months. It was fairly
busy for being a Sunday, the streets bustling as people made their way to
church. There were plenty of churches around town, from elaborate cathedrals
and quaint little buildings that looked like barns, but Serah was continually
drawn to the community center in town instead of those places.

She'd
sat it on church a few times—it seemed like the thing to do here, and
something about it always felt familiar, like she was at home sitting on the
grungy little folding metal chair in the recently remodeled community center.
She knew the scripture, knew the stories the preacher recounted, a few times
almost chiming in to correct the man when he misinterpreted something. She
forced herself to remain silent, though, merely listening. After all, he was
the authority on the subject.

What
did
she
know?

She'd
only just learned her own name.

The
room was half-filled today, the usual visitors occupying the chairs. Serah sat
at the front and listened as the preacher talked about the great flood. She
doodled in the margins of her brand new bible—a housewarming present from
Gilda, which was really just one of the extras they ordered for the nightstands
in the motel rooms. Her mind drifted… she knew this story like the back of her
hand… as she absently drew a peculiar geometric pattern, a rendering of the
mark she'd seen not long ago. Upside down triangle that evolved into hooks,
an 'x'
slashed through it, with a letter V beneath it all.
She drew it so many times the past week, trying to find significance in the
shapes, that she could probably produce it in her sleep. What was it? What did
it mean?

Why
had it been slashed into his skin?

It
left a lingering mark, a mark that she too carried.

Had
that mark once been on her skin, too?

When
service was over, she stood to leave when the preacher stopped her. "You
know, some believe it's wrong to write in bibles. Revelations tells us not to
add or subtract from God's words."

She
smiled softly. "That's not meant to be taken literally."

He
raised his eyebrows. "No?"

"This
is just a book," she said, holding up her bible. "It's just paper and
ink. It's the medium, not the meaning."

"That's
one way to look at it," he said, holding up his own bible with a smile,
the page it was on highlighted and scribbled all over. "I tend to
agree."

"Besides,
I wasn't writing," she said. "I was drawing."

"Oh?
What were you drawing?"

Serah
flipped open to the page she was doodling on and held it up.

The
preacher's expression fell slowly as he gazed at it. "Can't say I have one
of those in my book. Can't say I'd ever put one in my book."

Serah's
brow furrowed. "Have you seen it before?"

"Of
course," he said, closing his bible before clearing his throat, turning
away from her. His warm eyes suddenly felt icy. "Excuse me."

He
started to walk away when she stepped in front of him in the aisle. "Wait
a second… where have you seen this before?"

He
only paused for a fraction of a second. "It's one of the marks of Satan,
one he bore before his fall."

Serah
just stood there as the man scurried away.
Satan
?
Shaking her head with disbelief, she looked down at the drawing before closing
her bible again. 

He
must be mistaken.

Sighing,
she walked out of the community center and strolled down the street, heading
back home.

The
neighborhood was alive with activity when she arrived, people gardening,
children playing, others enjoying the sunshine. Some boys played basketball in
the street a few houses down, the man across the street mowing his grass. Serah
approached her house, carrying her bible under her arm, when a red ball suddenly
flew right past her feet, nearly tripping her as it came to a stop in her front
yard.

Brow
furrowing, she reached down and picked it up when a squeaky voice cut through
the air behind her. "Are you lost some more?"

Serah
turned around, seeing a small child with mousy brown hair and wide eyes. She
vaguely recognized her, remembering the encounter outside the elementary school
not long ago. "No, I've been found," she said, smiling warmly as she
held up the ball. "Yours?"

The
little girl nodded enthusiastically, taking the ball from her. "Do you
still got the amnesia?"

"I
do," Serah said, surprised the child remembered the incident. Nicki, she
recalled her name. She had a father named Nicholas and a mother named Samantha.
"They think I'll always have it."

"So
you don't remember
nothing?
"

"I
remember some things," she said. "I remember meeting you, for
instance."

Nicki
lit up excitedly.

"Oh,
and I remember my name now," she said. "Or well… somebody told me my
name. It's Serah."

"I'm
still Nicki," the girl said. "Do you live here now?"

"I
do."

"Mr.
Johnson used to live here. He wasn't so nice. He got mad when my ball went on
his grass, 'cause mama said he didn't like kids. But then he got married to a
beauty queen and moved away. Mama called them Beauty and the Beast, because he
was hairy and mean, but the Beast was a good guy so I think he was really
Gaston." Nicki paused to take a breath. "Oh! Maybe that's what you
need!"

Serah's
eyes widened. "A Beast?"

"No,
silly, a frog!"

Serah
stared at her incredulously. "A frog?"

"Don't
you read fairy tales? You kiss a frog and he becomes a prince!"

Serah
had to wonder if maybe she wasn't the only crazy one. "And how will a frog
prince help me?"

Nicki
shrugged. "It always helps the princesses in the stories."

Before
Serah could respond, a female voice cut through the air from the house next
door. Looking up, Serah saw a woman on the front steps, a petite brunette with
a bulging stomach. Her hands rested on her belly as she watched them, her
expression kind. "Nicki, time for lunch!"

"That's
my mama," Nicki said. "I gotta go. I'm glad you were found!"

Nicki ran off before Serah
could say anything. She watched the girl disappear into the house, smiling
softly. Something about her innocence felt so familiar, so comforting.

Lucifer stood in the
quiet parking lot, his back to the old motel. It was nearing dawn, the sky
still dark, only a faint orange glow spilling out on the horizon. The town was
quiet, most everyone asleep.

Everyone except for
her
.

She
was still working.

He
wasn't sure why he was here. He hadn't even thought about it. He tracked
Abaddon around the godforsaken world, jumping from place to place, before
ultimately ending up right back where he started.

He
was weak.

She
was tempting.

Lust
was his favorite sin, but he was beginning to dislike its counterpart, the one
called greed. Because he was insatiable, especially when it came to her. He
wanted more, and more, and more. It was never enough.

He
wondered if it ever would be.

It would have to be
.

He
knew he should stay away, that he
needed
to stay away, to keep his distance, but he couldn't. As much as he tried, he
always ended up back here. Warnings be damned…

The
door to the motel jingled, soft footsteps starting through the parking lot. Six
o'clock in the morning, Lucifer gathered.
Probably not a
minute later.
Humans were good with time. Peculiar things, how they
monitored every hour, minute, second, scheduling themselves to utilize every
bit of time they're given. He supposed it made sense, when you're granted only
a few decades on earth. Sixty, seventy, eighty years, if you're lucky.

He'd
squandered more time than that in a long card game.

Time
for him always meant nothing. A thousand years was a breeze. Six thousand was
barely enough time to get amply pissed off about being trapped in the pit. He
never realized how much time he'd wasted until he was staring down a ticking
clock, his time with her running short.

It
caused something to materialize inside of him when he let that thought simmer,
something he'd never felt before. Guilt.

Guilt,
because there was only one to blame for the human's short lives, and contrary
to popular belief, it wasn't Eve.

"Coffee?"

He
closed his eyes briefly, letting the sound of her voice wash through him,
before slowly turning around. Serah stood just a few feet away, eyes fixed
directly on him. Although he knew, deep down, she saw him, his eyes still
flitted around the parking lot, certain there had to be somebody—
anybody
—else that she was speaking
to. But they were alone.

"Coffee?"
he asked. "What about it?"

"Do
you want to get some?"

His
brow furrowed. "For what?"

"To
drink," she said hesitantly. "And, I don't know, I thought maybe we
could hang out and… talk, I guess."

Coffee.
To drink.
To hang out.
To talk.

With her.

Lucifer
stared at her for a moment. Logic told him to turn her away, but that goddamned
greed manifested, begging him to take every second of her short life she would
offer him. She was only given so many, after all. If he said no to these, she
may not offer him any more.

"It
doesn't have to be coffee," she said tentatively. "I don't even like
coffee. We can get some breakfast at the diner down the street. I mean
,
everybody has to eat, right?"

"Right,"
he said, drawing out the word. Except he wasn't
an
'everybody'
… he was a nobody, or
a somebody, depending on how you looked at it.
A nobody
who didn't exist, not really, not here, but saying yes meant he had to be a
somebody. He'd have to break his rule, the one rule he set for himself long,
long ago,
the
one rule that he swore he'd never break.
The one he never wanted to break. Not until this moment, anyway.