The Third Throne: Angel of Darkness (22 page)

He thought back to the incident with Fenris.  He was shocked, not only because she had tried to protect him, but also because she had courageously defended herself.  Watching Fenris running after his mistress had been the worst experience of his life.  It felt like time was standing still as the beast hunted the love of his life.  He had been paralyzed by fear.  It was a terrible feeling, one that he didn’t want to repeat anytime soon.  The only thing that eased his fear was the complete and utter determination on her face when she pulled back her fist and punched Fenris.  There had been no fear in her eyes, no hesitation in her movement.  She had been confident that she would win the fight.  He was pleased to know that Fenris had lost sight in his left eye because of her.  He had never been more proud of anyone in his life.  He was grateful that his woman could handle herself, not only in battle, but with him as well.  Hades hadn’t stood a chance.

Lucifer threw himself into his throne, worn out from his session with Hades.  As hard as he had tried to pry the answer from Hades’ lips, the angel was smart enough to deny everything.  He was sticking with the “misunderstanding” defense.  He knew there was more to the matter, but couldn’t prove it.  He didn’t want to make his mistress cry again, so he couldn’t ask her.  She had looked so small and dejected when asked what Hades had done to her.  He wanted to murder the one who had caused her sadness; unfortunately, he needed the pompous ass to help him run Hell.  Lucifer had no idea what he would do without Hades, though he would find out, if needed.

It was obvious that Hades didn’t like his mistress and didn’t want her in Hell.  Hades did have a point when he said that the girl changed him considerably, which could lead to his downfall.  He knew he was kinder when she was near.  Would he be able to rule Hell with an iron fist while still keeping her close?  He wished he knew the answer.

After a long debate with himself on the pros and cons of having the girl around, he could no longer sit alone in his throne.  He needed to see her.  Before he could convince himself that it was a bad idea to go to her, he was standing in front of her door.  He pushed the door open and saw her asleep on the bed.

∞

Hades regained consciousness slowly.  All around him, he heard the screams and cries of those unlucky enough to have landed their asses in trouble.  They were all hanging from the ceiling by their wrists, lined up in rows in the Hall of Torment.  The hall had been created to punish the Fallen, the prisoners from the Hall of Shadows, and the souls who repeatedly tried to escape from their realms, or Hell itself.  It was perpetually covered in blood and held more weapons than any other place in Hell.

Every single Fallen had at one time or another been hung from the ceiling like sides of meat and been on the receiving end of Lucifer’s boot, fist, or worse.  One more indiscretion and Hades would win the grand prize, a T-shirt that read “Hell’s Stupidest Prisoner.”  He was elated that they were no longer sentenced to time in the Hall of Mirrors with Serena.  That was something everyone tried desperately to avoid.  Even Hades strived to be good when threatened with that loathsome punishment.

He ignored the angels hanging next to him and took inventory of his injuries.  He still had his head and tongue, which was a start.  His hands were fine, or presumably, since they were numb and bleeding from the shackles around his wrists.  As usual, there were broken ribs and lacerations, not to mention bruises.  He would indeed survive to be tortured another day.  He was grateful that he had managed to keep the particulars of his scrape with the girl quiet; otherwise, he would have never woken up again.

Dmitry, the Overseer of the Hall of Torment and a total bastard, was busy with a soul a few rows behind him, so he was safe for the time being.  He used his time wisely to plan his next move. 

The girl had to go, not only for Lucifer’s sake, but for his own.  If he were insane enough to continue pursuing her to be his servant, Lucifer would have no mercy on him.  He thought about how warm her lips had been and how badly he had wanted to take her body.  He pondered whether he could steal her away from Lucifer and hide her somewhere until he could get her out of his system.  He fiercely pushed the thought away, determined to find a way to get rid of her.  It bothered him that he was no better than Lucifer in his obsession with the girl.

He cringed when he heard a single pair of footsteps in the hallway leading to the room, worried that Lucifer had gotten his second wind.  He was slightly relieved to see Malcolm appear before him.

“I know you’re tied up, but I have a problem and Lucifer dismissed me,” Malcolm folded his arms and glared at Hades, grateful that he didn’t have to bow or act as if he respected the jerk, while in the room.

“You know I’m off the clock.  Complain to Azazel and see if he cares enough to help you,” Hades rolled his eyes.

The only good part about being locked up in the Hall of Torment was that he was considered to be on equal ground with the lowest servant.  Those being punished had their titles and responsibilities temporarily stripped away and could be taunted and beaten by a Fallen or a servant.  He enjoyed the vacation from the endless problems he had to deal with, even if he didn’t particularly care for the beatings.  On the occasions when he did end up in chains, it had meant he’d been careless in his scheming, so he strived to be sneakier and more cunning.  That was the only lesson he ever cared to learn.

“It’s about the girl.  I was told that you wanted to know anything troubling or unusual about her,” Malcolm sighed and waited for Hades to get with the program.

“You have my full attention,” Hades purred hoping that this new information was what he needed.

Malcolm looked around nervously and leaned in to whisper, so that Hades alone could hear him.  “You’re not going to believe me, but I witnessed it with my own eyes.  Caleb threw Lucifer’s mistress into the Realm of Fire and everything was fine.  Then she became irate, really irate.  The flames moved away from her and stopped burning her.  She screamed and this wave of energy came barreling out of her.  She froze the entire realm.  The prisoners were terrified of her and the other Fallen want nothing to do with her.”

Hades looked at Malcolm as if he had just spoken in a foreign language.  He was slow in comprehending Malcolm’s wild accusations.  “She froze Hell Fire?  That’s not possible.  Even those who have command over it can’t do something like that.  You must have been asleep or delusional.  Besides, she is still a servant and has no command over the fire to make it stop burning her.  Lucifer hasn’t granted her that power, yet,” Hades dismissed the insane allegations and looked away.

Malcolm assumed that Hades had been hit in the head too many times since he failed to understand the implications of what had happened.  He knew Azazel would do little more than stare drolly at him, and it his initial conversation with Lucifer had been dismissed.  If he didn’t make Hades understand the situation, he would inevitably be hanging in chains, if it happened again.

“I saw it with my own eyes, Hades.  I wasn’t asleep.  I had just relieved Gresham and had taken up my post when I saw Caleb forcibly escorting her to the realm.  I’m not delusional.  I wasn’t the only one who witnessed it, though I’m the only one stupid enough to pursue the matter,” Malcolm sighed when he thought about all the extra work it was taking to report the incident.

Hades nodded, acknowledging that Malcolm was fairly reliable and would have no reason to lie, at least about this.  He pondered the problem for a moment.

“Hell Fire is the most powerful weapon that we have in Hell.  I had no idea that it could be altered by anyone.  What happened once it was frozen?” Hades was all business while he thought through every possible reason for the occurrence.

“She touched the ice and it shattered throughout the entire realm.  The girl merely stepped out of the realm and headed off to the Hall of Winds.  What was I supposed to do, stop her?” Malcolm shrugged.

Hades regained his composure.  “Has the fire been restarted?”

“Yeah, we got it working again, but it wasn’t easy.  It took some effort, but all is as it should be.  I’m telling you, Hades; I’m not putting her back in there again.  It was difficult containing the prisoners while we fixed the problem.  We were close to having a massive escape of murders.  I won’t take that chance again.  I don’t care what you or Lord Lucifer say.  I won’t do it,” Malcolm didn’t care if his fear of the girl showed through; he didn’t want to become a Fallen-sicle.

“That is not for you to decide.  We will deal with this once I’m released. I will speak to Lucifer when I see him. Keep her out of there, for now,” Hades glared at Malcolm.

“Sure,” Malcolm turned to leave, but stopped abruptly and swung around to hit Hades in the face with a right hook.  Then he slammed his knee into Hades’ solar plexus.

“That’s for breaking my arm and ripping out of the socket.  I would do worse, but I’m due back,” Malcolm flipped him off and left.

Hades coughed and spit blood on the floor from his busted lip.  No, he decided that he didn’t like being in the hall after all.

He contemplated the matter at hand.  He was left with no other option.  The girl was indeed too dangerous and had to die.  The consequences of ending her were no longer a concern.  Allowing her live would be far worse.

∞

His mistress looked very diminutive curled up in a ball on the bed.  He could see the remnants of the tears on her cheeks.  He often forgot how young and innocent she was.  All of this was new to her.  How could he expect her to handle it alone?  She had spent too much time by herself.  It was no wonder that she remained hesitant around him.  He cursed himself for leaving her vulnerable to Hades.  Heaven only knows what they had fought about.  Part of him didn’t want to know, but a part of him assumed it had been bad considering the level of damage.

It took him a moment to realize that her cheek was completely healed.  Fenris’ claw marks should have taken weeks to heal, but there wasn’t even a hint of a scar on her soft skin.  The evidence was mounting and he could no longer deny the facts.  He needed to keep her away from any more stressful situations, lest she start to ask questions about her peculiar reactions to danger.  He had to find a way to keep her innocent of certain truths.

He leaned over the bed and followed the trail of her tears with the tip of his finger.  She stirred from her sleep, murmuring about something.  He carefully shook her shoulder and watched her open her eyes.

“Well, my darling, it seems that we are alone again.  I want to show you something.  I want to take you to my room, so that you might understand me better,” Lucifer was practically purring as he held out his hand to her.

It took a second for Michelle to understand what Lucifer was saying.  She had dreamed about something other than Hell for the first time in her life.  She’d been dreaming of a beautiful angel, possibly her father, though she couldn’t be sure.  It made her want to see him even more.  Since going with Lucifer was the only way to get out of her cell, she accepted his hand.

Lucifer pulled her from her bed and led her up to the Throne Room.  She saw Dorian and Vincent, Lucifer’s suicide servants, standing guard by the dais.  If she managed to get away from Lucifer, she would have to avoid them if she wanted to get to the caves.  She didn’t care if she had to take them out with Lucifer’s boot; she was going to get to the caves.

Lucifer’s heart nearly exploded from his chest.  She had accepted his offer.  She was neither angry nor distant, and he was elated.  She didn’t seem to understand the implications of accepting his invitation, but he would deal with her naïvety
once they were safely in his room.  He was relieved that she was willingly going with him.

They came to a door tucked away behind a pillar on the left side of the dais.  On the top of the door was symbol, similar to the one on her door.  It was a star surrounded by rays of light, sitting on a group of clouds.

“What does the symbol mean?” she pulled Lucifer to a halt.

Lucifer was surprised by her question.  He paused for a moment and then answered.  “It represents my given name and my former position in Heaven.  I told you that I was the Morningstar, the Bringer of the Dawn.  Any angel who looked upon it would understand its meaning,” he sounded sad as he spoke, almost like he was ashamed.

Michelle pondered the symbol for a moment.  If Lucifer’s symbol was his name or what he was supposed to be, she wondered what the symbol on her door really meant.  She dismissed Hades’ original statement about it being a mark of Lucifer’s harem.  She hadn’t seen any Playboy Bunnies lounging around on the dais.

Lucifer led her down a short staircase that ended at a wooden door.  She realized that Lucifer’s room was directly below the Throne Room in the tower, while the servant’s quarters resided below it, though only accessible through the other set of stairs.

When they entered Lucifer’s room, Michelle noted that the room was very spacious and looked like a hunting lodge with animal skins covering the stone floor.  Upon closer inspection, the animal rugs weren’t made from bears or lions, but appeared to be the pelts of different grotesque creatures, like the ones she’d seen in the Hall of Shadows.  One of them looked like a huge scary fox and the other had wings and feathers with a bird face, like a griffin.  Apparently, Lucifer hadn’t been kidding about turning Fenris into a throw rug.  Thankfully, they weren’t still breathing.

She had expected his walls to be lined with heads, given his taste in rugs, but instead, rows of shadow boxes were hung throughout the room.  Each box had something unique on display.  Some items were creepy such as wings or hands; others held old-fashioned swords and weapons.  She realized that they were trophy boxes.  In between the trophy boxes, were normal things like portraits of angels beautifully painted in oils, depicting heroic scenes.