Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, and the room dropped in temperature. “She doesn’t have the luxury to start at the bottom. The Redemption Circle is becoming more dangerous each week. I want her in the Tormentors. If she has to train every second of every day to progress faster, then so be it.”
“They will prey on her weakness—especially if they know who she is.”
“They will not know who she is.”
“Why?”
He gave me a measured look. “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”
What was that supposed to mean?
“Have you sensed her power?”
I’ve tasted it in her blood, but he’d be less than pleased to hear that, so I nodded.
“She’s my daughter. The first offspring of Hell. There’s no telling all the power she contains. I learned of some when you bridged our minds together. Based on what she said and what I’ve seen, I believe Saraqael is her mother.”
I stilled. What he said wasn’t possible. Angels were created—never born.
“I don’t understand.”
He scoffed. “Neither do I. But if my daughter is telling the truth, then she is no Nephilim, and I somehow got Saraqael pregnant the last time she was here.”
I remembered that day and still didn’t know what to think about it.
“Do you think she planned it all?” I asked, thinking back to the odd way Saraqael acted, and the ice storm that shattered the windows when she stormed out of Hell and never returned.
Lucifer’s eyes were glazed, most likely reliving the worst night of his life—when Saraqael chose Michael over him. “I don’t know. That’s why I need her to wake up.”
Even with my power to manipulate the bodies and minds of others, I couldn’t wake Saraqael. That was almost as surprising as the fact that Lucifer allowed me to taste her blood in the first place.
“What about the fem—Lucille? Can she tell you anything?” Her name curled around my tongue in a sweet caress. I grimaced, hating that I liked it.
“She’s been in and out of consciousness this last week. But, knowing Saraqael, I doubt she knows much. I need Saraqael.”
By the look on his face, he more than needed her. He yearned for her, obsessed over her, and would do absolutely anything for her—even after she stormed off and chose another.
That wouldn’t be me. It was bad enough having to watch Lucifer pine for Saraqael.
No, I’d never allow someone to have that hold over me again. Moira satisfied me enough. She had low expectations for our situation and never pushed for more. We were both happy with the way things were. So the whirling darkness coiling inside me better enjoy disappointment.
“Give Lucille a couple more days to heal, then introduce her to her new life with your Tormentors.”
“You’re sure you want her with the fourth squadron?” Anyone else who dared to question the King of Hell would’ve suffocated on ice.
“Train her hard, make her suffer, but keep her alive. I don’t care how you do it, but she needs to be ready. There’ll be a reckoning in Hell for what’s been done.”
His ominous words stirred the shadows beneath my skin.
“What kind of reckoning?”
“The kind that will restore Hell to what it once was.”
I slid my hand behind my back as I felt the whisper of my shadows tickle my palms. Lucifer was hiding something, and they didn’t like that it had any relation to the female.
“I’ll debrief you on her cover story in a few days. No one in Hell can know who she is. If someone tells the Council of Righteousness, those heavenly bastards will demand retribution.”
Lucifer glared at the wedding band around his finger, connecting him to the Mother of Demons.
