Chapter One
LILY
I usedto think Hell was working as a coffee shop barista during the Monday morning rush. Or waiting on hold while unholy elevator music blasted through my ear, all because I needed to cancel an internet package.
Turns out I was wrong. On both counts.
Becausethiswas Hell. Actual, literal, spelled with a capital “H” Hell. Complete with scorching heat, murderous terrain, and the constant threat of death. There was a reason people said “go to Hell” like it was the worst possible fate they could wish on someone.
This place was as wretched as a shot of cheap tequila without a wedge of lemon to suck on. As unpleasant as an appendectomy without any anaesthesia. As nasty as a diarrheic dog without a diaper. Okay, maybe that last one was a bit much.
The moral of the story was: this placesucked.
And the horribly unamusing part was that I’d come here willingly. But seeing as how I was Lucifer’s daughter—don’t worry, I wanted him dead just as much as the next guy—thelocation was non-negotiable. Killing him was the top item on my to-do list, or my BHAG, as I’d come to call it. And I couldn’t strike that goal off my list while on Earth, no matter how much I wished otherwise.
The problem with Big, Hairy, Audacious Goals was that no one ever provided a step-by-step guide on how to accomplish them. I wanted Lucifer dead, yes, but how?Howdid I find him?Howdid I cut through his massive army to reach him? And if by some miracle I managed these,howthen did I actually kill him?
The last time I’d tried, I’d failed spectacularly. I’d gathered an army, trained and fought with them, only for Lucifer to massacre every single one of them before ripping my wings straight off my back. He’d wanted to kill me, and likely would have succeeded had Rathiel—my literal fallen angel with shiny black wings, and the love of my life—not saved me. With my memories now restored, I knew I’d never forget that moment. But if somehow I ever did, the scars etched into my flesh would remind me.
Two members of my camp had some thoughts on how I could succeed this time.
The first was my bestie Eliza. She believed we needed to kill all of Lucifer’s fallen angels—any who hadn’t sided with us, of course—because without them, my father couldn’t create more hellspawn. I agreed, and according to Rathiel, only three remained. A far more manageable number than the eight we’d faced not one week ago.
The second was the angelic Levi. He suggested I tap into my untouched magic, magic I might have inherited from my father, and resurrect my slaughtered army.
I wasn’t nearly as confident about that step.
For one, it involved me exploring a darkness I’d spent my whole life avoiding. A darkness I feared. Becoming my father was my worst nightmare. And if I resurrected my fallen soldiersjust to reforge them back into hellspawn, then how was I any better than my old man?
I couldn’t ignore Levi’s suggestion, though. I absolutely needed an army. One that believed in my cause and had already fought and died for me. They fit the bill, provided I succeeded and didn’t lose myself in the process.
The way I saw it, I had two choices, and both were equally unpleasant.
Option A: Do as Levi suggested and raise my army from the dead by tapping into magic I hoped wouldn’t blacken my soul.
Option B: Just keep chilling here in the ruins of my former rebellion camp, staring at a bunch of rocks until I died of old age. And since I was an immortal celestial, that timeline was both depressingly long and wildly unrealistic.
Lucifer would surely find and kill me long before then.
Which meant I was stuck with Option A, as terrifying as that sounded.
Thankfully, no one was insisting I give it the ole college try right this second. Mostly because they were thoroughly distracted by the sight of MephisargroomingPurrgatory. It was a sight that would haunt me until my undying day. My monstrous, fork-tongued hellwyrm, delicately licking and grooming my comparatively minuscule ginger cat. At least, I hoped he was grooming and not tenderizing.
The others had formed a half-circle around the two of them, watching as though waiting for a tragedy to unfold. My gremlin-sized imp, with the attention span of a mayfly and the mouth of a sailor, seemed particularly interested. He was narrating the situation like we were watching some Hellscape nature documentary and loving every minute of it.
“And here we have the majestic Mephisar,” Vol said, perched on Rathiel’s shoulder, “grooming this tiny feline in a rare act of domesticity. Observe the tongue. The finesse. The pure,unmatched horror.” He paused and cocked his head. “What exactlyarewe watching? Hey, Meat Sack! Is this common hellwyrm behaviour?”
I didn’t answer, mostly because I was hardly an expert on such a topic. I was simply grateful Mephisar and Sable didn’t try to eatme. But Purrgy probably looked like a chicken nugget to them.
“Should we intervene?” Calyx asked. Once an angel, he was now something far darker—a nightmare demon with a knack for tormenting people. He claimed he fought beside me for a chance to win back his freedom. Personally, I thought he just enjoyed causing chaos. “Or are you content letting your wyrm snack on this…creature you dragged into Hell?”
Sighing, I joined the group and eyed Mephisar and Purrgy. One lick encompassed all of Purrgy’s chubby little body. But it didn’t seem as though Mephisar meant him any harm. A thought Purrgy proved true when he sprawled on his back and gave Mephisar his belly to clean.
“Oh, I’ve seen this,” Rathiel stated. “Back on Earth. The feline presents its soft under-flesh as a token of trust.”
“There aren’t enough diamond-studded loincloths in the world to convince me to let a hellwyrm groom me,” Vol muttered. Then he shook his head and finished with, “Purrgy’s lost his damn mind.”
Hadn’t we all?
