CHAPTER 37
Ansley
My father’s castle isn’t full of fire or brimstone.
On the outside, it looks like an ancient structure that was abandoned long ago. The inside is a different story. It’s been modernized with sleek furniture, plate glass windows that showcase the mountain vista, and enough technology to make Storm’s setup at The Den look primitive.
The entrance hall alone takes my breath away and makes me temporarily forget about the Crimson Templars or how close we all came to dying. Vaulted ceilings carved from the mountain itself soar overhead, but instead of torches to light the way, there’s soft ambient lighting that glows from recessed panels, making it look like it emanates from the stone itself.
“Whoa, nice place, Daddy,” Daisy chimes. “Why couldn’t we have sleepovers here instead of your grandparents’ house, Ansley? This place is epic!”
I can’t say I disagree, even if I’m still nervous about the fact my father is an angel… or possibly the devil. Daisy seems to be taking this a lot better than I am. She’s still making jokes, and I’m trying not to lose my mind.
Lucifer leads us through corridors that blend ancient stone archways with modern glass and steel. Panels flicker to life as we pass, showing what I assume are security feeds and other inscrutable information, but I’m not sure what any of it means. As we continue on, there are woven tapestries that are in good condition, considering they look centuries old.
“There are bedrooms ahead. Make yourselves at home. Shower if you’d like. I’ll prepare something for us to eat,” Lucifer says, gesturing towards the rooms before turning into what appears to be a living area. “There’s plenty of clothes, so help yourselves.”
“I could use a shower,” Daisy says, sniffing herself. “Whew, yeah, definitely need a bath.”
“We can trust this guy, right?” Hayden whispers once we’re further down the hallway. “I mean, he killed the Crimson Templars and healed us.”
“He’s Ansley’s father. If he wanted to harm us, he would have already done so,” Wyatt says. “Ansley, you really had no idea your father was an angel?”
“Is he?” I ask. “Is Lucifer an angel? You know more about history than I do, but none of what I’ve read talks about him… fondly.”
“Religious texts aren’t always accurate,” Wyatt says. “Although, I’ve always said one of the inaccuracies was angels, so I think there’s a lot I don’t know.”
“Angel. Devil. Whatever. He helped us, so he’s on our side,” Daisy says, walking into the one of the rooms. “I’m claiming this one!”
“We’ll be cautious, but we have no reason to distrust him unless he gives us one,” Jaxton insists. “We’re not dead. Our mate is safe. Her baby is safe.”
“We should count our blessings,” Storm adds. “Regardless of who blessed us.”
“I tend to agree,” Remy says. “Especially right now.”
The pack splits up as we each choose a room. They’re lavish, with beds larger than the ones at the safehouses, and plenty of modern technology. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I was at an upscale resort, instead of a castle carved into the side of the mountain.
The shower is controlled by a button and touchscreen. I’ve never seen one this fancy, so it takes a few tries to figure out which buttons do what. Once I do, I step into the most soothing shower of my life. The water washes away the dirt and grime effortlessly, before I even reach for the soap.
There’s a vast array of clothes available. Lucifer seems to have a bit of everything, but the clothes appear to be older styles and different from what I’d normally wear. I settle on a simple red dress. When I step out of my room, I see Daisy wearing one that’s similar, but green. My mates slowly emerge from their rooms, dressed in slacks and tunics that remind me of something nobility would wear in the old movies my grandmother likes.
“Not really what I’d prefer to wear, but it’s not bad,” Daisy says. “I hope Lucifer likes it.”
“Daisy, stop being weird,” I groan. “He’s… my father. I guess. I have a lot of questions.”
“Then let’s get some answers, mate,” Wyatt says, gesturing ahead. “I have a few questions myself. Not every day you meet an angel.”
“He’s still hot…” Daisy mutters, trailing behind us. “Even without his wings.”
We move through the hallway and walk down several steps into what looks like a sunken living room. There are couches, chairs, a large flat panel on the wall, and an array of food and drink arranged on the coffee table. Fresh fruit, cooked meat, and dinner rolls that have a golden crust.
Lucifer still looks like Mr. Lumen, and he’s casually leaning back in a chair with a glass of what appears to be wine in his hand. He looks too relaxed for someone who just carved through dozens of Crimson Templars. Way too relaxed for all the questions that are bubbling up inside me.
“Get yourselves something to eat and drink,” Lucifer offers. “Then we can talk.”
“What kind of alcohol do you have?” Daisy asks. “Yourdaughterlikes white wine. But she’s pregnant, so just water for her.”
“I haven’t entertained guests in centuries, but I like to live comfortably,” he says, his voice as smooth as honey. “There’s plenty to choose from.”
