The same thick coating of ice blocked his door. I should’ve brought MJ with me. Stepping back, I unleashed my shadows, gathering them until their vaporous wisps solidified into a large black battering ram. Then I slammed them into the ice. A loud boom echoed down the hallway,shaking the sconces and vibrating the windows. Yet it did nothing but add a few fissures to the barrier. I did it again and again, hoping I didn’t shatter the glass with the aftershocks before I broke through Lucifer’s ice.
He had to hear me. Anyone within this wing would. So why the hell wasn’t he letting me in?
Sweat slicked down my neck, adding to the dried grime from earlier. Holding my shadows in a solid form and using them with force took a lot of energy. They were better equipped to slip into heads than break down doors. After the tenth fucking attempt, the ice shattered, leaving the wood and his door-handle seal in place. If I twisted the knob, it’d prick me, taste my blood, and refuse my entry.
Good thing a damned door-handle seal wouldn’t stop me.
Tired, sweaty, and pissed off, I kicked in the wood. Time had long passed for decorum.
Wood splinters crunched beneath my boots as I slowly entered. Ice glinted across every surface of his sitting room—sharp as a Hellhound’s teeth. It stretched down from the decorative ceiling and smothered the wallpaper, hiding the red and black beneath a coating of white. I moved farther inside, my breath clouding around me and the sweat on my neck freezing. If not for my uniform, I wasn’t sure I could withstand being inside his rooms.
Lucifer lounged in his iced-over leather chair, staring into the one place untouched by his power. Flames cast an ominous glow over his profile, reflecting off the large glass of liquor in his other hand.
“Have you done any of your duties since we last talked?” I demanded.
He twirled his crystal tumbler, amber liquid splashing over the rim. “Souls have been judged. Sent to their rightful places.”
That was something at least.
“And the blockades on the doors?”
Lucifer clicked his tongue as if considering his words. “Can you blame me for wanting to wallow alone, General?”
We were well past wallowing and had entered toxic territory. His daughter behaved better than this, although I imagined part of that had to do with the fact that she’d been busy with other things—like the pet.That was my next pressing matter. One I dreaded more than this conversation.
“That explains your doors, but why the hall? If you’re judging souls, how are they getting in?”
He stood, stumbling into his end table. “Same way they always do.” A small grimace tightened his face before smoothing over. “Once they come, I drag them in. Ice can be melted as quickly as it’s formed.”
Hedrags them in? So he wasn’t using any help.
I pressed my lips together. “Why block them at all?”
He raised his glass high, toasting me and splashing more onto his wrinkled gray suit. “So bastards like you don’t come in and steal my drink.”
“I wouldn’t need to if the King of Hell would do his due diligence to his citizens. Have you not seen the state of Hell or the flyer threatening the souls in your kingdom?”
“Obviously not,” he said around a mouthful of alcohol. “Report your findings, General.”
I told him about the state of Hell and how Hoar Hollow had become a ghost town.
“Melting, huh? That’s different.”
“That’s all you have to say, Lucifer?”
I wanted to shatter every bottle of liquor he had left. Unfortunately, it’d be a worthless pursuit since he seemed to have drunk almost every drop from his seven crystal decanters. The largest one had a finger’s worth of alcohol left.
He stalked toward me, something odd glinting in his double-ringed eyes. The glassy sheen of alcohol? It wasn’t like I’d ever seen him this way.
“If you’d lost a cordistella, you wouldn’t be too inclined to get up and run a kingdom either.”
“You are the king! You’re responsible for this kingdom! You should be figuring out a plan to fix our immediate threats instead of pushing them aside by drinking yourself numb. The only sound directive you gave so far was to find a cure, and even that you revoked with no insight on how to help Sam! You were made to—” I took a deep breath, tryingto find a shred of sympathy. “Have you at least come up with any other ideas on how to open the gates?”
That task at least pertained to his beloved and, by default, Hell’s other problem.
“Open the gates?” He rubbed a finger over his lip in contemplation.
“Yes.”
