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Despite this situation being his fault, Lauren?iu can relate.
Lauren?iu bends and scratches behind her ears.
“Daisy? Daisy, do you think you can show me where we need to go?”
She barks and begins to run, and so do they, until their bodies become wisps.
“Is this it?” Adrian asks.
Lauren?iu eyes flicker over what he can see of the house past the barbed wire fence. “I’d say so.”
The place is absolutely ringed with silver. Silver twined with the thorny steel. No doubt there’d be silver bullets, maybe even silver teeth fillings. Stupid hunter. They must be careful not to touch the silver. Even so, it’ll make it more difficult to sustain their mist forms, or any forms, for long.
Lauren?iu sets a fist on a withered birch. “I can’t do this without him. I thought I could. To be strong. That for this to be my revenge, to think of a future after it, it’d make me weak.”
“Okay, lovebird.” They pause. “Lovecat. Do you know how to call him?”
Lauren?iu shuts his eyes and falls to his knees.
“Oh,” Adrian mutters, “you two really love drama, don’t you?”
Pressing his hands into the cool, frostbitten earth—
Can he really summon Paimon from the depths of Hell, if that’s where he really is?
Raising one soil-dusted hand to the necklace Paimon gave him, Lauren?iu whispers, quiet as a prayer, “I can try.”
Chapter 21
Paimon
“Okay,” Lucifer says, sweeping his hand as he holds a full wine glass. His hand is draped on a golden armrest, one leg crossed daintily over the other.
“Okay,” Paimon repeats.
Lucifer’s free hand fairy-dances in the air. “Zombies, murder, cannibals, Dolly Parton, romance. I see.” He takes a drink of the sweet red wine and sets in on a gilded table.
Sitting across from him, Paimon hasn’t touched his glass.
Paimon jokes, “A tale as old as time.”
A grin of sharp eyeteeth. “That’s right.”
The room is fragrant with a mass of red, white, and yellow flowers, all with amber cat-eyes.
In front of them, a massive square hearth roars ice-blue fire that twists like hair in the wind.
Those golden goat-eyes—Lucifer’s eyes set so delicately above high, cutting features, each cheekbone a knife. As gold as his skin and hair, sunbursts with oblivion in them.
His long curls, however, have streaks of silver twisting through them. His light, spiraling horns and long tail are both silver, with a white tuft at the end of the tail.
Lucifer is dressed as he usually is, in white, a half-buttoned suit with gold lapels and nothing under it, with matching pants, a look he said reminded him fondly of his favorite blonde pop singer, though he admitted that he needed a white wide-brimmed hat, or maybe a coral-pink one.
Lucifer says, “You could do anything you wanted. There are billions of souls around. Billions of souls, billions of fallen angels.Hedoesn’t exactly forget, but He is very...”
“Old. As...”
“Yes, old. He could’ve wiped the slate clean a hundred times over.”
