Morning Star (Sins of the Father 3)

The Prince of Pride shushed the Prince of Sloth as he would a beloved little sibling, sweeping his sweat-logged hair away from his face, revealing the third of Belphegor’s eyes, which wept blood.

“I only mean to restore the balance of power,” Lucifer murmured. “A gentle reminder, brother: all of it belongs to me.”

Lightly, ever so lightly, Lucifer pressed a kiss to his brother’s cheek. A tiny mote of white radiance passed between them, a little spark that gently penetrated Belphegor’s skin.

The night air dropped several degrees, and a shadow passed over the moon. Belphegor shrieked, convulsed, then collapsed to the ground, clutching at his eyes and kicking his legs. The way he squirmed, the way he suffered told me all I needed to know of the pain.

Lucifer lifted Belphegor into his arms, the Prince of Sloth screaming in agony, blood weeping from each of his three eyes. With a stab of chilling fear I realized that this was how I must have looked just minutes ago, borne in Lucifer’s arms as he saved me and brought me down to earth. The parallel was unsettling, but nowhere near as disturbing as Belphegor’s twitches and howls.

I shivered as Lucifer’s eyes locked with mine, though I saw nothing there but warmth.

“I realize that this looks somewhat extreme, but steps must always be taken to keep the other princes in line. Oh, I make it look like a democratic monarchy, but who are we kidding? It’s good to be king. Better to rule in hell than serve in heaven, eh? You understand.” Lucifer smiled sweetly. “Or you will, in time.”

He was talking about my birthright, my father’s throne. What was I supposed to say to that? I glanced at the others, finding them transfixed and terrified by the sight of Belphegor practically breaking his spine from the spasms. Only Quill looked anywhere close to being unaffected, his face unusually blank. I wondered if he’d seen something like this before.

“Little magus,” Lucifer said. “I trust that this doesn’t need to be said, but I’ll say it anyway. This is what happens to those who overstep their station. Do you understand?”

Silent and stone-faced, Quill said nothing and only nodded.

“Excellent.” Lucifer stepped forward onto pavement, the very stone melting under the soles of his feet as he sank into a pool of boiling magma. “Send my regards to your mother, Quilliam.” Then Lucifer turned to me, smiling again. “And send my regards to yours, Mason Albrecht.”

The hairs on my arms stood on end. “Wait. What do you mean? I can’t. My mom’s dead.”

Half of Lucifer’s body was already consumed by the magma up to the elbows, and he held my gaze as he descended, smiling beatifically. Only the whites of Belphegor’s eyes showed as he convulsed, unharmed by molten fire, but I knew that what awaited him down below would be so much worse.

“Dear nephew,” Lucifer said. “What makes you think that your mother is dead?”

My heart lunged, the air stuck in my throat. Before I could say another word, the top of Lucifer’s golden head sank into the pit of fire. The hole in the pavement closed up, seamless and perfect, as if nothing had passed through.

Behind me, the elevator dinged. I gasped when I finally remembered to breathe. The doors slid open and out stepped Sterling, his katana crackling with arcs of electricity. He looked around the rooftop, frowning.

“What the fuck did I just miss?”

30

When the coast was clear – at least when I thought there was no more chance of Lucifer popping back up to take me by the throat and drag me down to hell – I sprinted over to Florian. He had a nice, warm blanket thrown over his shoulders and a cup of what looked like steaming hot cocoa in one hand.

I hugged him, then stepped back, gripping him by the shoulders, staring into his eyes. “You’re okay. Man, I’m so glad you’re okay.” Then I glanced around. “Where the hell did that cocoa come from?”

He slurped noisily, then shrugged. “One of the Lorica people handed it to me. They brought me a blanket, too. Really nice guys, actually.”

I looked around some more, annoyed that I wasn’t going to get a mug of cocoa, but hey – Florian was safe. That was what really mattered.

“Thank you, Mace.” He smiled weakly. “For saving me. You guys risked everything to do that for me. That’s insane. I’ve never had friends like you.”

“And me.” Artemis slapped her hand across his back, and either her strength was so godly or Florian really was feeling especially frail, because he visibly wobbled. “Glad you’re safe, little buddy.”

I smirked. Trust Artemis to call a slab of tree bark and muscle over six feet tall her little buddy. Florian smiled gratefully at her, and I left the two just as Artemis started inquiring about his cocoa. I wanted one too, damn it. I hugged my arms across my chest. Nephilim or no, it was a damn cold night.

Yet the first thing I spotted wasn’t a warm, chocolatey beverage, but Quilliam J. Abernathy, standing close to the edge of the garden, looking over the city. I pursed my lips in annoyance, knowing that I had to do it. I had to play nice. He did have a role in saving everybody’s butts, after all. I walked up to him, and we nodded at each other as our eyes met. He shuffled a short step away to make room for me. So far, it didn’t look like he had any plans of shoving me off the building.

“So,” I said. “How the hell did you make it up here so fast?”

Quill rolled his eyes. “You’ve seen me do it before. Simple. Just helleportation.”

“Helle-what?” I chuckled, my breath misting from the cold. “Helleportation. Dumbest thing I ever heard. Why don’t you quit making shit up?”

“Why don’t you shut your stupid face?” Old habits die hard. He glowered at me, folding his arms. “I’m half demon, which is why I know about their signature magics. It also means I get access to the transportation network. It’s convenient, okay?”