Page 22 of Death is My Ride or Die

I stood in the centre of the ballroom floor and planted my feet.

Ahead, Lucifer was taking a beating from the corpse, but every laceration the beast tore into his scaly red skin appeared to be healing rapidly. Things quickly took a turn to for the worse as Lucifer noticed me. His eyes widened. “What are you doing, Faith? Get back!”

The corpse bit down on Lucifer’s shoulder and tore, tendons ripping from muscle, and he howled in pain. The corpse tossed Hell’s king away like a discarded Frisbee and then its attention twisted to me. And itcharged.

As the monstrous creature closed the gap between us, something built inside of me. Growing, raging, about to burst at the seams. My fingers tingled with warmth. All my emotions, everything I felt in that moment, flooded to the surface and threatened to overflow.

In my peripheral vision, Death snapped into action and began to run at me to push me out of the way. He wouldn’t get to me fast enough as his corpse lunged toward me with talons outstretched.

“Stop!”A burst of blinding white energy shot from my hands and smashed into the corpse. When I opened my eyes, the seven-foot monster hovered over me. His claws hung in the air like frozen knives at my throat, and he was stuck in a bent position.

When I glanced over at Death, his eyes were so wide they might’ve popped out of the warlock’s head. “Whatever the hell you’re doing, keep it up!”

I kept my glowing hands raised, somehow maintaining the blinding white light.

Death tossed Ace’s walking staff to the side and inhaled deeply, chanting in a foreign language as he exhaled. The massive chandelier in the ballroom flickered, and my vision started to blotch around the sides.

Exhaustion crept into my bones, and my biceps shook. The light radiating from my fingertips dimmed as I struggled to hold on.

The warlock collapsed to his knees, gasping for air and writhing on the floor. Blood poured from his nose and the corners of his mouth. His arms, fingers, and legs bent as his body seized until a dark substance began to ooze from his nose and mouth.

The black matter tore across the air and smashed right into Death’s paralyzed corpse. The corpse animated again and fell back, hitting the ground as a dead weight. Death’s body shifted with harsh crunches, shrinking down until he resembled a human man. He lay motionless on his back, naked, drenched in sweat, skin as pale as snow. Lacerations marred his chest and his leg, black, oily blood seeping from the wounds. I thought the worst.

Death shot upward, and I screamed. He hadn’t done it with sharp inhale like I’d seen in movies. No, he wasn’t breathing at all. His pupils were expanded over his irises, and his fangs poked out from his parted lips. He was back.

A hand landed on my shoulder, and the hair at the back of my neck prickled.

“You’re coming with me,” Lucifer said.

VIII

If being trapped in the clutches of Death’s unpredictable corpse was the most terrifying moment of my life, then riding in an elevator with Lucifer, even in his Devin Star form, was a close second.

The burly personnel on either side of me, paired with Devin’s unnerving silence, shrunk the already claustrophobic box from hell. As we scaled higher and higher, the temperature climbed with us, until sweat poured down my spine.

The elevator doors opened, and I all but threw myself out into a pristine marble entryway. We walked a short distance through a set of glass doors into a waiting room.

“Where’s my aunt?” I demanded in a burst of bravery.

“Here, safe, at the tower,” Devin responded.

“And I’m just supposed to believe that?”

“You may see her shortly and confirm it yourself. First, you and I need to have a chat.”

One of Devin’s men shoved open a door into a private waiting room, crossed the room, and held open another door for us. Glancing back at the second bodyguard blocking my way out, I didn’t have much of a choice but to walk into the Devil’s office.

The room was luxuriously decorated with red walls and sleek, modern furniture. Lucifer had expensive, sophisticated taste, and he made a point of showing it off. Ambiguous, extravagant art, displayed like trophies along the walls, depicted dark themes that unnerved rather than welcomed.

Devin stepped up onto the raised platform holding his desk and filled a glass with amber liquor.

“I need to know what happened to Death,” I said, feeling so small looking up at him like this. Maybe that was the point. “We left him at the ball, and he—”

“I’ll handle it.” Devin downed his drink and poured another. “Grant me a short while to deal with the mess downstairs.” He flicked away a charred piece of his shirt from his shoulder with an aggravated grumble and stepped down from the raised platform. “Do you need medical care?”

I absently touched my side, where Death’s wing had cut through me.Well, I did. “Um, no. I’m good . . . ”

Devin’s glacier-blue eyes flicked to the blood staining the satin of my dress, but he didn’t press further. He strode to a wall and touched a panel, opening a door that led to a walk-in closet, then disappeared inside.

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