Page 73 of Widow

I had spent eons doing his dirty work down in Hell. Why? Because I was a threat to him.

The door dinged, and I stepped out onto the pure white marble floor. There was a single white desk with a single white, high-backed chair. His back was to me.

As I approached the desk, he slowly swiveled around in the chair. He always was one for theatrics.

“Creator.” I tried to keep the emotion out of my voice, but it was difficult.

“Lucifer. What do I owe this... pleasure?”

It was hard to physically describe the Creator, or God, as some might call him. He used magic to disguise his true form. When I left the room, I would have no memory of what he looked like.

“I need you to release an angel to me with her memories intact.” I cleared my throat. “Please.”

He tapped his chin as if he was considering. I was pretty sure he had already decided.

"Light magic is not to be toyed with. You know that. Look what happened to Inferna. I cannot return her memories."

"You can't? Or you won't? You can't tell me if Michael waltzed in here asking, you'd say the same to him." I scowled. He really brought out the inner child in me. He always had.

He made a noise of disapproval. "We are done here."

We'd see about that.

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