Page 125 of All's Hell That Ends Well

So I looked.

His entire torso was flecked with crimson, his face sprayed with red as well, his eyes closed in concentration as he ripped open his chest even more with one hand to better rummage through it with the other.

The cracking of his ribs made me flinch.

It seemed to take forever. The seams of his wound wanted to stitch themselves back together a few times, so he had to keep tearing the hole wider again, spraying more blood across his front and the floor. His features were tense as he focused inward, and I wondered what it must be like. Was he carving out the power as one would flesh from a pumpkin? Or was it like gathering threads of fabric? How much did it hurt?

The memory of the searing pain when Lilith had fused the kernel of her power with my soul was all too vivid, and that had only been a small piece.

Lucifer was garnering what had to be a huge part of his essence.

“Maybe this isn’t working,” I whispered to Azazel, my eyes glued to the gruesome display in front of us.

And what if it didn’t? What if Lucifer couldn’t actually isolate that side of his powers? My breath got stuck in my lungs, anxiety knotting my throat.

Just then, the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees. Ice crystals formed in the air. The fire in the hearth went out with a hiss, and all the other lamps along with it. With a low growl, the hellcat flew up to the ceiling and vanished into the darkness.

Unblinking, my vision adjusting to the sudden gloom, I stared as Lucifer slowly removed his hand from his chest. Blooddripped onto the floor with wet splashing sounds, and he opened his eyes, a faint inner light gleaming in their depths.

From between his closed fist, a terrible power seeped out, a whisper of cold darkness so complete it froze bone and flesh and choked all life.

With slow, heavy steps, Lucifer approached Azazel, and every inch that brought him closer seemed to spread a tingling numbness in my limbs. I watched with mounting horror how Lucifer held up his hand, clenching the haunting power of death, and how Azazel squared his shoulders and widened his stance.

So fast I nearly missed the movement, Lucifer struck, breaking flesh and crunching bone as his fist slammed into Azazel’s chest. Azazel grunted upon the impact, his face contorting, and over the bond, sharp pain lashed out and made me gasp. Lucifer grabbed Azazel by one shoulder with his free hand and then shoved his other deeper into his chest.

Visceral memories of how that had felt surged up from the shadowy corners of my mind, though the agony that echoed across our bond let me experience that pain again anyway.

White light exploded behind my eyes. My entire being shook with the waves of pain that streamed over from Azazel. Clutching my own chest helplessly, I sank to my knees, my other hand blindly grasping for the couch to find purchase.

A flash of enormous power rattled my soul, made my energy ping and vibrate at such high frequency that I pressed my hands to my ears as if to shut out the sound—though it came from within me. Another sound tore the air, high-pitched and throaty at the same time, and it took me a moment to realize I was hearing myself scream at the top of my lungs.

Pain pulsed through me. I convulsed.

Across the bond came a surge of ice-cold darkness, and as it spread through my veins, my blood, my bones, it numbed the agony bit by bit. The roar of something primordial, born beforethe advent of time, filled my soul, and for a moment, I tasted true death.

Then my mind sank into oblivion.

CHAPTER 36

“Wakeup.”

My cheek stung, the sharp pain slicing through the haze I’d been floating in. God, my lids felt laden with lead, and my mouth seemed to be stuffed with cotton. Nausea bubbled up my throat. I’d been this hungover only once before, when I’d partied a bit too hard after my twenty-first birthday. The next day, I’d tried to crawl into a dumpster to throw myself away; I’d beenthatmiserable.

My thoughts were so sluggish. I couldn’t feel my limbs.

Wait, this almost felt like…ugh, why couldn’t my mind work right? I focused and caught the thought again. Yes, right. That time I’d woken up after Azmodea had knocked me out after I’d drunk amrit at the Fall Festival.

Oh, shit. Was I human again? Was I back in that moment? Had everything afterward only been a fever dream?

Another slap to the cheek fired up my brain enough to open my eyes.

“Finally,” a familiar voice groused, and then the shape of the person leaning over me came into focus.

Or rather, thedemonleaning over me.

I blearily blinked at the blond hair, the turquoise eyes, the fine features that were a masterpiece of divine creativity. Bit by bit, the Morningstar’s face settled into sharpness, and I gaped at the former brightest star of Heaven, the First of the Fallen, in all his golden glory.

My eyes widened. My breath stuttered out of me. This…this was Lucifer as he’d been all those years ago. Detail for detail the same arrogantly beautiful demon as the one who’d lounged on that throne and forced a cup of amrit down my throat.

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