Page 66 of All's Hell That Ends Well

“Of course not.” I shot him a dark glance. “Do I look stupid?” When he opened his mouth, I waved him off. “You know what, don’t answer that.”

He shut his mouth, amusement lifting the corners of his lips. “Try to heal her again.”

“Okay,” I said. “But you need to stay quiet. I’ve got enough voices in my head already.”

Closing my eyes, I focused on the flow of energy in and around Vengeance. Life pulsed through her, a web of power suffusing her every cell. She was so strong. Strong and brave and beautiful. But there, amid the glowing network of energy paths, throbbed several patches of darkness.

I imagined lighting them up. Gathering my power, I thought of all things warm, whole, and hale, of Venny’s unconditional love for me, her unwavering loyalty, of how that made me feel, and I pushed that feeling into her.

Mend, I thought.Heal. Repair.

My power flowed into her, along the paths of her energy web, into all the spots where darkness had taken root. The brilliance of it flooded my mind, and in seconds, all traces of injury vanished.

I opened my eyes and beamed at her, then turned to Lucifer. “I did it!”

He clapped slowly, and to my unending surprise, it didn’t even seem sarcastic. “Good. Now attack me again.” He summoned a huge pile of meat and then proceeded to telekinetically toss it hundreds of yards away from us.

Vengeance was up and running within a second, launching herself at the meat pile with all of her doggie enthusiasm.

“So your hound won’t become collateral damage,” Lucifer said in explanation. “Now charge me at full force. Let’s see how you handle all of your power, and then we’ll narrow it down so you can manage more precise strikes.”

I nodded and turned my attention inward, trying to scoop up my magic, to drum it up into a raging storm, much like it had been every time I’d let loose in the past. Only, my power didn’trespond as it had before. It felt like I was trying to fan a dying fire back to life.

“What’s taking so long?”

Lucifer’s question pulled my attention back to him.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m just having trouble getting into the mood, I guess.”

“This isn’t sex,” he replied flatly, his arms crossed. “You don’t need to be in the right mindset to wield your power. It should be like moving your legs to walk—your magic is an extension of your body, and it will respond to simple commands.”

“Yeah, but I’m just…not a very violent person?” I scrunched up my face. “Like, when I’m threatened or super mad, I can access my power just fine. It’s harder when I’m supposed to lash out without reason.”

“Didn’t you want to strangle me earlier?” He gestured at his neck. “Just think of that feeling. Tap into your anger.”

I blew out a breath and shook my arms, hopping on the spot.

“What are you doing?”

“Letting the hate flow through me, like a good little Sith apprentice.” At his blank expression, I muttered, “I don’t know why I keep trying with these pop culture references. Like throwing pearls before swine.”

“Focus!” Lucifer barked.

“Fine!” I yelled back.

And without giving my mind another chance to fuck it all up by having a squirrels-on-drugs rave, I grabbed hold of my power and blasted it outward. The earth shook, and the shock wave whipped up loose dirt into spirals of mini-tornadoes all around us.

Lucifer stood unharmed, dusting himself off with the same chill as Luke Skywalker inThe Last Jediafter Kylo Ren had shot at him with dozens of cannons. “Again,” he said. “And this time, narrow the impact to only hit me.”

I uttered a half groan but complied, seeing as I needed the training. He made me repeat the exercise until I was able to form my power into a confined, targeted blast instead of having it cast a wide circle around me.

We went from there, going through dozens of methods to improve what I thought of as my fine motor skills as they related to wielding my power. Again and again, he made me shape my energy and play with different levels of intensity, going from full blasts to exercises of delicate control like setting a teacup on a saucer without breaking anything—telekinetically, only touching it with my power.

Dozens of shattered porcelain dishes later, I slumped with exhaustion, swaying on my feet. My head pounded something fierce, and my insides felt raw from all this energy work.

“Can we stop?” I wheezed, holding up a hand and struggling to remain standing.

With a much-belabored sigh, Lucifer summoned a divan to pop into existence right behind me, and I sagged onto it, swinging my feet onto the cushion and lying down with the air of one of those long-suffering women in Renaissance paintings.

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