Page 1 of Wicked Savior
ChapterOne
LUCIFER
The bone is smooth and worn beneath my fingertips, and with every stroke, satisfaction thrums through me. Easily seven feet tall and four feet wide, my throne of bones is a vicious reminder of my ruthless rise to the top and my continued reign of the Underworld. Magic weaves the bones into the chair, giving them an eternal resting place under my ass, an honor I only extend to the most powerful or treacherous of enemies.
The bone under my right hand was the first and most important, and the reason I’m here in this world, and not above with the other archangels. Satan’s right arm. The one he raised against his creator, and the one I cut off when I struck him down, ending the angels’ rebellion. A noble act for the one I served. And yet, unknowingly, the ultimate act of betrayal against us both. An inflection point more powerful than the act itself.
Black marble stretches from one end of the great hall to the other. The shiny surface directly beneath my feet is a mirror for the bone white throne and the golden figure sitting upon it. I ignore the reflection and sweep my blond hair back behind one ear.
Smooth black obsidian walls rise high to the ceiling above where they meet arches made of real gold and encrusted with gems. Huge, elaborate chandeliers made of the same metal drop low, casting candlelight across every surface. There are no windows to break up the shadows here. It was designed by a predecessor who abhorred the sunlight, and it's the embodiment of the creatures it serves—the Underworld.
A loud voice interrupts my thoughts, and I realize the first case is being called. Every month, I hold court to listen to the conflicts and grievances of my people. In the beginning, these sessions were necessary, a control mechanism for establishing order in a world where none existed.
A couple of demons from two different Houses of Sin step forward to present their case. Lord Envidia, an envy demon, and Lord Gula, a gluttony demon. Both reflect the characteristics of their house. Envy is styled perfectly from head to toe. The nymphs call him tall, dark, and handsome. In contrast, Gluttony is a large, rotund man, indicative of all the excess he consumes, whether it be food or power.
It’s easier for me to call them Envy and Gluttony, although I try not to do it to their faces. Daire tells me rulers need to be PC these days. I try. At least my new nicknames are better than the old ones, which were variations of asshole one, two and so forth.
The Houses of Sin were originally created by the Seven Princes of Hell to give their worshippers a place to congregate, thereby building a massive power base to perpetuate their sin… lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride. Now, most demons are born into their houses.
Human philosophers, theologians, and historians like to attribute the Seven Princes of Hell to the angels who rebelled against Heaven. But this is pure propaganda handed down from above. I should know, I was there. The princes, vanquished by angels during Satan’s rebellion, existed long before angels were created. Their legacy continues to exist thousands of years later.
Lord Gula places an artifact on the table in front of my throne. It must be an ownership dispute. Typically, these types of cases bore the fuck out of me, but when I look closely at the object, a glimmer of interest sparks in me.
On a bed of black velvet, a golden torque gleams in the candlelight cascading down from the chandelier above. I look for a magical aura, but there’s nothing to indicate it’s anything but what it seems—a piece of jewelry made of hammered gold and twisted into an arc. Designed to wrap around the neck, they were common among noble men and women, who wore them to proclaim their rank and status, or by warriors, who considered them good luck charms.
This particular torque has an engraved Celtic spiral on each end, indicating its provenance and age. As a historical piece alone, it’s magnificent, the ancient symbol indicating its age to be sometime around the tenth century BCE. To a human, that would generate awe, but Underworld possesses artifacts much older than this piece.
My interest wanes.
The two lords drone on and on, each one methodically presenting their case with the hope of swaying my opinion, neither realizing they lost my attention within the first five minutes.
I sigh.
At the sound, the one in front of me stutters to a halt.
I wave a hand for him to carry on.
Restless, my eyes drift around the packed room. Demons, hellhounds, sirens, and other Underworld citizens dressed in all manner of clothing from different eras, including the modern one, fill the hall, half of them waiting to present their own case, while the other half are simply spectators here for the show.
Or for me, I concede, meeting the eyes of a brunette in a purple silk dress. Her luscious breasts are thrust in my direction, and a small smile plays on her pouty lips. She confidently winks, then slowly raises one eyebrow, a silent, sensual invitation. For the briefest of seconds, I consider her offer. A nymph is the perfect companion to spend a few pleasurable hours with, but my body refuses to twitch in response.
The crowd cheers, and I turn my attention back to the demons in front of me. The one speaking smiles broadly at the crowd in the back before addressing the stern-faced group sitting on my right. The council. Another one of my great ideas.
I glance over at them. Or not.
Most of the council members are pompous bastards, only interested in promoting the agendas of Underworld’s elite. Right now, they’re vigorously nodding in agreement to the points being made by the demon speaking in front of me. It almost reads as if they’re giving him their approval, something that immediately makes me suspicious. Their greedy eyes are locked on the torque.
I’d been quick to dismiss it earlier, but the council isn’t swayed by insignificance, and two lords wouldn’t be arguing over the artifact’s ownership if it weren’t valuable.
Returning my attention to the torque, I narrow my eyes to study it further. Faint marks glimmer in the light. It could be scratches, but my intuition says it’s not, and I raise my hand to bring the object closer.
The demon’s eyes widen, and he steps forward to object, but it’s too late.
The second the torque connects with my hand, my power rumbles, and spikes, multiplying and increasing tenfold, expanding rapidly inside me until it fills every square inch. My jaw locks and my muscles strain to keep it under my control. Tremors shake my body. It’s one thing to gain power over time, but quite another to exponentially gain it in the span of seconds.
Unused to this much higher level, I pull on the strength of my people to help me contain it. My body flexes as I stand. The wings in my back pop out, spanning the width of the hall, and the crowd stumbles back in fear. Using the tremendous power and strength I’ve acquired over the years, I do everything I can, but it cannot be physically contained.
The excess power rips through my magical barriers, shredding them like tissue, until it’s free. It collects into a shimmering, semi-transparent cloud near the ceiling. Shifting first one way, then the other, it suddenly rolls out like a tsunami and crashes against the obsidian walls of the hall. The stone contracts and expands, cracking under the immense pressure. The crowd screams in fear, but the spelled walls hold, containing the force.
