Page 2 of Lucifer's Redemption

“There you are, Loki!” She squealed in excitement like she enjoyed the job.

Did she forget I inherited my father’s ability to read the minds of his creations?Crossing my arms over my chest, I silently counted in my head.

Ten… nine…

“Yep, here I am. Will you please help me out?” Loki’s sweet, childlike voice trailed to her ears symphonically. The red demoness smiled, reaching her hand down and planting her rear up, seductively, in my direction.

Four… Three…

I watched as Loki reached out his hand. Once her fingers touched the tip of Loki’s finger, a giant hellhound spouted from his body, knocking the chair over. A half-second later, her shrill scream was silenced as Loki’s hound ripped through her vocal cords. Blood splattered on the floor, and I groaned in annoyance at the mess Mother would surely complain about. Taking a black handkerchief from my suit pocket, I wiped away the blood absentmindedly from my shoe.

“Did you see the look on her face!” Loki squealed excitedly from the closet on the other side of the room. “Look at that, already turning to dust!”

Cerberus, Father’s constant companion besides Mother, walked by the waiting room. He shook all three of his heads before continuing his stroll down the hallway, clearly not amused by Loki’s tricks.

Loki’s giggles filled the room, his arms holding his stomach to contain his breakfast from this morning. “Oh, come on”—Loki looked at me with a smile plastered to his face—“that was comedic gold!”

My head laid back, hitting the wall. Loki grabbed a broom from a nearby closet, sweeping up the dust that was his former nanny.

“Do you have one of your wing feathers stuck up your butt? Is it permanently embedded around your sphincter or something? Even for a destroyer, you are utterly depressing.”

I stood up, slipping my hands into my pockets, walking past the mess of dust scattered on the floor. She would respawn in Father’s demon pool to be re-summoned, pardoned, and sent back to the demon’s cities. That was the only reason Mother had not locked Loki in his room for the next century—not that he wouldn’t get out; he was smart.

One had to be smart if they were going to be a trickster.

My feet lightly tapped along the red carpet leading to Mother’s room. The cries from my new sibling had softened, leaving Mother’s gentle humming. I fixed my black tie, leaning back on the wall next to the door. Several moments later, the doors opened as a team of doctors and nurses walked out. The door stayed open enough for me to listen and peek at my parents who had a few moments alone with the newest addition to Hell.

“I worry for him,” Mother spoke to Father. “I’ve tried everything. I even tried to coddle him as a baby, but his sternness, his seriousness… I can barely get him to smile, even at me, anymore.” My mother sniffed faintly.

“I do as well. Are you sure that you cannot see his mate yet? I’m sure that would calm his beast.”

“No,” she whispered. The baby made a sucking noise, and Mother hushed her back to sleep, still nursing.

“My theory”—Father wrapped his arms around Mother, staring down at the baby in her arms as his finger traced the chubby cheeks already filled with milk—“still stands. I think Kronos’ blood is running in his veins.”

My hand gripped my chest with my back now flat against the wall. Kronos, my grandfather, was evil upon evil, and here I was, teeming in his blood. Kronos ate his children, including my father. It was rumored he had no heart, and not even his poor wife could calm the fury inside him.

Kronos is still trapped in Tartarus, but could he be planning something with me? If his wife could not calm him, how could a mate possibly calm me? It wouldn’t; it couldn’t.

Many times, I heard Father bring up Kronos. Even when I was a child, I heard his worry. Now that I am older, I can feel more power running through my veins. Looking at my hands, I gripped my fists.

I must not let it control me. I must not let my heritage decide my fate. The fate that one day, I may have to cease to exist.

I should increase my twelve-hour days of torturing to eighteen, letting out every bit of the rage inside me. I would die if anything happened to my family, especially my mother. Sweet angels, my mother—if anything happened to her, I’d rip out my own heart, over and over, for all of eternity.

My mother was the one woman I truly loved. I would be so much worse if I hadn’t been raised by her. She refused to let nannies take care of me because she noticed I was different, noticed I had a sick way of destroying everything in my path. My anger, the tantrums, they grew so much, and she has yet to yell at me or punish me physically. Who knows what I would have grown up as if she had done that to me?

“Lucifer? Is that you?” My mother’s voice trailed into the hallway. Loki ran in front of me, jumping on the bed right beside her, smiling gleefully at the baby in her arms.

“Come, Lucifer. Come and say hello to your new sister.” Mother’s eyes were tired, her breath labored from the pain she must be feeling. Father only looked on to his newest addition. “Her name is Lilith.” Loki tapped her nose. In return, a small bubble of milk escaped her pouty lips.

“She’s beautiful, Mother,” I spoke calmly, gazing into her half-slit eyes. My sister lifted her head to look at me, only to close them again as she nuzzled back into Mother’s chest.

“So, when can I play tricks on her?”

Mother glared; Father was not too happy either as his black smoke trailed out of his body. “Never! Just like your older brother. I mean it, Loki!” Mother stated firmly, pursing her lips.

“Awe, that’s cause Luci can’t take a joke!”

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