Extinguish Page 8

  The moment the doors opened, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, taking a deep breath. She was speaking, her voice rose passionately, but he ignored her words, too consumed by her fragrance. It was so strong without the gate filtering it, so intense that he shivered as he inhaled. The radiance filled his lungs and seeped out through his body like oxygen, fueling his life force.

  "Are you even listening to me?" she asked, slamming something down on the table in front of him.

  Luce opened his eyes again, peering at her. He cocked an eyebrow at her stance, her eyes narrowed, her hands on her hips. "Nope."

  "You’re insufferable. Absolutely impossible."

  "Thanks," he said, waving his hand toward the table, the recently vacated chair shifting out. "Have a seat."

  "No."

  He sighed at her stubbornness, his gaze turning to Lire lurking in the doorway. "Leave us be. Make sure there are no interruptions."

  "Yes, My Lord."

  "My Lord," she mimicked, her lip curling in a sneer. "Blasphemy."

  Luce tried to keep a straight face, but his amusement was too much. A half-smirk turned his lips as he shook his head. "You’re fearless, angel. I’ll give you that. I honestly didn’t think you had the guts to do it. I hoped you would, of course, but no one ever has before. I don’t even think my brother is brave enough to come here."

  Serah’s fierce expression softened. "No?"

  Luce shook his head. "You’re the first to ever willingly step through that gate."

  Surprise flickered across her face. "I am?"

  "Yes," he said. "You see, it’s dangerous down here. Very dangerous."

  "Only an angel can hurt another angel," she said confidently. "And you’re barred from hurting an innocent, so nothing here can hurt me."

  "True," he said. "And even if I could hurt you, I wouldn’t . . . but there is something else I would do, something possibly even worse."

  Her body tensed. "What?"

  "Keep you."

  She just stared at him blankly as if she was trying to process that. After a moment, something flickered across her face, something he knew well, something akin to sheer fucking terror.

  She realized he could.

  "Relax," he said, motioning toward the chair again. "I said I would, not that I will. It's tempting, though. I must admit."

  Serah hesitated before moving toward the chair and sitting down timidly in it. She remained silent, her eyes guarded as she watched him. Luce’s gaze drifted from her to the crinkled paper she'd slammed down on the table, his eyes immediately falling upon the drawing of the devil. He let out a sharp, bitter laugh, brushing it to the side as he waved his hand, the deck of cards flying toward him. He picked them up and casually started shuffling.

  "Do you know how to play War?"

  "War isn’t a game."

  "In this case, it is. It’s a card game."

  "Oh."

  "It’s easy. All you have to do is turn the top card over. Whomever has the highest number wins the hand. The first to lose all their cards loses. A child could do it." He split the deck down the middle, twenty-six cards each, and slid half of them down the table to her. "One game. If you win, you ask your questions and then you can go."

  "Why would I play a game with you?"

  "Because you really don’t have any choice, angel," he said. "You want answers; I want the company."

  She stared at him, contemplating, before nodding slightly. "Fine."

  They started their game, Luce flippantly turning his cards with magic as Serah chose the traditional way. Serah's confidence surged as she won the first few hands, but it didn't last long. Luce started dominating the game, stealing card after card, his stack growing steadily as hers dwindled. She scowled and huffed with frustration, casting him angry looks every so often, but neither said a word.

  A few minutes later, Serah was down to only one card. Sighing, she flipped it over. Luce didn't even have to look to know it was a two, the lowest possible card.

  Luce flipped his top card over—an eight—and slid all the remaining cards onto the bottom of his deck. "I win."

  "What now?"

  "We play again."

  "What if I don’t want to?" she asked. "Are you going to hold me hostage? Force me to keep playing your stupid games?"

  "Hardly." He scoffed. "I've been advocating for free will for angels my entire existence. I'm not in the business of taking it away. You want to leave? Then go on and get the fuck out of here. But if you want me to answer your questions, you're going to have to beat me in a game."

  She glared at him, her eyes narrowed, her lips a hard, thin line of contempt. "You’re unbearable."

  "You’re cute yourself, angel," he joked, his lips curving into a grin. "Does that mean you’re in?"

  Serah grabbed his deck of cards and slid them down the table to him. "Just shut up and shuffle."

  Endless hours were spent playing War; hand after hand, battle after battle, game after game. As soon as Serah started getting ahead, as soon as she believed she finally had a chance to beat the arrogant angel, he’d throw a high card and end her lucky streak.

  Irritation flowed through her body as she banged her cards against the table, groaning every time he won. Lucifer remained slouched in his marble throne, dismissively tossing around cards. His piercing eyes bore into her, breaking her concentration as she tried to keep track of what remained in her deck. She was down to five cards already.

  "Would you stop staring at me?" she spat, slamming down a seven.

  Lucifer twirled his finger, tossing over a nine, and slid the cards into his deck. "I’m not under your skin already, am I?"

  "Of course not," she said, playing a king. She smiled, the hope disintegrating the moment he turned over an ace. "Ugh, you’re impossible!"

  "So I’ve heard," he said, playing a six next. Serah turned over a five and slammed her hand against the table as he took the cards, leaving her with only two left.

  He turned over a six; she turned over a five.

  He turned over another six; she burst into bitter laughter as she shook her head. "Three sixes in a row. How typical."

  Before he could even respond, she threw her last card down the table at him. It soared in the air, fluttering and twisting before landing right in his lap. He looked down.

  A two, Serah knew.

  "I win," he declared. "Again."

  "Of course," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared at him, seeing the smug look of satisfaction on his face. "Shuffle the cards."

  He shook his head, picking up the two. "I think we’re done."

  "What? Why?"

  "Why?" He cocked an eyebrow at her. "First of all, because you threw a card at me. If anyone else had done that, they’d be in excruciating pain right now. Secondly, because if you hit my table any harder, you’re liable to put a crack in it, and I happen to be fond of my table. And thirdly, because I fucking said so. I make the rules here, angel. Don’t like it? You know where the exit is."

  She glared at him as he stood up and strolled toward the door. "What about my answers?"

  "What about them? You have to win. You want to play again? Come back tomorrow." He reached up, placing his hand on his chest over the symbol carved into his flesh. "I’m certainly not going anywhere, remember?"

  The yellow lights of East York twinkled like stars in the distance. Serah sat on a cliff ten miles from the city, her bare feet hanging over the edge. The sound of Warrant’s "Heaven" blared from the small speakers in a car nearby, the song muffled by the steamy rolled-up windows.

  A pop of static electricity rippled the air behind Serah. A fraction of a second passed before a loud groan hit her. "Awkward," Samuel said, dragging out the word. "They’re fornicating less than ten feet from you, Ser."

  She rolled her eyes. "They’re just making out."

  "Same difference," he said, plopping down beside her. "I guess they call this Coitus Cliff for a reason."

  Serah burs
t into laughter. "They do not call it that."

  "Eh, they could," he said. "It’s kind of catchy, isn’t it? Almost as catchy as this song. It’s my anthem."

  Before Serah could say a word in response, Samuel started singing along. His shouting voice bounced off the trees and echoed through the city below, drowning out every other noise in the night. No one else heard, though, unable to pick up the frequency of his voice as he belted out the rock ballad at the top of his lungs.

  When the chorus kicked in, Serah couldn’t help herself from singing along with him. Samuel leaned back, wildly kicking his legs, his hands moving frantically as he ripped an air guitar solo, his fingers expertly strumming and plucking the invisible strings. By the time the song wound down, Serah was doubled over in laughter as a radiant smile lit up Samuel’s face.

  "I think you’ve found your true calling, Samuel."

  "I could definitely be a rock star," he said. "Well, if I were human, anyway."

  "It must be nice, you know, to be able to do anything you want. The options are endless for them. Our existence is pre-written, but mortals—they're given this big, beautiful world and the free will to do whatever they want in it. And so many don’t appreciate it. I just wonder what it would be like to be able to choose . . . if we were the ones who were given that precious gift and not them."

  Samuel’s smile gradually faded as he stared at her. "Serah, don’t."

  "Don’t what?"

  "I’ve heard those words before," he said, a hard edge to his low voice. "They were spoken to me mere hours before I watched my friend cast his own brother into the lake of fire forever. And I can’t . . . Serah, you can’t think that way."

  She gasped, eyes widening when she realized what he meant by his words. "Samuel, I would never! Satan hates the mortals. He’s full of wrath and pride and envy. I’m not!"

  "I know," he said quietly. "But I also know there’s a thin line between good and evil. There’s a gray area, one we all step into. And that’s okay, I think. We’re not immune to emotions. Just promise me you won’t ever step past it. You won’t ever let it consume you. That you’ll be careful."

  "I promise," she said. "You don’t have to worry about me. I have everything I could ever need. I have friends, and I have my work, and I have you—my brother. As long as I have you, I’d be a fool to ask for more."

  Things were quiet as the two sat in thought. Music continued to rock the car near them with the two young lovers inside. Nicholas and Samantha, celebrating six months together—a milestone they might’ve never reached had it not been for Samuel intervening in their lives.

  "What would you do?" he asked after a while. "If you were human, what would you want to be?"

  Her response was certain, no hesitation in her words. "A race car driver."

  The answer instantly lightened the mood as Samuel cracked another smile. "Really, sis? A race car driver?"

  "Yes. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to drive a car. They’re one of the human’s most amazing creations, one that keeps evolving. Cars are practical, yet exciting. And people get paid to race them, like a sport! Can you believe that?"

  "Wow." Samuel studied her with surprise. "For the first time in over a millennium, I’m learning something new about you. I never realized you liked cars."

  Serah glanced at the one parked near them. "That’s my favorite car. It’s a 1966 Pontiac GTO convertible, cherry red."

  Samuel scrunched up his nose. "Looks orange to me."

  "That’s because it’s in bad shape," Serah said. "It’s beautiful when it’s taken care of."

  "So, huh, there’s one problem with this whole thing."

  "What’s that?"

  "I’ve been told women are terrible drivers."

  Rolling her eyes, Serah shoved him hard, knocking him off the side of the cliff. He dropped a few feet, plummeting toward the ground, but he expanded his wings and flew right back up to her. He retook his seat with a laugh, playfully nudging her.

  "The rock star and the race car driver," he said. "We make quite the pair."

  She wrapped her arm around his and leaned against his shoulder. "We do."

  "You weren’t entirely right a while ago, you know. Sure, humans have endless options, but their lives are just as written as ours. Just look at Nicholas and Samantha. We know everything they’ll do from today until the day they die. Nicholas will work in a factory, and Samantha will be a teacher’s assistant. They’ll have one kid, a little girl named Nicole. The moment I shoved them together, their future was determined, and the only way it’ll ever change is if one of us changes it for them. Us, Ser."

  "But they chose those lives," Serah said. "We just happen to know what they’ll choose."

  "Yeah, we know," he said. "That’s the point. There are no surprises when it comes to mortals. We’re the ones who surprise God. We’re the ones who divert from his path. Say what you will about Lucifer, but one thing is undeniable: he was the first to defy destiny. And being the first to do anything takes guts."

  "Can I ask you something?"

  Serah turned over a nine, not at all surprised when Lucifer flipped over a queen.

  He sighed, sliding the cards onto the bottom of his pile. "How many times do I have to say it? You have to win to get answers."

  "It’s not about that stuff," she said, playing a king. Lucifer played a two. Serah smiled as she grabbed the cards. "It’s about this place . . . about you."

  Curious eyes regarded her from across the room as Lucifer twirled his finger, overturning a seven. "What?"

  "You said you feel everything everyone else feels," she said, playing a three. "You said it was agonizing, that being down here was torment, that empathy was a curse. You said—"

  "I know what I said," he ground out through clenched teeth. "Is there a question in there somewhere? Because I didn’t hear one."

  "How is it so quiet?"

  He cocked an eyebrow. "Quiet?"

  "Yes. I guess I expected more from the place. The underworld is supposed to be, well, hellish."

  Lucifer said nothing. He quietly flipped over his card, regarding her with impatience as he waited for her to play hers. Silence ensued as they played a few hands, card after card going straight to him. He twirled his finger nonchalantly, flipping over an ace, as Serah’s hand hovered over her last card.

  They both knew it was a Jack. They both knew he’d won.

  The room around them shook, violently vibrating as the ground beneath Serah’s feet fractured in two, instantly swallowing the table and chairs. The moment the floor opened up, horrifying shrieks and cries of anguish spilled from the crack, blood-curdling screams piercing the air. Raging fire spilled out of the hole as the walls around them crumbled. Panicked, Serah’s eyes darted around as her wings expanded in defense. She soared from the ground, hovering above the flames as they consumed the room and everything in it. Lucifer remained in his marble chair, untouched by the blaze. His wings had erupted from his back, massive black shields blending in with the sudden cloud of thick smoke filling the room.

  Serah covered her ears with her hands, trying to block out the uproar, but it only made it echo louder, more torturous. The agony seemed to be inside of her, the shrieks inexplicably embedded in her mind, unbearable and inescapable. She squeezed her eyes shut, yelling for it to stop.

  All at once, the noise cut off in a screech, like the needle of a record player being torn away, total silence overcoming everything. Serah’s eyes flew open, stunned to find the room back in order, everything as it had been. She hovered in the air as Lucifer remained in his chair, his face a mask of indifference, but red swirled madly in his eyes as he stared at her.

  "What was that?" she asked as she folded her wings away, landing back on the ground.

  "Hell," he said quietly. "I diluted it a bit for you, but you got the gist of it."

  "That’s Hell?"

  He nodded. "You see what I want you to see, angel. But that? That’s reality. And I don’t just
see it, or hear it—I feel it. Every second of every day."

  She gaped at him. "I, uh. . ."

  He shook his head before she could continue and pointed at her lone card somehow still lying on the table, face down. "Turn it over so we can finish this game."

  Serah sat back down and flipped the card over, not even looking at it. Her eyes remained focused on him. "So if you make me see whatever you want me to see, does that mean you can make me see anything?"

  He sighed with frustration as he grabbed the cards. "You’re awfully tenacious."

  "I’ve been told that a time or two before."

  "This place feeds off nightmares," he explained, shuffling. "It’s just like Heaven, but in reverse. In Heaven, a soul sees what makes it happy. Down here, they relive what terrorizes them."

  "I know that much."

  "Well, just like you get free rein above and can invade anyone’s Heaven, I can invade anyone’s Hell. I can enter anyone’s cage and do what I want. But there’s also a common ground, like your home above."

  "And that—the fire, and screaming—that’s home?"

  "Yes."

  "So you can show me anyone’s Hell?"

  "Yes."

  She glanced around the room. "Whose Hell is this?"

  "I guess you could say it's mine."

  Her brow furrowed. His? She didn’t ask, prying no more. She could tell from his strained expression that he’d said as much as he would on the matter. She’d get no more from him unless she played for her answers and won them fair and square.

  Games came and went, so many that Serah no longer bothered to keep track of how many they’d played. Lucifer won every single time, sometimes within a few minutes, while other times, the battle went on for hours. She lost herself in a sea of cards and numbers, everything else falling by the wayside in her quest to win.

  "I don’t understand how you keep beating me," she said, huffing after a particularly long game. "I was certain I had you that time."