“Mrs. Murphy, I thought you said you had some good ideas for grand gestures, but time is running out. I’m supposed to be meeting up with her tomorrow and I don’t think that Demi will appreciate a golden swan as much as you think she will,” Charles protested.
“Are you sure about that? All goddesses love golden trinkets, at least the ones I remember from my days in the other worlds. What about an enchanted mirror that you can only see each other through?” the elderly woman offered, looking up from her knitting as Charles paced around the living room.
There was a fire blazing under the mantle, and the night had all the makings of a romantic evening, if only he had someone to share it with. Demi was still somewhere far away in purgatory, likely hating his guts, and he didn’t even have half a plan for how to win her back.
This all could’ve been avoided if I just hadn’t run away.
Why did I run?
I’ve never suffered from commitment issues in the past.
It doesn’t make any sense.
Shit.
“Don’t beat yourself up, my boy. It’s not your fault. I should have seen something like this coming before I suggested you join that speed dating night for supernaturals. Yes, technically, you are just a human, and I can only imagine how difficult it must be to come to terms with the fact that you are a far less superior being than the one you love. I should have warned you earlier, given you more hints.”
Charles scoffed, then reflected before responding to his housekeeper, who was the closest thing to a mother he still had.
Yes, she’d known him for almost his entire life, but how was she able to read his mind?
“Are you sure you gave up your powers, Mrs. Murphy? Because I think you just answered a question that I only asked in my head.”
“Powers linger, even after this many years." She shrugged and smiled slyly. “Or, perhaps I have just held onto my intuition. Regardless, you shouldn’t blame yourself for having the emotions of a normal man. It’s my fault for always believing you were greater than your birth. Call me a fool, but the truth is, I still believe that.”
“Why?”
“There’s something about you, Charles. You were meant for greater things. I don’t think I would have been brought into this house if that hadn’t been the case. Something led me here, and something’s leading you to Demi. Now, let’s get back to the task at hand. You need to win her back, and it isn’t as if you can just appear on her doorstep empty handed. How can you show her that you’re not so easily scared off as it first seemed?”
Charles stopped pacing and collapsed into one of the large leather arm chairs by the fireplace and took a sip from the scotch he’d poured himself an hour ago and forgotten about.
How can I show her that I’m not fatally intimidated by her, that I won’t run away again?
A key to the lake house?
That doesn’t mean much to the girl who could teleport to my bedroom if she really wanted to.
Wait!
Maybe there’s something in there...
“A door... What about a door?”
“What’s that, dear?” Mrs. Murphy asked, tipping her glasses up. “A door to where? To what?”
“To purgatory. From here. How better to show that I’m not scared than by having a piece of her world in mine? A gateway that will allow me to move easily between worlds and see her whenever we want.” With a kind of manic energy he sometimes got from good ideas, Charles stood up again, thinking about all the reasons it was a brilliant plan.
“That’s a wonderful notion, in theory...”
“I know! We don’t have much time. How long does it take to construct a gateway to purgatory?” Charles asked, reaching for his phone before realizing that googling a solution to his problem would probably yield little to no useful results. A quick search brought up loads of classical paintings of writhing, desperate humans but not much else, and certainly nothing that would help him construct a door to the city within his own property.
“Well, that’s the problem. You are a very good idea man, Charles, but I’m afraid this isn’t the kind of thing you can just throw money at the way you might be able to for other projects. I think you’ll have to talk to Lucifer,” Mrs. Murphy pointed out, setting aside her needles, clearly having decided that the time for knitting had ended.
The evening was going in a direction that none of them could have predicted.
“A big idea is the only way I’m going to get through to Demi. Flowers and chocolate just isn’t going to cut it. Who is this Lucifer person, and do you have his email? I think Demi may have mentioned him. He had something to do with cleaning up purgatory?”
Mrs. Murphy laughed. “Lucifer isn’t exactly the kind of being you can just email. Purgatory is his domain. It exists under his rule. We’ll have to summon him to see if he’d be willing to open such a bridge, but between the two of us I think we can make it happen.”
“Great. We’ll summon him first thing in the morning. What kind of gifts does he like? Is he a coffee man? We’ll have to make sure we have some kind of leverage to sweeten the deal, just in case he’s not open to it immediately. An offering, so to speak.” Charles looked into the fire and squinted, trying to think what a person from a completely different world might want from his sphere. What did earth, or topside as Demi always called it, have to offer a man with supernatural abilities?
“You’re right, we will need some kind of offering, but let me handle that. You need to start drawing a pentagram on the floor by the fire, now,” Mrs. Murphy instructed, her voice shockingly authoritative.
“Now?”
“Yes, now. Lucifer won’t be summoned at nine in the morning. Midnight is when we will start the chant. It’s the time he is the most alert and will likely feel the most charitable. If he answers our call at all, let me do the talking. From the sounds of it, I think he’s softened up dramatically over the last few months, so he might be swayed by your love story.”
A midnight chant?
Offerings?
Right, as if I needed another reminder that this is a whole new world.
Charles looked at his watch. “All right. It’s ten o’clock now, so we have two hours. I’ll start on that pentagram. That’s like a star, right?”
Mrs. Murphy groaned a little. “Let me handle the pentagram. Go collect all the candles you can find, and salt. Lots of salt. This won’t be an easy process, so I hope Demi is worth all the trouble.”
She’s worth all this trouble and ten times more.
“O Lucifer, obsecro, audi preces nostras... honoramus te, sacra.”
“Honoramus te, sacra,” Charles repeated quietly, following Mrs. Murphy’s instructions as she led him through whatever ceremony they were holding to summon Lucifer. Around them was a pentagram that had been drawn in chalk with lines of salt on top on the stone floor in front of the fireplace, still blazing strong. Candles surrounded them, and the room, large though it was, was heating up quickly from all the flames. Charles had had to take the batteries out of the smoke detector.
“Are you sure it’s working?” Charles asked after a moment of silence, peeking out from under his closed eyes. As far as he could tell, nothing seemed to be happening.
“Shhh,” Mrs. Murphy scolded. “These things take time. Repeat the chant. O Lucifer, obsecro, audi preces nostras. Honoramus te, sacra”
“Honoramus te, sacra.”
I’d better start thinking of some back up plans.
I’d trust Mrs. Murphy with my life, but this feels like a bunch of hokum to me.
Except, I guess I just found out some of this hocus pocus stuff is very real...
Just then, a flash of cold air moved through the room, followed by a very hot one. Charles opened his eyes just in time to see the candle flames bend in the breeze and the fire jump a foot taller under the mantle.
“Any moment now,” Mrs. Murphy whispered, clutching onto Charles’ hands.
The sound of footsteps crushing against the ground behind them made both Charles and Mrs. Murphy spin around. There, standing with curls of black smoke hiding his feet, was a man who Charles could only assume was the one and only Lucifer. What seemed like massive black wings disappeared behind his back, and the corner of his lips turned up into a flat out evil looking smile, but Mrs. Murphy’s smile in return was anything but disingenuous.
“Lucifer. You came!” She rushed forward, kissing the tall, imposing man once on each cheek.
“How could I not? It’s not often I get summoned the old fashioned way. Lovely to see you again, Clotho. How long has it been? Some thirty odd years?” Lucifer asked.
“I go by Sharon now, or Mrs. Murphy. Yes, it’s been too long. Thank you for coming.”
“Sharon? How quaint. And who do we have here?” Lucifer asked, peering back toward where Charles was standing.
“Charles Buchanan. Pleased to meet you.” He shook Lucifer’s hand, which was somehow cold and hot all at the same time.
“The pleasure is all mine. So, Sharon, what is your pressing request? What is burning you both up so that you’ve summoned me all the way here to the topside? It must be a dire situation indeed,” Lucifer mused.
“The thing is, we’re hoping that you’d be open to—”
“Charles, let me explain things,” Mrs. Murphy interrupted, putting a surprisingly firm hand on Charles’ elbow.
She’s stronger than she looks.
I’m starting to suspect she never gave up her powers after all.
“Go ahead,” Charles urged, though Mrs. Murphy hardly needed his permission.
“As you know, Lucifer, I left the underworld some time ago. Since then, I’ve been working for the Buchanan family, keeping a low profile, and enjoying the life of a mortal, so to speak. As such, I’ve known Charles since he was a young boy. He’s grown into a remarkable young man,” Mrs. Murphy boasted.
“I’m told there are plenty of remarkable young men here in LA. What’s your point?” Lucifer asked.
Charles felt his cheeks start to flush with embarrassment.
Is this what it feels like to have a parent embarrass you?
It’s been too long, I don’t really remember the sensation.
“My point is, and you may already be aware of this, but Demeter, or Demi as you know her, has fallen in love with Charles,” Mrs. Murphy revealed. Lucifer’s eyebrows went up in curiosity. Now, Sharon had his attention.
“Demi’s found a mate, has she? Well, I never. I’d pay to see the look on Zeus’ face when he hears that his successor to Demi’s heart is a mortal. Charles, I’d say that does indeed make you an impressive young man. All right, so Demi loves Charles. I hope you’re not asking for my blessing, because I couldn’t care less how my citizens throw their hearts around. Go, be happy together. Or are you looking for an invite to my wedding? Because you’ll have to talk to Chloe about that. I’m not in charge of the guest list.”
Lucifer’s interest was clearly starting to wane, and Charles fought back the urge to step in, but Mrs. Murphy kept her control of the situation.
“I would never dream of bugging you over such a trivial issue. No, what we need is much more... significant. We’d like to install a gateway portal to purgatory here, in Charles’ home.”
Lucifer let out a short guffaw that turned into a long laugh that continued for so long Charles started to wonder if it would ever stop. Mrs. Murphy shot him an encouraging glance and nod.
“Why... why would I expel the incredible amount of energy required to break through worlds to create a door for some ungrateful human?” Lucifer finally asked as soon as he had enough breath to get the words out, crimson rimming his eyes now.
I’ve held back long enough.
This needs to come from me.
“Because I’m in love. Whatever you feel for your fiancée... Chloe, is it? Whatever you feel for her is what I feel for Demi. I made a terrible mistake, and I need to show her that I’m willing to go to any lengths to be with her. Installing some kind of door to purgatory would prove to her that I’m serious about being with her, even though fear got the better of me when she first revealed her true identity to me.” Charles’ chest ached whenever Demi’s name came out of his mouth, and he felt just about ready to get down on his knees and beg.
Something in Lucifer’s look softened, and he shook his head, almost as if he was annoyed with himself for getting emotional. With a sigh, he walked past Charles and Mrs. Murphy, sitting down on the nearest leather chair. He snapped his fingers, and a glass of whiskey appeared in his hand.
“Lucifer, you could’ve just asked,” Mrs. Murphy chuckled, moving to join Lucifer by the fire. She was clearly less concerned than Charles was about Lucifer’s willingness, or lack thereof, to help.
“I didn’t want to impose. Unlike some people, I understand the nature of hard work. Do you have any idea how much flack I’m going to take from the Daemonium Guard for even proposing this? Each gate is heavily monitored and tracked. They require constant maintenance, and purgatory’s rehabilitation has taken up a lot of the city’s resources. This really isn’t the time for us to be making rash spending decisions like this. Besides, I’m supposed to be resting up for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. Chloe will be furious to find out I’m taking work calls. I should be focusing on the wedding. Well, thanks for the whiskey, but I think I’ve effectively talked myself out of helping you. Charles, Sharon, it’s been a pleasure. Tell Eve that I—”
“Wait,” Charles practically shouted, letting his desperation overcome his fear of the larger than life supernatural man in front of him. Stepping forward toward the being whose powers Charles couldn’t begin to guess, his terror fell away and courage bloomed in his chest. Demi needed him more than he needed to be safe, and he needed Demi more than anything in any world.
“Wait for what?” Lucifer asked, flinching a little at Charles’ volume.
“Wait... just, don’t go yet. I need to explain to you myself why this gateway means so much to me. You see, Demi thinks, and rightly so, that I’m somewhat... uncomfortable with the fact that she’s a goddess, and apprehensive of... of your world.”
“How do you know what Demi thinks? Have you spoken to her?” Lucifer leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms in front of him.
“Not spoken, per se, but texted. Briefly. I can tell by the tone of her messages that she knows I’m scared. I’ve arranged to have a call with her tomorrow to talk it all out, but I need to see her in person, and I can’t show up empty handed. You see, I just know it would mean the world to her if I showed up at the ButterNut bakery myself, of my own accord. I know I’ve gotten through the Sphinx’s gate before, and with the help of Mrs. Murphy I could probably figure out a way of getting back into purgatory, but I want to do more. I want to show Demi that I’m not frightened of having a pathway to her world in my own home, that I’m taking a big step toward... toward purgatory being my home, too. Please, Lucifer. You’re a man in love. What lengths would you be willing to go to prove your devotion for the woman you adore?”
Charles was almost out of breath by the time he finished his impromptu speech. He realized his hands were outstretched, grasping for something that wasn’t real, and he awkwardly let them fall back to his side. He kept his eyes trained on the ground, sure that Lucifer was probably laughing at his desperation and corniness. Beside him, he felt Mrs. Murphy approach and stroke his arm reassuringly.
“Don’t worry, Charles. We’ll figure out another way to get Demi back. Lucifer’s very busy. It was a long shot in the first place,” she whispered.
The sound of Lucifer collapsing back down into the chair caught both of their attentions, and they looked up quickly in surprise.
“Damn it. I’m getting soft in my old age. Love has made me tender. I confess, Charles, I’m moved by your story. If I ever did something to make Chloe doubt my love, I’d do whatever it takes to win her back. All right. I’ll build your damn door, but not just for your sake. I know if Demi’s upset, it’ll affect the baking, then the wedding cake will be tainted with bitterness, and that will disappoint Chloe. I’m going to need more whiskey, however. And every amulet in the house.”
Lucifer sighed a little, but Charles felt his heart soar. It took every inch of strength in him not to kiss Lucifer on the cheek.
“Are you sure? What about the Daemonium Guard?” Mrs. Murphy asked Lucifer.
“The Guard defers to me. Sometimes I just complain about them to get out of things. Charles, Demi is a lucky woman. Goddess. Ugh, I really am getting sappy. Okay, let’s get started. I have a rehearsal dinner to get to and my hair can’t smell like brimstone.”