One week later…
Abigail paced in front the wall of windows overlooking the city. She’d become all too familiar with the sprawling penthouse. In a space that took up the entire top floor of the building, she’d counted six massive bedrooms, seven bathrooms and two powder rooms, a gourmet kitchen, a great room large enough to double as a ballroom, and a smattering of specialized areas for entertaining. She couldn’t enjoy any of them.
One of the rooms was a library, chock-full of leather-bound books in multiple languages. She suspected the previous owner had left the collection, as Lucifer had never shown any interest in reading. Abigail yearned to pass the time by taking one down and curling up in a plush chair to read, but Lucifer’s curse made that particular act impossible. Her hand passed through the binding as it did the telephone, the television, and any pen or paper she wished to employ. He’d turned her into a ghost.
The only exception to her plight was when he fed her. Twice a day he’d provide a meal and at that time his sorcery would break, and she could lift the fork and drink from a glass. Enough to keep her alive, yes, but with no human interaction, she could feel herself slipping away. The ghost world she lived in was a torture like no other.
She tried to focus on the certain hope that the Soulkeepers would find her. Even if Malini couldn’t follow her thread and predict where she’d be, Gideon would never give up. He’d find a way to track her down. She just needed to be patient. They’d have her out of here in a few days.
The sound of the front door opening sent her scurrying from the library into the great room, fully expecting to see her rescuers. Instead, Lucifer paraded through the front door, Auriel and Cord following on his heels. He did not spare a glance for Abigail. This was part of her torture. The one being who could see her refused to look at her.
“Hello, Abigail!” Cord yelled to the opposite corner of the room.
Asshole. She raised her middle finger toward the back of his head. If Lucifer saw her crude gesture, he didn’t respond. He approached the wall of windows, clasping his hands behind his back. The city, shrouded in night, provided a spectacle of shimmering lights but somehow seemed dwarfed by the devil’s silhouette.
“I’ve brought you both here tonight because I am prepared to release the first temptation.” Lucifer’s voice took on the rasp and crackle inherent beneath his illusion. The sound made Abigail’s scalp prickle.
Auriel clapped her hands and skipped to his side, smoothing her sweater and short skirt. “Brilliant, my lord. The world will be yours when you say the word. What will you tempt the humans with? Wealth? Power?”
“The obvious choices, but too direct.”
“Lust, my lord,” Cord offered. “An illusion to entice even the most prudent soul.”
“Another excellent suggestion but difficult to deliver discreetly. It is to our advantage to remain insidious. The Great Oppressive Deity will expect us to be careless and out ourselves to the humans and the Soulkeepers.”
“How will you win them to you then?” Auriel asked.
“Wealth, power, and lust only appeal to those with dark hearts. What we need is a temptation that wins the hearts of the good. Nothing breeds darkness like snuffing out the light.”
Cord straightened his tie. “Tempt the good?”
“By pretending to be the thing we are not. Harrington Enterprises must become a blessing to the cursed.” Lucifer turned on his heel and crossed the sprawling living area to the kitchen island, where he shuffled through a wine rack and selected a bottle. Three champagne flutes appeared on the counter, and he filled them halfway with thick red liquid. Abigail could smell the dank copper stench from across the room. Blood—fresh and raw—with a slight bubble she assumed Lucifer added for affect.
“Join me in a drink, and I’ll explain.” He handed a glass to Cord and another to Auriel, taking up the third himself. “The first temptation will be pestilence, a virus as crippling as the Black Death.”
“Pestilence, my lord? To win human hearts?”
Lucifer grinned. “It won’t be the disease that wins their hearts, Auriel. It will be the cure.”
“A cure for the pestilence we’ve created?” Cord looked confused.
“Auriel, you will go to Harrington’s pharmaceutical division and give them a direct order from their new CEO, Mr. Milton Blake.” He placed an open hand on his chest. “All manufacturing facilities are to produce nothing but the cure for a new and dangerous virus.” With a wave of his hand, a medication bottle filled with glowing blue pills appeared on the countertop.
Auriel palmed the bottle and gave a slight curtsy. “Will the humans know how to replicate this?”
“Good point, Auriel. Their idiocy is infallible. Best use sorcery to teach them the recipe.”
She grinned.
“And now for the disease,” Lucifer said. Shaking his right hand, the illusion of humanity fell away, exposing black skin and long, sharp talons. He dug into his own chest, the flesh and bone parting to expose the blackness where his heart should have been. A pinch and tug and a piece of that blackness worked between his talons like rancid bubblegum, pulling and stretching. The opening in his chest stitched closed while the blackness in his hand expanded. When Lucifer’s molding was complete, a great winged beast perched on his outstretched arm. Mangy black feathers, a sharp hooked beak, and eyes as red as the blood in the champagne flutes marked the bird’s appearance. The animal glared at Abigail and rolled its black tongue.
Lucifer motioned to Cord. “Meet my new pet, Affliction. This bird will fly fast and far. Ensure he is released in a populated area. Anyone who looks upon him will be afflicted with my pestilence.”
Cord extended his arm, and the bird hopped to his new perch.
“Genius. The bird doles out the disease. Only Harrington will have the cure and with it the loyalty of the cured.” Auriel laughed and raised her glass.
“Exactly.” Lucifer followed her lead. “A toast to a new age. Soon the world will be ours and everyone in it our plaything.”
Cord lifted his blood cocktail and joined in clinking glasses. The three drained the red liquid in a few gulps. With a loud smack of his lips, Cord moved for the door, making kissing noises toward Affliction. “Come, sweet bird. Let me introduce you to the city.”
Auriel opened the door for him and then followed Cord out of it.
Abigail desperately wanted to warn the Soulkeepers, but her desire was useless. Every attempt at communication had failed; her hand slipped right through the phone. As hopeless as she was helpless, she paced in front of the windows.
Lucifer watched her, elbows resting on the kitchen counter. The pads of his fingers tapped together under his chin. “Do you miss it, Abigail, being part of a team? You could have been where Auriel is today.”
She stopped and turned to face him, anger warming her ghostly body. What did she have to lose? “I do miss being part of a team, but not yours, Lucifer. I miss being a Soulkeeper. And as for taking Auriel’s place, no one deserves what you have to give more than she does.”
His face reddened, and his grin morphed into a scowl. Stomping toward the exit, he didn’t bother to look in her direction as he crossed the threshold. “No meal tonight,” he said, slamming the door behind him.
Utterly and truly alone, Abigail watched Cord and Auriel emerge from the building, two tiny dots on the street below. Cord raised his arm, and Affliction took flight.