Days of New: The Complete Collection (Serials 1-5) (31 page)

“I haven’t seen you before. What’s your name?”

The girl was so young, her voice so pure. She couldn’t be more than twenty, Lucifer guessed. He smelled the Nephilim blood in her veins, and the beast within him stirred. After all, he was the devil, the former General of Hell, so it was no surprise when visions of her naked and writhing beneath him in ecstasy consumed his mind. He’d had many women during his time as Hell’s leader, but the Nephil was different. Her face was so earnest that Lucifer found he wanted nothing more than to kiss her soft cheeks, her doe eyes, her little bow of a mouth. He realized that while a part of him did want to take her in a way he was almost positive no man had ever taken her before, he also wanted to be tender with her, to worship her. He leaned into her, palms itching to touch her.

“Lucian,” he breathed. “My name’s Lucian.”

“Lucian.” She repeated the name and gazed up at him, like he’d just answered all the world’s questions. The way she was looking at him, the way she had spoken the name made Lucifer wish he’d told her the right one. He wanted to hear her say his name that way. Her trusting innocence should have repulsed Lucifer: an angel only used to sin and lies. But instead, he drank her up like a desperate man. “Nice to meet you, Lucian. Do you think you could help me find my friend?”

A fierce protective instinct took hold of him. He needed her to be safe; he wanted to protect her. The desire felt natural, as if he was always meant to do guard her. Before he thought better of it, he said, “No, you need to go back inside. It’s too dangerous out here.”

“I don’t care. I have to find him.”

Him
. Lucifer hated that word coming from her mouth. “I’m taking you back inside those doors, where you will lock yourself inside and not come out until it’s quiet.”

She stepped back, hands going to her narrow hips as she glared up at him. He would’ve snapped an angel’s neck for looking at him like that, but on this girl’s face, her defiance was adorable, if not a little maddening. But Lucifer was used to madness. The need to touch her, to run his nose along the skin of her neck, ate at him.

“If you won’t help me, I’m going on my own.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“I—”

Lucifer cut her off by gripping her shoulders and spinning her around. She gasped, the sound settling deep in his chest. Her back was flush against his chest, so that he felt every muscle in her body tense at their close contact. Her reaction sent adrenaline coursing through his veins. Unable to control his need to be close to her, he leaned out of the shadows, pressing his nose against her neck. She smelled of vanilla and sunlight, youth and freshness. He ran his nose along her skin up to the soft spot behind her ear. When her body torqued back, pressing against him, he nearly lost his mind. He’d thought by quenching the need to touch and smell her that the compulsion would go away, but he was wrong. Now he needed more. Needed all of her. And even that might not be enough.

A little gasp escaped her mouth, and she ever-so-slightly tilted her head to allow him more access. She wanted him. He smelled it in the air. Heard it in the way her heart fluttered like a butterfly against her spine.

“What’s your name?” he asked, voice thick.

“Maya,” she whimpered as his lips grazed the soft lobe of her ear.

“It’s nice to meet you, Maya.”

“Um…” Her breath hitched as he pressed his face into her light brown hair. The bun her silky locks were tied up in was falling, leaving loose strands around her face. “It’s nice to, ah, meet you too.”

“Now, you’re going back through those doors, and you’re not coming out until it’s safe.”

“No.” She denied him, and he loved it.

She tried to pull out of his grip, but Lucifer tugged her back against his chest. His hand splayed across her stomach, spanning the small width of her ribcage. She was so little, so easily broken. That urge to protect her welled up in his chest, thick and tight like a vise tightening around him. Her safety was all he could think about in this moment.

That and her tight ass pressing against him.

And the stubborn lilt in her sweet voice as she told him no.

“No one ever tells me no,” he whispered into her ear. His breath against her neck made her tremble.

“Well, I just—”

“Listen to me, Bailey! He took her! We have to go after him now. There’s no time to waste,” a very familiar voice shouted a short distance away. Lucifer recognized it at the same time Maya did. Her head snapped around, but he didn’t let her go.

“Clark is your friend?” Lucifer asked, clutching her to him as he tried to soak up everything about her. He told himself that he’d likely never see her again, but even as he thought the words, he dismissed them.

“Yes. I have to make sure he’s okay.”

Lucifer released her, and she hurried toward the sound of Clark’s voice, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was following. But he was already gone, with only the thought of getting his demons and angels away from this place before one of them accidentally hurt Maya.

Chapter Three

“L
isten to me, Bailey! He took her! We have to go after him now!”

Dodging frantic people pushing and shoving their way past him, Clark clambered up the stairs after Bailey, who was plowing his way through the shrilly screaming crowd. He wasn’t paying one bit of attention to Clark, who in turn, wasn’t paying one bit of attention to the fuss around him. He didn’t care about the attack. He cared about finding Camille.

When it was apparent the captain wasn’t going to listen to him, Clark grabbed Bailey’s shoulder and jerked him around. They were like a large stone in a river, with Descendants and Nephilim gushing around them like water. “Bailey, listen to me!” Clark shouted over the cacophony.

“People are dying!” Bailey yelled back as he struggled to escape Clark’s grasp.

To prove his point, someone tumbled over the edge of the third-floor balcony and sailed past them, wailing like a banshee. Clark couldn’t hear their impact on the first floor, but
come on
, people didn’t die from a three-story fall. He wasn’t that worried, but Bailey looked horrified.

“Lucifer took her! He
took
her!” Clark shouted, waving his hands to get Bailey’s attention.

A fallen angel whizzed over their heads, rustling Clark’s grimy hair. To their right, a demon flung itself over the stair’s railing, bypassing them and sailing to the first floor. Its impact was followed by a blood-curdling scream. Bailey pivoted and aimed his gun toward the third floor, where another angel was descending. He fired. The bullet struck the angel in the neck, and it spiraled out of the air, landing in a heap of black feathers on top of a few unwitting Descendants. Ghostly white feathers started ascending; the angel’s death went unnoticed by everyone except Clark. Clearly, Bailey had bullets laced with bone.

A sharp whistle pierced through the air that popped Clark’s eardrums. “We have to find her before he hurts her!”

Bailey spun back around to face Clark. “Do you see this?” Bailey shouted. “We can’t go after her! There’s going to be none of us left!”

“We have to!” Clark was desperate. He grabbed Bailey’s uniform, his fingers gripping the badge pinned to the material. “We have to go now!”

“No, Clark!” Bailey was still yelling, but his voice rang in the air. Everything had gone eerily silent after the piercing whistle Clark had just heard. Only he seemed to notice; he looked around, confused, and momentarily distracted from what Bailey was saying. “She’s gone. Just let her go. Probably dead already.”

Dead already
.

Clark slowly looked back at the cop. “What did you say?”

Bailey finally realized the stillness in the compound. The fallen angels and demons were gone. Descendants and some Nephilim were hunched on the floor, catching their breath or examining wounded. The silence—dotted with the occasional sobbing—was a tense, stunned one, like crashing back down after an awful, brutal high.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t mean it,” Bailey said.

“So you’ll send some Descendants to help me look?”

“Clark!” Just then, Maya ran over, her light eyes flooding with obvious relief. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked shaken. “You’re okay!”

“I can’t.” Bailey shook his head. “There’s no way we can spare anyone after this.”

“Bailey…”

“What’s going on?” Maya asked.

“He won’t send anyone to help me look for Camille,” Clark snapped, still glaring at the cop.

“She’s gone?” Maya whispered.

“Lucifer took her.”

“Now, you don’t know that for sure. She could be fighting somewhere,” Bailey said.

“I know she’s gone!” Clark yelled, the loudest noise in the compound. Everyone turned to look at him. “She’s gone, and he took her. Dammit, I know, Bailey. Help me get her back.
Please
,” Clark whispered the last word.

But Bailey was already backing away, his eyes going to the wounded. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Are you serious?” Clark’s mouth hung open in shock. The rage he’d felt during his trial when they’d splashed the picture of Jenna’s death up on the wall returned. The injustice he’d felt when no one listened to him about Liam and the demon returned. The disgust he’d felt at the people’s petty nastiness toward Camille when they found out about her relationship with Clark returned. It all flooded back in that moment, and he was reminded just how much he hated these people. This place. This cause. He hated it all.

Bailey didn’t answer; he’d already turned away. He hurried up the stairs, calling to Descendants and pointing out people who should carry the wounded to the hospital. Those who couldn’t move, he bent and checked their pulses, marking the dead with a swipe of blood across their forehead. He shouted out orders and relayed information to be passed on. He sent out sentries to guard the grounds. He told the uninjured to go to their quarters and stay until he personally told them it was safe. All the while, he stayed alert for a second attack, for any stray demons.

But Clark didn’t care about another attack. He was done with these people, Descendants and Nephilim alike. How many times had he warned them about Lucifer? And they acted so surprised when the monster himself came crashing through the front door. Clark couldn’t take it anymore. He’d left this order once before and he would do it again. Gladly. He turned his back and walked down the main stairs, heading for the front door.

“Clark?” Maya called, hurrying after him.

Just then, Zarachiel and Iris rounded the bottom corner of the stairs. They both looked up at him as he descended. Iris smiled, clearly relieved he was okay.

“The Nephilim?” he asked his mother.

“They’re fine. No causalities. Some are banged up from a roof caving in, but nothing serious.” She looked at Maya with her brow raised, but Clark didn’t bother asking about it.

“Camille’s gone. Lucifer took her.”

Iris reached out and touched his arm. “You’re going after her?”

“Yes. And I’m giving the leadership of the Nephilim back to you. I’m not coming back.”

Iris didn’t seem that surprised. “I understand. I’ll stay here and keep things under control.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I’ll go with you,” Zarachiel said, stepping forward.

“Me too,” Maya added. Clark opened his mouth to tell her no, but she interrupted him. “I’m not staying here. I hate it too. Besides, I want to help. Camille was finally starting to grow on me.”

She was clearly lying, but Clark didn’t call her on it. He looked at his friends and mom. They all supported him without pause. They understood what he needed to do. And when they met his gaze, it was with a quiet resolve to help as much as they could. They knew how important Camille was to him.

“Thanks.” Clark took a deep breath. He wanted to leave now, but the truth was, they needed some supplies. And a car. “Okay. Let’s go back to my apartment and grab whatever we need. Then we can go.”

* * *

Lucifer knew he couldn’t stay long. His plantation home in Alabama would be the first place anyone looked when they realized the Throne angel was missing. But he needed to come here and feel the comfort he used to find inside these walls.

Even if the house gave him a headache because it reminded him of the man he’d been before the fire. Before the madness.

The house had been looted, like the others in the area. All his precious things were gone, his paintings, his sculptures. All the treasures he’d collected over the centuries. This had been his home. Now nothing felt like a sanctuary. Not even his own head.

Irin and Emim carried the Throne angel inside and tossed her on the dining room floor, next to the hacked-apart dining table built by a French artesian in the nineteenth century. Lucifer sighed.

“Leave us,” he said to the angels. They nodded and quickly disappeared.

Camille groaned on the hardwood. She had a fighter’s spirit, Lucifer would give her that. On the flight over, they’d had to stop twice to beat her back into a semi-submissive state. By the third time, Lucifer had ordered her wings bound in gold rope wrapped as tightly as his demons could pull. The way the fine filaments wrapped around her entire torso, zigzagging over her chest, where it dug in so tight that it constricted her breathing, looked wretched. Not to mention the damage it was likely doing to her wings. Lucifer felt a sympathy twinge deep within the bones of his back.