Extinguish (12 page)

He saw every move, noted every hand, able to predict which cards would be next in line.

Both threw down threes. Luce tapped his fingers sliding cards onto the table facedown.

One. Two. Three. Four.

I declare war.

He
overturned another—
king
—and sighed as the man played a two. Luce waved his hand, all six cards magically slipping onto the bottom of his stack.

"You’re running low on cards there, Robert," Luce mused. "Doesn’t bode well for you."

"It’s not over yet," Robert stammered, his voice shaking just as hard as his hands. "I’m feeling lucky."

"Good for you," Luce muttered, overturning another card when a gust of wind surged through the room, blowing out every single one of the candles. Luce snapped his fingers, igniting them again at once, as he heard her in his mind, above the chaos that usually consumed him.

Serah.

Lucifer
, she screamed.
I’m coming for you
.

"I’ll be a son of a bitch," he said, unable to stop the smile from turning the corner of his lips, a laugh escaping as he exhaled.

Footsteps ran down the corridor, the large, wooden double doors thrusting open. "There's an intruder at the gate!"

"I’m aware." Luce’s gaze turned to the demon that burst in.
Lire, the leader of the Dark Legion, was one of the few given free rein to roam Hell. He considered himself Luce’s right-hand man, but Luce treated him as a messenger boy. "Do you think I’m an imbecile? You think I don’t know what goes on in my kingdom?"

"No, My Lord!" He frantically shook his head. "It’s just
. . . it’s one of them. What do you want us to do?"

"Show her in," he ordered, "and be nice about it, will you? You offend my guest, and you’ll be the one strapped to the
wall tonight."

The demon flinched, nodding submissively before scampering back out of the room. Luce’s eyes instantly snapped from the door to Robert, catching him as he tried to sneak a peek at their next few cards. Luce angrily clenched his hand into a tight fist, his knuckles popping from the strain. The man let out a loud shriek of agony as he clutched his arm, his right hand twisting as the bones crunched sickeningly, shattering into tiny fragments and ripping out through the skin. Blood ran down his arm, dripping onto the concrete floor.

"You think you can cheat me?" he spat. "You think I won’t know?"

"It was a mistake!" he screamed. "I’m sorry! Please! I won’t do it again!"

The red in Luce’s eyes flared, overtaking the blackness, as the floor beneath their feet vibrated. The ground behind the man opened up into a swirling black vortex, torturous screams bursting out with savage fire, so ferocious Luce grimaced. Flicking his hand, Luce sent the man flying backward out of his chair, straight into the raging inferno, the bright orange flames swallowing him whole. His shrieks were silenced as the vortex abruptly closed, everything silent and still.

"You’re fucking right you won’t do it again."

He slouched back in his chair again, drumming his fingers some more, waiting. He could sense her as she drew closer, the air stirring with something he hadn’t felt in a long time. She brought sunlight with her, the darkness lightening, as fresh air radiated from her.

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."