Days of New: The Complete Collection (Serials 1-5) (40 page)

“There’s nothing to figure out. We kill this asshole.”

“I hope you do a better job of it than you did last time,” Lucifer said, truly meaning the words as he kept rubbing his aching head.

Clark glared. “Glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor even though you’re so
devastated
.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her so badly,” Lucifer said, his heart sinking. His eyes fluttered toward Maya’s. “I didn’t,” he said just to her.

She nodded, but Lucifer realized that seeing Camille’s body had frightened her—as it should. He’d succeeded in scaring her.

“Maya, you should just go. Let us figure this out,” Clark offered.

“No! As soon as I leave, you’re just going to rip each other apart.”

Camille groaned again, and Clark’s body spasmed at the sound. Lucifer looked up at the wall. Her heels dug weakly against the rock; she was trying to hold herself up. She’d done it well in the beginning, keeping pressure off her wings. But the bone from the swords had seeped into her bloodstream and weakened her. She was likely doing irreparable damage to her wings as she let them hold up her weight. The hole in her palms was stretching out, gaping enough that Lucifer could see bits of the wall through her skin and pink muscle. Tears mingled with the jagged cut on her cheek.

She was crying. Her teary eyes were fixed on Clark. “
Clark
,” she begged.

Clark lost it. He dropped his knives and jumped toward Camille’s body, kicking over lanterns as he went so that the light danced wildly. Maya gasped and lurched out of the way as he shoved by her. His hands could only reach Camille’s ankles, which he grabbed tightly, pushing her up with every ounce of strength he had. Lucifer could practically see Clark’s thoughts racing through his mind as he tried to figure out how to get her down, how to save her.

He really loves her
, Lucifer thought, eyes drifting toward Maya. What if that was Maya up there? Lucifer cringed at the thought, pain flaring in his head and pulsing with every beat of his heart.

Lucifer lifted into the air and flew over Maya and Clark’s head. He went to Camille’s left wing and wrenched out the sword, which he threw into the shadows. Her body sagged even further, her hands tearing more, the weight increasing on her right wing. She gasped in pain, her eyes flaring wide for a second.

“Stop!” Clark shouted, struggling to hold her up. “Don’t hurt her or I’ll kill you, I swear!”

Lucifer shifted to her right wing and pulled that blade free. Her wings slung downward, limp and bloodied. He beat his wings slightly and rose up to her hands. “Are you ready to catch her?” he asked Clark, looking down.

Clark glared up. “Be so freaking careful, or I swear—”

“Yeah I know,” Lucifer muttered, yanking the third blade from her palms. “You’ll kill me.”

Camille fell, feathers fluttering, hair whipping across her face, straight into Clark’s arms. He grunted with the impact, but he didn’t falter. He cradled her weight in his arms and walked a distance away. There, he set her down so carefully that she didn’t even wince. She was still repeating his name, tears running down her face. Clark yanked off his backpack and started pulling out medical supplies.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. None of that would work. If Clark would just embrace his magic and accept it, he would be the most powerful being from Hell to Heaven. Yet, he still crouched there, like a human, pressing gauze to Camille’s hands.

It was sad. Because Clark was so weak, another person he loved would die. That magic would be better suited with Lucifer. He would use the power right.

Surprised, he blinked at these thoughts. Then he realized Maya had moved farther away from him to help with Camille. She was packing the huge holes in Camille’s palms. There wasn’t enough blood to even soak through two layers of gauze.
That is bad
, Lucifer thought.
There should be more blood.

But he didn’t really care now that his thoughts were clear again.

“I have to get her back to the cabin,” Clark hissed to Maya. “I can barely feel her pulse.”

Maya nodded. “We—”

“You can leave with her whenever you want. You’re free to go. No one will stop you.”

Clark’s head jerked up at Lucifer’s comment. His expression was a punch in Lucifer’s gut. Clark’s eyes were bright, his mouth half open in surprise, blond brows raised. He looked downright hopeful. “Really?” he said, breathless.

Lucifer nodded to Clark’s arms. “As soon as you give me what I want.”

“But I have to use the magic to save her! And I can’t do it here with you breathing down my neck.”

“Maybe I should have been clearer,” Lucifer said. “You can leave anytime with her
body
. But you’re giving me those secrets now.”

Clark stood, his eyes snapping to his knives that laid by Lucifer’s feet. He’d left them in his worry for Camille. Lucifer kicked them away.

“You asshole,” Clark growled. “You’re not making me kill her.”

“She’s dead without your magic and you can’t have it anymore. Blame me if you want, but this is your fault. You never should have had those marks to begin with.”

Clark’s fists clenched, and Lucifer was so focused on Clark that he didn’t see Maya skitter through the shadows and appear by his side. She took his hand—sending heat slashing up his arm—and looked into his eyes.

“Lucifer, stop,” she pleaded. “Let’s think about this.”

“No,” Clark growled but Lucifer didn’t look away from Maya.

“Why?” he whispered, his words fluttering the softer hairs framing her face.

“You should let him save her.”

“But he took everything from me.”

“He did.” Maya nodded. “But he loves her. Haven’t you loved like that before?”

The question was soft, lingering. Maya’s eyes remained fixed on his, though he heard her heart accelerate. She knew. She could tell his feelings for her. Lucifer shuddered. “Yes,” he whispered.

“If I go with you, will you let Clark leave with Camille so he can save her? After that, when everyone is safe, we can all meet again and talk about the magic and who it should belong to. Who would use it best,” Maya emphasized. Her eyes were so wide, so full of hope that Lucifer had to restrain himself from cupping her face in his hands and kissing her.

“I…” he started, but couldn’t finish the sentence.

There was a mighty knot in Lucifer’s chest. The tangled ropes had been there since after the fire, resting right beneath his sternum, twisting like a noose around his spine. The intricate web loosened at Maya’s words. Like when a knot is almost too tight to loosen, the ends have to be pushed together, and the force on the rope works against itself to unravel to knot. He and Maya were pushing his twisted rope together until he was free.

The freedom was relief, like what death should have felt like when he went into that fire.

Her grip on his hand grew tighter, and Lucifer’s thoughts blazed free. In a moment of clarity, he said, “You should run from me. You shouldn’t offer yourself to a devil.”

“I’m not running,” Maya said quietly. “And you’re not a devil.”

“You would do this?”

“I would.”

“For him?” Lucifer nodded over her shoulder toward Clark, who looked completely baffled in the moment. His eyes were boring into Maya’s back when they weren’t darting back toward Camille’s unmoving body.

“No.”

“For Camille?”

“No, Lucifer. For you. I’ll do this for you. I see you in there.” Maya stabbed her finger into his chest, ruffling the fabric of his tux. He didn’t mind.

“Why?”

Maya leaned in close, her lips almost to his and whispered, “Because I’m selfish. Because I want to spend time with you. This isn’t just about you. It’s about me too.”

Something in her voice and body language as she said those words made Lucifer think she truly meant it. She really wanted him.
Wanted
.
Him
. He didn’t know if she was crazy too, but her desire was plainly written across her face.

“I can’t believe that,” Lucifer said, shaking his head.

“Let me show you.”

Lucifer’s body tingled, like his nerve endings were misfiring in all directions. He took a deep breath, then another and another before he nodded slightly at Maya so that Clark wouldn’t see. He disengaged her fingers from his hand and stepped back, putting distance between the two of them.

What was he doing? The question ran like a marquee through his mind. The definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. He’d been the bad guy. For eternity. The devil. The great sinner. And when he’d been reborn, he was gunning right back for that title, expecting this time would be better. For him to feel better. But that was insane. And he didn’t want to be insane right then.

He wanted to be free.

Lucifer nodded, and Clark sagged against the ground with relief. “One week, Clark. You have one week to get Camille right. Then you’ll come back here and give me the magic I’m owed. No negotiations. I’ll take Maya for that time as collateral. I promise not to harm her,” Lucifer added when Clark opened his mouth to argue. “I swear that. If I do, I’ll kneel at your feet while you kill me. But this is all you get. Any other route, Camille will die here today. Maya has given you this time to save her. So use it.”

For one precious week, Maya could be with him, and she would feel like she’d helped save Camille because that was obviously her desire, and he would have stolen moments where he could think clearly and just be himself without all the anger and vengeance. He couldn’t remember that last time he was who he wanted to be.

But then he remembered. Heaven. When he was a holy angel. That’s what he’d wanted to be. But fate always has other plans. He was meant to be the devil, and there wasn’t enough love in the world to save him from that destiny.

“Is this okay with you?” Clark asked Maya, his words carefully chosen like he thought Lucifer would take back his cease-fire at any moment.

“Yes, Clark. I’m fine. It’ll be okay. Just look after Camille.”

“This doesn’t feel right. You shouldn’t be with him.” Lucifer cringed at Clark’s words, but he didn’t argue.

“Clark,” Maya said, stepping toward the pink-haired Descendant. “You’re going to lose her if you don’t go. She’s going to die. So, you need to go. Now.”

Clark paled at her words. He stepped back, eyes roving to Camille. He looked sick. Clearly he hated every moment of this. But he nodded, though it probably nearly killed him. He looked at Lucifer, his bright blue eyes searing into Lucifer’s skin like Clark was searching deep inside for the angel Lucifer had once been. Lucifer didn’t know if Clark found what he was looking for, but he said, “Keep her safe. She’s the last of the good ones.”

The words struck Lucifer dumb, so he only nodded.

Clark went over to Maya and pulled her close, hugging her tight. Lucifer knew Clark didn’t want him to hear what he whispered to Maya, but he heard plainly enough. And a horrible sense of dread filled his stomach.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before, but I do now. I see it in you. You can save Lucifer’s soul.”

DEVIL IN THE DETAILS

A DAYS OF NEW SERIAL

VOLUME IV

MEG COLLETT

Chapter One

Z
arachiel loved saving things. The idea of white knights and damsels in distress enchanted him. The mentality was good for an angel to have, even one like himself. It was what made him good at what he did: protecting humanity. He’d always treasured the humans from the very beginning. He loved taking care of them, shielding them, like a flock of baby chicks.

But what had once brought him such peace filled him with dread now. He was afraid the world was too far gone for the humans to be saved. Afraid that the humans themselves were too far gone to
want
to be saved. And that, worst of all, the holy angels were too far gone to do the saving. It scared the hell out of him.

Grace stirred on the bed, her red hair fanning out against the pillow. Green eyes the color of a Scottish loch blinked up at him, and, in the fading sunlight, he glimpsed a smattering of freckles that he hadn’t noticed before. She was stunningly beautiful, even he could admit. He wasn’t immune to her pull, and that also scared him.

“Z?” Her voice cracked over the question. She shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable. Pain clouded over her eyes, and a sudden flare of anger threatened to choke Zarachiel. He would make the Loyalists pay for doing this to her.
That
was something he understood.

“I’m here,” he said, keeping his voice calm and soothing.

He stood up from his position on the floor and crossed to the bed. As he moved, the misplaced, hacked-apart bones and muscles in his back strained and pressed against his spine, the edges of his ribs, his lungs. Zarachiel didn’t remember much about the day the holy angels had tortured him, claiming him to be a traitor. What he did remember were little insignificant things, like the scent of his feathers burning when the molten hot gold knife had seared into them. Burning an angel’s feathers was like burning his eyes or slicing the sensitive webbing between fingers or toes. It was horrible, but not nearly as bad as having his wings hacked out with a blunt knife. That had been so bad that Zarachiel remembered only the way his body had felt when it was draped over the edge of Heaven.