Days of New: The Complete Collection (Serials 1-5) (39 page)

Chapter Eight

“
D
on’t.” The word ripped out of Clark’s mouth. “Call. Her. That
.
”

Lucifer’s mouth twitched, his smile delighted. Clark shouldn’t give the fallen angel anything to leverage against him, but he couldn’t handle his name for Camille coming from Lucifer’s mouth. He surged forward, ready to fight, but Maya pulled him back. Only then did Lucifer look at her.

The skin beneath Lucifer’s right eye twitched; his smile flattened. And for a very brief second, his eyes held a haze of pain that clouded his irises and caused his eyelashes to flutter from the onslaught. Clark wondered if it was a migraine, but whatever it was, for a brief moment, Lucifer looked almost normal. Or at least as normal as he ever looked.

But then it was gone. Lucifer’s eyes shifted away from Maya, and it was like she didn’t exist again. “Follow me,” he said, sweeping into another low bow. He strode off without looking back to confirm that they were following.

Maya glanced over to Clark, her brow slightly damp from the humidity in the cave. Clark shrugged at her and followed Lucifer.

“I’ve done some repairs, as you can tell,” Lucifer called back over his shoulder. “When the Watchers were released, they left the place in quite a state.”

The dream
. This was exactly like Clark’s dream, his nightmare. He had always known it was a vision, of course, but hearing Lucifer’s words in real life felt too surreal for Clark to process in the moment.

“They were in a hurry,” Clark said, feeling slightly numb as he stuck to the dream’s script.

“Obviously.” Lucifer snorted delicately, as if it was their inside joke. As he walked, the feathers on his wings shifted and whispered. He must have sensed Clark’s attention, because he glanced back again. “I’ve made a few improvements too since you saw me last.”

“How are you here, Lucifer? What happened?”

Lucifer faltered and came to a stop, letting Clark catch up. Slowly, Lucifer turned around, and Clark met his eyes. Something glimmered in those dark orbs that reminded Clark of the old Lucifer.

Maybe Maya was right.

Lucifer tried to smile, like he wanted to turn Clark’s question into a joke, but the smile slipped. The skin beneath his eye twitched again, but this time, Lucifer cringed away from the pain clearly coming from his head.

Lucifer’s eyes went to Maya, his face completely blank. “I don’t know why I’m here. Why I cam back like this.”

“Lucifer,” Maya whispered, walking past Clark with her arm outstretched, like she was reaching for him. Clark jerked free from the stupor Lucifer’s eerie words had spread over him and grabbed Maya’s arm, keeping her from going to him.

Turning his eyes to where Clark’s hand met Maya’s skin, Lucifer blinked and wound back to life like an old clock. The twitch beneath his eye was gone, and his smile spread freely across his face. “I was baptized by fire, freed of my sins, and reborn.” Lucifer swept his arms wide, his suit straining over his shoulders. “I was dead. Or I think I was…”

Clark knew it was going to happen, but it still sent chills down his spine when it did: the scuffling sounded from the dark back wall. Shadows ticked along the floor like spiders hiding in the dark. Somewhere over there, Camille was hanging by her wings, bleeding onto the floor. Clark’s stomach twisted; he was ready to run to her, but Maya took his hand. Glancing over at her, she shook her head slightly at him.

They had a game to play with Lucifer, to tiptoe around his madness, comfort his need to torture Clark. Playing along was the only way to make it out of here alive.

Lucifer was still talking when Clark turned his attention back to the angel. “…When you created that insanely large mass of holy fire in Hell, I knew you couldn’t control it. You didn’t understand your power. Neither did I, apparently. When the fire took me, I felt it destroy me. I sensed my death. But that couldn’t be right, because if I was dead, how could I think I was dead?”

Clark kept his mouth shut. His palms itched against the handle of the daggers he held.

“Somewhere,” Lucifer continued, “I was put back together again, like Humpty Dumpty after his perilous fall. But how does that rhyme go?”

“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,” Maya answered before Clark could, her voice ringing out through the cave like wind chimes. “Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again.”

“Right,” Lucifer said, his voice quiet. Clark got the sense that the fallen angel had to peel his gaze away from Maya. His features softened when he looked at her, the madness chased away, if only for a tiny breath. Clark frowned.

Lucifer cleared his throat. “Follow me.” This time he didn’t bow; actually, his voice cracked slightly. He turned and strode toward the back wall. As he walked, he whispered, “They couldn’t put me back together again. I think that they missed some pieces. I don’t feel quite whole anymore.”

The words drifted back to Clark and punched him in the gut. They were agonized and dripping with pain. And finally, Clark understood what was so different about Lucifer, what had changed so much.

Lucifer hated himself, more than he ever had. He just didn’t know why anymore. He’d forgotten the reasons: that fate had tossed a coin, and he’d landed on the unlucky side. His madness hid the truth from him to fuel the craziness.

Maya ducked her head and swiped at something under her eye. Looking closer, Clark saw the glistening wetness on her fingertips. She was crying for the devil.

“Lucifer,” Clark started but didn’t get to finish. Just then, they came to the back wall and the scuffling sounded again. He knew exactly where to look, even as tiny rocks spattered onto the floor in front of them. There was enough light from the lanterns to guide his eyes up the wall.

Lucifer stepped aside so Clark could see. From some corner part of his brain, he registered the lack of comment from Lucifer, the lack of excitement. This was what the angel had wanted: to torture Clark. But in the moment, Lucifer looked almost defeated. His chin tilted down against his chest; the skin spanning from the edge of his eye to his jaw twitched wildly.

But it was just a tiny part of Clark that noted the change in Lucifer. The rest of him felt blind rage.

Camille hung above his head, naked and barely conscious. Her hands were pinned high above her head, a single dagger through both palms. Her wings stretched out to full length, her powerless body hanging between them. Two huge swords—metal laced with the dull ivory of bone—pierced each wing, anchoring her completely against the rock. Gold blood dripped down her wing and splashed onto the floor to create shimmering pools on either side of Clark. Above his head, her feet raked against the wall, weak and futile, causing the scuffling sounds he knew so well. Her once-bright eyes fluttered, her eyelashes dark against her pale skin. Blood oozed from a slashing wound stretching across the side of her face. Her chest was covered in a multitude of tiny slashes that spanned from the width of her ribs to her clavicles to her navel and everywhere in between until she was almost one giant, open wound.

Her mouth moved, and Clark cringed, knowing what she was going to say.

“
Clark
,” she whispered, her voice broken. “
Clark
…”

He knew she was dying. But he was certain—from hearing her voice—that a part inside of her, possibly her heart or her soul, was already dead.

“I’m afraid,” Lucifer said, his voice as broken as Camille’s, “that I’ve killed her.”

Clark spun back around, ready to swing his knives, but Maya stepped in front of him. Once again she blocked Lucifer from harm, and over her shoulder, Clark saw the angel’s eyes flood with recognition. He seemed to crumple beneath it, but Clark didn’t care.

“Get out of the way, Maya.”

“No.”

Clark growled and waved his sword at Camille. “Do you see what he’s done?” Clark shouted. “Do you get what he’s capable of now? He’s not good!”

“He is,” Maya responded quietly.

“Don’t be stupid, Maya!”

“She’s going to die,” Lucifer said quietly from behind Maya, his eyes traveling up to Camille. Clark leapt forward, knives in the air, but Maya stopped him again. She lurched against him, hands clenching his jacket.

“Clark, calm down!” Maya screamed. “We can figure this out! We can talk to him!”

“She’s hurt. I’m not—”

“We can’t talk,” Lucifer said.

Camille groaned, the sound shredding through Clark like a chainsaw. He stilled against Maya and looked at Lucifer. “What did you say?” he growled.

“You’re thinking you can save her somehow by using the Watchers’ magic on your arms. Am I right?”

A chill swept down Clark’s spine. This was exactly like the dream again. Lucifer had said those very same words, but now Clark allowed himself to feel a little hope, because Maya was clearly changing Lucifer. The hope wasn’t that Lucifer would let Camille go; it was hoping Lucifer was so broken that Clark could use the angel’s weakness against him and rip him apart. Completely, this time.

“I can,” Clark said. He grabbed Maya’s arm and pulled her to the side. “I know I can.”

“I killed her, Clark. She’s dead.”

“She’s still breathing! Stop saying that!”

Lucifer shook his head like Clark didn’t understand. “She’s going to die. You can’t save her.”

“Why not?” Clark snarled.

“Because that power,” Lucifer whispered, pointing to Clark’s arms. A sickness bubbled up in Clark’s stomach as the ink along his forearms tingled under Lucifer’s gaze. “That power will be mine. I don’t care if I have to rip your arms from your body,” Lucifer said, his voice hollow in the cave, not even echoing. Finally, his dark eyes drifted up to meet Clark’s, and Clark knew there was no hope at all.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I tore someone apart in this cave.”

Chapter Nine

“
I
t wouldn’t be the first time I tore someone apart in this cave,” Lucifer said, hating himself for every syllable. What had he done here today? He couldn’t really remember. Having Maya here, this close, was messing with his head. Her proximity seemingly measured the amount of clarity or confusion he felt at any given moment.

For example, he’d come here knowing he wanted the Watchers’ secrets from Clark’s arms and would do anything to get them. He knew that. But seeing Maya’s eyes constantly traveling to where Camille hung on the wall, and how she cringed at his actions, ruined him. He couldn’t focus. All he felt was crushing defeat.

“Lucifer,” Maya whispered, turning her eyes back to him, “don’t do this.”

Clark pulled her back behind him, shielding her from Lucifer’s stare. Lucifer hated to see Clark’s hands on her, hated it with every bone in his body. But he hurt too much to do anything about it.

“You’re saying that the only way to save Camille is by using the Watchers’ magic?” Clark asked, glaring at him.

Lucifer deserved every ounce of hate radiating from Clark. He really did. Camille’s cold body beside him was an icy reminder of how very much Clark should hate him. But it still stung, Lucifer realized. Being close to Maya might be the only reason he could admit it to himself, but he could: losing Clark’s friendship—no matter how odd a friendship was—was a burn deep in Lucifer’s chest.

“Yes,” Lucifer said. “It’s the only way to save her since she’s lost so much blood, and what little she has left is polluted with bone.”

“Then you’re not getting anything from me.”

Clark’s body was a rigid bow of power, pulled taunt and ready to strike. His jaw was clenched tight; his shaggy, unkempt Mohawk was a horrible, dirty shade of pink, and it flopped over into his eyes. He looked ready to call forth any kind of power he could to kill Lucifer.

“Stop!” Maya shouted. She wrenched her arm free from Clark’s grip. Moving on light feet, her motions like a dancer’s, she dodged Clark’s grab. She backed away toward Camille, her eyes flickering between Clark and Lucifer. “Just stop. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“You have a serious issue—” Clark started but Maya interrupted.

“Look at him!” She gestured wildly toward Lucifer, and he cringed away, as if she was condemning him. “He’s devastated!”

“And he would likely kill us all if he meant he could get his precious power!”

Lucifer couldn’t help but agree. He would. Or he would have before he met Maya. He hadn’t felt bad when he hurt Camille, at least not too much, and he probably wouldn’t feel bad if he had to kill Clark. But he couldn’t do any of that with Maya so close, and she seemed to guess that because she kept inching closer.

She was anchoring herself to him, even if it meant she was shackling herself to a monster. She was good enough, pure enough, that she would do whatever it took to keep the peace, to save lives. It was brave of her. Actually, it was the bravest thing Lucifer had ever seen. It made him love her even more.

Lucifer cringed. Had he really just admitted he loved Maya? A whimpering sound escaped his throat, and he rubbed the aching pulse at his temples.

“Clark,” Maya commanded, her voice snapping like a sail in the wind. “Calm down. You knew what this would be like when we got here.” She jerked her chin toward Camille. “So just calm down and let’s figure this out, okay?”