~~Young~~

Chapter Eighteen

   So Lucifer crooked a finger at Fury, beckoning her to warm the frigid creature in the way that only she was capable in this frozen world. He balked when she stepped up to him, attempted to draw his sword only to find it frozen to its sheath. And though she hardly batted an eye at the threat as she latched on to the creature’s arm Lucifer did give pause. That divine blade was all that could pierce the heart of his demons, all that could truly destroy them. But they would not think about that having known another in their time to bear such arms. That blade Lucifer has wisely thrown into the ice filled lakes of Hell though. Leaving it there for a hundred years in the silt till its fire was that of the same they lived in everyday and not of the divine light. That way its mere presence didn’t burn the skin of those sharing the same room as it any longer.

   As soon as Fury’s heated gaze found that of the shivering creature his posture loosened, warming him through and through and brining his pallor back to that of a healthy pink and not the sickened blue the rest of them bore in hell.

   He knew better then to offer his thanks, but nodded all the same for the assistance.

   “Now that that has been taken care of I will ask again, what is it you wish of me?”

   “As I said, I need your help.”

   “Why me?” Lucifer hissed, “Why not ask your own almighty master?”

   “Because…” he paused, “because what I wish to see is the death of another.”

   “You waste my time Michael,” Lucifer scoffed, waving his hand at him in a dismissive manner, “whatever mortal you wish to be rid of would not have earned your anger without reason. Surely my brother would grant you assistance to be rid of them.”

   The angel grimaced and hung his head in shame, “not for the reasons in my heart.” He spoke softly.

   “Do elaborate,” he shot him a bored expression.

   “I…I am jealous of him, that is why I wish him dead.”

   “Then do as your precious mortals would do and steal what is his and be over with it. Again I say you waste my time over this. I know you may be the picture of morality so I will explain that you do not need to kill a mortal to take what is theirs-”

   “He is not a mortal,” Michael spoke over him in a brash move. No one interrupted Lucifer, if he was going to grant you the honor of his attention then it was wise not to curtail that in any way lest he be moved to end the conversation…and one’s life, “and it is not something that can be taken, it must be earned, and as long as he is in the way then I am afraid I never will earn such a thing.”

   “What?” Lucifer had to ask, had to know what would prompt one immortal to wish the death of another. Between himself and his brethren that was a near constant, but it was always for power. God wisely did not create his servants with the need for power but just the opposite, with the need to serve him and only him.

   “Love.” Michael stated simply.

   Simply, but desperately.

   Lucifer abhorred the sentiment, love, but had found it quite convenient to his own goals. How many jealous lovers have killed their rivals, their supposed loves damning them to hell? How many mortals have done whatever it takes to earn the love of another including theft, treachery, murder even? It certainly had its uses. And this immortal had turned out to be no different than the petty souls Lucifer fed off of. He too was willing to see the death of another over such a petty emotion, over female flesh. Or maybe it was male, he was not to know nor did he particular care. But the death of an immortal was not such a minor detail. That was a very dangerous endeavor even for Lucifer. But danger equaled a higher worth and he could barely contain his excitement over what this angel had to offer.