Damned If I Do

The Art of War

Rain pounded on the roof of the large palacial mansion Alex sat in. It was a dull hum that called her to sleep. The walls of her bedroom were a dark purple. Books sat nestled in black bookcases in one corner. In front of her bed was a flatscreen TV and an Xbox, along with miscellaneous games, tiny comforts in her world of chaos.

The steady murmuring of Lucifer in his office matched the rain on the roof. He did that for hours, talking to his disciples. Making plans, plotting world domination, trying to trap the Roadrunner. Sound traveled well through the cold passages. He always had demons over at night; she hated them. They were presumptuous and always had something bad to say about her, especially about her temper at an earlier comment. She never felt a reason to snoop, but today was different. She still harbored a grudge at his slapping her, he rarely harmed her, but when he did, it hurt like a bitch. Add that to the fact that curiosity was looking at the cat in the rearview mirror and she knew something was amiss, and it was a lethal concoction for eavesdropping.

She slid out of bed and through the door, being as quiet as possible. The marble floors of the hallways were cold against her bare feet as she made her way through the labyrinthine mansion. His office was two doors down from hers and up the stairs. To Alex, the dark mahogany staircase creaked like a roaring lion as she crept up. The door to his office was open a crack and a white bar of light shone on Alex's face.

".... He is not quite ready to meet his new partner. Alex is not the most welcoming of people." She heard Lucifer say to Azazel, his demon general. Azazel had dark drown hair, cold gray eyes and carried an aura that reminded her of a terrorist, or mostly Hitler. He looked at Lucifer with a questioning gaze.

"Why did you choose her? She's so.. young. As far as I can see, she is a burden not worthy of your gifts." He said, dripping with contempt of Alex. You're just mad you aren't his favorite. Alex thought, laughing inside. Lucifer seemed to ponder it for a second.

"The younger they are, the brighter the soul. And to handle that kind of power, her soul had to be strong. She called to me for life. At first I was going to use her soul to further our war efforts, but a glimpse at her past showed much sweeter pickings. So much death in her sixteen years, her mother, father, unborn brother and even her grandparents. And yet, she seemed to understand death's importance. Sure, she was angry at their demise, but she realized it was the way of things. She was made from death, and that was what she became." Lucifer's silky deep voice made Alex think that he was right. That she should serve him and care to his every need. Curl up at his feet and... Snap out of it! She thought. He was using his Magnetism, as she called it. His words were like honey, drawing in whoever heard it. It reminded her of all the slogans done by churches about the lure of sins.

"Yes Sir. I understand. War will be here soon. Try to, ah... calm down Alex will you?" Azazel was completely cowed by Lucifer's presence. He dipped his head in respect and in a flash of black smoke, he was gone. Alex's mind raced to different thoughts, her sadness at her families' deaths, wondering what war was coming and what Lucifer had in store for her. She wished beyond anything that she could have asked his name or something before she made the deal. Then she would have noticed the poison under the sugar coating. The Devil in disguise. She had never been particularly religious, unlike her aunt who called her a devil child and said she was responsible for her families' demise. It often left her wondering, if there was a devil, was there a God? Heaven? If so, after her deeds would she ever be allowed into it?

She was drawn out of her thoughts when Lucifer stopped what he was doing and stared at where she huddled outside the door. Her heart jumped to her throat. He can't see me, can he? She thought. She backed away slowly from the door and raced as quietly as she could down the hallway. She took the stairs two steps at a time and didn't stop until she was curled in bed, listening for the sounds of his pursuing footsteps and pretending to be asleep. But his footsteps never came and she was again left wondering what he had been talking about.

For the first time in a long time, she cried. Not bawling, just a few tears but enough to remind her she was still human. Remembering her mother, scented of coffee and always harebrained and busy. Her father, a detective who wasn't around much, but always took her out for ice cream. Her baby brother William, who never lived to take his first breath. And her grandparents she had lived with after her parent's accident. Her grandfather was more like a grandmother, in the sense that he made cookies and enjoyed knitting; he had died from a heart attack. And her unconventional grandmother who liked motorcycles and always wore grease stained overalls, she died in her sleep. After that, Alex had lived with her bitter aunt, Louise. Death had followed her everywhere. And it wasn't fair; it was just what happened.

Her breathing hitched and she held the blankets close, wishing the world would go away. It didn't, it never would, you just had to push on. She turned and clicked off the lamp on her nightstand. The room was plunged into a comforting darkness. The events of the day caught up to her. Three quarters had been uneventful, filled with her playing video games and throwing darts at a hand drawn portrait of Lucifer. It immediately switched when she got her assignment from him and had to go to crap-hole downtown and collect Terrence Bentley's soul. Aside from her obvious problems with that, she had been slapped, sent to her room like a child and then found information that she had no idea what to do with. Her eyes felt warm and heavy, and she soon nodded of. Her dreams were conflicted, filled with images of her car crash and her families' skeletal faces calling behind gray translucent skin.

When she awoke the next day, she felt worse than when she had gone to bed. Her questions still nagged at her in the back of her mind. War. Azazel said war was coming, but what war, and how do I tie into it? Rubbing her eyes, she rolled over to glance at the time and was quite surprised to see a pair of green eyes staring down at her. Jumping up, she hit her head and scrambled into a childish karate pose.

"I'm warning you, mister. I have unconceivable powers" she swiped a hair clump out of her face. "I can make you see what you worst fears." The boy looked about seventeen years old, and very surprised. He had dark brown hair that was messy and wore a gray hoodie and jeans.
"I know ma'am. Alex is it? Mr. Talbot sent me to get acquainted with you. My name is Fáelán Barnes. You are Death; I take it? I am War."