Deals with the Devil (PA #1)

Chapter 8

Willow, Age Twelve

Lucifer always likes to act tough. In a lot of ways, he is. I mean, I've seen him tear demons' heads clean off for the most minor of infractions. Regardless, he doesn't scare me. It's really hard to be frightened by somebody who routinely has dramatic—and frankly embarrassing—breakdowns.

On more than one occasion, I've found the Devil lying down on the floor of his bedroom with his arm thrown over his face, the lights turned off, and R.E.M.'s "Everybody Hurts" playing loudly through hidden speakers. He will sob and yell his way through the lyrics, snapping his fingers to restart the song whenever it finished playing. If pressed, he blames his emotions on being a father, saying that having kids made him soft. His wife, Lilith, is usually quick to point out that he's been having similar breakdowns long before Ragnar was born.

Today is no different. The most feared man in at least three realms is lying on his rug, crying to an early 90s classic. As loud as it is, and as quiet as I've taught myself to be, he doesn't notice my presence until the song cuts out and I knock on his door jamb.

Clearly startled, Lucifer shakes his head before turning it in my direction. He hiccups once before asking, "What are you doing here, Willow? Can't you see I'm—" hiccup "—busy?"

I offer him a commiserating smile. "Ragnar told me that you saw his acceptance letter. While his eventual departure will be hard, you know he still has a year before he has to leave, right? No need to worry about it just yet."

Lucifer temporarily snaps out of his melancholy to give me a dubious look, correctly doubting that Ragnar and I actually spoke. Ever since he officially entered a relationship with Priscilla, I hardly ever see Ragnar, let alone talk to him.

Priscilla is so jealous of any other female interacting with Ragnar that, even though I'm a kid and we're just friends, she does not allow him to be around me. He could stand up to her, but it really isn't worth the headache. Or, at least that's what I tell myself whenever I think of him calling me "Little Warrior" and my heart fills with longing.

No, Lucifer is right to doubt me. Ragnar didn't tell me about his acceptance into Purgatory Academy, an admitted foregone conclusion that all of us were expecting. In actuality, I overheard the conversation Ragnar had with his father about it and then came to check on Lucifer once I was sure he had some time to digest the news.

Seeing that I'm not going to respond to his non-verbal question, Lucifer sighs before patting the spot next to him in invitation. "Come sit down, Willow. I want to tell you a story."

I walk across the heated tile floors and sit next to Lucifer on his furry rug. I also try very hard not to think about what type of animal could have a pelt this big. I really don't need any more nightmares than I already have.

He runs his hand through his curly black hair before making eye contact with me. It's crazy how much Lucifer and Ragnar are physically alike, as if Lucifer successfully cloned a carbon copy of himself seventeen years ago. Ragnar also shares the Devil's temper, although unlike his father, Ragnar prefers to keep the rest of his emotions close to his chest.

Lucifer starts in without any further preamble. "There was once an almighty angel in Heaven, favored by God and his peers for embodying the seven virtues that they all held so dear. One day, God decided that the angels, as great as they were, weren't enough to satisfy whatever need compelled Him to create the angels in the first place."

Cutting him off, I ask the most obvious question. "Are you supposed to be the almighty angel in this story? Because one of those seven virtues you mentioned is humility. Not sure that calling yourself almighty is indicative of that."