Joan's head was spinning. She'd heard of Lucifer, of course, albeit under his unflattering alias. Who hadn't heard of Satan? Beelzebub. The Prince of Hell and Darkness. But she'd always imagined the Devil to have horns and goat legs. That he was a beast like they'd all made him out to be.
But the man who stood before her looked nothing like a beast. He was dangerously handsome. Anyone could lose themselves to him completely. This Lucifer had something about him. A most beguiling man indeed. Yet, Joan sensed something was off about him the moment he touched her hand - a darkness around him. Inside him.
"You don't have to fear me, my dear girl." Lucifer chuckled as she quickly lowered her eyes and took her hand back. "I have only your best interest at heart. Yours, and, of course..."
He gestured her belly. Instinct took over, and Joan wrapped her cardigan around her as if that alone could protect the baby. She peered up through her lashes to see Lucifer's eyes narrowed at her action. He raised her chin with one finger. The moment she looked into his onyx eyes, she felt an inexplicable desire to throw herself into his arms. Somehow, she stood her ground.
Gabriël, a silent witness to the scene, suddenly pushed himself between them. The contact with Lucifer broke, and Joan felt the daze in her head clear as rapidly as it had taken over. She took a step aside. What in Heaven's name just happened?
"They're both healthy," said Gabriël in a firm tone of voice. "I thank you for your concern, Lucifer, but that's not why I called you here. There's a situation."
"A situation? Nothing too bad, I hope?" The Devil raised a brow.
"Borgia somehow tracked down the families of the Nephilim of this Sanctum. We believe he's seeking retribution for a personal grievance."
"I think I know what this grievance might be." Lucifer tsk-ed in annoyance. "Was anyone killed?"
"He attacked a young woman and her son," replied Joan. "They barely made it out alive. We don't know if they were the first."
He gave her a brief sideways glance. Even like this, Joan sensed him watching her closely. It was very hard to feel comfortable around this man, yet the urge to trust him was near impossible to ignore.
"If you can help us, we might prevent the worst from happening," said Gabriël. "I know I have no right to ask for your aid again, but -"
"Don't be silly, Gabriël. I vowed to help you when you needed help, did I not? Besides, Borgia's actions go against all I have decreed in the Circles. I shall deal with him, but I must ask a small favour in return. I need you to pass a message to Michael."
"I thought you wanted to keep a low profile?"
"He doesn't have to know it's from me. Just make sure he understands the importance."
Lucifer handed Gabriël a folded piece of paper, who opened it and quickly scanned over the words. Joan saw the utter shock in his expression as his mouth dropped and his eyes widened in terror. She tried to read over his shoulder, but Gabriël hastily lowered the paper to keep her from doing so. He subtly shook his head at her. She huffed in response.
More secrets. Great.
"How do I know that any word of this is true?" demanded Gabriel. "This isn't exactly bad news for you. Why warn your enemy?"
"This affects all of us," said Lucifer. "Both the Vale and the Circles. Mortal souls taken by them are lost forever, you know that. And I'm not the one who has lied to you for years, Gabriël. I have kept my word so far, haven't I?"
Touché, thought Joan. One point for the Devil.
She watched Gabriël's body language closely. He'd been tense from the moment he brought her outside, but something was different now. His inner struggle bubbled right underneath the surface. Gabriël had always been one of God's favourites, and Joan had never imagined he would've been capable of breaking his vow of loyalty. Yet the vow he broke had been towards Michael, not God. So what did that mean for this Devil's pact he made? Just how far would Lucifer make her love go?
"I'll make sure Michael gets the message," Gabriël finally said, much to her surprise.
"Excellent." Lucifer flashed a grin. "Then I will have words with our mutual friend. I shall leave you now, but we will undoubtedly meet again soon. Very soon."
His eyes met Joan's. Her heart lurched in her chest. What was he doing to her? With that last lingering gaze on her, the Devil disappeared in a swirl of black and red smoke, leaving Joan and Gabriël alone again. She exhaled slowly, realising only now that she'd been holding her breath the entire time. Her hand slipped into Gabriël's, desperately seeking support. His ocean eyes locked with hers.
"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.
"No," admitted Joan. "Please, take me back inside."
He guided her into the Sanctum, a white light flashing briefly to announce their entry. None of the Nephilim appeared, though. The silence in the hall was deafening. Gabriël pulled her along, but Joan's body refused to move. He looked back at her.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
"This doesn't feel right," she said. "He doesn't feel right."
"I had to do something, Joan. Lucifer has the power to put a stop to Borgia. There's already enough blood spilt because of that son of a bitch. Besides, we needed to be sure he wouldn't try to come after us as well. Anne isn't the only one he considers his foe."
"I know that. What I don't know is what to make of Lucifer. He's so -"
"Tempting," finished Gabriël. "Yes, I'm aware. He has that effect on those who meet him for the first time. Lucifer was the first temptation. He draws people in with his charm and allure. Even amongst ourselves, it was very hard to say no to him. It's what made him so dangerous in the past. With the darkness of the Circles living in and around him, he's become even more of a threat."
"You... won't meet with him again, though. You don't have to stand at his side in what's to come. Right?"
Gabriël's lips pressed into a thin line. There it was again - that turmoil inside of him. Joan felt herself go cold. Noticing her dismay, Gabriël cupped her face and leaned in to kiss her brow. She knew the tender act was meant to reassure her, yet it had the opposite effect as her thoughts once more ran wild.
"Gabriël, please -"
"Go back to your room and get some sleep. We'll finish this conversation later, I promise. But right now, I have to send this to Michael before it's too late."
His lips brushed against hers, and then he let go. As Gabriël walked off toward the library, Joan placed a hand on the swell of her belly. For the first time since discovering she was carrying his child, she feared for them.
***
Grigori watched from a corner of the room as Katheryn Howard and Erzsebet Bathory treated Borgia's wounds. The injuries he sustained in his fight with the Frenchwoman were relatively minor, but Thomas Wyatt'd crushed his chest with magic. Grigori had heard bones crack in those few seconds he had hovered above the warrior. The Circles didn't have an infirmary, so any injured were treated wherever they lay (if they were treated at all because Hell was meant for suffering).
The Blood Countess had been tending to him for what seemed like hours. Katheryn kept washing away the blood from his battered body as she used her own magic to undo whatever harm the Nephilim mage had caused. The injured warrior howled in pain at everything she did.
Grigori felt no sympathy for the man. It was his own fault he was in this state. No one had ever gone after a Nephilim child before. It was one of those unspoken rules; only go after the Nephilim themselves, not their offspring. His further actions, though, had sealed Borgia's fate. For no demon, no matter how privileged they were, could kill a mortal.
All humans were born with as much potential for evil as for good. It was their life's choices that ultimately decided the outcome. Of course, that didn't mean both angel and demon alike didn't do their utmost to 'persuade' a soul to join their side. The last decades in particular had proven quite fruitful for the Circles as demons had brought out every depravity and wickedness in the world above, pushing humans to the very brink.
Yet all this was achieved through mind games and the demon's influence on the human. An enchantment here, a few well-spoken words there, perhaps a life-altering incident to top it all off, and that was that. Whether the human took their own life or their death resulted from a life-time of bad choices, that didn't matter. As long as the demon did not directly end the human's life, all was allowed. It was there that lay Borgia's true disobedience.
As Grigori wondered what the Master would say of the fool's actions, he heard the Master's footsteps in the corridor. He slipped outside and stilled as the imposing figure approached quickly. There was no emotion on that handsomely sculpted face. A bad omen, if any.
"Forgive me, Master." Grigori bowed deeply. "I did not mean to disobey, but -"
"It's all right, Grigori. You have no blame for this." The Master's voice held a dark edge. "Come, I wish for you to witness this before you return to the Sanctum."
The Prince of Hell and Darkness entered Borgia's chamber. Grigori followed and returned to his corner, relieved the Master was not angry with him. He wouldn't want to be in the Bastard's shoes.
The Howard girl startled and nearly dropped a bowl of water she'd fetched when she lay eyes on the Devil. Bathory stepped back from the Borgia Bastard's bedside, tired, sweat gleaming on her brow. Borgia himself tried to get up to pay his respects to the Master, but he grimaced in pain and dropped back onto the cushions. All eyes were on the Master. All waited anxiously for him to speak. Of all the terrors in the Circles, they were right to fear this one the most.
"Well, well, signore. You look quite worn out. And all from fighting a woman protecting her son. But then she was no ordinary woman, was she? How many did you believe you could kill before one would fight back? Before the Nephilim, themselves, would stop you? Before I learned of what you were doing?"
"My Lord, I -"
"SILENCE!" The savage rage exploding from the Devil made everyone in the chamber cower. "You do not get to decide when we attack the Nephilim or their progeny! You do not get to decide when and if we take human life! That privilege is mine, and mine alone! You are fortunate indeed that Grigori stepped in and saved you. I would have left you to rot. And speaking of rotting..."
The Master covered the distance between himself and the Blood Countess in a few strides. She yelped as he pushed her back against the wall with one hand. With the other, he grabbed hold of her silver amulet.
"You did not inform me of this little favour you did our friend, my dear Countess, nor did you stop him. You understand, of course, you will be punished for your own foolishness. Fortunately for you, I still have need of you. So, for now, you'll have to get used to being the monster you truly are."
"My Lord, no!"
But her plea came too late. The Master had already broken off the lower half of her amulet. Bathory's skin rotted instantly. Her hair turned grey, her beautiful clothes torn and tattered. No longer a stately Countess, but a crooked old hag who had lost every trace of beauty she'd once possessed.
"My Lord, I beg you!" She fell to her knees, clutching the Master's leg. "Not this! Anything but this, please!"
"You've always denied your true self, Erzsebet. The blood of those virgins kept your skin young and beautiful, but you were always rotten to the core. Now it's out there for all to see."
He pushed her away, crudely and without sparing her another glance. Grigori turned his attention to the others in the room. Katheryn's hand was clasped over her mouth, and her eyes stood wide with fear. Borgia lay frozen in his bed. His expression was one Grigori had never seen before. Finally, the man knew what terror and panic felt like.
"As for you, Borgia," said the Master as he turned to him, "you will move to one of the lower levels and stay under arrest until I give you permission to venture outside again. Destroy everything you have about the Nephilim children. You've shed enough blood for now. Were it not because you served me loyally these past weeks, I would have you thrown back into the pit where you belong. Disobey or go behind my back again, and I'll show you what Hell is really like!"
The Bastard seemed only capable of nodding, uttering not a word in his defence. Only one last guilty party in the room remained. Katheryn recoiled, stumbling over her feet as his dark eyes bore into her. She fell backward and scuttled away, but couldn't make it to the door in time. The Master towered over her. He reached down and sifted his hand through her silky hair. She sat petrified, staring up at him.
"Don't think I've forgotten about you, little Howard bitch. You won't be putting any more ideas into signore Borgia's head. Remove yourself from his presence, and mine. NOW!"
The girl crawled up and fled. Grigori wondered at the soft punishment. Bathory and Borgia were stripped of what they had strived to gain – beauty, standing, power... Why shouldn't Katheryn lose that as well? She must have been instrumental in the plan since she was a blood relative to Anne Boleyn.
Perhaps... But no, it couldn't have been the idea of such a ditzy girl. Still, I wonder...
***
The Devil and his lapdog left together. Only when the door closed did Cesare breathe again. He looked down at his hand. He was trembling uncontrollably. Never had he been so afraid in his entire existence. He picked up movement from the corner of his eyes. Bathory had joined him again and was about to continue his treatment, but Cesare slapped her hand away as her fingers touched his chest.
"Get off me, you foul hag!"
She scowled at him and raised her hand again. Cesare gritted his teeth as he felt her magic course through him once more. His pain fuelled the fury brewing inside him.
"Ugh, curse that little Howard whore!" he spat out.
"Don't blame the girl," said the Countess. "She merely wished to be of service to you. You should have handled it better, anyway. How could you have been so stupid and killed them yourself instead of creating an accident or drive them to suicide? Is your pride and ego really that great you did not think of the consequences of your actions?"
Cesare threw her a menacing glare. She scoffed in reply.
"Don't look at me like that. You know I'm right. Use that minuscule brain of yours for two seconds and remember what I told you before about Katheryn Howard. Or do you honestly believe her own dull mind came up with this idea?"
"What do you mean?"
"Little Kitty is a stupid, silly girl, but she knows how to play to the game. And from what I saw just now, she appears to be winning. She has learned from past mistakes and is careful to whom she truly offers service to. That is something to consider for the future. Now shut up and let me concentrate; I'm almost done."
Cesare pondered over Bathory's words. Was Kitty truly more than what she appeared to be? To think that a simple girl like her could have twisted him around her little finger to serve her own or another's agenda seemed like a farfetched idea. But it was not impossible. If it was truly the case, it came to show he had underestimated yet another woman. That was his weakness. He believed none but his dearest Lucrezia could go up against him. She'd always been the exception to every rule. But she was a Borgia, like him. Born strong and defiant.
The women he had recently met had all proven him wrong, though. Joan of Arc, Anne Boleyn, that damn woman tonight... They had all humiliated him. Made a mockery of him. For that, he would make them pay. Dearly.