Kaitlyn stared up at the ceiling, feeling numb. Somehow, she felt both light and heavy. She could feel the pain of her situation like a twist in her chest and yet it felt distant, like it was the feeling of someone else.
She managed to sit up. The tears were sticky on her cheeks. The sweat had dried on her skin. Satan's cum had turned to a crust between her legs. But at least he hadn't come back. She stared at the door, wondering where he'd gone. Thankful he was gone.
Feeling dazed, she stood and went over to the bathroom. Like so many things in this place, the tub filled impossibly fast. Magically fast. The surface was steaming as she climbed in. She dunked her head under the water, then began scrubbing herself. She needed to get him off her. She needed to get him out of her. His smell was everywhere—and it was dreadful and confusing and exhilarating all at the same time. Then there was the ash. That poor demon. Struggling not to cry, she dunked her head again.
Leaning back against the edge, she gazed up at the candelabra. 'Jacob,' she whispered.
Thinking of how she'd found him, curled up on the floor a black husk, she shivered. He'd been in agony for weeks. Tortured like the rest of the Damned. Like the guilty. And she suddenly wondered, if Satan could torture someone as good and kind as Jacob, who else might he be torturing? Could there be other good, or simply unfortunate souls burning amid the flames?
Look at the demon, hadn't it been good?
The possibility drove a stab of guilt deep into her guts. She was such a fool. Her eyes fell to her belly, the water making her skin gleam. A wave of hatred lit up like fireworks inside her. For the first time, she truly hated the thing growing inside her.
She truly hated him.
She stood. She was kidding herself. Sure, she might be able to protect Jacob now as the baby grew inside her but what was going to happen afterwards? Once Satan had the body he needed, why would he bother with her? Why would he bother with Jacob? He could crucify them. He could tear them apart. Worse—he could torture them both endlessly.
No matter Jacob's warning, she needed to get rid of it. But how to do it?
She needed to act quickly. She needed to be sure. If Satan walked in on her ... she turned her head with a grimace as she recalled the image of his demonic figure gnawing on her fingers. The horror of it made her stomach drop. Sometimes she forgot. Sometimes she forgot how truly awful he could be. He was Satan after all. His beauty made it easy to forget. His gentleness too. Sometimes he could be almost as gentle as Jacob ...
Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she stepped out of the tub. She didn't bother drying herself as she returned to the room and looked around. Hairbrush. Jewellery box. There were plenty of candles. She glanced back into the bathroom but there were only towels and soap and more candles. She could stick hot wax inside her—but would that do anything? She didn't know. There were her fists. She could beat herself—but that was easier said than done. She needed something swift. Preferably something sharp.
Kaitlyn searched and searched—but there was nothing. Perhaps she should wait for her next meal. There would be utensils: forks, knives. She could even use the handle of a spoon. But who was to say he wasn't watching her? Who was to say he wouldn't know exactly what she was thinking? Sometimes she wondered ...
Kaitlyn looked around the room fearfully, then snapped her head towards the window. What was she thinking? She had a whole world of possibility. Jacob suffered weeks in the flames. Other souls suffered for hundreds of years. Why should she be any different?
It was almost poetic.
Perhaps the better choice would be to be selfless. Perhaps it was time to be brave. She needed to do more than just rid herself of the baby. Her mouth quivered as she thought of Jacob. If she took her own life, she might never see him again.
But what other choice did she have?
Approaching the door, she paused. She leaned her ear against it but couldn't tell whether any of The Fallen were waiting outside. Quietly, she opened the door—onto an empty hallway. Kaitlyn scoured the shadows but they were free of lurking figures.
She moved fast, barely making a noise. Trying to control her breathing, she turned two corners, both times sending a thrill of fear through her, expecting Satan to be there waiting to catch her, as he'd done so many times before.
The doors leading outside were ahead. Red light poured in through the gap. She squeezed between them and then she was out! She couldn't believe it. The ashy ground sank beneath her feet as she struggled to run. It was sweltering outside and so humid she couldn't sweat. Forced to a fast walk, she scrambled on ahead. The swirling grey sky, the belching volcanos, the screaming voices—it was all so different now. So horrifying. She'd forgotten.
Kaitlyn glanced over her shoulder. Satan's castle loomed over her, a jagged pinnacle of volcanic rock, looking more like something out of a dark fairytale than reality. It made her shiver. She had to get away. Even if it meant into more danger.
She stood at the top of a hill. Below, rivers of oily water snaked and bubbled between fields of roaring fires. Some fires were as big as houses and so hot Kaitlyn could feel their heat radiating from afar. She turned her face with a grimace when one of them roared like a living, breathing monster, soaring high into the sky. Kaitlyn blinked as it dazzled her eyes.
Panting, she looked over her shoulder again. She needed to act quickly. If he found her, there was no way she would ever be able to leave the room again. She would have even less freedom than she did now. I don't need your heart. In fact, I don't need most of your body. Just your torso will do. I could cut off your arms. I could cut off your legs.
She'd been brave once; she could do it again.
Kaitlyn wiped her face. 'I'm sorry, Jacob.' A sob caught in her throat. 'I'm sorry I did this to you.'
She charged down the hill, the ash squishing beneath her feet, turning her ankles and making her stumble. She was so hot it felt like her eyes were burning in her head. The flames were so bright it hurt to see. She shouted. It was too hot.
Raising her arms, she skidded to a stop and stumbled back. The air was searing her throat and she couldn't open her eyes at all. She wasn't even close to the nearest fire and yet it already felt like she was burning.
With a cry, her eyes tightly shut, she tried to lurch forward, only to fall back again. She couldn't catch her breath. Her body quivered as she retreated back up the slope. All her strength had left her, as though her muscles had liquified.
She collapsed into the ash. She was so thirsty it felt like someone was clawing their nails up her throat.
She slammed her fist into the ground. 'Coward!' She lay defeated, sobbing.
Useless. Useless.
There had to be another way. Think, Kaitlyn, think. Then she had it: if she couldn't run into the flames, then what else could she do?
And suddenly it was obvious.
Staggering to her feet, she charged back towards the castle. She didn't care to be quiet as she slipped back through the doors and sped through the halls. Lower demons scattered out of her way but there was no sign of The Fallen—and no sign of Satan.
Soon, she found herself where she needed to be. Across the bridge were the enormous doors leading into the throne room. Kaitlyn swallowed, the guilt of all the terrible things she'd done sitting like a block of ice in the pit of her stomach.
Ignoring the carving's flashing ruby eyes, she turned her attention to the bridge and the river of fire below. She couldn't feel the heat so much from this height. She could smell the smoke, though. As she gazed into the flaming depths, her eyes stung and her throat burned.
Do it.
But even as she gripped the thick stone railing with her trembling hands, she had her doubts. Could she do it again? Was she still brave? Or had Satan taken that, too, along with her conscience?
Breathless and sore, she pulled herself up onto the railing until she was sitting on the edge with her legs dangling over. This would be easier than slitting her wrists, she tried to convince herself. All she needed to do was push herself over. One little shove. She might not even feel anything. Who knew where the ground was? The flames would swallow her whole. She'd probably be a blackened skeleton by the time she did find the bottom.
She'd be nothing. Maybe even dust. Even Satan might not be able to find her. He might not even discover what happened to her. The thought was oddly empowering.
Still ... Kaitlyn swallowed as she looked down into the flames. Her hands trembled so hard she almost propelled herself over the edge. She swung back so fiercely she almost toppled back onto the bridge.
Gasping, Kaitlyn gripped onto the railing so hard her hands hurt. Her heart was pounding fiercely enough she could feel it throughout her body. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she gazed above, but the swirling dark clouds revealed nothing. Closing her eyes, she pictured a blue sky and all that waited for her beyond. For, surely, she would go to heaven.
But how do you know? spoke an unwanted voice. After all that you've done. Traitor. Harlot. Monster fucker. Would God really accept you?
Kaitlyn opened her eyes. What if she ended up in hell? Back into Satan's hands? This time as one of his tormented Damned?
'But at least he won't rule the Earth.' Her voice trembled. 'And I'd be with Jacob, in a way."
Closing her eyes, she took a breath and shoved herself forward. She screamed as the bridge fell away. First there was the wind slapping her face. Then the heat. It was like a punch in the face. She could feel it slicing through her body like razor blades. Her throat ached. Her eyes felt like they were boiling in their sockets. So much for not feeling pain.
She hit something soft with a thump. Kaitlyn snapped open her eyes, then shut them again as the agony built. It built and built, rising around her like jagged glass, tearing her mind and body apart.
Rolling onto her side, she curled up into a ball and screamed. It felt like there were flames buried within her flesh, burning her from the inside out. She dared to touch her skin and screamed again. It felt sticky like a frog's and peeled away in her hands.
Though they ached like someone was driving their knuckles into them, she opened her eyes—and her worst nightmare was realised. She hadn't died. Worse—she was lying in a familiar bed, webs of melted skin draped between her fingers. The rest of her was black, like she'd been scorched on a barbecue.
She screamed again, then coughed. Then gagged. Something was wrong. She couldn't breathe. She grabbed for her throat as she tried desperately to gulp down the air but it wouldn't come. The pain in her chest was even worse than the pain in her body. Darkness swam over her eyes.
'Kaitlyn,' came a cry amid her gasping breaths. 'Kaitlyn!'
A tall shadow moved in the darkness, looming over her like death come to take her away.
Agony shot up her arm when something latched onto her burned wrist. She tried to scream but again her throat wouldn't allow it. Her tongue felt enormous. It was filling her mouth.
Then the pain stopped. Just like that, as though somebody had flicked off a switch. She released her throat as she gulped down lungful after lungful of wonderful air.
She blinked rapidly as her vision came back into focus. Daring to look down at herself, she burst into tears. The nightmare was gone. No longer sticky and wet or charred black to the bone, her skin was brown and smooth again.
She looked over at the figure who had seemed so much like death. He was sitting on the bed next to her, still gripping her wrist, his magnificent angel eyes bright with fear. She didn't have to ask to know that he'd healed her. That he'd saved her, just as he shouldn't have.
Without thinking, she threw herself into his arms with a sob, wrapping her arms around him. Startled, he embraced her back. She couldn't stop the sobbing. Her crying racked her body like someone was killing her. Tears rolled down his shoulder. She held him more tightly as she struggled against the remembered agony, that terrible flashback of melted skin.
'It's okay, Kaitlyn,' Lucifer said in her ear. 'You're all better now.'
He pressed his face into her shoulder and a powerful warmth flooded her body. Moments later, she stopped sobbing, sagging in Lucifer's arms as she allowed him to drain the awful feelings away. She shouldn't be doing this. She shouldn't be holding him—the things he'd done. The things he'd done to Jacob. But she couldn't help it.
'What the hell were you thinking?' he said.
'I tried to kill myself,' she croaked.
'Clearly.'
'I need to die.'
'I won't let you. I told you that.'
'I almost did.'
'It won't happen again.'
Kaitlyn pulled from his arms. Reluctantly, Lucifer released her. He was frowning. His usually smooth brow was deeply furrowed. His jaw was hard. But it wasn't from anger. 'How do you feel?'
Kaitlyn hiccoughed.
Shaking his head, he pulled from the bed. 'I should punish you for what you did. I need to punish you.' He twisted his mouth. 'Do you not think I'll do it? Do you still dare to underestimate me?' He raised his voice. 'I can heal you just as much as I can destroy Jacob. Shall I make his skin melt off too?' He raised his hands as though about to do just that.
Kaitlyn's skin prickled. Her belly twisted into a hard knot as she thought of the savage flames. The magic he'd used to calm her down was wearing off.
'You'll just kill him in the end anyway.' Kaitlyn gripped onto herself as she started to shiver. 'Why's it so cold in here?'
She looked over to the unlit fireplace. It felt like someone was pouring icy water into her veins. Her arms began trembling uncontrollably. Her teeth were chattering. All the hairs were standing up on her arms and legs. First she was burning; now she was freezing. Was her body confused?
'I feel sick,' she said.
'You're in shock.'
Something in his voice made her swivel her eyes back to him. He was unusually pale and his lips were thin. Grabbing onto her shoulders, he eased her back into bed, then rested a big warm hand on her pelvis. Strangely enough, it was trembling. Warmth flooded her once again and Kaitlyn sighed.
He wasn't looking at her, his face turned away towards the window. He was rigid, his wings standing tall at his back. Then she noticed something that made her freeze.
'Where'd that come from?' she said.
He turned to her. 'What?'
'There's blood on your fingers.'
Satan followed her gaze. He looked dazed, as though he wasn't sure what he was seeing. 'It's Jacob's.'
'You-you hurt him?'
'He annoyed me.'
Kaitlyn pressed her lips together. The coldness of her shock vanished behind a wall of fury. Then she was hitting him, screaming and cursing. Distantly, she told herself to stop, that it would only make him angry. That it would make things worse for Jacob. But she was completely out of control, all emotion and no logic.
And yet, Lucifer did nothing, letting her punch him, slap him, drag her nails down his arms—until she exhausted herself and slumped back into bed, panting.
'I really hate you,' she gasped.
She tried to take slow deep breaths as her shock and rage slowly wore off.
The mattress rose as Lucifer stood. He walked over to the door. 'Hate me as you should,' he spoke, his back towards her. 'I do not blame you.'
He left, closing the door behind him. Kaitlyn stared at it, not sure what to feel, her insides balled up so tight that she was finding it difficult to breathe again.
She turned her eyes to the ceiling as a tear rolled down her cheek. Her hands trembled as she laid them on her chest. All was lost. She'd failed. She was stuck here for an eternity while Jacob suffered and the world burned.
Kaitlyn swallowed. 'Please, God, if you're really here, if you can hear me, help us. Help him.'
And her heart was in such a tangle, she wasn't sure which him she was referring to.