CHAPTER NINE
Calum & Jesus.
• LUCIFER / LUKE HEMMINGS •
When I was younger, my mother always used to tell me to play nice. She'd never tell Michael, or Calum. It would always be me.
Perhaps it was because I often played too rowdy, or because I never knew when to stop after I had started. Maybe it was because I'd always be too blinded by rage to pay attention; the literal colour red, as bright and as shocking as my skin down below.
She'd grab me by the shoulders and shake me, ever so slightly, her lips pursed and her eyebrows furrowed. My mother was nothing but a clump of energy yet when she took over a body she felt real, as if she'd always looked the same regardless of how she never truly looked like anything.
On the day of question, she had long blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes and a frame that made her look much too motherly and much too stereotypical. I'll never forget that day.
My hands tighten around the man's throat and suddenly, everything about him comes to me in a nauseating rush. It happens. I'm not proud of it.
His name is Christopher Annexe, he's forty-five, and he has a long history of substance abuse. He beats his current wife and he beat his ex-wife, that's why she left him, and she left him on March 12th 2009 when the justice system failed her and she took matters into her own hands. He also has a daughter, yet he's attracted to young women of about the same age. He is disgusting, and he is scum.
His eyes meet mine and they're filled with fear. I don't like what I do, the steps I took to get here. I don't like scarring people for life and I certainly do not revel in the aftermath; but this is well deserved. I can't afford to tell myself otherwise.
Christopher Annexe starts pleading, starts begging. He's seen my eyes and he knows who I am. Humans are funny little things; they panic when they come across things that they can no longer explain. He's panicking now because somewhere, deep down inside of him, is a fire that I've ignited; fear in its truest form, the work of Satan.
He knows and he's terrified and I'm giddy and next to me, Calum's reaching for my arm, face filled with worry, silent words telling me to step away.
"What's the matter, Annexe?" that's not my voice. That's nowhere near my voice. My voice on Earth is low, a drawl, slightly seductive if I do say so myself. It could pass for the vocal chords of a rock band's lead singer, if we're being honest.
But this is different. This voice has been raised in Hell and stuck in Hell, and only Christopher Annexe can hear it. My fingers tighten. "That's enough, Luci." Calum whispers. He's scared. I don't know where Sophie is anymore, or where any of her fellow coworkers and managers have scurried off to, but I'm on a high that I can't help but feel guilty of and Christopher is under my fingers, crying, choking, in hysterics.
Play nice, Lucifer. I think about my mother and I think about the people around me. I could kill him, quite easily; it wouldn't take much at all. I highly doubt he'd be missed. He's a walking pile of garbage and the world would be better off without him, surely, but I can't bring myself to do it.
"Luke," Calum's voice is hushed as he comes towards me. Nobody else can hear him but Christopher and I, "Put him down."
I don't listen. He proceeds, his soft voice quiet and reassuring and so like our mother's that I actually loosen my grip, "This isn't you, Luci. You don't do this," he lies, "You punish evil. You do. You always have- but you are not it."
My fingers slowly begin to unravel because I know he's right. I am Lucifer, Satan, Beelzebub, the Devil, and I punish evil. I punish the people who revel in evil, worship a Devil they don't understand. But I am not evil incarnate, and that's where the line is drawn.
Without thinking about it any further, I let Christopher go.
Play nice, Lucifer.
As soon as I do so, Calum's at my side, hands on my arms to pull me away. A familiar looking man with curly hair takes Christopher Annexe outside but Christopher can't even walk. He stumbles, knocks into a chair. He screams at it. He's going insane and when he looks back at me, he begins to cry.
"Come on," Calum mumbles. I press my car keys into the palm of his hand and together we go outside, looking like the oddest duo on the planet after Cain and Abel. He slides into the driver's seat and I take the passenger's without another word, "We can eat at home."
♱
I am in an awful mood and Calum tries to atone for it by ordering takeaway. Everything tastes surprisingly good and it's only until he makes me a plate that I realise how hungry I am; I haven't eaten all day and I'm so tired, I could sleep for the rest.
"Maybe being on Earth does weird things to you," Calum suggests, handing me a box of noodles as well as a pair of chopsticks that neither of us have any idea how to use, "Like, every time you show someone who you are, maybe your energy goes down?"
"If that's true, then I'm never being the fucking Devil ever again," I mumble, a frown on my face as I stab at the food with the two sticks.
I'm still thinking of Sophie because I didn't get to see her before we left. I don't even know if she stayed long enough to watch the whole thing. "I'm yawning every damn second. Is that normal?" I ask.
"I don't know," Calum shrugs, "I can call Michael, ask him to come over? Maybe he can tell us,"
"Or maybe he'll finally drag me back down now that I can't keep both eyes open," I reply cynically, knowing full well the lengths my older brother would go to if that were the case.
"Oh, stop it," Calum says sheepishly. I ignore him, instead choosing to focus on the food at hand when suddenly, the elevator sounds and I immediately shoot a glare his way.
"You didn't." I threaten.
"Didn't want?"
"You've already invited him over, haven't you?"
"What? No!" Calum exclaims, his expressions much too animated to be considered genuine, "Of course not,"
"Gabriel," I say, sternly.
"It. Is. Calum," he corrects me yet again, before beginning to walk towards the elevator itself, "And I couldn't not invite him, okay? Michael loves Chinese food almost as much as Jesus. You know how much that is?"
"I don't care."
"It's a lot, Luci!" he emphasises, before the doors slide open and out steps the worst of God's children- if you take away my rebellion, of course. "Nobody loves Chinese food as much as Jesus. Hey, Mikey,"
"Calum." Michael nods.
"And please," the backpacked angel pipes up once more, much to my surprise as he begins unpacking the rest of the food, "No 'dragging Lucifer back home' talk. Today, we are bonding."
"Bonding?" Michael echoes, sauntering inside with an air of purpose circulating around his figure.
He doesn't seem to be as fussed with getting me where I'm supposed to be anymore and I can't say I dislike it. Then he glances towards me, the look on his face practically begging to be wiped off with a punch or two, "Still here, then?"
"What part of a vacation do you not understand?"
"The Devil from Hell part,"
"Ha-ha. Very funny," I mumble, "Sit down and eat your stupid food,"
"Don't mind if I do."
We begin eating our stupid food in silence, but Calum's adamant on not letting such a spectacular bonding experience go to waste, so he insists we tell each other about our days: me first, unfortunately.
"Luci did a very nice thing today," he tells Michael. He's practically beaming with pride and as I jab my chopsticks into the remainder of my noodle box, I can't help but feel like a child. "Well, nice and mean. It was a cross. It had good intentions, though,"
"What did you do?" Michael's already raising his eyebrow at me and I want to lift one of the chopsticks up and slap him with it, really hard, not enough to leave a scar but just enough to mark a bruise.
"Nothing."
"He saved a woman," Calum interjects, passing out dumplings like a mother in charge, "A human woman,"
"More like a girl," I correct him, "A little girl."
Michael reiterates, "Define little girl,"
I nod, "She's nineteen. That's little in human years, right?"
"Sure," he says passively, shovelling a forkful of food into his mouth before chewing out a, "What's this about you saving her, then?"
I don't want to tell him but Calum makes me do so anyway, and Calum also makes me eat the last two spring rolls and an extra dumpling.
When asked why by the other angel, he just shrugs, crinkling his nose, "When Luci does the Devil thing down here, it makes him weak. So, we have to feed him to get his energy levels back up,"
"This isn't Pac Man, Calum," I say.
"I know it's not. You're not as fun," he shoots back at me, and a part of me is impressed.
Michael sits up, suddenly invested in the conversation now, "Weak as in how? Physically?"
"We don't know yet," I mumble. As Calum tries to coax yet another roll into my mouth, I'm just about able to turn my head away. "No, don't. I can't have anymore,"
"But Devil's don't get full," he frowns, "Neither do angels. We don't even need to eat, do we, Michael?"
Michael shakes his head. Calum's eyebrows furrow. They both look at me.
"Are you getting full, Lucifer?"
"Do you mind not saying it like that?" I glare at them both, "Using my full name's bad enough. Both of you saying it at the same time makes it even worse,"
"That shouldn't be happening to you, though." Michael notes, wiping his hands on the napkins scattered across the table as he stands with Calum.
They're both looming over me now, like two morbidly clingy guardian angels who have no idea how to act.
"Do you bleed?" he asks me.
"I don't know. I haven't tried," I say honestly, before pausing, "How does that prove anything?"
"Angels don't bleed, Lucifer. So you shouldn't either," Michael walks over to the mini bar behind my piano and begins to rummage, his shaggy green hair poking out from the island in a very entertaining way. As he stands back up, I see a knife in his hand, and I practically fling myself off of the seat.
"You can fuck off with that thing,"
"Relax," he rolls his eyes.
With no hesitation, he takes it to the top of his wrist and drags it down, right to the beginning of his forearm. I can't help but cringe, even as he pulls it away and there's nothing but raised skin where a fresh slice should be.
It's a familiar sight, something that used to happen many times to me back in Hell. But everything here is different, strangely so, and I don't even know whether my body's still the same- despite the lack of change in my brothers.
Michael then tries to hand the blade over to Calum, whose eyebrows raise in disbelief, "Uh... no thanks. I hate blood,"
"Just one prick, Calum,"
"I don't bleed, trust me. Why do you think I've never donated blood before?"
"It's not going to hurt-"
"No," Calum argues quickly, "Are you kidding me? Me and that sticky red stuff are not friends. I passed out when I saw what they did to Jesus,"
"But he's alright, isn't he?"
"He died, Michael."
"But he's better now,"
"He still died, Michael!"
"Fucking- give it here," I intervene in annoyance, wrenching the stupid thing out of Michael's hand and positioning it just above my arm.
They take a large step back, as if expecting something uncontrollable to happen. But before I can do anything, a familiar ding sounds throughout the penthouse and everyone pauses, eyes snapping towards the elevator.
"Did you invite anyone else?" I hear Michael ask, his confusion very clear. The elevator itself is currently halfway up the apartment complex, with its final destination being my own and as Calum speaks, I watch it stop.
"No. You're the only friends I have here,"
"That's really sad, Gabriel."
"Calum."
I toss the knife onto the seat I'd just been sitting on, arms folded as the doors part slowly and the person on the other side timidly steps out; a bottle of vodka in one hand with a neatly tied bow, and a red card in the other scribbled with the words: Luke Hemingway Hemmings.
"Sophie?" I say, stunned.
"Hi," she says, her face beaming and bright, no longer that scared expression I'd seen just hours prior. As she takes a step forward, her cheeks grow red, teeth biting down gently onto her pink bottom lip, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything-"
"No," I say, shaking my head. My voice is quiet now and behind me, I can hear Calum and Michael busying themselves with other things. I step aside, willing her to walk further in.
"Don't worry," I smile, and it's barely there due to the eavesdropping nuisances I call my brothers, but it relaxes the young girl regardless, "You're not interrupting anything at all. I'm actually really happy to see you,"
"You are?"
I nod. I'm about to offer Sophie a seat (preferably not the one with a knife wedged down the side) but before I can do so, I feel two hot arms snake around my waist and a face bury itself into my chest, catching me completely off guard.
"Thank you," I hear her whisper.
My eyes widen ever so slightly and as I catch sight of Calum mouthing Hug her back, stupid, I return the favour, somewhat hesitantly, somewhat too eagerly.
My voice is gone and I'm confused, so confused, but the girl feels so nice against me that I don't know how to keep her from pulling back. And I hate it, the feeling of it, the puzzlement and the foreign thudding in my chest that I am most definitely not used to.
Am I dying?
"I-It's alright." I say, even though it's not.
♱
i AM SO HAPPY YOU GUYS ARE LIKING THIS SO FAR LIKE OH MY FUCKING GOD 11K READS IN A WEEK? WHO R WE. WOWOWOW. I LOVE U. THANK YOU :')
yous mean EVERYTHING TO ME have a wonderful day and i shall see you beauties tomorrow!!<3
-maz xxx