Extinguish (13 page)

She rolled her eyes. "They’re just making out."

"Same difference," he
said, plopping down beside her. "I guess they call this Coitus Cliff for a reason."

Serah burst into laughter. "They do not call it that."

"Eh, they could," he said. "It’s kind of catchy, isn’t it? Almost as catchy as this song. It’s my anthem."

Before Serah could say a word in response, Samuel started singing along. His shouting voice bounced off the trees and echoed through the city below, drowning out every other noise in the night. No one else heard, though, unable to pick up the frequency of his voice as he belted out the rock ballad at the top of his lungs.

When the chorus kicked in, Serah couldn’t help herself from singing along with him. Samuel leaned back, wildly kicking his legs, his hands moving frantically as he ripped an air guitar solo, his fingers expertly strumming and plucking the invisible strings. By the time the song wound down, Serah was doubled over in laughter as a radiant smile lit up Samuel’s face.

"I think you’ve found your true calling, Samuel."

"I could
definitely
be a rock star," he said. "Well, if I were
human, anyway."

"It must be nice, you know, to be able to do anything you want. The options are endless for them. Our existence is pre-written, but mortals—they're given this big, beautiful world and the free will to do whatever they want in it. And so many don’t appreciate it. I just wonder what it would be like to be able to choose
. . . if we were the ones who were given that precious gift and not them."

Samuel’s smile gradually faded as he stared at her. "Serah, don’t."

"Don’t what?"

"I’ve heard those words before," he said, a hard edge to his low voice. "They were spoken to me mere hours before I watched my friend cast his own brother into the lake of fire forever. And I can’t
. . . Serah, you can’t think that way."

She gasped, eyes widening when she realized what he meant
by his words. "Samuel, I would never! Satan hates the mortals. He’s full of wrath and pride and envy. I’m not!"

"I know," he said quietly. "But I also know there’s a thin line between good and evil. There’s a gray area, one we all step into. And that’s okay, I think. We’re not immune to emotions. Just promise me you won’t ever step
past
it. You won’t ever let it consume you. That you’ll be careful."

"I promise," she said. "You don’t have to worry about me. I have everything I could ever need. I have friends, and I have my work, and I have you—my brother. As long as I have you, I’d be a fool to ask for more."

Things were quiet as the two sat in thought. Music continued to rock the car near them with the two young lovers inside. Nicholas and Samantha, celebrating six months together—a milestone they might’ve never reached had it not been for Samuel intervening in their lives.

"What would you do?" he asked after a while. "If you were human, what would you want to be?"

Her response was certain, no hesitation in her words. "A race car driver."

The answer instantly lightened the mood as Samuel cracked another smile. "Really, sis? A race car driver?"

"Yes. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to drive a car. They’re one of the human’s most amazing creations, one that keeps evolving. Cars are practical, yet exciting. And people get paid to
race
them, like a sport! Can you believe that?"

"Wow." Samuel studied her with surprise. "For the first time in over a millennium, I’m learning something new about you. I never realized you liked cars."

Serah glanced at the one parked near them. "That’s my favorite car. It’s a 1966 Pontiac GTO convertible, cherry red."

Samuel scrunched up his nose. "Looks orange to me."

"That’s because it’s in bad shape," Serah said. "It’s beautiful when it’s taken care of."

"So, huh
, there’s one problem with this whole thing."

"What’s that?"

"I’ve been told women are
terrible
drivers."

Rolling her eyes, Serah shoved him hard, knocking him off the side of the cliff. He dropped a few feet, plummeting toward the ground, but he expanded his wings and flew right back up to her. He retook his seat with a laugh, playfully nudging her.

"The rock star and the race car driver," he said. "We make quite the pair."

She wrapped her arm around his and leaned against his shoulder. "We do."

"You weren’t entirely right a while ago, you know. Sure, humans have endless options, but their lives are just as written as ours. Just look at Nicholas and Samantha. We know everything they’ll do from today until the day they die. Nicholas will work in a factory, and Samantha will be a teacher’s assistant. They’ll have one kid, a little girl named Nicole. The moment I shoved them together, their future was determined, and the only way it’ll ever change is if one of us changes it for them.
Us
, Ser."

"But they chose those lives," Serah said. "We just happen to know what they’ll choose."

"Yeah, we know," he said. "That’s the point. There are no surprises when it comes to mortals.
We’re
the ones who surprise God. We’re the ones who divert from his path. Say what you will about Lucifer, but one thing is undeniable: he was the first to defy destiny. And being the first to do
anything
takes guts."

"Can I ask you something?"

Serah turned over a nine, not at all surprised when Lucifer flipped over a queen.

He sighed, sliding the cards onto the bottom of his pile. "How many times do I have to say it? You have to win to get answers."

"It’s not about that stuff," she said, playing a king. Lucifer played a two. Serah smiled as she grabbed the cards. "It’s about this place
. . . about you."

Curious eyes regarded her from across the room as Lucifer twirled his finger, overturning a seven. "What?"

"You said you feel everything everyone else feels," she said, playing a three. "You said it was agonizing, that being down here was torment, that empathy was a curse. You said—"

"I know what I said," he ground out through clenched teeth. "Is there a question in there somewhere? Because I didn’t hear one."

"How is it so quiet?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Quiet?"

"Yes. I guess I expected more from the place. The underworld is supposed to be, well,
hellish
."

Lucifer said nothing. He quietly flipped over his card, regarding her with impatience as he waited for her to play hers. Silence ensued as they played a few hands, card after card going straight to him. He twirled his finger nonchalantly, flipping over an ace, as Serah’s hand hovered over her last card.

They both knew it was a Jack. They both knew he’d won.

The room around them shook, violently vibrating as the ground beneath Serah’s feet fractured in two, instantly swallowing the table and chairs. The moment the floor opened up, horrifying shrieks and cries of anguish spilled from the crack, blood-curdling screams piercing the air. Raging fire spilled out of the hole as the walls around them crumbled. Panicked, Serah’s eyes darted around as her wings expanded in defense. She soared from the ground, hovering above the flames as they consumed the room and everything in it. Lucifer remained in his marble chair, untouched by the blaze. His wings had erupted from his back, massive black shields blending in with the sudden cloud of thick smoke filling the room.

Serah covered her ears with her hands, trying to block out the uproar, but it only made it echo louder, more torturous. The agony seemed to be inside of her, the shrieks inexplicably embedded in her mind, unbearable and inescapable. She squeezed her eyes shut, yelling for it to stop.

All at once, the noise cut off in a screech, like the needle of a record player being torn away, total silence overcoming everything. Serah’s eyes flew open, stunned to find the room back in order, everything as it had been. She hovered in the air as Lucifer remained in his chair, his face a mask o
f indifference, but red swirled madly in his eyes as he stared at her.

"What was that?" she asked as she folded her wings away, landing back on the ground.

"Hell," he said quietly. "I diluted it a bit for you, but you got the gist of it."

"That’s Hell?"

He nodded. "You see what I want you to see, angel. But
that
? That’s reality. And I don’t just see it, or hear it—I
feel
it. Every second of every day."

She gaped at him. "I,
uh. . ."

He shook his head before she could continue and pointed at her lone card somehow still lying on the table, face down. "Turn it over so we can finish this game."

Serah sat back down and flipped the card over, not even looking at it. Her eyes remained focused on him. "So if you make me see whatever you want me to see, does that mean you can make me see anything?"

He sighed with frustration as he grabbed the cards. "You’re awfully tenacious."

"I’ve been told that a time or two before."

"This place feeds off nightmares," he explained, shuffling. "It’s just like Heaven, but in reverse. In Heaven, a soul sees what makes it happy. Down here, they
relive what terrorizes them."

"I know that much."

"Well, just like you get free rein above and can invade anyone’s Heaven, I can invade anyone’s Hell. I can enter anyone’s cage and do what I want. But there’s also a common ground, like your home above."

"And that—the fire, and screaming—that’s home?"

"Yes."

"So you can show me anyone’s Hell?"

"Yes."

She glanced around the room. "Whose Hell is this?"

"I guess you could say it's mine."

Her brow furrowed.
His?
She didn’t ask, prying no more. She could tell from his strained expression that he’d said as much as he would on the matter. She’d get no more from him unless she played for her answers and won them fair and square.

Games came and went, so many that Serah no longer bothered to keep track of how many they’d played. Lucifer won every single time, sometimes within a few minutes, while other times, the battle went on for hours. She lost herself in a sea of cards and numbers, everything else falling by the wayside in her quest to win.

"I don’t understand how you keep beating me," she said, huffing after a particularly long game. "I was certain I had you that time."

Lucifer motioned for the cards, but Serah snatched them up before he could get his hands on them. She sat back in her chair and started shuffling, eyes fixed squarely on him, waiting for him to object. A smirk turned his lips as he waved her on.

"You can shuffle all you want," he said. "War is a game of chance. It’s all the luck of the draw, no more calculated than the spin of a gun barrel in Russian roulette."

"I think I’d rather play that at this point," she muttered. "Too bad you’re immune to bullets."

He laughed. "Ah, don’t be bitter. You should accept the fact that maybe you’re not supposed to get your answers. Maybe you’re just destined to spend more time with me."