Extinguish (3 page)

If they would, when they reached the seventh, Hell would swallow them whole.

Serah made her way down the narrow, overgrown trail, unceremoniously passing through the first five gates. She came upon an old wrought iron fence jutting into the sky and slipped through it, walking down a gravel path, straight toward an expansive, stone building. The outside was scorched and covered with filth, the shell of an old, torched asylum. The tall walls and massive columns made it look like a long forgotten castle, forsaken by all royalty. Evil radiated from it, hitting her like shock waves, one after another, trying to warn her and force her to turn away.

Serah pulled open the heavy, creaking door, finding nothing but hazy darkness in front of her. She stepped inside, crossing the threshold of the abandoned buil
ding and through the sixth gate.

T
he air around her instantly changed.

The darkness left in a burst of violent light, so intense that it knocked Serah off her feet. She felt like she was falling then, fast and hard, her stomach lodged in her throat, until it abruptly stopped, everything clearing.

Jolting, she found herself standing at the boundary to Hell, feet planted on the hard sediment as her gaze scanned the terrain for the first time. Nothing living thrived here, nothing breathing or growing, nothing flourishing. The land was cracked and forsaken, the sensation of imminent death clinging to everything, suffering and miserable. Dark clouds blanketed the endless sky, mixed with swirls of fiery red as lightning continuously flashed, bolts striking in the distance, their vicious rumble vibrating beneath her feet. In the distance, at the end of a pencil-thin path, Serah could vaguely make out a tall tower of stone, an eerie castle erected for the King of Hell.

The final gate was invisible, a massive, bewitched shield of energy and electricity. Serah could faintly see it, fizzling and flickering, crackling and shimmering, as black shadows hovered high above it. Reapers guarded the insufferable plot, feeding off of the vile souls within.

Taking a deep, needless breath—a habit she’d picked up on Earth—Serah stalked forward, pausing a few yards away from the gate. It was silent on the other side, appearing abandoned, nothing but barren land and mountains of rock shrouded in black shadows.

Was Hell supposed to be this
. . .
quiet
?

"Hello?"

One beat, two beats, three beats passed. Nothing but silence.

"Hello?" she called again. "Anyone around?"

Serah smoothed out her dress and fidgeted—another senseless, human habit—as she waited for something,
anything
, to happen.

Minutes passed, then hours. Half a day withered away in the blink of an eye, absolute stillness persisting. Physically, she felt no exhaustion, but mentally she’d had about enough of the place. "This is incredible."

"It is."

The sudden voice alarmed Serah. A bang of thunder ripped through the land as the bright lightning flashed, revealing a form lurking in the shadows on the other side.

"The only question," he continued, stepping into the hazy light, "is whether you mean that in the good or bad way."

Black eyes bore into her, his skin the hue of Earth’s filth, covered in silver-toned scars and
vibrant black markings. Sigils had been burned into his flesh like tattoos, seemingly still smoldering as steam radiated from his skin. The sleeves of his black button-down shirt were shoved up to his elbows, exposing them to her. Serah’s eyes widened as she deciphered the symbols.

Serpens
.
Malum
.
Diabolus
.
Inimicus
.

Serpent. Evil. Devil. Enemy.

Satan, she knew instantly, nearly unrecognizable from his once angelic form. He appeared as if he'd walked through fire, his clothes singed and his bare feet scorched. He was rough and rugged, his voice slightly gritty, like worn sandpaper.

Despite his unsettling exterior, he seemed more human than she’d expected him to be, a fact that unnerved her. He was sturdy like Michael, dark where her Archangel was light, but he carried himself like a man. His steps had a slight swagger, unhurried and graceless.

This thing—this man—was the great enemy? The biggest threat to them? To humanity?

"I mean it’s absurd," she said tentatively. "There’s nothing
good
about this place. I’ve been standing here for hours."

"I know."

She gaped at him. "You
know
?"

"Yes. I’ve been watching you."

"You’ve been
watching
me?"

"Yes. And you’re late."

She scoffed. "
I’m
late?"

"Yes, you’re late. What’s with you? I assumed the wings meant you were
some sort of angel, not a damn mockingbird."

She started to reply to his childish ridicule, but he stopped her before she could, his voice an octave higher, force to his words as he spat them at her.

"You were supposed to be here last night. I
expected
you last night, but you kept me waiting. So it was only fair, when you finally decided it was important enough to show your face, that I keep you waiting just as long."

"I didn’t realize we had an appointment," she said defensively. Who was
he
to speak to her that way? "I was busy."

"I bet you were." He inhaled deeply, tilting his head back as he closed his eyes. A coinciding vortex of wind gusted by, stirring the dirt and the bottom of her dress as it whipped her hair into her face. She brushed it away as the air calmed down, his eyes slowly reopening. "You smell like my brother. His scent is all over you. It reeks."

Serah stammered. "I, uh. . ." He could smell it? "Look, Satan. . ."

"Stop," he said, the scathing tone harder in his voice. "My name’s
not
Satan."

She hesitated.
This wasn’t going well. "Would you rather be called the Prince of Darkness?"

"
No, I’d actually prefer my name."

"Lucifer."

A hint of a smile ghosted across his lips. "Call me Luce."

"Lucifer," she said again. "I just came here to ask—"

"To ask me to stop the fighting? To give peace a chance?" He laughed bitterly. "I know why you came here, and you can just turn around and leave right now. I won’t have someone walking into my territory and disrespecting me, treating me like I’m nothing, calling me that filthy word like it's my name. You want to talk to me, angel? You want to have that conversation? Come back when you don’t stink so fucking much."

As hastily as he’d emerged, he vaporized, disappearing back into the blackness, leaving her there alone. She walked backward, passing back through the sixth gate, blackness overtaking her vision as she was sucked in
to a swirling cyclone. She flew into the air, landing right back on her feet just inside the doorway of the forsaken asylum.

She shuddered.
Creepy
.

"You did
what
?"

A crack of abrupt thunder rocked the afternoon s
ky. Serah flinched at the noise and tensed.
Oh God, not again
. "Please tell me that was you."

"Sorry," Hannah muttered. "Didn't mean to startle you. I just
. . . I'm shocked."

Serah sighed as she
casually twisted and swayed on the middle swing. The schoolyard was vacant, the kids home for the weekend. Raindrops started to fall as clouds emerged directly above them, a consequence of Hannah's abrupt reaction.

Hannah plopped down on the swing beside her after a moment. "So what was it like down below?"

"Surreal," she replied. "I've been trying to wrap my mind around it since I left. It's strangely quiet. Very unnerving."

"And you saw him? Like, really saw
him
?"

"Yes."

"What was he like?"

What was he like?
"Maddening."

"Wow," Hannah
said. "So are you going back down?"

"I suppose," she replied. "Michael says it won't work, but I have to try."

"Of course it won't work. We're supposed to believe he'll end it just because you ask? Yeah, right. There's not a compassionate bone left in his body. Every ounce of him was claimed by evil when he fell from Grace."

"The Dominion said it was His will."

Hannah was quiet as she took that in. His will, His word, was
everything
. "Since when do we negotiate with terrorists? I thought we were on board with that Ronald Reagan guy."

Serah cracked a smile at that. "You're a few decades behind on American politics."

"Huh. Did he win?"

"Yes. Twice."

"Good to know," Hannah said. "I'm not sure you'll be that successful, though."

Serah smiled sadly. She was probably right, of course. "I wonder what Samuel would think about it all."

"Well, first of all, he'd whine that it wasn't him. You know he loved being front and center in this war."

"True."

"Then he'd tease you about it. You know, going to Hell." Hannah dropped her voice lower, imitating the familiar, male tone. "I always knew I was the good one, sis."

Serah laughed, although sadness nagged at her chest. How she longed to hear his voice again.

"But then, while you were down there and nobody was paying attention, he'd be frantically pacing, probably here in this playground, waiting for you to return, to make sure you were okay. He always did worry about you."

Serah frowned. "I worry about him now."

"Don't," Hannah said. "He's gone."

"Gone where?"

Hannah shrugged. "We don't ask questions when they fall, Serah. You know that. We just say goodbye and walk away."

The terrain was quiet once more as Serah approached the seventh gate a few days later. The peculiar reddish-tinted darkness again shrouded the sky as reapers soared above, supervising. Nothing had changed since her last visit, and she guessed nothing ever would. Hell was as stagnant as the dead inside of it.

She paused a few yards away and sighed. Before she could call out, a gust of wind swirled around her. Her wings rustled, shimmering, as she was lifted
a few feet off the ground.

"You smell like the sun."

Once back on solid ground, Serah peered through the translucent barricade as Lucifer materialized on the other side. "Do I?"

"Yes. You smell like springtime. Now
that’s
a scent I miss. The other one? I can do without ever smelling him again."

He sauntered closer, his shoulders relaxed, his hands casually shoved in the pockets of his black slacks. He seemed at ease. Even his voice oozed a bit of quiet contentment, his demeanor much different than the creature she'd encountered
the first day.

Maybe there was hope, after all. Maybe she had a chance.