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“You want to make a deal with the Devil?” Lucifer asks me, almost parroting my words. Then he imitates a man who is waiting patiently, as though he expects me to beg to retract my naïve words.
“You fucking maddening, suicidal, infuriating hell spawn,” Jude growls, interrupting me again. “I realize I’m technically hell spawn, but I find name-calling to only be fun when I’m the one creating the names,” I say, trying to lighten their eerily similar, brooding mood.
“I’m going to fucking kill her myself, damn it!” “For fuck’s sake, she’s going to drive us all insane!” “When I get my hands on her…” “We need to find a way to chain her to the fucking house!”
“What the hell happened?” Jude insists, just as the timer goes off. “What did Lucifer say?” Putting as much gravel in my voice as possible, I answer, “He said, ‘Paca, I am your father.’” For a small moment, it’s like hearing crickets at the Apollo after an awesomely unappreciated joke. “I’m going to fucking kill her,” Jude says seriously to Gage, as Ezekiel groans and scrubs a hand over his face.
“He said, ‘Welcome to the dark side, Paca. We have cookies.’” I’m nailing that gravelly tone thing today.
I need a handbook: How to Sync Mensies with Your Harem.
Feeling that familiar sense of authority rolling through me, as though my surroundings are trying to remind me of who I am, I whisper, “I’m The Apocalypse.”
“She bitches at us when we ignore her, and bitches at us when we do what she says. I think never being satisfied is part of her balance. Fucking women,” Kai grumbles.
“Allow me to introduce myself!” I shout into the hole. “I’m The fucking Apocalypse. I will sooooo find you one day!”
“Over my cold, dead, fucking body,” Lucifer says with an eerily chilled tone, eyes on Rafael like he’s daring him to make a move. Weirdly, a drop of black blood drips from his nose. “I’ll fling you in there with him and see how well you fare, brother, long before you touch my daughter again.”
“The angel tips his glass back and sighs as he puts it down, before saying, ‘All’s I can say is that ‘at least it’s not hell,’” I ramble on, not really sure why these words are spewing from my mouth.
“But with your death, perhaps those pieces have returned.” I shake my head. “Not possible. They only get individual erections with me.”
“We’re starting to sound like the punchline to a bad joke,” I point out as I groan and turn around. “The Four Horsemen and The Apocalypse walk into Purgatory to save the world because they’re selfish brats who want to live long and prosper.”
I guess it’s time to finally learn to be a real badass. I just wish I remembered how I used to do it.
