Page 1 of Absolved In Death

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DIANA

“We’re caught in the deepest, darkest pit of Hell,” Lucifer growled. “And there’s no way out.”

“What?” I asked, confused as fuck. Where were we?How did Red trick us?!

Bash taught me all about the landscape and different areas of Hell, but he never mentioned a place like this.

I scan the room and do a mental headcount to make sure everyone is here: Me, Dads, Oisín, Judas, Mal, Zaz, and Bain—everyone accounted for. As the dust cleared around us, a scene straight out of the wild west came into view. There was sand everywhere, with little wooden buildings and tumbleweeds. I even spotted a big, needle-filled cactus with purple flowers. It resembled a town from one of those old western movies. All we needed was a cowboy hero and an outlaw staring each other down to the whistling music to complete the vibe.

“You’re trapped. Have fun getting tortured for eternity while I take over earth.” Red’s disembodied voice rang out.

The portal shut, cutting off the view I had of Ares and our troops at the compound. Mal, Zaz, and Bain sprang into action, using their magic to search for a way out. Judas stood by myside, his hands out as he did…something. I wasn’t sure what, but I could feel all four of their magical signatures swarming and weaving around us. Their frustrated faces didn’t bode well for our situation.

Lucifer was still fuming mad in his full demon form, a goat’s head with massive, black horns, hooved feet, and a demonic body. Plumes of opaque steam billowed from his ears. His huffing and puffing revealed a forked tongue and razor sharp teeth. Michael tried his best to calm him down.

“Luci, if you don’t get a handle on your anger you may not be able to shift back for a while… We need you to have your wits about you if we’re going to get out of this mess.”

Truth. As angry as I was at getting tricked, I urged myself to keep it locked down. I couldn’t afford to lose control right now.

My father had doubled in size when he involuntarily shifted, and he was so upset his eyes were bugging out of his head, showcasing black, rectangular pupils. He roared—like a straight up wild beast—so loudly and with such a deep bass a wooden sign nearby with the strange script on it vibrated. I walked over to it to get a closer look, because the message wasn’t written in English.

The script was carved into the wood in some kind of foreign language. It somewhat resembled the Cyrillic alphabet, but it was a loopy, swirly cursive with different letters and accent marks. My brother stood next to me, running his hand over the words.

“It’s one of the Fae dialects. I can’t read it word for word, but I do see the words welcome, pit, and some numbers at the top,” Oisín gritted out. “Dad…we’re not in Pit 13, are we? Please tell me you shut this place down when the Princeps Council ordered you to do so centuries ago!”

He took a few seconds to gather himself, then shifted back into his human-looking form. He almost looked contrite whenhe said, “Fuck the council. I didn’t shut it down, and yes, we are in Pit 13.”

“Lucifer Everything-Fucker Morningstar. You didn’t dissolve Pit 13?!” Michael shouted over the steam hissing from his ears. His face turned beet red, his bright blue eyes darkening as his outrage palpable. It was so strong, I felt second-hand shame on Lucifer’s behalf.

“What is Pit 13?” And why was I afraid to ask? I remember Bash telling me how The Princeps Council rarely involved themselves in magical matters. Only if it was life-or-death or negated one of the set-in-stone rules.

“Diana, your father let his inner sadist run rampant during the Medieval times and—” Michael was cut off by a loud bullhorn in the distance.

Even with my superhearing, I couldn’t pinpoint the sound’s origin, as if I was coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. I’d never seen my crew look so confused in my life. They were not men who got caught off guard, becausethey ran shit. Michael and Lucifer were a power couple—now throuple because of Mom—who shook things up and made things happen. Mal, Judas, and Oisín were seasoned killers. Zaz may have been all about peace and love, but I’ve seen him handle himself. Bain…was creepy enough he could handle himself.

My intuition is not giving me good vibes right now.

The doors of all the wooden buildings flew open, some so hard they fell off their hinges. Mal jumped in front of me, effectively blocking my view of everything. I peaked around him, and saw a figure in the distance near the sunset. It was coming closer to us, as if it was floating through the dust and tumbleweeds. Maybe this was the cowboy? Or the outlaw…

“What in the actual fuck,” Bain complained. “I can’t get a read on if there’s other life forms here, even though I can seesomeone coming toward us. I’m completely cut off from my magic.”

I took a minute to introspectively check if my magic worked without actually using it. The light, buzzing thrum of it was still there, but it felt muted. Which meant that whoever was coming closer to us by the second was able to dull our power and was possibly just as powerful as us.

When the figure got close enough, I realized he was a tall, solidly built man with strawberry blond hair styled off his forehead, and pale skin with a dewy, glowing shine people paid estheticians thousands to recreate. His sharp, thick black-framed glasses sat on his pert nose, framing his clean-shaven face well. He wore a three piece charcoal gray suit with a golden pocket watch chain and a pocket square folded into three triangles. Very dapper indeed, but judging by how his devious grin met both his pointy ears, he was a shit stirring brat. I’d bet money on it.

I knew my own people when I saw them. We had a chaotic vibe about us.

He stopped a comfortable distance from us, his smile only growing when he saw Lucifer. “Hello Lucifer Morningstar-Not-So-Bright and crew,” he snarked. His voice sounded like something straight out of an old, black and white Hollywood movie. “Thanks for finally coming back and visiting me after you left.”

He sounded smooth and confident within an undertone of vindication, which immediately put me on guard. Only a bad motherfucker would act this self-assured around the literal embodiment of evil, his spawn, and their crew.

“Shut up, you Fae menace,” my father growled.

“Fine. You’ll get treated the way every other prisoner does, Lucifer,” he haughtily snapped.

Before I could think about what he meant by prisoner, he started to give a dramatic speech, complete with flourishing hand gestures.

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