Extinguish

  "You."

  Her brow furrowed. "Me? How?"

  "I guess all your talk these past few decades about these humans and helping them finally got to me," he replied. "I was in this town the other day, trailing a demon inside of a school teacher, when I overheard a boy named Nicholas say he wanted to take a girl named Samantha to the prom. Samantha liked Nicholas, but they were both too shy to even say hello."

  Serah raised her eyebrows. "So you introduced them?"

  "You could say that," he said. "I manifested for a split second and physically shoved the two of them together in the hallway. She dropped her books, he picked them up, and voila . . . they’re dancing right behind you."

  Serah turned around, so close she could practically touch the couple. They swayed to the music, his hands on her hips, her arms around his shoulders as she gently fiddled with the hair at the nape of his neck. Their eyes connected, something strong stirring in them, something pure and Heavenly.

  Love.

  A smile tugged Serah’s lips. "You did good, brother."

  "I’m not done yet," he said quietly. "You see that Archangel over there, attached to the wall? Go ask him to dance."

  Serah turned back to her brother. "What? No way!"

  "Why not?"

  She lowered her voice to a quiet hiss. "He’s the prince, Samuel."

  "He’s just an angel—an angel that has absolutely no interest in dances, or human customs, or blending in, or micromanaging, but I have it on good authority that there’s nowhere in the universe he’d rather be than this room."

  "Why?"

  "Because this is where you are, Ser."

  She blinked rapidly, stunned by those words. "But he’s Michael. He’s. . ."

  "He’s smitten, is what he is," Samuel said. "Come on, sis. Look at him. He watches you the way Nicholas watched Samantha. Give him a chance. Don’t make me physically push you, too. Because I will. And you know it."

  "Fine." She flitted across the room. Michael stood up straighter as she approached, his shoulders squared, eyes never leaving her. "Do you, uh . . . you wouldn’t want to dance with me, would you?"

  A strong, emphatic "No" came from his lips before she could completely finish her question. She huffed, ruffled by the rejection, and started to walk away when he grabbed her hand. "I’d love to do anything else with you, Serah—absolutely anything—but I’m afraid dancing is out of my skill set."

  A smile graced her lips. "We can do something else."

  "Wonderful."

  Michael returned her smile as Samuel laughed across the room.

  "See?" he called. "What did I tell you? Totally bitchin’ night."

  The old sidewalk weaved around the school playground, buckled where a tree's roots had pushed underneath it, creating a fractured hump. The pavement was cracked down the center, a group of dandelions jutting out of the jagged fault line.

  Serah reached down and plucked one. "Do you consider a dandelion a flower or a weed?"

  "Both," Hannah replied. "It's a flowering weed."

  "It's beautiful for being such a pest, don’t you think?"

  Hannah laughed. "It's more beneficial than it is annoying. It's edible, nutritional, medicinal—people judge it by its overbearing nature, not taking into account it serves a bigger purpose." She paused, shrugging, and added as an afterthought, "Yeah, it’s beautiful, I guess."

  Serah stared at the dandelion for a moment before placing her thumb below the blossom and popping the top off from the stem. She laughed as it flew into the air and dropped to the sidewalk, rolling right back into the crack.

  Hannah frowned at the destroyed plant. "What was that point in that?"

  "It's a game kids play," Serah said. "Mama had a baby and her head popped off."

  Hannah gaped at her. "What?"

  "It's what they say when they pop the head off a dandelion."

  "How morbid."

  "It's more silliness."

  Hannah sighed, shaking her head. "I have to get back to work. Try not to kill too many plants while I'm gone, okay? Just makes my work harder."

  Serah remained there after her friend disappeared, gazing across the busy street at the dilapidated community center. It had closed a few years before, the city no longer able to afford to fund it. She hadn't been inside since that May night in 1989—a night that had changed her universe in so many ways.

  A bell rang, the shrill sound pulsating through the air as the elementary school let out for the day. Serah stayed still as the children rushed past on their way home. Nicki Lauer pranced by, hand in hand with her best friend, the two young girls pausing beside the overgrown tree.

  Nicki reached down, snatching the remaining dandelions from the crack, roots and all. Damp soil trickled onto the sidewalk by Serah’s feet. "I'm gonna give these to my mommy!" Nicki squealed excitedly.

  After the kids were gone, skipping away, Serah ventured down below, strolling unhurriedly toward the gate. Lucifer lingered on the other side, already waiting, expecting her arrival as usual.

  "You smell like more flowers," he said. "They're not still leaving them for you, are they? I've called them off, but demons tend to be slow on the uptake. Idiots, really."

  "No, they've stopped," she said. "Pity, though."

  "Why?" Lucifer raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Hoping to exorcize a few more of my guys?"

  "Well . . . yeah."

  He snickered. "I'd apologize for making it harder for you, but I'm not sorry. It's better this way."

  "If you say so."

  "I do," he said. "It's a hassle having them prematurely sent back down before their work is done, but it isn’t as bad as it could be. It's rare what you do, you know, expelling them without damaging the vessel. Makes it easier for my guys to find human shells when they make it back on Earth. Once possessed, easily repossessed."

  "They're people, not vessels," Serah said. "Innocent people, who don't deserve to be hurt in this war you're waging. My brother taught me how to spare the human, to save them from your kind."

  "Ah, your brother. Have you found him yet?"

  "No."

  "Have you even really looked?"

  Serah hesitated. "No."

  "Why?" Lucifer asked.

  It was a question she wasn't sure how to answer. "We don't question things."

  "I do."

  She laughed dryly. "And look what happened to you."

  "Yeah, but that's because they took my fall personally. It's business as usual for Michael with the others."

  Those words washed through Serah, surprising her. "Michael?"

  "What, you don't know your lover is the one who does the clipping? Only an angel can kill another angel, remember? It's Michael's destiny. Punish anything that disobeys. They step out of line and. . ." Lucifer held his hand up, using his fingers to imitate scissors. ". . .snip, snip."

  She blinked rapidly. "Samuel?"

  Lucifer stared through the gate at her, something startlingly close to sympathy shining from his dark eyes. "Yes. Samuel, too."

  Something twisted inside of her, a tight knot where her stomach should've been. Michael had been the one to remove Samuel's Grace, to tear her brother from her life, and he showed not an ounce of concern about it. There was no conflict, no remorse or regret.

  Michael hadn't just lost a friend. He'd personally ended one.

  "How is it you two are together and you don't even know what he does?"

  "You're mistaken," she whispered.

  "I'm not," he said certainly. "I was an Archangel, too. I know our purpose."

  "So you do know," she said, briefly closing her eyes as that reality sunk in. "You know where my brother is. You know what happened to him."

  She glanced over again, desperation shining from her eyes, only to find the other side of the gate suddenly empty.

  Serah fluttered around in a daze the next day, avoiding Michael as she halfheartedly occupied herself with tedious work. She went to the gate in the evening, her mind full of questi
ons she anxiously wanted to ask. She expected Lucifer to be waiting as usual, but the other side of the barrier was vacant.

  An hour passed. Then two. She called out his name, but he never appeared. After three hours, she gave up and walked away.

  The next afternoon was the same, as was the one after it. A week passed in a similar fashion with no sign of Lucifer. No matter how long she stood there, waiting, hollering for him, he didn't show his face again.

  Confusion rocked her foundation, fueled that Friday when she sat alone on the school playground, watching the children play. Nicki and her best friend leaned against a tree a few yards away, huddled up in coats, sharing a bucket of crayons as they drew in notebooks on their laps. A pop of electricity vibrated the air in front of her swing as a Dominion appeared, blocking Serah's view of the kids. "You haven't fulfilled your task."

  "What do you expect me to do?"

  "I expect nothing," he said. "But He expects you to succeed."

  "It’s impossible," she said. "He won’t cooperate."

  "Make him."

  "And how exactly am I supposed to do that?"

  The Dominion shrugged. "Get creative. It’s your destiny, Serah."

  Serah scowled. Bitterness seeped through her cool skin, seizing part of her insides, twisting and yanking, tying her in knots. The Dominion tipped his head in polite greeting before leaving just as suddenly as he’d come.

  Message received.

  "Destiny-schmestiny," she muttered, digging her toes into the dirt beneath her.

  "Destiny is everything."

  She spun around, startled, and came face-to-face with Michael lurking nearby. His face was hardened, not a hint of emotion to be found. "I didn't hear you appear."

  "I was here before you."

  Her brow furrowed. What? "I didn't sense you."

  "Your senses might need fine tuning then."

  Serah said nothing. She turned away from him, her focus going back to the ground. Michael strolled around to the front of the swings and stood there, making no move to sit, but he showed no sign of leaving, either.

  "Your attachment to this place, to these people, is unhealthy. It concerns me."

  "They were special to Samuel," she said. "You do remember him, don't you? He was once your friend."

  "Of course I remember him," Michael said, his tone clipped. "Why would you ask me that?"

  "Did you remember it when you took his wings?" she asked, anger brewing inside of her. "Did you forget you were friends when you destroyed him?"

  Michael's eyes narrowed. "You know nothing of what happened."

  "Then tell me."

  "I can't."

  "But he's my brother!"

  "No. He. Isn't!" Michael spat through clenched teeth, emphasizing each word. "Do you think I get pleasure from this, Serah? It's why I exist. The sooner you accept that, the sooner things can get back to normal."

  Normal. She was starting to wonder what that even meant anymore. Normal was Samuel hanging around, laughing and joking, alleviating some of the pressure on her wing-clad shoulders, reminding her that things were okay, that the world was a beautiful place. Reminding her that just because you lose a few battles doesn't mean you'll lose the whole war. It all seemed so dreary with him gone. How could anything be okay without him? How could anything ever be normal again?

  "There's no such thing," she whispered. "You can't un-know something once you know it."

  Michael hastily retreated from the playground out of frustration, the pop so loud it sounded like a truck backfiring in the distance. Some of the kids paused what they were doing and glanced around, hearing the noise, but went back to playing within a matter of seconds.

  Serah stood up and strolled over to where Nicki and her friend sat, still coloring. She looked down at their notebooks, smiling at Nicki's lopsided butterflies, but froze as she studied the drawing covering the other girl’s page. Monsters of all kinds took up the space, with big teeth, sharp claws, and angry, beady eyes. Dead center of the paper was a massive red creature, large horns protruding from its oblong head, a long, pointy tail trailing it from behind.

  "That's not what the devil really looks like," Nicki said, glancing at her friend's picture.

  "How do you know?"

  "Because he was an angel, duh," Nicki said. "Remember? They said that in church."

  "Oh." The girl studied her notebook as she grabbed a black crayon, drawing oversized wings from the creature's back. She smiled when she finished. "Now it's right."

  "It’s stupid," Nicki muttered. "You draw like a boy. Boys like ugly things, like monsters and scary movies."

  The girl tore the paper out, tossing it to the ground beside her, and moved on to drawing butterflies with her best friend instead.

  A few minutes later, the bell for class rang, and the girls ran off to join the other students. The paper still laid in the grass near the tree, discarded, the monsters long forgotten. Serah waited until the area was uninhabited to pick it up, teleporting to Hellum Township with the drawing in her hand.

  She strode through the first six gates without hesitation, her stomach in her feet when she again came upon the seventh. The lot was once more abandoned, no one and nothing there to greet her. Irritated, she screamed his name, demanding he make himself be seen, but nothing so much as even stirred in the wind.

  Ten seconds passed, then twenty. After thirty seconds, her patience had worn so thin it was completely frayed, her raw nerves exposed, a hint of agonizing emotion shining through. A loud groan vibrated her chest as she stormed the gate, faltering only momentarily before stepping right into it.

  He couldn't just tell her what he had and then disappear.

  The air shimmied around her, electricity coating her skin, prickling every inch of her body as she penetrated the force field. Her vision blurred, everything glowing white as she waded through it, the enchantments pushing against her, trying to force her back on the good side. She trudged forward, undeterred, breaking right through and taking her first tentative step into Hell.

  Three

  The long table, constructed entirely from weathered gray marble, filled the room, matching the thick boulders that made up the walls. Nine black chairs surrounded it, while a slab of marble elaborately carved into a gothic throne towered at the head of the table.

  Luce sat back, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, his massive frame trivialized by the high back of his seat. Dozens of white, pillar candles dimly lit the room, casting flickering shadows upon the face of the man sitting at the other end of the table, across from Luce. Fear shined from the man’s eyes, once bright green, now yellowing and dying like the rest of everything in the pit.

  Luce flippantly flicked his pointer finger, overturning cards from a tall, worn deck on the other end of the table, as the man clutched a lesser partial deck, his hands shaking as he one by one flipped over his cards in turn. Luce slouched down, an uninterested scowl covering his face, his eyes everywhere but on the game. He appeared to not even be playing, at least twenty feet from his cards, but he was paying close attention to what was happening.

  He saw every move, noted every hand, able to predict which cards would be next in line.

  Both threw down threes. Luce tapped his fingers sliding cards onto the table facedown.

  One. Two. Three. Four.

  I declare war.

  He overturned another—king—and sighed as the man played a two. Luce waved his hand, all six cards magically slipping onto the bottom of his stack.

  "You’re running low on cards there, Robert," Luce mused. "Doesn’t bode well for you."

  "It’s not over yet," Robert stammered, his voice shaking just as hard as his hands. "I’m feeling lucky."

  "Good for you," Luce muttered, overturning another card when a gust of wind surged through the room, blowing out every single one of the candles. Luce snapped his fingers, igniting them again at once, as he heard her in his mind, above the chaos that usually consumed him.

  S
erah.

  Lucifer, she screamed. I’m coming for you.

  "I’ll be a son of a bitch," he said, unable to stop the smile from turning the corner of his lips, a laugh escaping as he exhaled.

  Footsteps ran down the corridor, the large, wooden double doors thrusting open. "There's an intruder at the gate!"

  "I’m aware." Luce’s gaze turned to the demon that burst in. Lire, the leader of the Dark Legion, was one of the few given free rein to roam Hell. He considered himself Luce’s right-hand man, but Luce treated him as a messenger boy. "Do you think I’m an imbecile? You think I don’t know what goes on in my kingdom?"

  "No, My Lord!" He frantically shook his head. "It’s just . . . it’s one of them. What do you want us to do?"

  "Show her in," he ordered, "and be nice about it, will you? You offend my guest, and you’ll be the one strapped to the wall tonight."

  The demon flinched, nodding submissively before scampering back out of the room. Luce’s eyes instantly snapped from the door to Robert, catching him as he tried to sneak a peek at their next few cards. Luce angrily clenched his hand into a tight fist, his knuckles popping from the strain. The man let out a loud shriek of agony as he clutched his arm, his right hand twisting as the bones crunched sickeningly, shattering into tiny fragments and ripping out through the skin. Blood ran down his arm, dripping onto the concrete floor.

  "You think you can cheat me?" he spat. "You think I won’t know?"

  "It was a mistake!" he screamed. "I’m sorry! Please! I won’t do it again!"

  The red in Luce’s eyes flared, overtaking the blackness, as the floor beneath their feet vibrated. The ground behind the man opened up into a swirling black vortex, torturous screams bursting out with savage fire, so ferocious Luce grimaced. Flicking his hand, Luce sent the man flying backward out of his chair, straight into the raging inferno, the bright orange flames swallowing him whole. His shrieks were silenced as the vortex abruptly closed, everything silent and still.

  "You’re fucking right you won’t do it again."

  He slouched back in his chair again, drumming his fingers some more, waiting. He could sense her as she drew closer, the air stirring with something he hadn’t felt in a long time. She brought sunlight with her, the darkness lightening, as fresh air radiated from her.