No Love in Hell

Lucifer was tiring of Hell. An eternity of other people’s pain was wearing on him. This wasn’t what he had wanted when he first led his rebel army against the Heavens. But at least he could wangle some holidays. Not like the Other.

 

Now he was returning from a decade on Earth. He liked these little vacations. He liked to walk without wings, to feel air, fresh air on his skin and to breathe in smells other than sulphurous fumes. On Earth he could do whatever he liked. Not like here. Here he was on duty. Here he was The Devil. He was an angel by birth, after all, even if he had taken the Fall and angels have no free will. He was in the employ of his enemy. And he hated it. His wings unfolded, great black feathery wings singed by fire and tattered by time, and let his guise of humanity slip. Demons wouldn’t care if he walked about in a leopard-print catsuit, so what did it matter if he walked naked? As an angel he was sexless in any case. Asexual. Sometimes on Earth he liked to wear gender and he liked to be referred to as “he”, unless he took female form, of course. Anything was better than “it”.

 

The door to his chamber crashed open and a pair of demons slunk in. Female and male demons; a daughter of Lillith and a lowborn creature with horns. Lucifer slumped into his obsidian throne with a sigh. With weary anger he barked a question at them, wondering why they had disturbed him, watching them with his head resting in a manicured hand.

 

“Emissary from the Silver City,” rasped the female, running scarred fingers through green hair.

 

“An ambassador has arrived from…the other place, most unholy liege,” spat the male with a sycophantic bow. Lucifer hated the way they grovelled to him.

 

The devil in the black throne raised a golden eyebrow. Was it that time already? Every few millennia the Other sent an emissary to him. An angel from the world above sent to inform him of the Other’s wishes, to request an apocalypse, to praise, or, more frequently, to criticise. An angel. A messenger. That’s what the word meant of course. Another reminder of Lucifer’s loyalty to his foe. Still, angels make better conversation than demons do, and it’s always nice to see an unfamiliar face.

 

The demons slithered away at their master’s request and Lucifer’s antechamber was filled with the preternatural glow of a divine presence. The Angel Zariel gazed around the room. It had never visited Hell before. The heat, the screams, the stench…all this was new to it. Lucifer, it remembered. It remembered him from the time before, the innocent time before. It hoped he didn’t remember it. But how he had changed? Those huge white wings scarred black. The golden hair dyed and bleached a multitude of colours. Precious metals gleaming in his earlobes and in the cartilage above them. He had even pierced his eyebrow and the greenish blur of ageing ink marked a plethora of carefully designed tattoos. The Angel Zariel pitied him. This was no existence for a highborn creature.

 

He smiled, shark-like, at it and the angel shivered, its huge pure white wings fluttering.

 

“Lucifer Morningstar, Lord of the Flies, Father of Lies, Serpent-tongued, First of the Fallen-” the angel began, reeling off the titles from some automated part of its mind.

 

Lucifer held up a pale, slim hand. “Enough of that. Call me Luc, if you must. I’ve lost interest in titles.”

 

Zariel frowned. “It is right to address a being by its full name. Its true name. You are Lucifer Morningstar and I will address you as such.

 

“When you have as many names as I have,” the First of the Fallen replied in his calm, sly, musical voice, “you’ll want to forget them.”

 

Zariel did not like the way he smiled when he spoke. He didn’t…he couldn’t remember could he? It watched him fearfully as he ran a finger along his brow, watching it watching him. He continued to smile as he spoke the words Zariel had dreaded.

 

“I know you don’t I?” he said quietly.

 

Zariel said nothing. It tried not to bite its lip. It couldn’t lie. Lying was not in its ability. The Almighty would never allow an angel to lie. But at the same time, it daren’t tell him the truth. Lucifer stared at its terrified face, thinking.

 

“From the time before, yes?” he murmured, “yes. Before the Fall. You must be quite elderly now, pretty friend. Not an archangel though. Now…what was your name?” He grinned as Zariel gritted its teeth and stared straight into that piercing blue gaze. “Wait, don’t tell me,” he continued, “Dumos? No, that was the quiet one. Sariel? N…no… Sariel fell in love with a mortal, I remember that. Zariel? Yes…” he smiled evilly, watching the angel’s reaction. “Yes, Zariel. I remember you. The Angel Zariel.” He stood up and stalked predatorily towards the angel, eyes unblinking. “Quiet, safe, nervous Zariel. I remember everything.”

 

Zariel lowered its eyes. “That was many ages ago, Morningstar. You have changed. I have other duties now.”

 

“Other duties?” Lucifer sneered, pacing around the angel, “you always were the cautious one. Won’t rebel, won’t love, won’t do anything without His say-so. Even if your destiny said otherwise.”

 

“The Almighty chooses our paths, Lucifer,” Zariel replied, clam and defiant, “He chose your destiny, mine was separate.”

 

Lucifer snarled, gripping the angel’s shoulder. “I am no longer in His thrall,” he hissed into its ear. “I can do what I like. I am the Devil, you know. I can…” he chuckled nastily and place both hands on the angel’s shoulders, standing behind it and pressing his slim body against its wings. “I can take you, Zariel. I always wanted you…”

 

Zariel scowled and shrugged him off. “Do not jest, Lucifer. I am paired with another now.”

 

“Another, eh?” Lucifer scoffed. “Which one? An angel? An archangel, perhaps?” He ran his hands across its stomach as he paced back around to face it. “I’ve had no other. Ninety million demons at my command. Sixty-four billion mortals that I can snatch at will, but I never replaced you. I don’t take lovers, Zariel, I haven’t had one since you refused rebellion.”

 

This apparent sincerity took Zariel by surprise and it stared quietly at him, watching his lightning eyes flicker over its frail frame. At last he stepped back, remembering his duties and offering it hospitality. Zariel nodded and followed its Satanic host into a black draped dining room, with a table laden with food. Lucifer said nothing and watched moodily as Zariel ate. Angels ate sparingly, but he had always loved the way their faces flickered with subtle emotion as they chewed. They were normally so cold.

 

Zariel finished and stared placidly across the table at him. “To business, Morningstar?”

 

“Business,” Lucifer sighed. “Yes. What does the old operator command of his lowly minions now?”

 

Zariel twitched slightly, disapproving of his tone. “The Almighty brings His praise for your achievements and your careful execution of his commands.” Lucifer rolled his eyes and Zariel flinched. “He wishes for you to make another attempt at an antichrist. Not an apocalypse, just the boy. You are to fail, but you are to make the attempt. He asks also that you take fewer souls. That is no longer needed. The Earth changes. We must too.”

 

Lucifer laughed coldly. “I change far more than your sort do. Look at you. You still wear white robes. Do you dress like that on Earth?” Zariel didn’t answer, but he hadn’t expected one. “Fewer souls, you say? We’re running out of room down here, you realise. Can I not get rid of some of the ones I already have?”

 

“They are sentenced to an eternity,” Zariel replied. “Eternity they must have.”

 

Lucifer sighed. “And now you’ll leave me, I suppose?” He reached across the table and took the angel’s hand. “Stay with me? I can’t bear this place,” his eyes flickered around the room, “you’ve never tried having a sensible conversation with a demon, have you? It’s not possible.” He gazed pleadingly into the angel’s tranquil eyes.

 

Zariel pulled its hand away and glared at him. “You know I cannot do what you ask. I am bound by His rules, and unlike you, I follow them.” It stood up and stared down at him, sprawled miserably across the table with his arm still resting where the angel had rejected it. “We angels cannot consort with you, Lucifer, you know this. You are the embodiment of evil. Your very name is evil. Your name is fear. There is nothing in you that is good and we are your opposites. I came here because I was commanded to. Now I leave.”

 

Zariel turned and walked towards the door, feeling secretly pleased with itself.

 

“You’re wrong, Zariel,” Lucifer called after it, not moving. “We’re not so different, you and I.”

 

Zariel paused, the idea troubling its mind, and it turned back to face him, saying nothing.

 

“I’m an angel too, you forget that. We have no choice but to do as He asks us, whether He uses words or not. If I am evil then so is He. I never fought Him, I can’t fight Him. The more I fight, the more I accept Him. If you condemn me for doing as He asks, then surely you condemn Him?”

 

Zariel scowled, feeling hot tears scour its cheeks. “You use our logic to turn me against myself?” it hissed, “I hate you, Lucifer Morningstar. I hate what you have become. I hate the way you think. You are everything they say you are.” Zariel chewed its lip. “I did love you once and now… now…”

 

Zariel let out a little scream and fled the room, its wings beating against the air, ready to fly, to return to its home and its partner. Lucifer lay sprawled over the table, watching bitter tears pool on the woodwork. He imagined Zariel crying into the shoulder of a glowing archangel as it told the story of their meeting today. Typical angels. They never saw pain. They didn’t understand. Lucifer coiled his fingers into a fist and pounded the table. He had never pretended to be good, to be innocent or pure, but that didn’t mean he was the creature they painted him to be. He was no black skinned, horned beast. Demons were worse than he was. What did he do? He sat in his room and watched his world crumble around him. Did that make him any more evil than his enemy? Of course not. His enemy had created this pain. His enemy was the architect of his downfall. Why couldn’t they see that? They called him evil but they praised the Other. And the only ones that praised him did so because they believed him to be evil. No one understood. No one had sympathy.

 

Lucifer sniffed, stood up and brushed back his hair. If he stayed here, the demons would wonder what the matter was and come to him. He hated the way they fawned on him. As though they could help him.

 

He stalked back into his chamber, took a book from his library and called for music. So he was alone and misunderstood. So the world despised him and his only lover hated him and had left him for another. But he still had all the best tunes.