Finally. Progress. “Whosoever controls the four Sacred Relics will possess the power to overthrow Lucifer and assume control of Hell.”
She frowned at him, obviously trying to follow along with his theory. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“Very bad. The barriers between Earth and Hell are dependent upon Lucifer himself. If he dies, those barriers crumble. If they crumble, demons will overrun Earth. The human race would be annihilated.”
Her eyebrows lifted and she tilted her head slightly forward, waiting for him to go on.
“So the three relics were stolen and hidden away in Earth’s realm by ancient Guardians, and subsequently protected by those Guardians’ descendants until present day. The Scrolls of Prévnar, rumored to contain spells to make one immune to Lucifer’s suggestions or control. The Arc Stone, which makes a demon or angel nearly impervious to harm. And The Sword of Kathnesh, rumored to be the only blade capable of taking Lucifer’s head.”
“And how do you fit into this rebellion?” She considered him with a great deal of caution now.
“I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I?” He asked with a wry twist of his lips. Where were his golden tongue and all his vaunted charm now? “Almost two hundred years ago, two of Lucifer’s top generals…defected, for lack of a better term. Niklas, the Seer, and Xander, the Slayer. Lucifer had promised freedom and unlimited pleasure, but he delivered only despotic tyranny and torture. They regretted the decisions they made leading up to their fall from grace, and had come to loathe their existence as Lucifer’s followers.”
“Sounds like buyer’s remorse to me.”
He gave her one long, piercing stare, and then trudged on as though she’d never spoken. “They knew there were others of us with the same inclination. Myself. Sebastian, the Demon of Vengeance, and Mikhail, the Demon of War. We saw the error of our ways, but, unlike the rest, we were willing to do something about it. We escaped Hell and came to Earth. Now we protect innocent humans from others of our kind in hopes of—” He caught himself.
Redemption, he’d been about to say. In their own way, Xander and Niklas had found exactly that, he supposed. While Sebastian and Mikhail continued to relentlessly strive for vindication, for that ever-elusive forgiveness.
But redemption wasn’t in the cards for him, was it? There was no hope left in him. He was through trying. The best he could wish for was an honorable death. A ceasing of his existence, for there would be nothing for him after that. Just the extinguishing of his soulless life.
“In hopes of what?” she prompted softly.
“They strive for forgiveness, to earn their place in Heaven once more,” he replied, his tone flat and final.
“And what about you?” The Halfling pressed, too perceptive for his comfort.
“I want…peace,” he finally said. And, as far as he was concerned, it was true. Oblivion would end his torment, hence, he would finally achieve peace.
The little furrow deepened between her eyebrows. She opened her mouth as if to speak. Would she dispute his claim of wanting peace, as she had his claim to being a demon? She seemed to take it as her life’s mission to argue with him about everything, to challenge him at every turn. But she didn’t push him, instead snapping her mouth closed, as though she thought better of whatever she’d been about to say.
“You still haven’t told me how I fit into this,” she reminded him.
“To do that, I need to tell you about the fourth relic.”
Her brow puckered. But to give credit where credit was due, she remained quiet, waiting for him to finish his story. Miracles did happen.
“The fourth relic is a person. A child, to be exact.”
“How can a person be a relic?”
He knew that silence had been too good to last.
Gideon shrugged helplessly. “It’s the Prophesy, okay? Do you want to hear this or not?”
How could this one lone woman make him lose all his finesse? He charmed women, he didn’t snap at them, didn’t lose his cool. Yet something about her sucked up every last ounce of his patience and drove him to distraction.
She nodded, pressing her lips together in silent promise.
He turned his head to one side and then the other, popping his neck. Gideon dug deep for self-control. It wasn’t her, he assured himself. He was giving her too much credit. He was just impatient to get on with his own plans, impatient to leave all this behind and seek peace at last.
Yeah. That was it.
“The Chosen One will be conceived between a demon and a first generation Halfling. We’re assuming it means that, if spawned by evil and born under the control of that same evil, the child will be raised as a warrior, honed as a weapon of destruction. One whose sole target is Lucifer himself.”
He could see the cogs turning. One plus two equaled oh hell no.
“And you believe that I’m the Halfling that’s supposed to…” Her voice trailed away as the ramifications of her situation settled fully upon her. “That I’m going to…”