Lost Bloodlines Ch. 07

"I have to do this. Not only for myself, but for all of us. So we might actually have somewhere safe since the world fell apart. And besides," I rested a hand on Aqua's arm and placed the other on Cyri's oversized shoulder. "I made a promise to both of you. I mean to keep it. We'll find some way to fix what they've done to us." Both of the women nodded lightly at my comment. Victoria was all smiles and encouragement. I turned my eyes to the men.

While Draco remained unreadable as ever, Sam's face betrayed his own growing doubts. Nevertheless, after a moment he threw up his hands.

"What the hell, I've been told I'd end up down here so many times in my life, might as well meet the bastard in charge." The angel pushed past us and stepped through the doorway. After a shared look, we followed.

The open gate ran through the thickly reinforced outer wall of the villa, lit by more flickering orbs on sconces. On the other side, the villa's expansive courtyard opened up, the three residential sides of the building surrounding the open space. The courtyard was fashioned into a garden, with bubbling fountains, beautiful arrangements of flowers, and trees thick with budding fruit. Scattered about were marble statues, each depicting some variety of demon, captured in a plethora of poses and scenes. Following Sam's insistent lead, we walked along one of the many pathways through the garden.

Reflecting the sprawling size of the estate, it took us several minutes to reach the apparent center of the courtyard. Lost in examining one of the statues off the path, I ran straight into Sam's broad back. He looked back at me with an amused smirk. He jerked his head towards something in front of us.

"Damn, Lily," he chuckled, "I think I can guess what Aqua's first through third favorite features of yours are." I scowled at the angel and moved around him, immediately seeing what he was referencing. My cheeks heated. Oh, that's awkward.

At the top of a large fountain in the center of the courtyard was a marble tableau, depicting some sort of scene above the bubbling waters. A white figure, with bat-like wings dramatically unfurled behind her, raised a taloned hand high into the air, preparing to strike down upon her enemies. Three male figures were arranged below her, all three thickly bearded. One held a hammer, another a curving khopesh, and the third a jagged spear in the shape of a thunderbolt, each with weapons upraised to meet the striking demoness. A demoness identical to myself.

And, of course, every figure on the plinth was completely naked.

"That's just indecent," I protested, and my friends erupted into a chorus of laughter at the embarrassment on my face. "Shut up. At least I have a monumental statue, unlike the rest of you losers."

Cyri nudged Victoria, eyes locked onto my naked statue. In a low whisper that we all overheard, she asked, "Is it, ah, accurate?" Victoria winked at me before nodding proudly. The red cheeks of the large werewolf colored deeper and she looked away from the plinth.

"Mistress Lilith," a voice called from behind us, and we all jumped. Turning, there was a trio of demon women behind us, each clad in a short white tunic. They were all of the shorter variety of demon, but each was uniquely beautiful.

"Yes?" I said, addressing the lead woman that I assumed was the speaker. She curtsied deeply.

"If it pleases you, your companions' rooms have been prepared. If you would join us, we will prepare you to meet the Master."

"Uh, it...does please me? Oh!" I snapped my fingers, and pointed towards the dual figures of Victoria and Aqua. "Could they actually be placed in my room? Assuming I have a room."

"I'm sorry, Mistress, but I have been instructed to provide them with their own lodgings. We are going to your rooms. If you wish to change this arrangement, I'm sure the Master will accommodate you. Ava will direct them to their own." One of the demons to her side curtsied and took a few steps towards one side of the villa, looking expectantly back at us.

Meeting my friends' questioning glances, I shooed them forward. "Don't worry, I'll be alright. You can show me how the magic beds work when I get back."

Victoria and Aqua both demanded a kiss before I left. There was much left unsaid in Victoria's eyes, but I knew how she felt. One way or another, I would find my way back to them. Devil be damned.

They departed in the direction of the left wing of the villa, and I was left alone with the two remaining...attendants? Servants? Slaves? Their roles were unclear. In step, they turned, both extending a hand towards the rear of the villa. Well, their coordination was practiced, I'll give them that.

"This way, Mistress."

I fell into step between them, and they led me through the rest of the garden. Their unusual twists and turns on the many pathways took us quickly to the entrance. The interior was as beautiful as its exterior; cool marble floors contrasted with lacquered hardwood on the walls, the windows draped with velvet curtains. The odd futuristic aesthetic of many parts of Gomorrah were absent here, with only the classical style remaining. The light-filled orbs within the structure flickered with soft yellow light, bathing every part of the interior in warm color.

The attendants led me into one of the hallways, stepping into the first doorway they came across. The suite contained within must have stretched for the whole corridor; it was open concept, with only a few short dividing walls differentiating between separate rooms. We passed by a lounge, a kitchen, and a luxurious spa with attached sauna. In the final room of the suite was the master bedroom, with a monumentally sized bed. One of the attendants gestured towards a closed doorway.

"Please wash yourself, we will dress you appropriately when you finish."

Dress me? I spared a look downwards, and the dirty, bloodstained, and tattered remains of my tan prison camp uniform greeted my eyes. I had been wearing these outfits for so long at this point, I had practically forgotten about the possibility of other clothes. I was suddenly desperate to be out of them, and I rushed into the adjoining room. It was just as large and well-decorated as the rest of the villa, but I couldn't care less at this point.

With extended claws, I ripped down the side of my shirt and through the seam of my pants, rather than worry about the hassle of fitting my wings and tail through. The dirtied clothes fell to the floor, along with the sad remnants of my underclothes. My body beneath was no less dirtied, and I didn't need to hazard a cautionary sniff to tell that I probably reeked after the day I had. I hurried into the shower without sparing a look in the mirror.

As soon as the scalding water came pounding down on me at an excellent pressure, I practically went boneless, slumping against the side of the stall. Lazily, I let the water wash away the aches and weariness that had settled deep into my bones, eventually finding the energy to actually wash myself with the provided products. I spent longer in that stall than I'd care to admit, at a certain point just sitting under the spray, hands wrapped around my knees, and pretending that I could just fall asleep afterwards.

But of course, I had no such luck. A polite knocking came at the door, and a muffled voice called my name. I sighed, rising to my feet. I exited the stall, turning off the water with a quick motion of my tail. I was getting pretty good at controlling the whip-like appendage.

I dried off. Wrapping a towel around your torso with wings was functionally impossible, so I decided to simply say fuck it, and come out in the nude. They'd probable request it anyway. I emerged from the bathroom actually feeling somewhat rejuvenated, if not for the beginning of a headache growing between my eyes from exhaustion.

The attendants were waiting for me patiently, saying nothing about my bared breasts and groin. Between them, laid out on the bed, was what I assumed was to be my new outfit.

"So, I know that you guys seem to really like the Roman aesthetic around here, but is that really necessary? Couldn't I get some jeans and a T-shirt?"

The dress was made in the style of a white tunic, with several clear alterations. It was sleeveless, with purple accents running along its hemline, and gold leaf encrusted about its daringly low collar. At first glance, I assumed the thing wouldn't come down farther than mid-thigh.

"The Master requested this specifically, Mistress Lilith. It was your favorite style of garment." Fucking of course it was. I just sighed my exasperation and motioned them to get on with it. They pulled the tunic up around my legs after I stepped into the bundle of fabric, revealing that it was backless, the deep v-cut of its rear reaching all the way down to the start of my ass. The fabric was slippery-soft, almost like silk, and flowed comfortably about my body once it was on, hugging tightly to my braless chest. I was handed a lacy bit of panties. I rolled my eyes, but diligently slipped them on. The high hemline of the dress was close enough that certain parts would start...peeking out, if I moved too quickly. I was glad for the extra layer. Finally, they had me step into a pair of sandals, which they laced up themselves.

They started to fuss with my long black locks of hair, but I brushed them off. Maybe I was a little frizzy at this point, but I just wanted to get this over with, rather than wait another hour for them to put it up in some facsimile of a Roman patrician's hair or something equally ridiculous. Dressed to kill, and feeling significantly more...drafty, than I was used to, the ordeal of the demonic beautification was over.

The lead attendant, who still hadn't offered a name, stepped back and looked over me critically. I felt suddenly self-conscious about the amount of crimson skin I was showing, and the fact that I was wearing a dress for the first time, but something told me the demon was hoping to make me look sexier, rather than less so.

"Could I please go speak to your boss now? I'd like to get this over with." Her judgment of my figure was halted, and with some reluctance, she nodded, leading me back out of the suite. We ascended to the second level, and passed dozens of doorways, all closed tight. When we reached out destination, it seemed to be one of the corners of the Villa, the hallway veering to the right not far from the door.

"He awaits you inside, Mistress." I gulped, but straightened my spine. This was it. I reached my hand out for the doorknob, but a light touch on my arm stopped me.

The demonic attendant pulled back swiftly as I turned my head to look at her in surprise. Her professional exterior seemed to be cracking slightly, and there was a look of concern in her eyes.

"If I may, Mistress Lilith," she began, beginning to wring her hands together. I motioned her to continue. "When you meet with Master Lucifer...please be kind to him? He can be difficult, sometimes, but it is only because he has been through so much. The announcement of your miraculous return, well...it is the first time I have seen true happiness in him in my centuries of service. I don't mean to impose, only..."

"Please, there's no need for the servant act." I interjected. "I'm just an unlucky human. I'm not going to have you punished for speaking out of turn or something barbaric like that." As much as I wanted the demoness to stop acting so frightened, her words were filling me with nothing but confusion, and perhaps no small amount of anger. Be kind to him? What sort of sympathy for the devil bullshit is that? He's an ancient being that has presumedly met fucking God and led a rebellion against him, and I was supposed to treat him like some sort of delicate flower? Who the hell made the devil's feelings my responsibility?

Oh yeah, the other ancient demon in my life, that's who.

In the end, I merely sighed. "What's your name?" I asked softly.

"Camilla," the attendant demon said, straightening slightly. "I am in charge of the residential staff at the palace."

"Okay, Camilla. To tell you the truth, I have absolutely no idea what is waiting for me on the other side of that door, and I am terrified of that. What you're asking...I don't know if I can promise to do it. I know nothing about him, save that he is considered the most evil creature to have ever existed, according to conventional Christian mythology."

Camilla laid her hand on my arm again, and smiled nervously. "Fearsome? Yes. Frightening? certainly. But he is not evil. True evil is reserved for the gods alone." She sketched some sort of symbol in the air, and the other attendant matched the movement. I was expecting some sort of magical reaction, but it seemed more ceremonial than anything. Like crossing yourself.

I stared at the demoness for a long moment. She didn't look older than a teenager, but there was deep experience in her eyes that was telling me to take what she said seriously.

"I make no promises," I said, "But I'll do my best to be careful with him." Camilla nodded her thanks enthusiastically, even at that half-assed answer.

I turned and, before my nerve could fail me, I opened the door and stepped through.

The room beyond was large and open, with dark windows covering much of the exterior walls. Despite the luxury of the tiling and walls, the room was a mess, having been transformed into some sort of demented artist's workshop. Rolls of paper and vellum were scattered across the floor, either covered in scribbles or half-finished sketches. I stepped gingerly around piles of discarded sticks of charcoal and paper, heading nervously for the figure that I spied at the far end of the room who was leaning over a dramatically large canvass.

I passed mounds of clay, between half-carved busts and wood shavings. As I moved ever forwards, I noticed a disturbing pattern in every piece of discarded art. Each was some different rendition of my own body, whether in portrait or accompanied by abstract imagery. My face, smiling, scowling, snarled in anger or gasping in pleasure, each half-finished on paper, marble, or wood. The skill of their creator was obviously immense and yet none had been completed, with many having had violent lines marring the picture, or with one part of the sculpture disfigured.

The unhealthy obsession of their creator was growing more apparent and intense with each step, and I was dreading what I would find at the conclusion.

Moving past an overturned easel, I reached the end of the room. A lanky man was standing before a massive painting, palette and brush in hand, filling in some small detail in the lower corner of the work. He wore a simple white cloth shirt and tan canvas pants. From behind, he had no distinguishing features. No wings, no off-color skin, no horns. Just tanned skin and a shock of wild black hair. I suddenly became worried that somehow I had been led to the wrong room, when the painting itself registered to me.

It had merely seemed an oceanic landscape from afar, but examining it now, I was rocked with familiarity. Dark and violent storm clouds swirled menacingly, each wisp of cloud captured with jagged brushstrokes. Below the turbulent clouds, crimson waves crashed over each other, the entire sea frothing with barely-contained savagery. In the middle of the space, two indistinct figures were traced, one half-submerged in the water, and the other reaching down to grasp their hand from a rocking boat. The absence of detail or color only made their inclusion all the more jarring compared to the detailed background of the painting.

"I know that place," I whispered to myself. How could I not recognize it? It was the storm raging in my soul, brought to life in perfect detail.

"I expected you might," a deep voice came from the artist, causing me to jump slightly. He remained bent over, carefully filling in the crest of a wave with even strokes. I waited for him to turn, acknowledge me, or even keep speaking, but he just continued to paint.

With no further comment forthcoming, I nervously steeped forward, standing alongside the artist and within feet of the massive painting. From the side, I could see the rest of his body, which only further reinforced the impression of inconspicuousness I had gathered. His fingers and forearms were paint-splattered, and a dash of dark grey marred one of his cheeks. His face was undeniably handsome, with piercing blue eyes, an aquiline nose, and sloping cheekbones. But there were no indications that he was anything other than a man.

I watching him paint for a few more moments before clearing my throat.

"Ahem, uh, Lucifer? Sir? I was told you wished to spe..."

"Shh, shhh, shhh," he hushed me, his gaze never lifting from the painting. I stopped, mid-greeting, completely taken aback by the odd manner of the man before me. For a being so apparently obsessed with the demoness within me, he certainly wasn't particularly interested in paying me much attention.

He finished shading one of the crimson waves, and straightened. He tapped at his chin with the tip of the paintbrush, leaving behind little dots of red paint as he studied his work pensively. Having learned my lesson, I merely stood there and let him do...whatever it was that he was doing.

After a minute of consideration, he spoke up again. "It's where she lives now, isn't it?"

"What? I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Don't play stupid." His head turned, lightning quick, and his eyes locked onto mine. The intensity within them was terrifying. "My daughter. This is where you speak to her."

I blinked, taking a small step backwards. "Oh, ah, yes. She, she said that it was in my soul. It was the first thing I saw when I...transformed." I admit my voice quavered more than a little bit.

His intense gaze held mine for a few seconds more, and then he returned his eyes to the painting. He nodded once, and a little smile spread across his lips.

"Good," he said. I couldn't tell if her was talking to me or himself. "I was hoping to get that right."

When he offered nothing more, I carefully stepped forward again, rejoining the wiry man beside where he stood in front of the dramatic painting.

"What does it mean?" I hazarded a question. "The crimson sea? Why do I have it in my head now?"

"You're half right," He didn't look at me when he responded. "It's the Red Sea. This was how it looked the day Lilith was born. The day that I brought true perfection into this world."

His eyes turned to me, this time with a glint of curiosity. "In a matter of speaking, it's where you were born as well. At least, who you are now." He waved a hand dismissively. "Not the unremarkable human you once were. When her soul and yours were forced together, and created the new being before me, I imagined that it might take the form of her own creation. It seems I was correct."

I gulped. I knew the question I had to ask. It had been burning within me since this morning, when the revelation of his existence had been thrust upon me. Finally here, however...it wouldn't come easily.

"Was it you?" I managed to get out at last. I saw something flicker behind his eyes, a fleeting sign of something that I couldn't identify. "Did you make me into this? Did you cause all of the humans to turn?"

He stared at me for a long moment, as if weighing how to answer. He eventually sighed. "No. I'm afraid I cannot take credit for that miracle. But what a miracle it was!"

The somber cast of his face shifted eerily quickly into a joyful smile with his last words, and I yelped as I found myself lifted into the air within his arms. The man spun me around like a child, his hands under my arms, grinning like a fool.

"You're back!" he laughed. He pulled me in close, wrapping his arms around me in a crushing hug. I tried to struggle out, but his grip was entirely unyielding. "My darling girl, finally returned to me," he whispered, and I swear his voice broke on the last word. The extreme shift in his tone and character was disorienting, and I found myself struggling to keep up.