ENGLAND, 1350
The streets reeked of human and animal waste. But they always did. I’d been wandering for hours; sure I would stumble on something soon. The visions had never been clearer, and the period was right.
For hundreds of years—thousands now?—I’d had the same vision. No others. Before, my visions had always varied, but since this one began, it was the only one. Her. Always her.
It didn’t matter what surrounded the vision. It wasn’t the same surroundings every time. But she was always cold, sick, and hungry. There had been several times in the past that I thought I would be able to find her but hadn’t. This time felt different, like I was right on top of her, if only I could open my eyes.
I stopped in front of a bakers’ shop and looked in the window. A loaf of bread sounded good, and I tried to spend as much money as I could when I was out and about. The villagers needed every shilling.
As I exited the shop, a waif peered out of a darkened alley with dark circles under his big eyes. Ah, children were always my downfall. I stepped toward the child, loaf extended, but his eyes widened, and he scampered back into the shadows of the alley. That happened often. Children saw more than adults. He probably caught a glimpse of my wings or the true color of my eyes. They were easy enough to hide from the general population, but children weren’t so easily fooled.
I ripped off small pieces of the loaf and chewed as I walked the city, holding the baked good close to my nose to mask the smell in the streets. I much preferred country life, but in the vision, she was always in a city, so I’d lived there for the past two or three generations. Living stagnant while others grew old and died, watching new generations born… It was a blessing and a curse.
With the last bite of my supper, I turned toward home, having had enough of the squalor. The plague had turned the city into a giant morgue, and I’d wandered in the wrong direction. I was near the sick houses. The stench of the disease permeated the air, obscuring the normal smell of slop.
I disliked being in this part of the city. Death was a part of life, and more so for me, given my particular mission in life. I needed to find this woman and stop the visions. I’d been in limbo, living as a human for several thousand years while the souls of the damned accumulated, waiting for me to take charge of them. My Demon Lords had the place running, but they needed me occasionally. I’d avoided going back, unable to leave for long without her. For now, I wandered the earth, searching. Yearning.
A scent reached my nose that was utterly different from any other I’d ever smelled in my life. It filled my being, a heady bouquet of purity and ambition. Determination and… I sucked in the smell as deeply into my lungs as I could. Seduction. Where was it? It had to be her. There was nothing else it could be. No one else.
I rushed forward, using my nose to lead the way. If the scent faded, I turned back. If it was strong, I kept on in that direction.
Finally, I narrowed it to one of the sick houses. The entire structure was permeated with it. I rushed inside, looking left and right, my eyes glancing over the patients languishing in their beds. She wasn’t in the main room on the bottom floor. I rushed up the stairs, following the scent of her until I found her on the top floor, in the smallest room. The other beds were empty, save one with a body freshly dead. And her.
Her black hair draped over the pillow beside her face. As if it had been bothering her so she moved it to the side. Her delicate features flushed red with fever. She was sick, exactly as in the visions.
I tried to push away the scent of her essence and inhale the flavor of her sickness, and when I did, I hated what I found. She would die within hours. Possibly within minutes. I had to act fast.
Unfortunately, I had no idea what to do. How to help her. I had plenty of magic, of course, but I’d never used it to heal someone. That had been expressly forbidden. Miracles could be performed by God only.
She opened her eyes, the black depths entrancing me. “Are you the angel of death?” Her voice was so weak I barely heard her even with my advanced hearing.
I’d risk it for her. “I am.” It was true. “I am Lucifer Morningstar.”
Her eyes widened, and the intoxicating scent that enveloped her lessened. A sign of pending death. I panicked, the thought of losing her to death unbearable. Once she was a spirit, she’d be lost to me even if her soul came to purgatory to await my eternal damnation. If I ever got around to setting that up.
Slashing the fabric of the earth realm with all the power I could muster, I ripped a hole into Hell, into my castle. It was cold and empty, sending her into shivers. As carefully as I could, I gathered her into my arms and stepped into it, then waved my hand to bring the bed from my home in the countryside. With another wave of my hand, I lit a roaring fire in the fireplace. The warmth filled the room quickly.
Settling her onto the bed, I pulled my knife from my side and pricked my finger. It was only a hunch, but the blood from my veins might heal her, or work as a medicine. It was worth a try. I stuck my finger in her mouth and her eyes flew open in shock.
Her brows furrowed as she looked up at me, the glassiness of her beautiful black orbs clearing a bit. Her eyes were truly a deep brown, not black, but in the meager firelight they appeared darker. I wanted to fall into their depths, get lost in the darkness. A darkness that matched my soul.
My hunch had been correct, and now that she laid in front of me, my hand in her weak grasp, I was sure I’d envisioned this at least once while the visions of her plagued me.
It was working. Her gaze grew sharper, clearer. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing in front of me. As she sucked on my finger, her hair lost some of its limp, dead appearance. I pulled back, drawing my finger from her mouth along with a groan. “More,” she whispered. “I’m so hungry.”
“Of course, darling. You shall have it.” I sliced my wrist. Blood welled and dripped down the side as I pressed it to her plump, now-pink lips. “Drink.”
She latched on like a babe on the teat, and the blood worked magic in front of my eyes. Her yellowed pallor paled then pinkened until her cheeks were flushed and full. I watched her wrists fill out as her hands clutched my arm, holding me close. The bones had been visible through her skin, but they disappeared before my eyes.
The alluring creature moaned as she drank, and her voice strengthened and deepened into a luscious, sultry tone.
She could drink forever. My body would heal and replenish itself. The only danger would be the wound closing, but as long as she actively sucked, it remained open.
I reached around and gathered her shiny black hair, pulling it behind her shoulders and out of her way. Her thin brown dress shifted as it went from hanging from her frame to filled out with curves. Breasts that would knock down the most stoic man. Hips meant for bearing children.
When she’d had her fill, she pulled back and put a hand over her mouth as if shocked. Her wide eyes stared at me in horror. “What happened?” she asked.
My wrist knitted together, obscuring all evidence of her drink. I smiled, thrilled beyond measure that she was well, her scent once again permeating the air, this time in my bedroom, in my home.
“I saved you, dear one.” She recoiled as I reached over to brush back a stray lock of hair. “Tell me, what is your name?”
She looked around with a mixture of fear and anticipation on her face. “I am called Lilith.”