“I would never!” The Devil clasped a hand to his chest in horror.
“She knows, Dad,” Azrael said with a little chuckle. “It's Vervain, which means it's a joke.”
“Oh,” Luke murmured. “Of course. Sorry, Vervain, I haven't been thinking straight.”
“It's okay.” I gave Luke's shoulder a pat. “So, the school kids have been trying to find your diamond trove?”
“Ever since I hid it from them,” Luke affirmed as he stepped across the diamonds.
“It's become a badge of honor to be able to say that you've walked the Diamond Path,” Azrael said as he extended his arm to me. “It means that you're favored by Lucifer Morningstar.”
“Then, I'm truly touched,” I said as I took Azrael's arm. “Thank you, Luke.”
“When are you going to start calling me 'Dad,' Vervain?” Luke shot over his shoulder. “I know that's what you call Fenrir.”
“Oh.” I blinked in surprise as Az led me over the diamonds. “Haven't I?”
“Once or twice,” Luke said. “But not consistently. I'd like it if you did.”
I made my I'm-so-touched-that-I-want-to-cry-but-I-won't face at Luke's back and swallowed the tightness in my throat before I replied.
“Then I will,” I said, “Dad.”
The Devil shot a smile back at me so brilliant that it rivaled his path.
The Diamond Path wound through the mountain in a polished tunnel, and the further we went, the cooler it got. The glittering gems had to compete with the sparkle of ice crystals by the time we reached the other side of the passage. Then we stepped out into a Winter Wonderland. I turned up my internal heat—thanks, again, to my dragon—and Azrael edged closer. Even Lucifer dropped back to walk beside us and enjoy the warmth I radiated.
“This is amazing,” I said to Luke. “I knew that it was cold in Hell, but I didn't realize there was an area like this.”
The diamonds had ended at the edge of the mountain. I glanced back and saw the rock face surging upward into the cloudless, burnt sky of Hell; the grayish-blue stone turning green in the red light. It was the only green in sight. Here, in this valley, Hell was covered in snow. And that was a blessing.
Hell's landscape was composed of human bones, sinews, and blood. The sandy earth was soaked with blood; which I'd only recently discovered was from a constantly erupting blood volcano. The trees, hills, rocks, and other geographical formations were complicated arrangements of bones, and the paths through Hell were paved with crushed bone—to protect your shoes from getting bloodstained.
Above us, the sky was its usual color; a dried-blood red. Not only did this tint the mountainside, but it also washed the pure snow with blushing color. Normally, I'd find that creepy, but with all the other stuff covered up, the tone seemed more pastel than bloody, and the brightness of the snow made up for the dim sunlight of Hell. It felt more fantastical than frightening.
“Yes; I prefer to come in this way,” Luke said. “It brings me peace, and I needed some of that today.”
“The house is just over the rise.” Azrael pointed ahead; where the path rose up a hill.
I looked up and noticed the bats. Flock of bats? Herd of bats? What do you call a whole lot of bats? Disturbing?
Satan's mansion had a dramatic Gothic look that wouldn't have been complete without bats hanging from the eaves. Tonight, however, the bats were restless and were flying above the heads of the gargoyles on roof duty. As we crested the rise and the winter landscape melted into the normal sands of Hell, I got a good view of the stony demons glowering at the circling bats. It seemed as if everyone was feeling Luke's anxiety.
Especially his wife.
Every light in Casa de Diablo was on; shining through the mullioned windows and the intricate panels of stained glass (biblical scenes) to cast colored swaths over the ground. The religious art didn't lessen the terrifying feel of the place. In fact, it amped it up. The stained glass depicted violent tableaus of demons attacking angels and humans.
The house itself was a rambling three stories with a turret at either end. It was done in shades of black and gray with iron accents, an oriel window, more cornices than any building had a right to, and steeple roofs; all of them with edges and points that seemed sharp enough to kill. In short, even Wednesday Adams would have given the house a wide berth.
But once you got past the hellish exterior, the Devil's home was warm and inviting. We strode into a bright interior that had been redecorated and rearranged more times than I could count. With territory magic, a god could change anything—even the layout of his home—in the blink of an eye, and Luke had literally wrote the book on territory magic. But every incarnation of his home had been stunning, welcoming, and comfortable. This latest one was no exception.
Satan loved to decorate for the seasons. So, currently, his living room was adorned with fall colors seen in throw pillows, drapes, and garlands of leaves strewn over the mantle. Among the leaves were miniature pumpkins and candles. The mirror over the mantle was gilded and hung with more autumn foliage and on the coffee table, there was a collection of ceramic pumpkins with words like “blessed” and “thankful” painted on them. No; the irony wasn't lost on me.
But I didn't have time to appreciate more than the décor in the living room because Holly—aka the Holy Spirit and Luke's wife—came rushing down the staircase before the grand entrance like Scarlett
