A Dark Grace - Misty Cogburn (jenna bush book club .TXT) 📗

from the Angel met his sensitive ears. It seemed the being felt the pain of his touch as well, Could it be the clashing of their spiritual powers? Luca wondered tersely.

Once again, Luca glanced down at the Angel's scorched seal.

A century in Hell? Luca pondered thoughtfully to himself. …it would surely make the Angel go as crazed as the lost members of the Fallen!

Luca considered the situation at great length, Angels, were beings who nurtured themselves from sentiments of happiness and love.

Emotions hard to find in a place for damned souls, he thought harshly.

Only then did Luca realize the severity of the Angel's predicament. For, without any intervention the Angel would likely starve throughout its Damnation.

Yet, as an Immortal it would continue to live in immense pain, too weak to leave Hell even at the end of its condemnation.

Luca briefly wondered how long the Angel's sanity could last... His scowl hardened as he pictured the lifeless, mummified, remains of the Angel in one-hundred years.

His fist clenched at the thought and once again Luca felt the strange tug in his chest, as his lips thinned into a frown at the image of the Angel in such a state. Surprised at himself, Luca paused. While, he was taken aback by the possessiveness he felt for the creature; he was, in fact, more than pleased with the idea, for surely it had some merit.

To possess an Angel…

The thought alone was an opportunity he refused to relinquish. Without any further deliberation, Luca bent once more towards the fallen being. Careful of his hands touching the Angel's skin, he lifted the small form of the Angel from the ground by the tattered remains of its silk cloths.

Then, Luca stood to his full height, the Angel's hanging limply at his side, as he focused his Demonic Power and allowed his wings to spread.

To an onlooker, such a thing would have appeared as though he had spontaneously sprouted wings from his bare back. However, Luca had only willed his wings to take their natural form, relinquishing them from their binding glamour.

Facing the East, Luca paused to admire the two green moons that had just awakened in the glimmering sky. Moment by moment, Hell's auburn sky had turned darker, until now, only one of its purple suns still burned in the horizon.

The pressing need to return home only grew with the creeping darkness. Fully aware of the dangers awaiting them in the darkness of Hell's night, Luca leapt into the air.

Their take off was slow and sluggish, yet Luca hurried up the ridged volcanic mountain, hastening awkwardly with his load. He was careful of the mountain's sharp edges and bluffs; as well as his hold on the Angel's person.

Inwardly, Luca hoped such actions would prevent any added torment to the wounded creature's person. Knowing, assuredly that when the Angel finally did awake, the being would be in enough pain without any added discomfort from Luca's own misdeeds. For one-hundred years he would keep the being, studying it, and maintaining its needs.

He would want the Angel comfortable enough to be open to his discussions. Yet, Luca pondered with pause, he was unsure of how the Angel would react to living in his residence, for his palace… his home… resided near the Gates of Hell, built over a hot spring boiled by the Lakes of Fire.

For, even the hellish places Demons themselves avoided, his Sire called home.

 

His Sire…

Glancing briefly down at his bothersome load, Luca realized the answer to his problem. For surely, if any would know of a way to keep such a being as an Angel of the Lord, it would be his father, Luca decided. He would see his Sire as soon as he arrived, and hopefully he would gain the answers he sought.

Crossing over the open ranges of the Lakes of Fire, Luca was thankful for the reprieve of his beating wings as the fanned his form. Yet, even the strong gales of his wings was no match for the fiery temperatures of the lakes flames. Feeling the heat of the fiery lakes upon his skin, Luca blew out a saved breath as the foreboding sight of his Sire's palace came into sight.

Deadened to the sight of burning souls screaming in anguish as their flesh burned away into noxious scented smoke, Luca soared high above the souls. Ignoring their cries for help and their pleas for his mercy.

His palace sat high above the lakes, past even the dark clouds above him, yet Luca could still make out the outline of his father's palace. Pacing himself to fly up the sheer cliff of the palace walls, it wasn't long before his powerful wings pushed him past even the high tower of his room.

Tiredly, Luca flew into the tall open window of painted glass adorning the high ceiling of his room, before callously tossing the Angel onto his large bed. Only, after stretching his aching shoulders, did Luca turn to ring the bell cord at the head of his bed. The action, ushering a servant from outside his hall into the room.

"You will clean this," Luca commanded of the maid, motioning towards the sleeping Angel, who lay on his bed. "Yet, refrain from touching its form," he warned grievously, showing the maid his wounded hand.

At the sight of his now charred extremities, the maid gave a startled gasp. Her yellow, wolfish, eyes widening with both surprise and concern, Yet, Luca was already gone from the room, expertly avoiding her prying questions. Knowing all the while he could trust the maid to see through her duty, while following his commands.

As he predicted, only the soft padding of his own leather boots followed him out into the hall as Luca made his way to his father's room. It was only a short trip, down the stone hallway to the right of his own. Without bothering to knock or even announce his presence, Luca went inside the dark room.

"Father," Luca greeted the unseen figure as he entered.

Peering around in dark, unlit room, when no answer came, Luca tensed at the sound of a voice from behind him. "Yes?" the chilling voice questioned at his back.

Luca turned sharply at the sound, watching briefly as the door to the room shut firmly, and his father appeared from behind it in a casual manner. Deciding to be curt, rather than follow any expected pleasantries between his Sire and himself, he answered shortly. "I have found an Angel," he reported.

Even in the dimly lit room, Luca could see his Sire's eyes become lidded, his face clearly unenthused by such seemingly deplorable news. Instead of meeting Luca's expectations of relentless questions, his Sire simply sighed dismissively, "Adrian has been here since the Fall, he is the Keeper of the Gate," he answered with a wave of his hand, signaling for Luca to leave.

Luca bit down on his lip, trying to quell his ire at such a dismissal, all the while he worked to school his features and dim his scowl. Did his Sire really think him to be daft enough to have not to have already come to that realization? Luca thought heatedly, Of course someone with the power to open a gate between Hell and Earth would be appointed by the heavens above, mayhap even God himself!

Seeing a tired look cross the Fallen One's face, Luca shook his head to clear his thoughts. Keeping his concern to himself, Luca watched patiently as his Sire turned unsteadily on his feet towards his large canopy bed.

Only once his Sire was seated comfortably did Luca continue, forcibly cutting the edge from his words. Luca replied, "The Angel was not the Keeper of the Gate, instead, I have found an Angel sealed here by one of its own."

In the cold silence of the dark room, there was a swirling moment of tension between Luca and his Sire, as the later went rigid at Luca's words. Slowly, his Sire lifted his head, his tired green eyes glowing as an unfamiliar notch shaped his father's brow and a sudden revival awoke in the usual listless eyes of his Sire.

Luca shifted uncomfortably as he became the sole focus of his Sire's attentions. Yet, a hand suddenly cupped his face to quell his fidgeting, forcing Luca's gaze to meet his Sire's. Staring into his father's eyes, Luca was suddenly aware he was being studied by his Sire's green orbs; as if being frisked down to his very soul.

He stood with his mouth agape, slightly fearful, even as his Sire disappeared before his eyes, as quickly as he had appeared. "Luca, come and sit before me," his father called, once again seated on the bed.

Disorientated, Luca stared blankly, mouth still agape at his Sire. Yet, he was met with the same lethargic look that always haunted his Sire's eyes from where he sat on his bed, once again at the opposite side of the room.

Struggling to regain his poise, Luca peered queerly at his Sire, taking in the striking figure surrounded by the bedding's silken sheets of red.

How easy it was to be awed by his Sire, Luca relinquished. For his Sire truly deserved his given titles. His Sire was after all, none other than the Morning Star, Star of the Dawn, the Morning Sun, Son of the Dawn, Prince of Pride, Crowned Prince of Hell, The Royal Fallen, the fiend, Lucifer.

Chapter Two

~*~*~*~

"No light, but rather darkness visible

Serv'd onely to discover sights of woe,

Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace

And rest can never dwell, hope never comes

That comes to all; but torture without end"

–John Milton's Paradise Lost (Book One: 63-67).

~*~*~*~

 

Luca crossed the room still, if only slightly, disorientated. However, he was guided only by the beckoning hand of his Sire outreached in his direction.

Before he had even grasped the awareness of his trajectory, Luca found himself positioned to kneel before his father. His knees exposed to the harsh chill of the stone floor through the parted folds of his sarong's black silks.

Hesitantly, Luca looked up at his Sire with cautious eyes, still dazed from the power his father had exerted just moments beforehand. Like all Fallen, his Father seemed able to control a moments length.

For the thousands of years he had lived, his Sire had only spoken of the power once. "My life is played in moments much slower than your own, and a year for you is a hundred of my own," his Sire had confessed.

A curse, God granted to each of the Fallen, surely.

Despite his Father's age, he looked the same as Luca always remembered. The Prince of Hell was always clothed in black silks, his raven locks falling down his shoulders, even past his waist.

His toneless skin made the depths of this green eyes glow from beneath his dark ringed lids. His lips were such a glistening shade of pink, yet even as he stared at them they some home whispered into Luca's ear as if in two places at once...

"Luca, don't let power control you," his Sire ordered and Luca flinched. The daze that had hung so heavily over his mind lifted in an instant at his Sire's command.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts once more, Luca kept his eyes downcast as he once again