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It had been millennia since Lucifer last stood in Heaven. She held her hand up to her face and narrowed her eyes. It was still as bright as she remembered. Light seemed to emanate from everywhere. From up above where the sun hung in the sky, shining down with vivid golden rays, and even from the clouds they stood on.
The former Queen of Hell was not alone. At her side stood Justice, Hell’s former high prosecutor. She was a demon born and raised in Hell so the current environs should have been entirely unfamiliar to her, if not outright unpleasant. But she was ever the optimist and a characteristic smile was plastered across her face.
Lucifer struggled to reciprocate her companion’s enthusiasm. Fate had seen her reduced in station and while it wouldn’t have been the first time, never was it so embarrassing as this. The idea of being back here now of all times was almost too much to bear. Lucifer looked down at her clothes, a maid outfit in a demon’s typical red and black, and grimaced.
Standing a few paces in front of them was another demon. She wore a white lab coat over her standard demonic attire, black button down vest over a red button down shirt, and red visors over her eyes sparkling in Heaven’s light. She grinned from ear to ear and seemed not to have a care in the world. In the demon’s hands were sheets of paper which she eagerly flipped through.
“Loremaster,” Lucifer muttered to herself. The new ruler of Hell. She spoke the name with derision, enunciating each syllable with care and letting it bounce around in her head before spitting it out with as much venom as possible. This demon took everything from her and now she stood basking in the light of Heaven, as happy as a puppy at dinner.
“Friends!” Loremaster said. “I’ve come home.” She addressed a large audience of angels, situated a dozen yards away from them. They were arranged in formation and each angel on a gun trained on them. Loremaster paid it no mind.
“Come no closer, demon!” An aisle opened in the middle of the angelic host and marching down it was the Archangel Michael herself. She was dressed in typical militaristic fashion and adorned in copious medals. Lucifer recalled when she wore the same medals a long time ago.
Loremaster laughed nervously, “Is this some sort of joke? It’s me Azazel, don’t you remember? I finally finished my thesis.” She walked forward. “I know it’s been some time but—”
“Not another step!” Michael commanded. “We will not hesitate to open fire!”
Lucifer shot a sideways glance at Loremaster, gauging her reaction. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face and her brow looked furrowed. An uncomfortable feeling swelled up in the pit of Lucifer’s stomach.
Loremaster shuffled in place, not really moving forward at all, and a shot rang out loud as thunder. She recoiled, knocking her visor askew, and then froze on the spot. The bullet had flown just shy of her head, blowing past her hair and nearly kissing her skin.
“Final warning,” Michael proclaimed sternly, with no hint of emotion. Her arm was raised and behind her an angel lowered a gun with a smoking barrel. “Leave.”
Loremaster’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth as if to speak but no words came out, instead only a strangled noise escaped, halfway between a cry and a whimper. Lucifer could hear Loremaster’s breathing grow haggard and uneven. The sound made her anxious. They stood still for many moments, no one moving or saying a word, not the demons or the angels, no sound save for Loremaster’s labored breathing. Justice was the first to break the spell, walking forward and placing a hand on the panicking demon’s shoulder. They looked at each other. Justice’s expression was soft and she still carried that same smile. Loremaster looked on the verge of breaking.
“We should go,” the blind demon said. Loremaster let out a deep sigh and nodded. Justice fixed Loremaster’s visor on her face and draped her arm around Loremaster’s shoulders as they turned away from the angels behind them and walked away. Loremaster’s gait was uneven, stumbling once or twice, but Justice held her up. As they glided past her, Justice shot Lucifer a knowing look.
Lucifer glanced back at the angels behind them, her eyes finding and lingering on Michael’s own, before turning around and leaving. Soon the mist overtook them and they vanished without a trace.
• • •
The demon sat on the bed, lab coat strewn behind her, dry heaving and coughing. She clutched her sides tightly, squeezing herself almost to the point of bursting. It did little to stop her shaking. Eventually she grew tired and collapsed onto the bed while her breathing slowed. She lay there awhile, motionless. Her mind raced with questions.
Had it been so long they didn’t remember her? Did they not recognize her? She truly hadn’t changed all that much right? Was she not the same girl who left home all those years ago?
The girl stood up and faced the door to the bathroom adjoining her room. She moved forward listlessly, her feet barely rising above the ground almost like a puppet pulled by its strings. Once inside, she flicked the lights on and faced the mirror. She hated what she saw. Her reflection stared back at her, eyes red and puffy from crying and makeup running down her cheeks in black streaks. The marks were in stark contrast to her skin, white as ash. The color white embodied her quite well, such as she is now. Cold white skin, once warm. Long white hair, once black. And not to mention two other things. Her gaze turned to the horns jutting from her scalp like stalks. Smaller than they usually were but white still.
She painted them white to resemble an older demon. How long ago had that been? Decades? Centuries? Millennia even? How genius the idea had seemed then. How foolish it seemed now.
Her gaze dropped to the sink beneath the mirror. She turned the faucet on and felt the cold water spill over her fingers. Then she grabbed a small towel, let the water run over it, raised the wet rag to her head and scrubbed. She scrubbed furiously and aggressively, wrapping the towel around her horns, making sure not to miss a spot. She scrubbed until her arms were sore and when she dropped them she only saw a mess in the mirror. Her wet hair stuck to her face in clumps and the dripping water did no favors for her ruined mascara. But the horns remained the same, white as ever.
The demon ducked down and opened the cabinet beneath the sink. She pulled out as many cleaning products as she could hold and dropped them on the counter. She worked through them one by one, opening a bottle, spilling its contents onto the towel, trying to scrape the paint off and turning to another bottle when the previous one proved ineffective. Used bottles were set aside haphazardly, making a mess. The mess only grew as more and more opened bottles littered the countertop, some overturned and spilling over. The smell of various soaps permeated the room and was nearly suffocating. And despite it all, none of them worked.
At that point, the demon started scraping the horns with her nails, seeing if she could peel the paint off but that worked no better. She stared at her reflection. Her hair was an utter mess now. She was drenched nearly head to toe. She was breathless and getting desperate. Her gaze went up to the horns sticking out of her hair, almost taunting her, and she covered their reflection with her hands. Then a dark thought entered her mind. She brought her hands up to the horns and wrapped her fingers gingerly around the shoots. The hard material felt cold against her skin but the horns themselves had no feeling. As if they didn’t belong to her. It felt like touching another person’s body. She grasped them tightly and pulled as hard as she could.
• • •
Lucifer raised her hand to the door before her and rapped her knuckles on it. Since returning from Heaven, Loremaster had secluded herself in her living quarters and hadn't been seen since. Even Lucifer was starting to worry so here she was. No answer came from the room nor did she hear movement on the other side. Lucifer knocked again. Still no response. That did little to ease her discomfort. She tried the handle and found it was unlocked. The door opened and Lucifer was met with a sorry sight.
A disheveled demon sat on the floor at the foot of her bed, eyes bloodshot and puffy and staring off into space. She was shivering. Her hair and clothes were soaked through and clinging to her skin. Even from a distance, Lucifer could tell that her face was a mess. Black streaks ran from her eyes down the sides of her face and on her forehead, around the base of her horns, were dark red splotches. The horns themselves were sticking out at an odd angle but there they remained.
Lucifer tried to recall the contempt she knew she felt for the demon on the floor but couldn’t seem to find it in her anymore. Something about the sad display before her made it all feel very silly.
She turned and walked into the adjoining bathroom, noting the mess she’d have to clean later, and walked out carrying four dry towels: two large and two small. She stood next to the crying demon and laid out one of the larger towels on the bed. Lucifer directed her to sit on top of it, but the demon on the floor remained unresponsive, so she was forced to lift her onto the bed herself.
She asked Loremaster to remove her clothes but was again answered only with silence. Lucifer sighed. She’d have to do it herself. She began by unbuttoning her vest and letting it fall from her shoulders. Then she unbuttoned her shirt, pulled it up and over her head, and tossed it atop the vest. Lucifer stood up from the bed and pulled Loremaster’s pants down and off her legs before setting them aside. Then she unhooked the demon’s bra, removed their underwear, and added them both to the growing pile.
After peeling all her wet clothes off, Lucifer grabbed the pile and tossed it into a hamper on the far side of the room. Then she turned back around and looked Loremaster up and down. She sat on the bed cold, wet and naked. She sat with her arms at her sides, not bothering to cover herself. The dampness of her skin gave it a slight sheen. She was still shivering but slightly less so now.
Lucifer sat back down next to her and grabbed the remaining one of the larger towels. “Do you mind?” She asked. Still no response. She took that as permission. She lifted the towel and reached out to Loremaster with her free hand. She jerked back when her hand touched Loremaster’s skin. It was clammy and oh so cold. She raised the large towel and began to pat the other demon dry. She lifted her hand up and wiped the towel over and under her arms. She slid the rag around her midsection, across her breasts, down her back and around each leg. Lucifer’s fingers glided along her skin as she did so, searching for any missed wet spots. After finding none, she patted Loremaster’s hair down.
When she was sufficiently dry, Lucifer stood and walked over to the closet. She sifted through the assortment of clothes until her eyes landed on a red nightgown. She grabbed it and a pair of underwear and walked back to where the other demon was sitting. Lucifer helped Loremaster put them on, pulling the gown down over her head and guiding the underwear up her legs.
Once she was clothed, Lucifer grabbed the used towel and carried it over to the hamper. Leaving the smaller ones behind. Then she entered the bathroom again and came out carrying a comb. Lucifer looked down at the demon on the bed. She had a dejected expression on her face and her knees were brought up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. She looked so small like that, a far cry from her usual commanding demeanor. But she was no longer shivering, Lucifer saw that as a good sign.
She sat down next to Loremaster, dropping the comb beside her, and placed her hand beneath the demon’s chin, fingers resting on her cheeks. When Lucifer turned her head to face her, the quiet demon offered no resistance and she didn’t react when Lucifer started dabbing a warm, damp cloth to her forehead, cleaning the caked blood around her horns. Lucifer noticed how small they were now, almost hidden in her hair.
After the blood was wiped away, Lucifer dried her face with the other cloth. When she finished cleaning the demon’s face, Lucifer repositioned herself on the bed and grabbed the comb. She interlaced her fingers through the strands of her hair and ran the comb through it. Then she spoke. “You know, this isn’t a good look for you, Loremast—”
“Don’t call me that!”
The sudden outburst startled Lucifer. She had gotten used to the silence and hadn’t expected her to respond, let alone shout a command. “Would you prefer I call you ‘Azazel’ instead?” She returned her attention to combing the demon’s hair.
“D-Don’t call me that either. It’s not my name anymore”
“Ok,” Lucifer sighed, “what do I call you then?”
”I… I don’t know.” The other demon opened her mouth as if to continue speaking but remained silent. The words died in her throat. All she managed was a desperate choking sound. Tears welled up in her eyes and she covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
Lucifer could remember her own fall. She had foolishly thought herself an equal to God and was cast out of Heaven for such arrogance. She remembered her anger, her despair, her shame. She could remember it like it was yesterday despite the many ages it had been. But that wasn’t what entered her mind now. What she remembered now were the others. Everyone else she pulled down with her. Their shame. Their despair. Their anger. Directed at her. She’d never forget it. And yet she did it again. She just can’t help herself.
“I’m sorry,” Lucifer said, putting the comb down.
“What?”
“I’m sorry for all this. It’s my fault.”
The demon let out a strangled gasp. “That’s right,” she said, turning to Lucifer with an accusatory glare, “you did this to me.”
Lucifer saw a hint of emotion on the other demon’s eyes. A flash of anger, rage, and hatred swirling in her crimson pools alongside her own reflection. It rose from deep below and bubbled on the surface. Lucifer accepted her anger. It was good, she thought. She deserved to be hated. The demon before her wouldn’t be the first person to think so. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. The demon’s shoulders slumped and she turned away, burying her face in her hands. Her body trembled as she quietly sobbed.
Lucifer was tired of seeing her like this. She leaned in closer to the crying demon and hugged her from behind. She rested her head in the crook between the demon’s neck and shoulder, and wrapped her arms around to grab at the demon’s hands. She interlaced their fingers and removed them from the demon’s face before bringing them to her chest. They sat together like that for a few moments, neither of them saying a word.
The distraught demon spoke up first. “I don’t know what to do,” she said.
“That’s fine.” Lucifer responded. “We can figure that out later.”
“I’ll never see them again won’t I?”
“No.” Lucifer knew who she was referring to and wouldn’t lie to her. “You won’t.”
The demon choked back a sob.
“But,” Lucifer added, thinking of the others, “you won’t have to be alone.”
They were quiet for another moment. The crying demon leaned her head back and tightened her grip on Lucifer’s hands.
“What even am I?” The curious demon asked.
“You’re you,” Lucifer answered. “That’s enough for now.”
Hearing that, the other demon turned around and pulled Lucifer into a tighter hug. Her arms wrapped around the former Queen’s neck and she buried her face into her shoulder. Lucifer placed her hands on the demon’s back and traced circular patterns into her gown. When they separated, Lucifer brought her hand up and wiped the tears from the other demon’s eyes. Their faces were so close now, a mere inch apart. Lucifer felt the sad demon’s breath on her face, warming her skin. Lucifer didn’t fail to notice the other demon’s eyes flitting down every now and again. Their gaze would land on her lips before quickly and bashfully moving elsewhere.
If that’s what she wanted, then fine then. Lucifer cupped the demon’s cheek and locked eyes with her. She nodded and her companion’s eyes widened in shock. The shy demon leaned in hesitantly, unsure and apprehensive, so Lucifer moved her hand from cheek to chin and pulled her forward, bringing their lips together. The kiss was chaste and sweet. The demon’s face was still wet with tears and her lips tasted salty on Lucifer’s tongue, which made her savor it all the more.
When they split off Lucifer held the other demon by her shoulders. They were both breathless. When their eyes met again, Lucifer asked a silent question and the other demon answered. Gently, she pushed the demon down onto the bed and slowly climbed on top of her. When their lips met this time, the kiss was deeper. Their tongues eagerly darted around the other as if in a dance.
A quiet part of her wanted to say that this was wrong. That she shouldn’t take advantage of this situation. She ignored it. Lucifer didn’t care one bit.
They were demons after all.