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“None of that thrashing about during my visit. It is distracting and I want us to have a nice chat.” The devil’s finely-shaped mouth spreads into a charming smile.

“If you are seeking new students for your school of the black arts, I am presently engaged.” I tap the iron stake with one long sharp fingernail before resting my hands beneath my bosom.

Laughing, the blonde-haired creature with the face of a Roman god lightly brushes his fingers over my cheek. “Always defiant. Even he

re in this gruesome place. One of the many reasons I have always held you in the highest regard.”

“You have a peculiar way of showing your respect. Murdering my mother. Conspiring against my sister. Attempting to accost me. Should I continue?”

“You really do dwell too much on the past,” he sniffs, but he is delighted by my refusal to cower in fear. Like Vlad, he loves a conquest. “I am not here to discuss our sordid history together.”

As always, the devil is outfitted as a fashionable gentleman of the times. Tonight he is clad in long white breeches, a bright blue waistcoat, and brocade vest. His top hat is black with a blue ribbon and it sits atop his golden curls at a jaunty angle. I am always struck by his beauty and charismatic presence whenever he ventures into my life. He is so far removed from the stories I was told during my childhood in the Black Forest that I have often wondered if he deliberately spread those tales to disguise his presence in the world. How foolish it seems now in the glow of his mesmerizing aura that I once thought of the devil as a squat goat-man with horns. The true face of the devil is beautiful beyond compare to lure his victims into compliance so he can steal their soul.

“What terrible purpose drew you to my side?” I ask suspiciously.

He smirks while leaning back against the edge of the bier. “I missed my old friend.”

“We are not friends.”

“You wound me! After all we have endured together!” He presses an elegant hand to his chest, pretending to be aggrieved by my words. It is difficult not to be beguiled by his charming persona, but cruelty lingers below the surface of his striking features.

“Does Vlad know you are here?”

Lucifer shrugs contemptuously. “Does it matter?”

“He is a very jealous man, as you well know.”

“Which makes this visit all the more wicked and dangerous, does it not?” Leaning forward, Lucifer adjusts my necklace about my throat, making sure the ruby and diamond pendants sit just right upon my collarbones.

“Did he send you to torment me?”

Lucifer does not answer. Instead, he fusses with my dress, smoothing the lace and ruffles of my sleeves and skirt. He is very particular about appearances and obsesses with setting things right. It is a weakness that can be exploited in the proper circumstances, but it is rather annoying to see him fussing with my surroundings. He even bends over to collect my slippers from the floor and slides them onto my feet. I am tempted to kick them off for the sole purpose of frustrating him, but it is in my best interests not to rile the devil when I am in such a weakened state. I am curious about his unexpected appearance in the mausoleum. Is he here for his own duplicitous means, or Vlad’s? They are mostly enemies, but sometimes they band together against a common foe.

Kicking at Magdala’s rotting corpse, he sneers. “Vlad really should keep it tidier for you since you are the grand love of his life according to his passionate exclamations and bitter cursing whenever I visit him.”

My laughter is mocking. “Yet, here I am.”

“Oh, we both know that you are here because he cannot bring himself to kill you despite your betrayal. If he merely loved you as one of his possessions, you would be long dead. If he did not love you and was done with your wretched presence, you would be cast out to survive on your own against all manner of monsters and vampire hunters. But this is a true demonstration of passion. This, Erzsébet—” Lucifer traces his fingertips down the iron stake “—is true love.”

“I prefer fine gifts suited to my station to impalement.”

Lucifer tsk-tsks. “Really, Erzsébet. You must appreciate the passion he poured into this most delicious of punishments.”

“If you so admire his handiwork, perhaps you can use it in hell,” I reply crossly.

“Oh, come now. You know I do not exist there. That is propaganda espoused by my enemies. I am the god of this world and I rule it as I see fit. The attempts of my foes to deny me my due will not end well for their institutions.”

The façade of the romantic dandy slips and the calculating manipulator is revealed for a mere second as he defends his station. I am glad to see the serpent lingering within the handsome man whose proclivity is destruction. It is a reminder not to be swayed by his charm.

“Why are you here, Lucifer? Is it time for the Scholomance to open? Do you crave yet another powerful dark soul to devour?”

“None has been as tasty as your sister’s.” His bland tone is belied by his malicious gaze.

My hands start to clench into fists, but I force them to stay pressed to my ribs. I will not show weakness to this foul beast. Ágota’s fate haunts me, for much of what happened is still a mystery. Is he lying? Or is this the truth? I resist the urge to curse at the devil for teasing me so cruelly, for he will only find it amusing that he could rile me so easily.

After a few long, strained moments, I recover my temper and say, “Unfortunate that you did not devour my dear husband as payment for his tuition in the black arts.”

“He is a wily one. I will never forgive him for outwitting me. He would have been a delicious feast.” Lucifer takes off his hat and shakes out his golden curls with rakish flair. “As you may have ascertained, I am not here at his behest, but my own.”


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