To Hell and Back: The Last Hope

By Amira Vasileva

Lucinda thought that Lucifer's death would bring peace to everyone, including herself. She thought that the reason she had romantic feelings for Lucifer, her biological father who happened to be her husband, was because he had been messing with her mind. After his death, she realized what kind of a mistake she'd made. Not only did Lucy bring about the end of the worlds by breaking the seals and summoning the horsemen, but she also lost a part of herself with a man she shouldn't have but loved.

What if death is just a part of the big plan, God's plan? Or what if Lucifer's death wasn't a part of that big plan at all? Until she finds God—if he wants to be found—she will not know the answer to these and many other questions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667873688

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©2022 All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Print ISBN: 978-1-66787-367-1

eBook ISBN: 978-1-66787-368-88

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Prologue

"I s this all of it?"

I nod. All his things are here. He didn’t rent a storage unit and didn’t own property. I pause for a moment and look around the room as if trying to remember something. He did have a car—it’s parked downstairs.

She moves to the wardrobe and rummages through his clothes. Are you going to help, or what?

I will if you tell me what we’re searching for. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I have my own empire and more than enough money to last a lifetime. A very short life, thanks to Lucinda. I should be angrier and more hateful at the thought of her, but instead, I question whether helping Eve is the right thing to do.

She turns and looks at me. There’s so much similarity between them. They are the same, yet they aren’t. But both chose Michael over me. The irony…

She approaches me cautiously, as if on a hunt, as if scared to spook her prey—me. You know, Samael, we haven’t had a chance to talk about us. Her hand slides down my shirt sleeve until it finds my own. I’ve missed you. She lays my hand on her chest so I can feel her heartbeat and tell if she’s lying. She’s not.

Now she puts her hand on my chest. You didn’t actually love her, did you?

I don’t know. I don’t know because Lucy’s words echo in my head as though on repeat—maybe I AM incapable of love. I thought I loved Eve. I thought she loved me. But no, she chose Michael. I fell in love with Lucy instantly because of her awful resemblance to Eve. This time, though, I thought things would be different. I thought that Lucy could be my second chance. But, ironically enough, she made the same choice as Eve and ended up picking Michael over me. I stepped on the same rake. Maybe I’m just unlovable.

No, I say, and quickly add, She just reminded me of someone I loved.

She doesn’t smile, just tilts her head to the side and studies me. A second later, she leans forward and pecks me on the cheek. The disk—that’s what we’re looking for. She turns away and walks back toward the wardrobe.

He stole it from me. She stops at the clothes, sighs, and continues without looking at me. I’m sorry. Michael was a mistake I regret making to this day.

I find myself next to her, wrapping my arms around her waist and planting a small kiss on her shoulder. I’ll start with the kitchen.

Chapter 1

She told me that it’s almost impossible to kill him. She told me that he is one of the most powerful angels that has ever lived. She told me that he can’t be killed with a weapon like the one used to kill other angels because, again, he is no ordinary angel, and besides, he was the one who created these weapons in the first place.

But she also told me there was one weapon she knew of that could kill him—one that he didn’t create, one that was in a set of many but was destroyed by Lucifer himself. At least that’s what he thought. He thought he had destroyed them all. If not for Lilith, that might have been true. But she had hidden one. She knew the day might come when she would need to use it to kill him or to use as leverage against him, so she kept it and hid it away from everyone’s eyes and knowledge—especially Lucifer’s.

She told me to act when he would be at his most vulnerable—after forcing Lara to kill Cain. I knew that it would drain him. I knew that because he told me himself. He told me that if he uses his powers to push the human into doing what he wants them to do, if there is no rudiment of the same or similar desire in that human, if he does this entirely against their will, then it will drain him, make him weak, and leave him at his most vulnerable. 

He told me once that he needs to see and feel what the person sees and feels in order to gain full control, and I know that he is at his most vulnerable when that happens. That’s when Lilith said I needed to act. And that’s when I did. I did it because I thought he was still in my head, that he was messing with me and causing me to have feelings for him—that’s why I tried to force myself to love Raphael. But Lucifer is dead. He is dead. And I only feel worse. 

I like Raphael. I do. I might even love him. I might? I do? I don’t know. I’m not sure now that I ever loved Michael, either. What did I know about love back then anyway? Gosh, what do I know about love now? Nothing. Clearly. I did forgive Lucifer and Lilith for Michael’s death—too quickly, I would say, which probably means that my feelings for Michael were an illusion that disappeared the moment he betrayed me. Way too quickly, I forgave myself for moving on from the death of the man I kept claiming I loved. Because I didn’t. I didn’t love him. The only person that I loved—despite the horrors he forced me to go through, despite…a lot of things—is Lucifer. I know this because he’s dead now. By my hand. That knowledge brings me no relief.

I don’t think I can ever get over this. I don’t think I can ever forgive myself. I don’t think I can ever feel sane again.

Lucy. I look up from my hands to Raphael’s concerned face. I know it’s been hard. Your mother died in front of you. Right. My mother. That’s why I’m grieving. Right. That’s why. Right. My mother died. Why don’t I feel anything? I should, right? I should feel something—my mother died, after all. But why…it doesn’t matter.

He’s still talking. His hands are around mine. He’s trying to comfort me. I should probably give in because I need it. I need some comfort after making what is probably the worst mistake in my life. No. I’m not thinking clearly.

Time isn’t on our side. Right. I’ve been giving forty days before all goes to hell—in the most literal sense possible. I wasn’t planning on grieving. Not for days, anyway. It’s been three days and roughly nine hours since Lucifer’s death. He’s buried in his garden because at the moment I thought it was a good idea—and quite symbolic, considering that’s where I saw Michael last, in the vision, of course. On the other hand, Mother is in the crypt, which we apparently have. 

You said we need to find Father. Do you know where we should start looking? He moves closer. You know, it might be better if you shift your focus. It will be easier. I promise. He’s being manic. Everyone is. Well, everyone except me. I feel like I’m in that state where I can barely find a reason to get out of bed, much less do anything mundane like eating or drinking.

I’ve told them everything I know, which is nothing. I don’t know why they come one after another into my chambers to get me to tell them where to find God. I don’t know anything!

What he’s trying to say is that you need to get over feeling bad for yourself and take responsibility for what you brought upon all of us, says Jenny. I hadn’t noticed her in the room.

You’re hateful as always. I spit the words toward her and am on the verge of springing to my feet in hopes of shoving them both out of my room.

At least now you talk.

I move away from Raphael and toward my desk. Pouring the shiny liquid into the glass, I turn to face them. Just because I’m spending all my time in these chambers doesn’t mean I don’t do anything. I’m not totally irresponsible, as Jenny claims. I’m the queen. For now. I’m the queen of the empty castle, and pretty much the queen of empty Hell, since most of the angels have fled to the mortal world in hopes of…who knows, maybe living their best life while they still can? I expected them to be afraid of me, but they were SO scared that they ran in fear of being purged by my hand—which they still very well may be.

I am the queen. I never wanted it. Maybe I thought I did. Regardless, I can’t walk away from it now. Jenny is right that I need to face my responsibilities. And I promised myself that I would fix what I started—knowingly or not, it doesn’t matter. Besides, it’s not like I have any other option…right?

Lilith returned yesterday from the trip you sent her on, Jenny informs me.

I refrain from throwing an insult at her. Probably because she’s right. General is already in the castle—Lilith managed to find him. And I haven’t spoken to him yet, even though I probably should have by now. Instead, I just whine. She’s right. It’s hard to admit it, but she’s right. Tomorrow, I begin. It’s almost night. Let’s talk about our next steps tomorrow morning at breakfast…deal?

I can hear Raphael sighing with relief. Jenny just nods and walks out of the room.

Do you want me to stay with you? he asks as the click of Jenny’s heels fades in the corridor.

I look into his green eyes. He might be manic about the impending end of the world, but he’s truly concerned for me. No matter what I feel toward him, I’m grateful for this. So I nod. I nod in hopes of getting the comfort I need. I nod in hopes of feeling his body on mine, the intimacy I desperately crave from the man I like—maybe not love, but like for sure, and I guess that’s enough. He loves me—I know that. And he deserves to be loved, so I hope that one day I can give him that—that one day I will be able to be truly happy with him.

Chapter 2

Because of Eve, I lost everything. She’s the reason I had everything in the first place, but that doesn’t make it any easier. When you realize you have all these amazing powers, of course you feel special—I sure did. My head might’ve been occupied with less urgent things at that time—not that it isn’t now—but I can’t say I didn’t enjoy that little time I had when I had my wings, the fire, even those awful visions. I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy being an angel. Mostly angel. But now? What am I now?

No powers. No immortality. Anyone now can see the marks on my arms. I still retain the ability to understand any language out there, though, which any angel is capable of. But, unlike any angel, I speed-learned the language of life itself when I opened the seals and summoned the four horsemen—unknowingly, of course. 

What about visions? Well, I considered them part of my powers, but now I understand that they have a life of their own. Still, until now, I haven’t had a vision in a while. Maybe I’m not having one right now, either. Maybe this is just a nightmare?

It’s becoming harder and harder to breathe. I don’t know if the lack of oxygen is causing me to panic, if I should use my remaining oxygen to call for help, or if I’m just not a big fan of darkness and tight spaces.

I try to move, but the space is so tight that I can’t even turn onto my side. I’m locked in a box. I move my hands along the side and feel wood. It’s definitely wood. Very thick wood that doesn’t give in to my kicks and punches, or anything else I try to get out of this devilish box and wake the hell up!

Okay, Lucy. This is just a nightmare. You can’t have any visions. You can’t. I take a deep breath in, trying to believe the lie. You can’t because you’re powerless. I take a shallow breath. All of your powers are Eve’s now. And another, but this time, it feels like I’ve finally run out of air. I hit the wood. And I hit it again before I begin to scream, using the last of the air in my lungs.

In the blink of an eye, I’m back in bed. Breathing and, for now, alive. Just a nightmare. It was just a nightmare.

I sit up and run my hand over my face. Raphael is still sleeping, so I tiptoe to the bathroom, grabbing a set of clothes on the way.

I splash some cold water over my face and neck and then look in the mirror.

What happened to me? In the span of a few months, I managed to go from one extreme to the other. In the span of a few months, I managed to gain everything, then lose it all, then sort of gain it all back, and then lose it all again. I managed to go from wanting to bring Heaven back to not wanting to have anything to do with either of the worlds…and then changing my mind again.

Lilith should’ve been the queen. Not me. I’m not the right candidate to carry all this burden—my own and everyone else’s—on my shoulders. I’m not even nineteen yet. I was supposed to be preparing to graduate from high school and then start college in September. I was supposed to be partying all night, having fun, crying out loud from happiness instead of just crying. Eighteen is still a child—there’s a reason why the legal drinking age is twenty-one. I AM still a child. I’m not supposed to deal with all of this when I can’t even deal with myself. I’m not a great candidate for this. Besides lacking focus, I have a thousand other things that make me not an adult but someone who is just starting to discover herself, someone who is SLOWLY transitioning into adulthood.

Having dressed, I move out of the bathroom and then out of the chambers altogether. Raphael is still asleep. The sun will soon rise—I no longer need the windows to tell me what time it is.

Your Majesty. I almost jump in surprise. Where do they come from? You’re up early, the maid states. Do you want me to lay the table for breakfast now?

I catch my breath as I look at her. Yes. I was going that way anyway. Actually, I was going to the throne room to think, but I wouldn’t refuse some human food—which I actually need—and that shiny liquid I doubt I need but drink out of habit. Thank you, I add and step aside to let her pass. She hurries away and is gone in the blink of an eye. They disappear just as mysteriously as they appear.

I hear the footsteps before a man I’ve seen before emerges from one of the rooms. He notices me almost immediately, recognizes me, but doesn’t bow or acknowledge my position. He just walks past me without a second glance or a single word. I don’t know if I should be insulted or relieved. I’m sure Lucifer would’ve killed that angel simply for not bowing low enough. But I’m not Lucifer. I don’t have that thirst for power and everything else I managed to acquire. I just don’t. Maybe in another life, but not in this one. In this one, I’m a source of disappointment, constantly whining instead of trying to fix the problems I’ve created.

I turn around. He saunters down the corridor past my chambers before disappearing around the corner. I hurry after him.

I’ve seen him twice before. The second time was at Lucifer’s short and sparsely attended funeral, which was combined with my mother’s. But the first time, which is more important, was when I received the notebook that later disappeared. Yeah, there are too many mysteries.

Wait up! I call out. I turn the corner but find myself in an empty corridor. It leads to a dead end and a single room that I know is inaccessible because it was sealed by Lucifer. I try the door anyway.

Locked. That’s what I thought. This room is the only one I know that’s locked. The weirdest part is that the door doesn’t even have a keyhole. If I can believe the maids, angels can’t transport themselves inside the room. It just magically locked. Very strange. Then again, there’s nothing about this place that isn’t strange.

I retrace my steps and head toward the throne room, only to find Lilith walking toward me.

Two things, she jumps right into business. I slow my pace but don’t stop. There is nothing new of the pope and the Order. The mortals have been led to believe that the pope is sick. He hasn’t made any public appearances since he stepped into the role.