Lucifer half heartedly attempts to remember which soul the demon in front of them was tasked with corrupting. They can’t be bothered to coddle failure. Hell had rules.
“Kneel before your Lord,” Mazikeen commands in the direction of the insolent demon. Lucifer hears shuffling and bony knees hitting the black, marble floor of the throne room.
“What a pleasure to have you back so soon. Eager for another soul, perhaps?” Lucifer’s voice rings out, back turned to the interaction, denoting anything but pleasure at the exchange. To be truthful, Lucifer enjoyed making their subjects squirm beneath them.
“No, my Lord. There has been a complication. The soul I secured is to be exorcised.”
“Then you have not secured it,” the ruler of Hell denounced.
Lucifer finally turns to look upon the demon knelt before them. “Rise.” When the demon carefully stands upright, Lucifer still maintains a good measure of height above them.
“Demons have tempted mortals effortlessly for eons. What power has an exorcist in this venture?” Lucifer’s tone was even as they soliloquized.
Mortals and their complications…they seemed so inconsequential, so unimportant. Mortals are but tiny ants let loose upon the Earth, so far away, and yet Lucifer could smite them—crush them right then and there. Lucifer could end every problem by crushing their faith, turning them onto a hellish path instead.
Fearful to speak out of turn, the demon listens to Lucifer carry on, “Devils and fiends have not struggled to secure a soul due to an exorcist since 1572.”
Stammering, the subject in front of Lucifer exclaims, “My liege, I have attempted to derail the purification and have not been successful.”
“You disappoint me” is articulated before the demon can finish speaking. With a wave of Lucifer’s hand, a dark pit opens up behind the pleading follower of Hell. Mazikeen strides forward and kicks the beast into the cell below. Once finished, Lucifer summons another demon to resume the task.
In the coming weeks, two more intended souls were wretched away from Hell’s grasp. With their hands atop a circular table of fire, leaned forward in seething rage, Lucifer mouthed, “What is the meaning of this?”
Utilizing demons lower in the Hell’s hierarchy proved inadequate, a waste of time, resulting in failure. Lucifer would tend to the matter themselves. With another wave of their fingers, Lucifer materialized an image of the most recent soul in question, waiting to review who this challenging exorcist was. As they watched, they considered the circumstances.
True, formidable exorcists are few and far between; most are diluted versions of powerful characters lost to legend. Recalling past exorcisms throughout history, most were vicious attempts to control and punish women. That, or political propaganda weaponized in religious divides that only strengthened Lucifer’s numbers.
In watching the latest soul through the conjured mist, Lucifer spots you enter quietly and approach the wooden, four poster bed with a possessed body on it. You give the young woman lying there a drink of water and stroke hair away from her eyes that was kept glued to her forehead by sweat. You refuse to let the exorcism irreparably damage the body caught in the conflict. You step away to begin reciting your prayers and rites.
“God arises;
Their enemies are scattered
and those who hate Them flee before Them.
As smoke is driven away,
so are they driven;
as wax melts before the fire,
so the wicked perish at the presence of God.”
Lucifer then watches the exorcist’s eyes go white, glazed over in a trance pulling them from their corporeal form, leaving a shell behind momentarily. Your innate power radiating through even the mist Lucifer is peering through. In a murmur that was barely audible, Lucifer vocalizes, “Interesting…”
Curiosity overpowering anger, Lucifer decides they want to meet you face to face. Rather, they will demand an audience. They appear silently in the corner of the unusually barren room, eyes not moving from the form of the exorcist before them.
After a few minutes, Lucifer grows disinterested in the lack of change since or acknowledgement of their presence. In defiance of this face, Lucifer leans into theatrics, morphing the atmosphere before them. The interior walls begin to rot, the wood of the bed posts collecting corrosive shades of grey and black. Several spots in the corners of the walls and floor ooze with pitch black tar, bubbles popping and hissing, eating away at the perfection, at the peacefulness that once was present. Darkness looms, heavy, greedy, waiting to sink its teeth into its victims.
Light begins to seep from your pores until the very room seems to ceast to exist. Lucifer, obstinate as ever, makes no attempts to shield their eyes until the glare, the pure brightness threatens their vision.
Celestial magic. Just who are you, exorcist? Lucifer contemplates with a grimace at being confronted with the divine. Wings flap, and Lucifer vanishes before your eyes open, though you felt their presence.
You breathe softly, lifting your eyelids to the room before you. Nothing out of the ordinary, as if Lucifer’s influence had never bled into the space to begin with.
Back in Hell, Lucifer patrols the open marbled ledge repetitively, lost in thought. If Lucifer could not return to the Silver City, they would remake Hell on Earth, corrupt until Hell is all there is. What good was God’s kingdom if there were no followers, no believers?
Lucifer vows to start with you—to discern your specific ability to beckon souls away from the tempting lure of malfeasance and damnation. Lesser demons could not halt your exorcisms, as they were all in a struggle of strength and faith. Lucifer would tempt and seduce you instead. Who could resist Lucifer Morningstar, once God’s favorite and the most beautiful of all angels? Having decided a course of action, Lucifer kept tabs on you, learning your routine. Manipulating a mortal’s soul into your workload, they planned to intervene in your next exorcism.
Mazikeen takes note of Lucifer’s drifting attentions. No longer is the Lord of Hell opting for their usual entertainments or pleasures. No swordsmanship. No tournaments. No feasts with the assembled Lords of Hell. When Mazikeen of the Lilim witnesses Lucifer’s spying on you, she implores, “What will you do, my Lord?”
Deducing your importance in God’s Plan, sinister, Machiavellian features emerge on their face as they admit, drawing out the final syllables, “Something that will make God absolutely livid.”
Lucifer once again materializes off to the side as you prepare for the exorcism taking place in an hour. The exorcist heaves a knowing sigh and gently rubs at the back of her neck, feeling the tense muscles underneath.
“Collar too tight?” Lucifer’s voice flows outward, its cavalier tone wrapping against your face like a delicate ribbon.
“I had wondered when we would meet,” you forced out in a steady rhythm. You had to focus on not being effected by Lucifer’s bewitching voice.
“Not surprised or moved at our encounter? I’m wounded.”
You mustered the restraint to ignore the bait and turn your back to the archangel, a daring action. Offended that their prey was foolish enough to deny them, Lucifer moves closer to you.
“I wished to identify who exactly was diverting my souls. I didn’t expect to discover a pretty thing like you.”
“They are not yours, Lightbringer. They belong to our Sovereign of Heaven,” you oppose, as if the conversation you two were having were about as something mundane as the weather. A glint of animosity was present in Lucifer’s eyes.
In the vaulted church dormitory where the exorcism was now occurring, you gesture to a few of the extra bodies in the room to help restrain the flailing, possessed subject before you. News media liaisons, Catholic priests and other members of the clergy, family members to the possessed person were present. This crowd was a stark comparison to many of your previous private exorcisms.
The young boy in question had been unwilling to cooperate thus far—something your heart broke over. No. You should clarify…the demon speaking through the boy had a commanding hold on him. The boy himself was innocent and deserved to be fought for valiantly. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his mother weeped into someone’s chest.
Lucifer walks among the room slowly, and it seems that only you are able to perceive their presence here. An uneasy feeling overtook you, but you soldiered on, determined to aid the poor soul in question. Even with the added hands, the boy is writhing around and screaming.
Preparing your cross for its duty in the ceremony, you begin, “I exorcise thee, creature of salt, by the living God, by the true God, by the Holy God, and—“
Lucifer creeps behind you as you whisper your prayers, muttering obscenities into your ear, raising the hairs on your neck and arms. “You’re a good little disciple, aren’t you? If you were mine, I’d make sure you knew that you were pleasing me in this life rather than expect you to wait for salvation.”
Suppressing a chill, you conclude, “…by the God who by the prophet Eliseus commanded thee to be cast into the water.” Your eyes glance around the room to determine whether or not anyone noticed how challenging completing the rites was for you.
Frustrated at the unforeseen control you displayed, Lucifer’s irritation grew hot and radiated outward. A scream tears through you as you feel your skin burn and slough off in the center of your palms, revealing a demonic sigil. Not just any mark; it was Lucifer’s. Lucifer branded you.
At your next scheduled exorcism, of course the fallen angel was present. You prayed for strength, knelt beside an altar with your hands raised slightly above you, gripping a rosary and matching cross. From this angle, the blistered burns healing on her palms were semi-visible.
“You wear my mark well,” Lucifer praises.
You stomach drops, and you hope Lucifer’s powers don’t include the ability to notice your heartbeat begin to pick up. Evenso, you do not speak and continue practicing stillness as your work.
“All you need to do is ask,” you posit to the formidable being behind you.
“Ask what?”
Calmly, you explain, “To be saved.”
Taken aback, Lucifer briefly allows shock and discomfort to show on their face. They were expecting you to break down, allow their influence into you.
They compose themselves, give you a wry smile, and laugh in your face. “You think I want to be saved?” They spit at your feet and are gone in the next moment, not bothering to stay to protest the exorcism.
Two more sessions where you work to exorcize a demon from the same individual pass without any intrusion from the Lord of Hell. The gnawing curiosity to know what Lucifer was thinking came over you as you washed dishes with a sponge at your kitchen sink. The warm water your hands were submerged in felt relaxing—almost safe. Letting the plate you were holding fall under the water and sink down, you close your eyes and haphazardly thumb the tender areas of your palms.
You allow yourself to picture Lucifer in all their glory, their curled, blonde locks falling over their forehead reminiscent of a beautiful cherub statue. How the corners of their lips turned slightly upwards when they were amused or challenged. When their piercing blue eyes call outward for a subject to meet them. The way their hands converge and play upon each other like they are in a graceful dance. Their full, parted lips… You let out a small moan.
“You’re naive for thinking I can be saved,” a soft voice intervenes.
Your eyes wretch open, feeling like a small child caught in the act of disobeying. Your cheeks gain a bit of color, and your hands reach up to the cross around your neck. It was as if thinking of the fallen angel and touching their marks on your skin had manifested them. Coming back to yourself quickly and trying to find something to say, you relent, “Maybe.”
A moment passes. You consider how gentle Lucifer’s voice sounded; you’ve never heard it like that before. You are wary of what the softness means, but you didn’t want to jeopardize the possibility of hearing it again. After giving it some thought, you finally propose, “It is naive not to hope.”
This meeting is the first time Lucifer has visited you outside of your work as an exorcist. It makes you nervous. You knew you were called upon to do God’s work—to expel demons. You even knew this would encourage demonic forces to seek you out. Demons were nothing new in your life, whether religious or not. But Lucifer Morningstar taking an interest in you? That was dangerous.
Why did the Lord of Hell insist on dragging out your death? With a flutter of their porcelain hands they could destroy you and everything you’ve ever touched.
Each time Lucifer laid their eyes on you, they wanted to have their way with you, make you submit to them. Your defiance in acknowledging the sovereignty of Hell, continuing to spur on Lucifer by your exorcisms, only made them desire your submission even more. The rapture and ecstasy that Lucifer would experience when you choose to worship at their feet over God’s could rival the Silver City itself.
Seducing a truly pure soul—a deeply faithful believer of God—would keep Lucifer high for hundreds of years. Many have described Lucifer as a deceiver, a hinderer, wicked one, imposter, accuser, ruler of darkness, and finally devourer of angels, demons, and mortals. What is a human exorcist in comparison?
Noting subtle signs of attraction in your physique and behavior when they were present, Lucifer was delighted to ramp up their tactics.
They began trailing their fingertips across your shoulders, locking eyes with you hungrily from across the pews, and using filthily sexual language around you, often commenting on the curves of your body or how supple your breasts looked. At one point, Lucifer pressed the front of their black leather ensemble against your back as you practiced a sermon at the podium.
When this occurred late one Saturday night, you were desperate to maintain control of your limbs, to not act upon any of the thoughts that intruded and overstayed their welcome. To stave off temptation, you turned to your most cherished Bible quotes for strength.
“Needing to rely on your faith, little exorcist?” Lucifer purred while circling you like a stalking dire wolf. One of their surprisingly soft wings caressed your face. “Suggesting you otherwise want to sin, yes?”
Your press your eyes closed as hard as you are able to and keep reciting verses. You articulate outwardly,
“Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you. Matthew 17:20.”
With a chuckle, as if there is an inside joke at hand that you are not privy to, Lucifer counters your verses with their own excerpts from the Bible.
“Your navel is perfectly formed
like a goblet filled with mixed wine.
Between your thighs lies a mound of wheat
bordered with lilies.
Your breasts are like two fawns,
twins of a gazelle.”
Lucifer’s voice was melodic and mesmerizing, taking extra care with each word uttered. They continued with a smirk, “Song of Solomon 7:1-3, if you want to recount it later in bed alone.”
Sucking in a sharp breath, you turn on your heels towards Lucifer. Your eyes found theirs in determination. You hold their gaze while you indicate your resistance, “Isaiah 41:10. So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
Unwilling to accept defeat and discerning your dwindling control, Lucifer’s hooded eyes, full of desire, did not leave yours. Their advances felt positively tortuous to rebuff. Their voice rang out again as they stepped towards you,
“Your stature is like that of the palm;
your breasts are clusters of fruit.
I said, ‘I will climb the palm tree,
and take hold of its fruit.’”
Nearing the end of their verse, sounding more like poetry than the religious text you knew and studied, Lucifer stopped inches from you, lowering their head until their lips were hovering above your own. Time warped. The closeness happened so quickly, like a pounce, yet it could not happen fast enough as the sensual words floated around you both—charging the air.
Assured you would soon feel the weight of Lucifer’s mouth on your own, you shut your eyes guiltily. You knew you would let it happen.
Nothing. Not yet. A whimper arose in your chest.
After moments of painful anticipation with only Lucifer’s hot breath against your own, you spontaneously finished the distance. You acted without thought, acting on urge alone, as if there was a space in the world at that moment where you weren’t a committed exorcist and they weren’t the fearsome Lord of Hell.
Lucifer’s lips tasted sweet, unlike anything you would have imagined from the cautionary tales told throughout generations regarding the figure. Adrenaline coursed through you, aiding the fire and urgency of which you moved against their mouth, deepening the kiss before Lucifer could.
Contrary to the verse just proclaimed by the fallen angel, it was you who climbed up onto the other, searching for a way to bring your bodies closer. You wrapped your legs around Lucifer’s torso, miraculously missing their wings with your feet. At this, Lucifer heaves your body toward the closest wall in the parish, wanting to trap you between them and the rough stone.
Grabbing onto Lucifer’s neck and shoulders made the wounds on your hands ache. However, you pushed forward, finding more pleasure than pain in running your hands through the tall devil’s blonde hair, tugging every so often to elicit a pleased groan from them. Wanting more, wanting to give back in kind the torture you received these last few weeks, your kisses turn into nips until you bite harder and lean backwards. Your teeth scrape at and pull Lucifer’s bottom lip to mark it deep red with blood.
Instead of fury at the act, Lucifer breathes a chuckle, seemingly approving of your decision. Their eyes seemed glassy and intoxicated at the sudden assault you displayed. Their fingers reach up to touch the blood. Instead of wiping away or discarding the blood, Lucifer had other plans. Two bloody fingers found their way into your mouth, almost gagging you. Without missing a beat, you begin to swirl your saliva around the long fingers before lightly sucking each digit clean.
Invigorated, Lucifer wraps their other hand around your neck, applying pressure to each side with their fingers and thumb, wary to not crush your windpipe. Finding the right balance in exerting their inhuman strength in sexual acts with mortals was certainly an endeavor. …Not that they often mingled with those so unworthy.
Lucifer wanted to burn the image of you squirming in their grip along with their fingers invading your mouth over every edge of the earth and then recreate it nightly. At that moment, their wings wrapped around you, securing you in a warm, silky cocoon—able to feel the strong muscles of them holding you up. Lucifer needed their hands back to begin to undress you, hurried in their actions. As you watched their hands work at your collar and subsequent buttons, you felt entirely hidden away from the world and surrounded only by the mesmerizing once-angel. You were thoroughly captivated and wondered if this was Lucifer’s plan all along. You then wondered if that even mattered.
“Let’s move this to another place of worship, shall we?” Lucifer advanced with a grin and an air that could have been synonymous with a checkmate in a chess match.
Lucifer had won. Defiled you. Tainted your earnest and sincere pursuit for the holy, had possessed that which expels. Still, they could not cast you aside. They would have to deal with you and the exorcised souls sooner or later; this Lucifer knew. They have not yet spread Hell to the ends of the known universe. They aren’t even close, but Lucifer now had you. Hell could wait a bit longer.
“Go ahead with your exorcism tomorrow. You’ve earned it.”