He nods slowly. “The moment you were killed, they lost it, unable to function without you. The madness set in. They damn near destroyed the world with a single day of unbridled, grievous chaos. Echoes of Malek’s plagues still come and go, and seeds of wisdom and medicine have formed in the minds of righteous men to counter such.”

Reaching up, I touch my heart when it hurts, and vaguely I think of the destruction they caused just recently. They didn’t even particularly like me this time when I died. Still, they grieved and tore apart the home I know they love, for whatever reason.

I can only imagine the four of them in such deep love with me when I died. Centuries upon centuries of bonding with each other….

It might have devastated them, especially since I was their savior back then.

“It took all my heirs and myself to bring them to a hilt and lock them back away. The twins built an entire area in purgatory to lock them in, just trying to keep them alive long enough to figure out a way to bring you back, without putting them back into Hell’s Black Heart.”

“How did they die?” I ask on a rasp whisper.

He lets my mask tumble to the floor. “Manella broke the law and recycled them as a mercy, and it was assumed they’d ceased to exist—along with their powers—when they didn’t return to the throat. He never told Lamar. He let Lamar hope it was possible, giving him that gift even as he never truly believed it.”

He blows out a breath as I remain silent for once, just listening.

“But Manella, like all of us, believed we’d really lost you. He didn’t want them to suffer any longer. But clearly something happened after they were recycled, because they are a balanced imbalance that makes no sense outside of you.”

“You had me until that last part, and now I’m just confused,” I grumble.

His eyes harden. Slightly terrifying too.

“I’m saying, without a masterful balancer, there’s no way they would exist. I don’t know how, but you saved their lives even after you’d been dead for over a century. Tell me, Paca, are there truly no memories at all?”

“I wouldn’t be standing here listening to you endlessly ramble about things I haven’t asked about if I had any other way of gathering information,” I point out. “It’s unbearably tedious.”

His lips twitch with the beginnings of a grin.

“Very well. I think it’s time we tell you what we know. But first, it’s time for a family reunion.”

My breath leaves in a rush when I suddenly feel like I’ve quickly stepped through a tornado. The air stills in a hallway I’ve never seen before, at least not in the memorable past.

How the hell did we get here?

Knots tighten in my stomach, and a red door suddenly appears on a stretch of wall that had no door there before. I’m not sure if I’m terrified or stupidly excited that this is about to happen, but I do know I wish the guys were here right now.

I actually dart a glance around, wondering if I can find them. Lucifer doesn’t miss anything I do. It feels like he’s constantly reading me.

“You shouldn’t be spending so much time away from them. You’re strongest with them,” Lucifer tells me as we take a walk like he’s the hangman leading me down to the gallows.

The excitement is decidedly gone, and dread continues to unfurl. I have no clue if I even have as much power as I used to, back when I was The Apocalypse.

“I’m not doing this,” I say as I stop. “I never agreed to this. You forced my hand, and then you make little inside jokes I can’t remember about trusting the Devil,” I add, turning to face him, stopping far away from that red door.

His eyebrows bounce up, and I half wonder if I’ve almost surprised him, or if he’s simply humoring me.

“I won that sword match, and then you turn around and try to manipulate me just as you said you wouldn’t for someone who could make your life hell.”

“By being absent,” he bites out, “you are making my life miserable—not hell. I prefer not to use hell like it’s a foul word, since that’s the name of the home I’m trying to bring you back to, Paca.”

I suppose using hell as a derogatory term could be considered offensive to the Devil…

These are the fucked up new days of my life.

It was so much simpler when I was just a lonely, shameless, perverted phantom girl.

“Regardless, you still manipulated me, and something tells me that not even the old me would have just laid down and taken this,” I go on. “I think I’ll be leaving now.”

“You will make an appearance, if for no other reason than to stave off the damn rebels.”

“Like the rebels really pose a threat,” I say on a humorless laugh. “I killed an Elder tonight with very little effort. You could mow down half of hell yourself. Easily.”

“You killed an Elder tonight?” he asks incredulously, his expression almost causing me to laugh.

I only thought I knew what Lucifer’s face of surprise was until this moment, because this distorted expression is less unsettling and much more comical.

“He wanted to put me in my place, since I’m just a lowly surface guardian,” I explain.

His mouth forms an O, and that weird sense of familiarity spreads throughout me again. I just blurted out that I killed an Elder of hell to the Devil, and never thought twice about it…

It feels like a father/daughter bonding moment.

Why did I start sounding proud when the words just tumbled right out?

Hell girl problems.

His eyes almost soften, as though he realizes why I’ve stopped talking.

He huffs out a breath, muttering something I miss, even with my keen hearing.

Just as I open my mouth to speak, I see his brow furrow as he takes a step back. When his jaw tics like he’s eavesdropping on a conversation not even I can hear, I half wonder just how much better his hearing is. And I get a little annoyed that it’s better than mine, if I’m being immaturely honest.

“Congratulations, Paca,” he says as he glances down at me. “You get to remain a secret for at least another day.”

I don’t even get a chance to celebrate my small win, because I’m suddenly stumbling forward in our surface home’s living room.

As if cued, all four guys are abruptly in the room with me, but they don’t even glare at me for a full second before they siphon out of the living room.

No one asks me any questions, which is clearly not what I expected. We have a system: I do something that pisses off the four of them, they rant and mime wringing my neck, and…now we can have angry sex. It’s on the table, right?

We’ve read countless times that I enjoy a little chase.

They enjoy one too.

Maybe I need to be better about chasing a little less.

Huffing out a breath, I zap myself up to Ezekiel’s room, hoping he’s in a reasonable mood. Oddly enough, I’m supposed to have the most in common with War.

I suppose that should say something about my personality.

Then again, my name should make it obvious, so I don’t know why I’m doing an inner ramble and just staring unabashedly at Ezekiel as he undresses in front of his bed.

“I get that you’re all pissed, and I understand why—”

“We’re all going to sleep tonight—in our own rooms. No arguing or talking. Tomorrow you can tell us what you learned,” he says dismissively.

His bare ass flexes as he plugs his phone into the charger, then he walks over to his dresser and starts pulling on a pair of boxers.

“Look, I don’t want to argue either. But I talked to—”

“Tomorrow,” he bites out, finally glaring over at me. “Trust me. Not tonight.”

“I can’t believe we visited hell, where the Devil and I held a private conversation, and you don’t even want the details. It could be important.”

He snorts derisively.

“The devil’s in the details,” I add to him in my super ominous voice.

He doesn’t even have a glimmer of amusement. Tough crowd tonight.

“What you fail to understand is the fact the Devil plays games. Always. He’s running a game with every single person he comes into contact with, because it’s the only way he can interact with people after being a major participant in hell for this long. It’s the same for all the heirs, including Manella. It’s how we were kept out of the damn trials for so long—a fucking game. It’s starting to feel like you’re playing your own games as well.”

“A game they—Lamar and Manella—thought I was playing,” I say quietly, skipping over that last dig, since I know he’s just pissed and saying things he doesn’t mean. “And it was because Manella was giving Lamar hope. He loves him, and Lamar missed me.”

Ezekiel snorts again. “Doesn’t really matter. They’re all playing a game of sorts, and we’re centuries behind the moves they’ve already made, and we don’t even know why.”

His eyes swing up to meet mine before he continues his tirade.

“Then you refuse to stick with us, and we wonder if maybe this bond isn’t really supposed to happen a second time,” he adds, his jaw grinding. “But then I think of what we went through when you died, and I realize it’s already too fucking late. It’s just as bad as it is when we go for too long without being with each other. And—”