Page 39 of Unholy Night

Lucifer

Ican still taste her mouth on my lips as we fly through the sky, the bitingly cold night air warmed magically by the sleigh--and my own hellion powers. Mandy has been a chatterbox this whole night, alternating between singing every Christmas song she can recall--none of which feature me--to occasionally bursting into loud Ho Ho Hos, mimicking my sinister version of the elf’s obnoxious cawing. As annoyed as listening to songs about my nemesis for hours on end makes me, I can’t help but notice the smile that keeps creeping onto my face. The joy that I feel is...buoyant. Unparalleled.

And temporary.

We have been flying all night, though the magic of the sleigh warps time, turning hours into seconds, even within our bodies. Lyla and Mandy will not remember every single house we have gone to. Their minds will not be able to contain the paradox of their experience tonight. It would drive them mad. But they will--if they choose--remember the highlights. The rest will be like a dream they once had. They will hold onto the feelings. The warmth of good will and joy.

But their minds will never comprehend the magnitude of what they’ve done tonight.

Only mine does.

The immortality of my consciousness is expansiveness itself. My mind grows with the ages, creating tunnels and pathways and labyrinths of memories I can pull forth at any moment.

I will remember every detail of my time with Lyla and Mandy, and when this night is over and I lose them to the living, I will replay these memories over and over. Will that be my personal heaven? Or personal hell? I don’t know.

Maybe both.

It is one of my gifts. Memory can be its own kind of torture.

I know I will never forget that kiss for as long as I exist and I’m not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse.

I lose my smile, and my gaze cuts to Lyla, who is staring into the sky, watching the lights of the houses as they loom larger the closer we get.

Our contract is for one night.

She has a life. A child. A place in her world that I do not.

I dropped hints… their own rooms, the invitation for Mandy to come again, in order to gauge her reaction, to scent her needs. But she remained aloof, guarded.

And I realized...

There is no path forward that is good for her, if I lay claim to what I want more than anything.

Which means I cannot. I refuse to ask more of her.

When this night is over, when our mission is complete and our contract fulfilled, I will leave her with everything she needs to live any kind of life she wants without having to work another day in her life, and then I will walk away forever.

My chest burns with frustration.

This decision brings me no comfort.

It flies in the face of every self-instinct.

I am not used to being denied anything.

I am certainly not used to denying myself anything.

And yet.

I know I must.

I know I cannot ask Lyla to choose me, when she and Mandy have their whole lives ahead of them.

Human lives.

Mortal lives.

The thought of it makes my heart burn like a million suns.