“Lord Lucifer! Is he alright?”
“What’s wrong with him?!”
“Is he going to die?”
“Stupid, you can’t just kill the devil!”
Colt could not bear to hear anymore. He looked about the hallway to his father’s bedroom, partially amazed that so many people were gathered together in worry for Lucifer’s health. Whispering voices swelled together, creating a loud murmur that echoed in his ears as he pushed through the crowd of familiar faces. His golden eyes peered through the crowd searching for someone who could give him answers to Lord Lucifer’s mysterious condition. Finally he settled on a figure who towered above the rest.
“Baal!” he called out as he shouldered his way through.
Baal appeared to be an older man even though demons were ageless. His hair glistened silver and was combed back neatly, his goatee was trimmed and neat, and his dark, crimson eyes were alive with worry when they locked on to Colt.
“Young master,” he addressed Colt with a slight bow. Under his gaze, Colt fidgeted and looked down, almost afraid of the answers he would receive once he opened his mouth.
“Is… Is my dad going to be okay?” he softly asked.
Concern took root in Baal’s features as he stared down at the young demon.
“Well… that’s very difficult… to say…” Baal admitted. “Your father has been gravely ill for weeks and we did not know it was possible for a powerful entity such as Lord Lucifer to even fall ill… But he’s been unconscious for hours and nothing has been able to awaken him. At this point we are all preparing for the worst and-.”
“Is this the feckin’ Rapture?! What’s going on here?!” Baal was interrupted by a new face in the crowd. The young man who made the announcement was pale and sported white hair, a trait shared by all of Lucifer's children. His hair was shaved on one side while the unshaven side was straightened most likely this morning. His amethyst eyes flickered over the crowd as he walked past. The congregated demons stepped out of his way as his uniform marked him Lucifer’s head guard and not a force to be trifled with.
“Dica…” Colt breathed his name with disdain.
Dica pushed past Colt and Baal with no hesitation as he made his way to the double doors leading to Lucifer’s bedroom.
“Wait, Dica!” Colt cried out as he pursued him. “Let me see Dad!” He called out desperately reaching for the doorway.
Colt’s fingers curled around air as Dica tore open the double doors and slammed them shut sealing him and Hell’s King alone inside.
A whimper escaped Colt’s lips as his gaze remained fixated on the door as if will alone could break him through. After a moment, he reached for the golden handle yet something held him back from entering.
Was it fear? Fear of what? Fear of Dica’s wrath or fear of seeing his father as he laid there upon his bed dying? Instead of face whatever fear lurked within his father’s bedroom, Colt trudged away to sit down beside a marble pillar and wait for Dica to emerge.
And he waited.
And waited until his eyelids grew heavy and began to droop...
The young demon stirred at the sound of his name.
“Hey, Colty, wake up.”
The voice was demeaning and sinister.
Colt opened his eyes to meet Dica’s mocking violet irises boring into his.
“Mornin’ sleepy head,” Dica teased. He seemed to be in a much better mood from earlier and Colt found himself wondering if that was a good thing.
“I need you to do something for me,” Dica continued. “Or rather, for Lord Lucifer.”
At the mention of his father, Colt perked up.
“Is Dad awake?” he pressed. Dica shook his head.
“Not anymore, he was though. And he told me what he needed.”
“What is it?”
A grin appeared on Dica’s pale face, his eyes alive with an emotion Colt couldn’t quite understand.
“Dad needs the soul of a Saint. And I thought I should send the Head of Soul Collecting which happens to be-.”
“Me!” Colt interrupted excitedly.
“Exactly! Now hurry along and get that soul or,” Dica’s grin curled into a mask of malice, “Lord Lucifer will die.”