Princess of Hell

"So what now?" Faith asked, looking between Isabella and me. "Do we just… go to Hell now?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at her directness. "Not quite yet. I'll need to speak with my parents first, let them know you're coming. They have quite busy schedules, what with running—" I caught myself before saying 'Hell' and quickly amended, "—their various responsibilities."

Faith nodded, though I could see a flicker of nervousness cross her features. The reality of what she'd agreed to was probably starting to sink in.

"I'll come pick you up next week," I continued. "That should give me enough time to arrange everything properly."

Galahad was still standing rigidly behind his desk, his golden eyes fixed on me with obvious suspicion. I turned to address him directly.

"I'm not really planning anything sinister here," I said, keeping my tone as reasonable as possible. "I understand your concerns, but this is genuinely just about helping Faith."

His expression didn't soften much, but I pressed on.

"Actually, I'd appreciate it if you could get that communication device we discussed approved. You know, the one that would let you contact me directly instead of going through Kyriakos all the time?"

Galahad's eyebrows rose slightly. "And why would you want that?"

"Because I think it would calm your nerves if you had a direct line to Faith while she's with me," I explained. "You could check in, make sure she's safe. It would be better for everyone involved."

For the first time since I'd walked into his office, Galahad looked genuinely surprised by my suggestion. He studied my face for a long moment, as if trying to detect some hidden agenda.

"That's… actually not unreasonable," he admitted begrudgingly.

I turned to Isabella, who had been observing the entire exchange with her usual composed expression. "I think it's time for us to leave."

She nodded smoothly. "Of course."

Galahad moved around his desk and pressed a button on what looked like an intercom system. "Morrison, I need an escort to the surface for two visitors."

A crisp voice responded through the speaker. "On my way, sir."

I walked over to Faith, who was still sitting in her chair. She looked up at me with a mixture of determination and apprehension.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For offering to help, I mean. I know this can't be easy for you either."

I felt a familiar tightness in my chest. Even after everything that had happened between us, even after I'd made it clear we couldn't or shouldn't be together, she was still grateful for my help. It reminded me why I'd fallen for her in the first place, back when I was still Liam.

"I'll see you next week," I said, reaching out to briefly squeeze her shoulder. "Everything will be fine, I promise."

Faith covered my hand with hers for just a moment before I pulled away. "I'll be ready."

Isabella and I moved toward the door, but as we reached it, I heard Galahad's voice behind us.

"Agent Clarke, are you absolutely certain you've thought this through? Once you cross that threshold, there's no guarantee—"

"I'm sure," Faith's voice cut him off firmly. "I've made my decision."

The office door opened, and a tall man in a dark suit appeared. Morrison, presumably. He had the same no-nonsense bearing as most VCD agents, with sharp eyes that took in Isabella and me with professional assessment.

"Ladies, if you'll follow me," he said politely but firmly.

As we walked down the corridor toward the elevator, I could still hear the muffled sound of Galahad's voice continuing his conversation with Faith, though I couldn't make out the specific words. Probably more warnings about the dangers of trusting demons.

Morrison remained silent during our journey through the underground facility, leading us past the same sterile white walls and reinforced doors we'd seen on our way in. The elevator ride to the surface felt longer than it had earlier, filled with the kind of awkward silence that comes when three people who don't know each other are forced into close proximity.

When we finally emerged onto the London street, Morrison nodded curtly. "Have a pleasant day," he said, though his tone suggested he hoped we wouldn't be back anytime soon.

Isabella and I walked away from the VCD building, neither of us speaking until we'd put several blocks between ourselves and the agency headquarters.

"That went better than expected," Isabella finally commented, her voice carrying a note of mild surprise.

"Did it?" I asked. "Galahad looked ready to lock Faith in a cell to prevent her from coming with us."

"But he didn't," Isabella pointed out. "And Faith stood her ground. That's what matters."

I nodded, though I couldn't shake the feeling that we'd just set something in motion that would have consequences none of us had fully considered. The idea of bringing Faith to Hell, of having her meet my parents, felt both necessary and terrifying.

"Come on," I said, spotting the familiar shimmer of a transport gate down a nearby alley. "Let's go home. I have a very interesting conversation ahead of me."

* * *

One week later, I stood in front of the VCD building, its grey facade giving no hint of the supernatural operations hidden beneath. The London street bustled around me with typical morning activity—commuters hurrying to work, the distant rumble of traffic, the smell of coffee drifting from a nearby café. None of them had any idea what kind of conversation I was about to have.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead. Isabella and Aria had both wanted to accompany me, but I'd insisted on handling this alone. Faith was my responsibility, my… well, whatever she was to me now. The complicated history between us made this personal in ways my friends couldn't fully understand.

The glass doors slid open with a soft hiss, and I stepped into the sterile lobby. The same blonde receptionist from last week sat behind her desk, though she looked up at me with considerably more nervousness than before. Her fingers drummed against her keyboard in an anxious rhythm.

"I'm here to collect Agent Clarke," I said, keeping my voice calm and professional.

The receptionist's eyes widened slightly. "Oh, yes. You're expected, but…" She glanced toward the elevator, then back at me. "I'm afraid you'll need to wait a few minutes. There's a… meeting in progress."

I nodded and took a seat in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. The receptionist kept stealing glances at me, her discomfort obvious. I didn't blame her. Humans tended to get nervous around my kind, even when we were trying to be helpful.

The minutes stretched on, and I found myself wondering what kind of meeting could be taking so long. Finally, the elevator dinged, and Morrison appeared, his expression as professionally neutral as ever.

"Miss Nightstar? Director Fay has given permission for you to proceed downstairs."

I followed him into the elevator, noting how he kept a careful distance between us. The descent to the underground facility felt longer than usual, filled with the kind of tension that suggested something had gone wrong.

Morrison led me through the familiar corridors toward Galahad's office, but as we approached, I could hear raised voices coming from behind the closed door. Two voices, actually—one I recognized as Galahad's clipped British accent, and another that was distinctly feminine and carried an otherworldly quality I remembered from our previous meeting.

"—absolutely not sending anyone after her," the woman was saying. Morgan, I realized. "The risks are too great, and we have no idea what we'd be walking into."

"She's one of my agents," Galahad's voice shot back, sharp with frustration. "I'm not leaving her to whatever that creature has planned."

"That 'creature' is an ancient lich with more magical knowledge than most of our division combined. Sending a rescue team would be suicide."

Morrison knocked on the door, interrupting the argument. "Sir? Miss Nightstar is here."

The voices inside went silent for a moment before Galahad called out, "Enter."

I stepped into the office to find Galahad standing behind his desk, his usually composed demeanour cracked with obvious stress. Across from him stood Morgan le Fay, her violet eyes flashing with barely contained irritation. Both of them turned to look at me as I entered, and I immediately sensed the tension crackling between them.

"What's going on?" I asked, looking from one to the other. "Is everything alright?"

Galahad's expression darkened further, if that was even possible. "Great, another trouble has arrived," he said, his tone making it clear he considered me part of the problem. "Just what we needed."

I felt a flash of annoyance at his attitude, but pushed it down. "What do you mean by that?"

"Where's Faith?" I continued, looking around the office as if she might materialize from behind one of the filing cabinets. "I'm here to pick her up, as we arranged."

Morgan and Galahad exchanged a look that made my stomach drop. There was something in their expressions—a mixture of anger, frustration, and what might have been guilt—that told me this wasn't going to be a simple pickup.

"Agent Clarke isn't here," Galahad said finally, his voice tight with controlled fury.

"What do you mean she isn't here?" I demanded, taking a step closer to his desk. "Where is she?"

Galahad's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Your friend Kyriakos took her yesterday. Kidnapped her, to be more precise."

The words hit me like a physical blow. "What?"

"The lich," Morgan added, her voice carrying a note of grim satisfaction at delivering bad news. "He appeared in our medical wing yesterday evening and simply… took her. Our defences might as well have been made of paper for all the good they did."

I stared at them both, trying to process what they were telling me. Kyriakos had taken Faith? But why would he—

Then it hit me. His research. His obsession with understanding demonic transformations. Faith represented a unique case study, a partially transformed human whose condition was unlike anything he'd encountered before.

"He took her for his research," I said, the realization making my voice sound hollow even to my own ears.

Galahad nodded grimly. "That would be our assessment as well."

* * *

I reached into my spatial ring and pulled out the smooth communication stone Kyriakos had given me during our first meeting in his laboratory. The carved runes along its surface pulsed with faint blue light as I channeled mana into it.

"What are you doing?" Galahad demanded, but I ignored him, focusing on establishing the connection.

Within seconds, the ethereal silhouette of Kyriakos materialized above the stone, his skeletal form wreathed in ghostly flames. Even in projection, his presence filled the room with an aura of ancient power that made both Galahad and Morgan tense.

"What is the meaning of this?" I demanded without preamble, my voice sharp with anger.

The lich's hollow eye sockets seemed to regard me with amusement. "Ah, Princess. I wondered when you would contact me."

"Don't you 'princess' me," I snapped, acutely aware of how Galahad's eyes narrowed at the title. "Where is Faith? What have you done with her?"

"Agent Clarke is safe and sound, I assure you," Kyriakos replied, his tone maddeningly calm. "I couldn't allow you to… fix her condition just yet. Not when I am this close to a breakthrough."

"This close to what?" I could feel my control slipping, my voice rising with each word.

"Understanding the underlying mechanics of demonic transformation, naturally. Your Agent Clarke represents a unique case study—one I cannot afford to lose before completing my research." The flames around his projection flickered with what might have been excitement. "But fear not. Once I complete my work, I shall cure her condition free of charge. Consider it professional courtesy."

I felt my hands clench into fists. "You're treading on thin ice, Kyriakos."

The lich actually laughed, a sound like grinding bone that made Morgan step back instinctively. "This is my only chance for real progress in centuries of research. I will not waste such an opportunity."

"Where are you?" I demanded, taking a step closer to the projection.

"Oh, Princess, surely you don't think me that foolish?" Kyriakos's amusement was palpable. "If you knew my location, you would rush there immediately with all the subtlety of a volcanic eruption. Not to mention, should you inform your… parents… of my whereabouts, I would have nowhere to run."

The casual mention of my parents made Galahad's posture stiffen further. I could practically feel his suspicion radiating across the room.

"Simply relax," Kyriakos continued. "I shall contact you once my research is complete. Until then, Agent Clarke will remain my guest."

The connection cut abruptly, leaving the office in tense silence. I stared at the now-dormant stone in my palm, fighting the urge to hurl it against the wall. Only the knowledge that it was my sole means of communication with the lich stayed my hand.

"Princess?" Galahad's voice cut through my frustrated thoughts like a blade. "What exactly did he mean by 'princess'?"

I cursed under my breath. The bastard had done it on purpose, dropping that title where he knew it would cause complications. I'd kept my parentage hidden precisely because I knew it would change how the VCD viewed every action I took, every word I spoke.

But now, with Galahad's steely gaze fixed on me and Morgan watching with renewed interest, it seemed I no longer had a choice. The way Galahad's jaw was set told me he wouldn't let this go.

"It's… complicated," I began, then stopped. There was no way to ease into this revelation. "I'm Lily Morningstar. Daughter of Lucifer and Lilith."

The silence that followed was deafening.