Princess of Hell

The silence stretched until it became unbearable, thick with frustration and barely contained rage.

Aria broke first, pacing in tight circles around the destroyed equipment. "Manipulative, sanctimonious, holier-than-thou feathered bastard!" She kicked at debris with each word. "Playing puppet master while we did all the actual work. I should have known something was off about that whole village setup."

She whirled around, gesturing wildly at the empty space where Raziel had vanished. "And that smug little speech about predictable reactions! Like we're some kind of lab rats in his grand celestial experiment!"

Isabella leaned against one of the intact workbenches, her posture casual but her knuckles white where they gripped the edge. The temperature around her dropped several degrees, frost beginning to form on the metal surface beneath her hands. Her voice remained perfectly level when she spoke.

"The systematic manipulation was impressive, I'll grant him that. Every piece placed exactly where it needed to be." Ice crystals spread further across the bench. "Though I find myself wondering how long he's been orchestrating events. Months? Years?"

Faith stood near the shattered remains of what had once been a mirror, studying her reflection in a jagged piece of glass. Her new appearance didn't seem to disturb her—she turned her head left and right, examining the horns, running her tongue over her sharpened canines with clinical detachment.

"Well," she said conversationally, "at least I'm not cycling between forms anymore. That was getting exhausting."

She caught my eye in the reflection. "This is what I am now, isn't it? No more changes, no more painful transitions."

I nodded, still processing my own swirling emotions. The victory we'd thought we'd won felt hollow now, tainted by the knowledge that we'd been dancing to someone else's tune the entire time. Every choice we'd made, every path we'd taken—all of it guided by an angel who'd been playing a game we didn't even know existed.

But Faith was right to focus on what we could control. And what we could control right now was how we moved forward from here.

I pulled out the communication device Galahad had given me, weighing it in my palm. The crystal veins pulsed with a soft blue light, waiting.

"I should call Galahad," I said finally. "Let him know we found Faith, explain what happened."

Aria stopped pacing long enough to stare at me. "Why would we contact him? We should just go back. Mission accomplished, more or less."

Faith tilted her head, still examining her reflection. "Go back where, exactly?"

"To Hell, of course." Aria gestured at Faith's transformed appearance. "You're a demon now. That's where demons belong, not running around playing secret agent for mortals who'll probably try to exorcise you the moment they see what you've become."

I considered this. It wasn't wrong—Faith's place in the mortal world had just become infinitely more complicated. But there were loose ends to tie up first.

"She's right about your transformation," I said to Faith. "But I still want to explain things to Galahad. We can't just disappear without a word."

Isabella straightened, the frost around her hands melting as she regained her composure. "Lily's correct. Better to cut ties cleanly than have the VCD trying to track us down later. Though I am curious—" She looked directly at Faith. "How do you feel? Any side effects from the transformation?"

Faith set down the glass shard and flexed her fingers, examining her grey-tinged skin. "Physically? I feel stronger. More… aware, I suppose. My senses are sharper. But mentally?" She shrugged. "I'm still me. Same thoughts, same memories, same priorities."

"Responsibilities," Aria scoffed. "You really think Galahad's going to look at you and see the same person? Mortals see horns and assume we're there to corrupt their souls and steal their babies."

Faith's mouth quirked upward in what might have been amusement. "Well, aren't you?"

"Mostly," Aria admitted cheerfully. "But not always. The point is, he won't care about the distinction."

Faith was quiet for a moment, then said, "I still have responsibilities to my team. To the work we were doing. I can't just abandon that without explanation."

"And what exactly are you going to explain?" Aria demanded. "That you got kidnapped by a lich, and came back as a demon? That'll go over well."

I looked around the destroyed laboratory, at the evidence of Kyriakos's centuries of obsession and Raziel's careful manipulation. There was too much here that needed explaining, too many implications that I wasn't ready to share with my parents yet.

The humiliation of being so thoroughly outmanoeuvred still burned. I needed time to process what had happened before I faced Lilith and Lucifer's inevitable questions about how we'd let an angel play us so completely.

"One call," I said, raising the communication device. "Then we figure out what comes next."

I activated the communication device, watching the crystal veins pulse brighter as it established the connection. The blue light coalesced into a projection of Galahad's office, revealing him hunched over paperwork at his desk.

"Lily." He looked up, relief evident in his golden eyes. "Please tell me you have good news."

"The lich is gone," I said without preamble. "And we found Faith."

His shoulders sagged with visible relief. "Thank the Creator. Where is she? Is she injured? We'll send a medical team immediately to—"

"There's a complication."

Stolen novel; please report.

His expression sharpened. "What kind of complication?"

I stepped aside, allowing Faith to move into the projection's range. The moment Galahad saw her transformed appearance, his entire body went rigid. His face cycled through shock, horror, and finally settled into cold fury.

"You turned her." His voice was barely above a whisper, but the accusation hit like a physical blow. "All that talk about being a human, about caring for her—it was all lies, wasn't it? A way to lower our guard."

The assumption stung more than I wanted to admit. "Galahad, you don't understand—"

"I understand perfectly." His hand moved toward something off-screen, probably a weapon. "A demon princess gets attached to a mortal, decides she wants to keep her permanently. The story about being human was just manipulation to make us trust you."

Heat flared in my chest. The accusation was logical—demons had a well-earned reputation for exactly this kind of behaviour. But logic didn't make it hurt less.

"That's not what happened," I said through gritted teeth.

"Enough." Faith's voice cut through our exchange like a blade. She stepped fully into view, her red eyes blazing with anger. "How dare you."

Galahad blinked, clearly not expecting the interruption.

"Are you seriously going to stand there and accuse Lily of orchestrating my transformation while she's the one who came to rescue me?" Faith's eyes—still her eyes, despite their new crimson colour—flashed with genuine anger. "While she's the one who risked herself to find me when your precious VCD couldn't even keep me safe in your own medical wing?"

"Faith, you don't understand what's been done to you," Galahad said, his tone gentling slightly. "Demonic transformation affects the mind. You're not thinking clearly—"

"I'm thinking perfectly clearly!" Faith snapped, taking another step forward. "I know exactly what I am now, and I know exactly who saved me. It wasn't you sitting safely in your office. It was her."

Something in her tone must have penetrated Galahad's assumptions, because his aggressive posture faltered slightly.

"You're still…" He studied her face intently. "You're still you."

"Of course I'm still me," Faith said, though I noticed her hands were clenched into fists. "Did you think becoming a demon would magically erase twenty-five years of memories and personality?"

"That's exactly what it does," Galahad said slowly, confusion replacing anger. "Demonic transformation severs connections to mortal identity. You should have lost most of your memories, your human attachments—"

"Well apparently I didn't." Faith crossed her arms. "Still remember every case we worked together. Still remember that time you got drunk after the Manchester incident and cried about Arthur's death. Still remember you have a scar on your left shoulder from a werewolf attack in Edinburgh."

The fight went out of Galahad visibly. He slumped in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "This doesn't make sense. Complete demonic transformation strips away human identity, replaces it with infernal instincts…"

"Maybe it does normally," Faith said, her voice softening slightly. "But my case was never normal to begin with, was it? I was already partially transformed. Maybe that made the difference."

I watched the exchange with growing understanding. Galahad's reaction, while infuriating, made perfect sense from his perspective. Demons had a well-earned reputation for manipulation and corruption. The idea that one would target a VCD agent for transformation wasn't paranoid—it was logical.

But it still stung that he'd so readily believed I was capable of such betrayal.

"The lich did this," I said quietly. "Kyriakos. He was trying to use my power to restore his daughter's humanity, but Faith interfered. She took the magical backlash to protect me."

Galahad looked between us, his expression cycling through confusion, doubt, and something that might have been hope.

"You're really still you," he said to Faith, not quite a question.

"I'm really still me," she confirmed. "Just in a slightly different package."

* * *

Galahad leaned back in his chair, processing everything we'd told him about Kyriakos, the ritual, and Faith's transformation. The conversation had stretched on for nearly an hour, covering every detail from the lich's manipulation to Raziel's involvement.

"The point is," Faith said, bringing the conversation back to the present, "I need help understanding what's happened to me."

"We can accommodate you here," Galahad offered immediately. "Full medical support, research facilities—"

"I'm going with Lily," she said firmly. "Her parents might be able to help me. Even if the chances are slim, I'll take them."

Galahad's face went through several expressions. "The VCD can accommodate your new situation. We've worked with supernatural assets before—"

"As assets," Faith interrupted. "Not as equals. Not as agents." She shook her head. "Besides, the AOR's official policy on demons is containment or elimination. I doubt they'll make an exception for someone who used to be human."

"We would," Galahad said quietly. "For you, we'd make an exception."

Faith's expression softened, but her resolve didn't waver. "I appreciate that, Galahad. I really do. But I've made my choice." She gestured at her transformed appearance. "Ironically, Hell is my best chance at becoming human again."

The words hung in the air between them. Faith was right—the VCD might accommodate her, but she'd always be an outsider now, a former human turned demon. In Hell, at least, she'd just be another demon seeking help from powerful allies.

Behind me, I heard Aria whisper to Isabella, "How can someone want to go back to being a mortal?"

"I don't understand it either," Isabella murmured back. "Immortality, strength, power—and she wants to give it up for what? The ability to age and die?"

I caught Faith's slight smile at their words, though she didn't turn around. We both ignored their chatter, understanding that to a succubus raised in Hell's hierarchy, Faith's desire to reclaim her humanity was genuinely incomprehensible.

Galahad couldn't hear their whispered conversation through the communication device, but his expression showed he was still struggling with Faith's decision. "Faith, think about this carefully. You're talking about trusting demons—"

"I'm talking about trusting Lily," Faith interrupted firmly. "There's a difference."

The simple statement sent warmth through my chest. After everything—the revelations about my identity, my nature, the circumstances of our relationship—she still trusted me.

"I need to report this to Morgan," Galahad said finally, resignation creeping into his voice. "She'll want to know about Raziel's involvement, and about your… situation."

"Tell her I'll provide whatever intelligence I can," Faith said. "But I won't be coming back to the VCD, at least not in a current state."

Galahad nodded slowly, though I could see the loss weighing on him. "Take care of yourself, Faith. And…" He looked at me, his expression complicated. "Take care of her, Princess."

The formal address still felt strange, but I inclined my head. "I will."

The communication stone's light faded, leaving us in the dimly lit chamber with only the emergency lighting casting long shadows across the destroyed equipment.

"Let's go back to the transport gate," I said, helping Faith to her feet. Her new demonic strength was still unfamiliar to her, I could tell from the way she moved with careful precision.

"Your parents are going to want to hear what happened here," Faith said, looking around the wreckage of Kyriakos's laboratory one last time.

"They really would," I agreed, thinking of Lilith's reaction to the lich's manipulation and Lucifer's fury at the angel's interference. "Though I suspect their response will be more… explosive than Galahad's."

Aria bounced on her feet with excitement. "Oh, this is going to be good. Wait until the Queen of Hell hears about an archangel playing puppet master with her daughter."

Isabella's smile was sharp and predatory. "The political implications alone will keep the circles buzzing for decades."

As we made our way through the corridors toward the transport gate, I couldn't help but wonder what we were walking into. My parents' protective instincts were legendary even by demonic standards, and we'd just been manipulated by one of Heaven's archangels.