Constantine took me to see Lucifer later that day, after I've had a little chat with Raven and apologized for looking. Strangely, I couldn't look straight at her even after putting on a blindfold. My glowing red eyes pierced through them like they weren't there at all, pulling apart all of the individual threads.
She avoided my gaze as I did hers when I walked out of the estate.
Constantine opened a portal at the entrance of Maze's manor that teleported us into the parking level of a building in Los Angeles. Sunlight flooded in from the exits, and fluorescent bulbs hummed overhead.
The place was warded to the crack with the same Enochian runes as the house. And I counted hundreds of cars. Most of them were some form of vintage or collectible, each sporting a smattering of runes. The rest were residential and belonged to guests, I presumed. I had a feeling the Devil wasn't a mini-cooper guy.
I peered up at the ceiling and tried to sense the floors above me—listen to the pitter-patter of feet and individual heartbeats—but the runes stopped me dead.
I guess I'm going in blind.
Throwing up a Curtain, I took a few moments to change my face and throw on a pair of contacts. There was nothing I could do about my white hair, so I grew it out, wrapped it in a bun, and picked out a leather jacket from my Cursed Inventory.
"You do know he will see through all that," Constantine said.
"It's not for him," I said. It was for anybody we came across. I've been playing it a bit fast and loose with my identity and secrecy recently.
"You know you're safe here?" Constantine said. "Well, relatively."
"Am I now?"
He opened his mouth to object, but closed it. "Come on, then. He's waiting for us in the penthouse suite."
We stepped in front of the elevator, and it opened like it knew we were there. We rode it up silently.
I distracted myself by taking stock of my status and the changes.
Class: Sorcerer – Level 52 (1st Grade)
Titles: Touched by the Sparks of Black, Julius the Immortal II, Price of Sacrifice, Special Grade Sorcerer.
Techniques: Inverse Lv 10, Curse Inventory Lv 9, Copy Lv 8(Earth Manipulation Lv 7, Shrine Lv 8, Ice Formation Lv 7, Ratio Lv 5, Blood Manipulation Lv 7, Electricity Manipulation Lv 7 Boogie Woogie 7)
Health: 11020/11020
Cursed Energy: 24000/24000
Stamina: 8000/8000
Willpower: 2500/2500
Stats:
STR: 920 AGI: 102 PER: 802 VIT: 1102
END: 800 CP: 2400
WiL: 250
Skills:
Hand-to-Hand Combat Lv 10
Cursed Energy Manipulation Lv 9
Cursed Energy Reinforcement Lv 8
Stealth Lv 9
Curtain Lv 9
Barriers Lv 6
Dagger Mastery Lv 9
Gun Mastery Lv 8
Acrobatics Lv 9
Swordsmanship Lv 10
Torture lv 10
Spear Mastery lv 8
Binding Vow Lv 8
Reversed Cursed Technique Lv 9
Mace Mastery Lv 9
Hammer Mastery Lv 9
Staff Mastery Lv 8
New Shadow Style Lv 8
Seventh Sense Lv 10
Talismans Lv 6
Bone Manipulation Lv 9
Body Control Lv 9
Acting lv 4
Pain Tolerance lv 10
Psi-Clarity Lv 3
Free Points: 80
Select a new permanent technique>
I was pleased with the progress I saw. Very much so, especially with the completion rates of my copied techniques.
Infinity 79%
Anti-Gravity 92%
Projection Sorcery 67%
But I wasn't confident I could survive an ambush by all three of them if I needed to. George and Gina alone would be a stretch with her new adaptations, and Nathan...he had my meta-gene too. And there was Constantine.
It was just a question of being fast enough—but then again, I had a suspicion the Magician wouldn't make it that easy for me. There's a reason why he keeps the company of the literal devil and his demons.
As for the original big bad himself, I had no delusions that I could fight him or escape him. He wasn't like Artisan and her ilk. He was immortal, invincible, and supposedly all-powerful.
I doubted I could even talk my way out of this. I'd gotten pretty good at bullshitting since my system showed up. Hell, it got me out of a lot of situations before that, even. But I doubted my street smarts would be enough here.
The ding of the elevator brought me back to the moment. It hissed open, revealing the most luxurious and tastefully decorated penthouse suite I've ever laid my eyes on. It was like stepping into an art history museum.
The walls were covered with writing from stone pieces excavated from some ancient civilization. Paintings and busts lined the wall. There was a small stage packed with musical instruments. Guitars, a massive piano, drums, saxophones, harps, and a dozen other things I didn't recognize.
It was beautiful. Entrancing even. And every last bit of it was literally magical.
"Julius Spencer!" a loud voice called from beside me, and I turned, spotting a tall, handsome man in his early thirties sauntering into the room in a finely pressed dress shirt, trousers, and shoes. He was holding an expensive bottle of Scotch in his hand, and three crystal glasses were pinched between his fingers.
"Just in time to sample a bottle I won off a sheikh with a surprisingly refined palate for Western liquor."
I stared at him for entirely too long.
"Can't hurt," Constantine said immediately, and the Devil grinned.
"Excellent."
He raised the glasses and let them drop into the air, catching them with nearly invisible strings of magic, and poured himself and Constantine a respectable amount from his bottle.
He looked in my direction. "Never got your answer."
"I'm only sixteen," I said.
"And you have a higher body count than most on the FBI's most wanted list."
"Thanks to you," I said. "We could've used a heads-up about Brother Blood."
"I made the dangers very clear to Constantine," he said, taking a sip from his glass. "It was his choice to accept the bargain."
John had the grace to look slightly embarrassed as he drank. "Well, the deal was for Artisan. I figured it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission here."
Constantine's words didn't exactly surprise me. The man should be walking around with a sign around his neck that reads, "Be warned. Might screw you over."
"And it all worked out in the end," Lucifer said. "Crisis averted. The world saved and one less bloodthirsty demon-worshiping cult to worry about."
I was tempted to point out that there wouldn't be any cults technically if it weren't for him, but that felt like it was in poor taste. Besides, the devil and Trigon are two different entities... I think.
"It's time I kept my end of the bargain," the Devil said, looking at me, "but before that, I have an offer for you."
"What kind of offer?"
"The kind that'll get you what you crave the most," he said, walking up to me and pouring me a glass of bourbon. It smelled like rich wood and excess. "Power. Enough of it that you don't have to fear Constantine and betrayal from the other sorcerers you've formed a fragile alliance with. Enough of it that you can stand up to Superman and all of the champions of this world. Enough of it that you can kill the woman who took your surrogate sister and your mother away from you."
Sweat slicked down my back, and my palms clammed up.
"I suppose they don't call you the devil for nothing," I said. It just occurred to me that he was the original dealmaker. Artisan was just a pale imitation.
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