Reignite (Extinguish #2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

unleashing the negative
energy that had again started building in him.
    He usually purged it in the pit, day after day, torturing the
inhabitants of Hell. Up here, it had nowhere to go, simmering inside of him,
creeping beneath his skin. His nostrils flared, eyes black as the pit,
flickering red as he glared at Abaddon, the blade close to slicing the skin.
    He could do it. He could plunge the knife in and yank it back out without
so much as a morsel of heartache, putting the Guardian out of his misery. His
Grace would explode from him, and Luce could feel the tingle on his skin from
anticipation. Some of it would seep into his system as he breathed it in,
absorbing it, and he craved it, like an addict needing a hit.
    Yes, he could do it.
    Maybe he would.
    Slowly, a smile curved Abaddon's lips as he relaxed back against the
floor. "There's the Lucifer I remember… all the passion, none of the
pretense."
    Luce stared at him for a moment before pulling the knife away from his
neck and returning it to safekeeping. He stood up, his wings disappearing, as
Abaddon zapped to his feet. The angel smoothed his clothes as he shook his
head, leaping right back up on the bar and stretching out.
    "You may not admit it out loud, but I can see it in your
eyes," Abaddon said. "The idea of having the world for yourself still
intrigues you. You want it… want what you were robbed of."
    The woman from earlier came over, picking up the knocked-over stool and
sitting down on it, not noticing as she brushed up against Luce. She ordered
more shots, Abaddon's attention drifting right back to her, his eyes scanning
her body like he were studying a work of art.
    "And all I'm saying," Abaddon said, "is that as good as
looking can be, someday I'd like to have the chance to touch."
    "What does that have to do with me?"
    Abaddon waited until the woman
walked away again to look at Luce. "Everything."

 
    Six months is the blink of an eye
when you're eternal.
    Hours turned to days turned to weeks turned to
months. Luce barely registered the change in time. Winter became Spring , which somehow bloomed Summer. The white coldness
that had taken Serah from him was now long gone as everything again turned
lively and green.
    Luce wandered, and wallowed, occasionally visiting
Abaddon out of sheer curiosity of what plan the Guardian was hatching, but he
mostly kept to himself.
    Still, nobody bothered him.
    He
found himself continually being drawn to Chorizon, drawn to the woman who didn't
even remember he existed. He spent countless hours, days, weeks, watching Serah
as she adjusted to life as a mortal. She was his very own living indication
that the world continued on. She was alive, breathing, and thinking, visible to
everyone, her heart steadily beating.
    Once a second.
    Sixty beats a minute.
    3,600 times an hour.
    Over and over, day after day. In
the past six months, her heart had beat over sixteen million times. Luce
counted sometimes, listening to it even when he couldn't see her, her pulse a
constant reminder that she was real.
    That it all had been real.
    He became attuned to the rhythm, like it was a
secret melody produced just for him. He could tell when she was happy, or sad,
could tell when she grew excited, or agitated, all from the sound her heart
made.
    It had become an obsession, a necessity, like her
heart beating was the only thing keeping him from disappearing.
    Maybe it was pathetic.
    Maybe he was pathetic.
    But Lucifer didn't give a shit how it looked. He
couldn't have Serah, but he could hold onto this part of her, and nobody was
going to take that away.
    Not now, anyway.
    Not as long as he could help it.
    It was the middle of the afternoon one warm summer
day. Lucifer was strolling down the sidewalk in Chorizon, hands in his pockets,
enjoying the breeze that he'd oddly grown appreciative of being able to feel
again. He could easily zap where he was going, but what was the point?
    No sense rushing when there was nothing else to do.
    He