The Devil's Footprint: Book Three of the Devil's Gospel


1. Prologue



    It’s a strange thing, watching over your child from hell. It’s like watching TV, but a younger version of yourself, and partly someone else obviously, and you want to keep yelling for them to do something but you know it’s not going to work.

    Every time I watch Luciana Hart from Hell, I want to yell. Scream in fact. I never asked for her to be called that for a start. And I know what she’s doing; making the same mistake I did at eighteen – get involved with someone, seriously, and I know that in a year, something will happen whether related to my situation or not, and it’ll ruin everything for her. I just wish she’d taken the different path; focused on her education, kept her head down and not met someone. How could Isaac and Mia not see this happening? They should be keeping her on the straight and narrow and telling her how her mum and dad did it wrong and she should be keeping her head in her education.

    I suppose there’s no stopping her really; there was nothing stopping Robb and I once we met and began dating, and now look at us. All the fighting to stay together, getting married… all of it, just one big fight because we wanted each other. If Robb and I – or even just me on my own – had been alive to raise her ourselves, I would’ve told her the truth about everything that happened, from the moment Lucifer walked into my room to the minute everything ended. I would’ve told her to correct my mistakes, keep her head down and be as normal as possible.

    Except it still wouldn’t have been a normal childhood. Lucifer still fucked around with us. He still drove a wedge between Robb and I that still we can’t quite get over – it still causes arguments even down here in Hell. He still modified our child a bit, she still harboured a demon for ages. She still grew at abnormal rates for a few months. She was never a baby, never a toddler. She started off at six years old. Though people don’t know that on the outside, those in the know still know it and I absolutely hate the thought of people knowing. All I wanted in life was to be normal; to have my education, to do my A Levels, to go to university and become a teacher. To be married to Robb, to have his kids, raise them, get old and watch them grow themselves, have grandkids and be happy. I never wanted anything more, nothing outrageous, I never wanted fame, no fortune – I mean, being a millionaire would always be good, but I never strived for it – and nothing more than that. But I couldn’t have that – no, here I am watching my daughter from Hell, throwing her education away for a man. Well, boy. Robb wouldn’t like this one bit, but then he doesn’t have that privilege, he threw that away when he decided it was too painful for him to watch our daughter growing up.

    But even though I know she's determined – well, I guess from watching her - to do her medicine degree and she's even taken the test, I know if she gets any deeper in, there's a risk it'll turn out like it did for me; a wasted opportunity, and she'll end up dead or with nothing. God, I hope I'm wrong.

    I remember standing where she and he are now, when Robb proposed to me. It was one of those moments in life where you remember everything; the smell of the freshly cut grass, the sun shining but how bitterly cold it felt on my neck, the way Robb looked at me the entire time he was down on his knee with the ring box in his hand. The way two single minutes of my life felt like an entire lifetime because I wanted to savour it.         

    She's so much like her dad, her real biological dad that is, it's unreal. I have missed everything; her growing up, her first words, her first steps – well I missed all of that because of Lucifer anyway – but I missed her first GCSE grades, her first boyfriend, her break ups, her friendships... all of it. Because of one event. In saving the world, I've missed it all.

    But then had I been selfish and saved myself, Luciana wouldn't be there, about to go to medical school, about to save people. She wouldn't be alive had I not killed myself.

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