"As long as it doesn't look like it will fall on our heads, I would still like to see it."

Malcolm holds his hand out to me and I take it.

I soon find myself standing in front of the two story home that once belonged to my parents. It's built deep within a forested area where I can't imagine many people would just wander across it. The exterior is overgrown with vegetation after being abandoned for so many years. A thin layer of newly fallen snow covers it, giving the house an ethereal appearance. With Malcolm holding my hand, we walk up the path to the front door. I reach out and grab the bra.s.s doork.n.o.b to find it unlocked. I gently push the door open, letting it swing inward the rest of the way on its own.

Sun filters through a naturally made skylight, and the interior is dusted with a blanket of newly fallen snow. We walk in and see that sometime over the years a tree has fallen on the house, breaking through the roof and second floor to land in the middle of the entryway on the ground floor. The house is completely silent, bringing a sad and empty quality to the surroundings. I look over to my left and see a s.p.a.ce that was once a living room. The few pieces of furniture left there has decayed from exposure to the elements over time and most likely animals looking for a warm place to stay.

I let go of Malcolm's hand and walk over to the room. There's a fireplace with a mantel on the outside wall facing the front of the house. I walk over to it and run my hand through the snow that's acc.u.mulated on top of it.

"Ouch!" I cry out, as the palm of my hand runs across something sharp hidden beneath the snow. Droplets of my blood spill onto the object. Malcolm is by my side in less than a second, taking my hand to examine it.

"It's not too deep," he says, studying the cut. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

Malcolm phases and I return my attention to the mantel to see what was sharp enough to cut me.

Lying just underneath the snow is a shattered picture frame. Cautiously, I reach out and pick it up, letting the broken gla.s.s fall out onto the mantel.

It's a picture of Lucifer and my mother standing in front of this house in happier times. They're both smiling and look like the most content people in the world. Lucifer has his arms wrapped around my mother's waist with his hands splayed over her stomach. Her belly doesn't even have a b.u.mp showing that she was pregnant yet, but you can tell by their expressions I was already within her womb when this picture was taken. It had to have been before they understood my conception was a death sentence for my mother. Otherwise, they wouldn't look like they had the rest of their lives ahead of them.

I pull the picture out of the broken frame just as Malcolm comes back with a healing wand. I put the picture in the pocket of my coat as I hand Malcolm my injured hand.

"I don't like seeing you hurt," he tells me, running the wand over my hand to instantly heal the wound.

"Thank you," I tell him, leaning in to kiss him on the lips and wipe away the worry on his face.

"Have you seen enough here?" he asks, tucking the wand into one of his jacket pockets.

"I just want to walk through what's left for a little while longer."

Malcolm nods and lets go of my hand to allow me to lead the way. He follows behind me but not too closely, allowing me to soak in what remains of a home I'm sure was once filled with happiness, if the picture I found is any indication. I feel an immense sadness for my parents. Not only for losing the time they would have had here on Earth together if I hadn't been born, but also for the time they would never get to share with one another in Heaven.

I look over my shoulder at Malcolm. He's looking at something off to the side and doesn't see me studying him. My heart aches inside my chest at just the thought of us being separated from each other after death. I saw firsthand what such a divide was doing to my mother. She was an emotional wreck, even though she was in Heaven. Being in such a place was supposed to bring everlasting joy. For her, it almost seemed like a prison sentence because it meant an eternity without her soulmate and only being allowed to feel his pain after her loss.

Malcolm must sense my gaze. He looks at me and smiles, breaking my heart at the tenderness he holds for me in his eyes.

"I love you," I say.

"I love you too," he says back.

A sudden movement behind a door to my right draws my attention. I walk over and swing the door open further to see what's inside.

As I stand in the threshold of the room, I'm caught off guard by what I see. A well of tears blur my vision as I look at what would have been my room once upon a time.

The sun shines through the large single paned window behind a dilapidated crib. A white dove sits perched on top of what's left of the wood frame, but quickly flies past me out of the room. My gaze is drawn back to what's painted on the window. It's a mural composed of a beautiful tree with a myriad of leafy branches, but something looks odd about the branches. I walk further into the room to get a better look at it. As I study the tree, I soon discover what's unusual about it. The roots at the base of the trunk are painted in such a way that two names can be seen within their curls, Lilly and Brand. I follow what looks like natural bark lines on the trunk and see that they actually spell out two more names, Caylin and Aiden. I study the connecting branches and see a mult.i.tude of other names etched. I search the branches until I find the two names I'm looking for, Lucifer and Amalie. There is a branch stemming off it without a name that should have had mine if my mother had named me before her death. I run the tips of my fingers over my parents' names. The instant I do, an array of colorful holographic b.u.t.terflies surround me, kissing my skin.

I begin to cry.

I feel Malcolm wrap his arms around me from behind. I turn to bury my face against his chest finding comfort in his embrace. My husband simply holds me tight without saying a word. In this room, I feel the missed opportunity of another life. What would have happened if my mother had survived my birth? Would we have been a happy little family living in this home where b.u.t.terflies magically appear with just a touch? What other wonders would my parents have shown me if they had been given the opportunity?

It takes me a while to pull myself together. When I finally do, I lift my head and look up at Malcolm.

"Don't cry, my love," Malcolm says, wiping away my tears with the pads of his thumbs. "Every tear you shed tears a hole inside my heart."

Of course, this just makes me cry even harder.

I wrap my arms around Malcolm's neck.

"Take me home," I beg him.

Malcolm phases us back to our bedroom and simply holds me until I'm ready to let him go. I know what I want to do. I'm just not sure how well Malcolm will react to my idea.

I pull away slightly to speak.

"I would like to do something," I tell him, feeling nervous to give voice to my heartfelt wish.

Malcolm's eyes narrow on me, obviously sensing my reluctance to say what's on my mind.

"You act like this is going to make me mad."

I sigh. "It might."

Malcolm crosses his arms in front of him as if he's bracing himself for my request.

"I would like to invite Lucifer to have dinner with us," I say quickly. So quickly, in fact, that I'm not completely sure it was intelligible.

But, I can tell from the look of disbelief on Malcolm's face that he understood all too well.

"Are you serious?" He asks quietly. His calm, even tone is a little unnerving. It almost makes me wish he had yelled his question instead.

"I know you hate him," I say.

"For good reason," Malcolm states succinctly.

I reach out and place my hands on Malcolm's still crossed arms, hoping I can make him understand.

"I need this," I say on the verge of more tears. "I need to get to know him. If at all possible, I want him to become a part of my life. There's a side of him that I've only been able to get glimpses of so far, Malcolm. I think my mother was the only one he ever fully shared himself with. I don't think he'll be that open with me, but I have to try. I need to know there's a part of him that's still good. If he's completely d.a.m.ned, then what chance do I have to fight what the seals will do to me? You don't know how close I came to killing Lorcan. I wanted to kill him. If you hadn't stopped me, I would have and that scares me, Malcolm."

"You don't know that for a fact," Malcolm tries to argue.

"I do know that," I tell him. "I felt so drunk with power when I held his life in my hands that I almost let it take control of me. Lucifer is my father, whether you want to admit that to yourself or not. I may physically look more like my mother, but I also have my father's blood coursing through my veins. I know you hate him. You have every right to from what I understand. But, it doesn't mean I have to feel the same way about him. Maybe I have more empathy for Lucifer because I've seen how Helena is using his pain against him. I don't know. All I do know is that getting to know him allows me to know myself better. Before I take Belphagor's seal, I feel like I need as many ties to this life as I can get. We have no way of knowing what it will do to me, Malcolm. If I can have you both by my side, I feel like I have a better chance of surviving what comes next. Please, try to understand. I need this."

I feel the tenseness in his posture dissipate as my words sink in. In a way, I feel guilty. I know I'm using Malcolm's love for me to get what I want, but everything I said to him was true. I do feel like bringing Lucifer into my life will help me endure the rest of my mission. My request is a selfish one, and I know I'm asking Malcolm to be completely selfless. Malcolm's past with Lucifer seems to have been a murky one filled with pain and deceit. In time, I hope they can come to some sort of understanding and use me as a bridge to mend their differences. But right now, I'm allowing myself to be greedy in my request because it's what I need to do to survive.

"And when exactly would you want this dinner party to take place?" Malcolm asks, giving into my demand with his question.

"As soon as possible," I say, dropping my hands from his arms. "We're supposed to meet with Belphagor tomorrow, and I don't know what's going to happen after that. Would tonight be all right?"

Malcolm sighs heavily and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands looking slightly frustrated.

"Fine," he finally says, placing his hands on his hips not looking the least bit happy.

"Thank you," I tell him. I don't try to touch Malcolm because I feel like he's on the edge. I know he's only doing this for me. I suddenly think of an idea that I hope will make the evening a little less tense.

"Why don't we invite everyone else?" I ask. "That way you won't feel the need to have to talk to him if you don't want to."

"Fine," Malcolm says curtly, looking away from me.

"And...I need your help with one more thing," I say, wondering if I'm pushing my luck with what I'm about to ask for next.

Malcolm looks back at me, his face completely blank as he waits for me to speak.

"I need your help finding him," I say. "I could go back to h.e.l.l to see if he's there, but I would rather check here on Earth first. Do you know of any places he might go to here?"

Malcolm just stares at me for a moment before he shakes his head like he either thinks I'm crazy for asking, or he is for helping me. He holds one of his hands out for me to take.

"Only for you would I purposely go looking for Lucifer," he tells me. "I know of a few places we might be able to find him."

I place my hand into Malcolm's and squeeze it, making him look at me before I speak.

"And only someone who truly loves me would sacrifice so much," I tell him. "Every day we're together you do something that makes my love for you grow even stronger. I don't know what I would do without you in my life, and I never want to find out."

"You never will," Malcolm promises. "Now let's go find him and get this over with."

Malcolm phases me to a dozen different locations including a spot in Antarctica and the hallway in the hospital where my mother and Lucifer first met. Yet, we don't find Lucifer at any of them.

"Is there anywhere else he could be?" I ask Malcolm as we stand by the twisted metal wreckage of what was once the Eiffel Tower in Paris.

"There's one," Malcolm says. "But if he's not there, I'm not sure where else he would be here on Earth."

Malcolm phases me to what looks like an empty field. Snow covers the ground like a white sheet. One solitary figure stands in the far distance.

"He's here," I say in relief at the sight of Lucifer. "But, where are we?"

"Jess and Mason used to have a home here," Malcolm tells me. "When they were alive, it was a small community called Cypress Hollow. It was destroyed in the Great War and the homes here were demolished to make way for more fields. He's standing in the spot where Jess' front porch used to be."

"He really did care for her, didn't he?"

"More than he wanted to admit to at the time."

I stare at Lucifer's back for a moment. I'm certain he knows we're here, yet he doesn't turn around to acknowledge our presence.

"It might be easier if I speak to him alone," I tell Malcolm.

"You're probably right. Don't be long." Malcolm leans down and kisses me lightly on the lips before phasing back home.

As I walk up to Lucifer, he says, "You know, Jess and I used to have our little heart to hearts here. Have you come to beg me to ask my father for forgiveness too?"

"No," I tell him. "I actually just came to ask you over for dinner tonight."

Lucifer turns around to face me looking completely caught off guard by my offer of hospitality.

"What on earth did you have to promise the big oaf to get him to agree to such a thing?"

"Malcolm," I say, stressing the name so Lucifer understands I don't appreciate him calling my husband derogatory names, "only wants to see me happy. He would do anything for me. Will you?"

Lucifer stares at me as if he's thinking over my question carefully.

"What time do you want me there?" He finally says.

"Six," I tell him. "And don't be late. I can't promise the meal I make will still be warm if you are."

Lucifer's face falls. "You're cooking? Is it too late to back out of this?"

I laugh at him.

"I'm a very good cook, thank you very much. But it looks like you'll just have to come and see for yourself before you'll believe it."

"I lived with your mother. I'm fully aware of your family's track record for producing females who can't even boil water without burning the pot," Lucifer states matter-of-factly.

"Then come see what your miracle child can do," I tell him. "You won't be disappointed. I promise."

"You have me completely intrigued," Lucifer says, looking as such. "I will be there at exactly six as you requested."

"Good," I say. On impulse, I lean over and kiss him on the cheek. "I'll see you then."

Before Lucifer can fully get over his shock at my intimate contact, I phase straight to the kitchen back home. I didn't want to give him time to back out of his agreement to come to dinner.

I find Millie in the kitchen peeling some potatoes at the kitchen table.

"h.e.l.lo, my sweet," she says. "Master Malcolm told me we would be having company this evening. I thought I should get started on it."

"Where is Malcolm?" I ask, not seeing him in the room.

"Oh, he went to invite your other guests. He told me to tell you he would be back soon and that he already misses you."

My heart smiles with joy and I quickly take off my coat to get to work.

"I want to cook the meal myself," I tell Millie as I pull up the sleeves of my sweater, "but I wouldn't mind some help doing it."

"Simply consider me as your a.s.sistant then," Millie replies.

I phase up to the bedroom and grab the recipe book Utha Mae and Tara gave me. When I return with it, Millie looks excited by the prospect of cooking new recipes.

"Oh, what shall we cook?" Millie says looking at all the recipes as I flip through the book.

"Do you know if Lucifer has a favorite dish?" I ask.

"Oh now, let's see," Millie says, looking thoughtful. "I do seem to remember him having a fondness for barbecue. Ribs were his favorite."