by S. J. West
“Absolutely,” Rafe agrees.
“How did last night go, by the way?” I ask. “Nina told me she was going to share parts of her past with you.”
Rafe’s expression turns grim. “Yes. She did. It meant a lot to me, Jess. She shared things with me that she’s never shared with anyone else. And…she told me she loved me.”
“Well, look at you, Romeo! You didn’t even need to find a balcony. You won the fair damsel’s heart by just being you.”
“I wasn’t expecting to find love here, Jess,” Rafe says, looking worried. “Do you think God will let her come back home with us?”
“If He doesn’t, He and I will be having a very heated conversation.”
Rafe chuckles. “Only you could be audacious enough to go toe to toe with God and the devil. Sometimes at the same time!”
In the kitchen, Rafe and I decide to make breakfast quick and simple. We toast some slices of bread and slather them with butter and jelly. We grab a couple of bottles of water and make our way back to our separate destinations.
“What took you so long?” Mason asks as I step into the room.
“I ran into Rafe sneaking out of Nina’s bedroom,” I say, closing the door behind me. I walk over to the bed to hand Mason the plate of toast and to set the water bottles down on the nightstand. As promised, I immediately begin to disrobe and hop back into bed with Mason.
“Well, I guess their date went well then,” Mason says.
“Looks that way,” I reply, grabbing a piece of toast to munch on. I sigh as a thought occurs to me. “I guess I should go check on Lucifer. I’m not sure who Brand put in charge of the care and feeding of our version of the devil.”
“A little fasting might do him some good,” Mason says, without an ounce of pity for Lucifer. “He’s done worse to others.”
“Mason,” I say, placing a hand on his arm, “I wish you could let go of your hatred of him. It’s not good for your heart or your soul.”
“I would do anything for you,” Mason tells me sincerely, “but I’m not sure I can do that. I’ve hated him for so long I don’t think I can feel anything else for him.”
“I understand, but…just think about trying to find a way to hate him a little less. Not for me, not for Lucifer, but for you.”
Mason looks at me for a moment before slowly nodding. “I’ll try.”
I lean down and kiss Mason on the lips. “Now eat your toast and, maybe, if you’re a good boy, I’ll have dessert this time.”
“I say we both do,” Mason suggests with a cheeky grin.
“It’s strange how you and I are always on the same page,” I laugh. “It must be kismet.”
After a mutually satisfying breakfast, I tell Mason, “I’m going to get ready and go down to see how Lucifer is doing.”
“Ok. I’ll find Brand and see what’s on the agenda for today, besides going to bully Faust into giving us Horace’s ring this evening.”
“I’ll come find you when I’m done in the basement.”
After I get dressed for the day ahead, I go downstairs and use the key Xavier gave me to open the door to the basement. Once I enter, I make sure to lock it behind me so no human in the house can enter it by mistake.
When I step into the cage, my fear that Lucifer wasn’t being fed is alleviated when I see him eating what looks like a Pop Tart. Lucifer looks over at me and shakes his head in dismay.
“It’s about time you came back,” he snaps. “You wouldn’t believe the food that boy has been bringing me to eat. I’ll gain fifty pounds while I’m incarcerated in here if he remains my jailer!”
“Who are you talking about?” I ask, walking up to the bars of Lucifer’s cell to peer in at him, like you would an animal at a zoo.
“That boy who looks like Joshua,” Lucifer says, holding up the package of Pop Tarts. “Apparently, he believes these over-processed slabs of sugar are a proper breakfast. Last night he brought me something appalling called a Hot Pocket! Why do humans put such things in their bodies?”
“Dare I ask if he brought you a dessert last night?” I ask, unable to stop myself from laughing at the image in my head of Lucifer attempting to eat a Hot Pocket.
“That wasn’t too terrible,” Lucifer reluctantly admits. “Although I’ve refrained from eating any during my time on this barbaric planet, I might actually eat one on occasion now.”
“Are you going to keep me in suspense?” I ask. “What was it?”
“A… Twinkie. And if you tell anyone I actually like those things, I will deny it with my last dying breath.”
For the second time that day, I raise my right hand and pledge, “Your secret is safe with me.”
Lucifer tosses his half-eaten package of Pop Tarts onto the cot and stands up to walk closer to the bars.
“Are you only here to check up on me or did you have another purpose for coming, Jessica?”
“I’ve been curious about something you might know the answer to,” I say.
“Oh, really?” Lucifer says, sounding intrigued. “And what would you like to know?”
“Why didn’t Lucian and the other princes simply open the seals all at once? Why have they waited months, sometimes even years, in between opening them?”
“Well, you’re in luck,” Lucifer says with a grin. “I do know the answer to your question.”
I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t. He just stands there and looks at me.
“And what is this information going to cost me?” I ask, knowing Lucifer never does something for nothing.
“Not much. All I ask for is a decent meal at least once a day. Even prisoners get that much while they’re incarcerated.”
“That’s all?” I ask suspiciously. It seemed too easy.
“That’s enough for information I would otherwise give to you for free. As things are, I need something in return.”
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll make sure you get a home-cooked meal once a day.”
“Prepared by your gentle hands?” he teases.
“I thought you said you wanted the meal to be decent,” I retort, understanding my own limitations in the culinary arts.
Lucifer chuckles. “Touché. As long as that mongrel doesn’t prepare it, I’m fine.”
“Why do you hate Malcolm so much?”
“For one, he’s conceited.”
“Have you looked in a mirror lately?”
Lucifer glares at me. “I have a right to be conceited. He, on the other hand, does not.”
“Whatever. I’ll make sure Malcolm doesn’t cook you anything. I doubt he would anyway. I think he hates you about as much as you do him. Now, tell me what you know.”
“It’s simple really,” Lucifer says with a small shrug. “Lucian knew he was opening the seals too early, but he thought if he could cause enough chaos in this world, that it would strengthen the power of each consecutive seal that was opened.”
“How?”
“If you want an answer to that question, ask my father,” Lucifer says. “You’re one of his favorite pets. He might tell you. One thing you should remember is that hate and fear can be very powerful forces in the universe. Never underestimate the energy they generate.”
“Why won’t you tell me what Lucian wants with Ravan?”
“Like I said, you’re smart. You’ll find a way to figure that piece of the puzzle out for yourself. But I wouldn’t wait too long, Jessica. If you want to succeed in your mission in this reality, you need to stop her from completing her destiny. If you truly want to save the souls of the suffering in this world, you will need to figure out a way to stop her as soon as possible. Time is running out.”
“How bad is this thing she’s supposed to do for Lucian?” I ask, sensing Lucifer isn’t over-exaggerating his warning.
“Heaven will be lost,” Lucifer says, with a note of sadness that sounds unintentional. “That’s all I can tell you.”
“Can or will?” I accuse.
“Will. Just…hurry, Jessica. I sens
e that what will happen could break you in many ways. Whatever you believe about me, I have no desire to see that happen to you.”
Against my better judgment, I believe Lucifer.
“Can she be stopped?” I ask.
“Honestly? I’m not sure,” Lucifer says, looking doubtful. “But I suggest you kill her at the first available opportunity. If your goal is to save lives, you will have to end hers.”
“I have no problem with killing, as long as it’s justified,” I tell him.
“Then do it as soon as you can,” he advises. “Don’t hesitate. Don’t flinch. Just do it, and do it quickly.”
“And I’m just supposed to take your word for it that her death will make everything better?”
“You can believe what I’m telling you or not,” Lucifer says, sounding slightly offended. “The choice is yours.”
“For some reason I trust you,” I say. “Is that a mistake?”
“Always.”
I turn to leave, but Lucifer says, “Be careful. She’s more powerful than she appears.”
I look at him over my shoulder, but don’t say anything else before I walk out of the graviton cage.
When I step out and close the door, I lean my back against the coolness of the metal and take a deep breath to steady my nerves.
Something in the pit of my stomach warns me that what Lucifer said is true, and that I need to kill Ravan sooner rather than later.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
When I go back up to the first floor, I find Mason, Brand, and Malcolm sitting in the library, talking.
“How did things go with Jai Lin’s video?” I ask Brand as I take a seat beside my husband on the couch.
“Very well,” Brand tells me, with a proud smile. He leans back in his wing-back chair. “She’s a natural orator. Whenever she gives a speech, she has a way of drawing you in and keeping you connected to her.”
“Is she good enough to make people want to fight for her?” I ask, since this is the purpose of the video.
“Yes,” Brand says with certainty. “She definitely makes you want to stand by her side.”
A flash of white catches my eye, drawing my attention to the glass- walled room beside the library. I watch as Ava opens the door there to step outside and onto the porch. She’s dressed all in white, which seems odd to me. Most widows prefer black during their mourning period.
“I’m going to go speak with Ava,” I whisper to Mason.
“All right. Do you want me to go with you?”
“No. I’d rather talk to her alone.”
Mason simply nods, and I stand to follow Ava outside.
I find her sitting on the steps leading down to the back of the house. The sun is rising, casting a warm glow across the water of the St. Lawrence River, heralding the beginning of a new day.
“Mind if I sit with you?” I ask Ava.
“I don’t care,” she says, her tone as apathetic as her words.
I sit down beside her on the top step, and we watch the sunrise in mutual silence.
“How is Mia?”
Ava sighs. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. She and Leah talked until Mia had to go to the safe house on the island before her transformation.”
“I’m glad they have each other to lean on,” I say. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone who’s going through the same thing. You probably don’t feel the need to put on a brave face and hide your tears from them.”
“Probably,” Ava agrees, pulling on the long sleeves of her cardigan until they cover her hands like gloves. She props her elbows on her thighs and rests her chin on her covered fists, continuing to stare out across the water at the rising sun. “You know, Micah and I used to sit together and watch the sunrise every morning. He would hold me in his arms and tell me the sun only rose because it wanted to see me every day. He was so loving before all this business with Lucian and Ravan started. After Lucian dug his grimy little claws into Micah’s soul, I lost my husband forever…or at least I thought I had. I never expected him to sacrifice himself for me. Never.”
“He still loved you,” I tell her, hoping that knowledge helps her in some way. “I could see it on his face when he helped us get out of there.”
Ava shakes her head as tears spill from her eyes. “The last thing he heard from me was how much I hated him,” she cries. “I was so angry because I thought he’d betrayed me, but I guess I betrayed him first. I hope he can forgive me.” Ava falls silent for a moment before whispering, “You know what scares me the most?”
“No. What scares you?”
“I’m scared I’ll never see him again,” she confesses. “I don’t know where his soul ended up. Did Lucian have complete control over it, or was Micah’s sacrifice enough to finally find grace in our father’s eyes?”
I don’t say anything for a moment, because lying to Ava isn’t something I’m about to do.
“I wish I could tell you,” I say, not having a better answer to give her. I’m not in the business of dishing out false hope.
“Brand said our father visits your Earth in person sometimes.” Ava looks over at me, and I see a small bit of envy in her expression. “I wish I could see Him again. I miss His warmth.”
“All I ever seem to do is argue with Him,” I confess unashamedly.
Ava lets out a small laugh, making me glad I can at least help her forget her sorrows for a few seconds.
“I wish I could see that,” Ava tells me, a newfound respect for me in her voice.
We fall back into a mutual silence, and I know I should leave to let her work through her pain.
“If I can ever do anything for you,” I tell her, “don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says, nodding her head. “Thank you.”
After I walk back into the house, I spy Logan walking into the foyer with Abby, Brand’s daughter, and Mia by her side. Finding Logan’s presence strange, I walk over to the trio. Mia breaks away from the other two girls before I can reach them, taking the stairs of the grand staircase two at a time. I presume she’s going up to see Leah.
I thought Logan would have gone back to her father’s home last night, not stayed over. Wouldn’t he miss her? Wouldn’t he question where she was all night, leading her to tell him the truth of her whereabouts?
“Heya, Jess,” Abby says, exemplifying the same warm, friendliness our own Abby has. “You know Logan, don’t you, love?”
“Yes,” I say, unable to prevent myself from looking at Logan with open suspicion. “We’ve met. I’m surprised to still find you here, Logan.”
“I stayed the night,” Logan says, lifting her chin slightly in defiance of my suspicious tone with her. “Abby, Tristan, and Mia let me bunk with them in their room during the change.”
“It’s been really nice having some company at night,” Abby admits. “I’ve never felt the closeness of a real pack before, but having Logan, Tristan, and Mia with me during the night shows me how connected werewolves can be to one another.”
“Dillon and I used to stay with each other every night,” Logan says, her eyes becoming slightly unfocused at the memory of her half-sister. She looks over at me and says, “My mom is supposed to take me to the island where Dillon is being held. That’s the main reason I stayed over.”
“You make it sound like she’s a prisoner there,” I say.
“She is,” Logan says without hesitation, and looking at me like she can’t understand how I could see it any other way. “What else would you call having your wings ripped out by your own mother so you can’t escape the deserted island she took you to? Peyton’s crazy, and my mom said she would help me rescue Dillon.”
“And how are you going to keep Peyton from coming for her daughter after you whisk her away?”
“I don’t know,” Logan says uncertainly, clearly not having fully thought through that part of her plan. “I’ll think of something. I’ll take Dillon somewhere her mother can’t find her or wouldn’t dare to go. A
ll I know is that I can’t just abandon her to a mad-woman. I’m surprised the rest of you did. Aren’t you supposed to be the good guys in this game you’re playing against Lucian?”
The sting of Logan’s words hit her intended target dead-center: my heart. I remember the beauty of Dillon’s voice, and wonder if she’ll ever sing like that again. What happened to her is partially my fault, but she also stepped outside that door with the full intention of handing Mason and me over to her father on a silver platter. Yet, the guilt I feel for what Peyton ultimately did to her daughter, out of a desperate need to save her soul, weighs heavily on my own.
“Do you want me to go with you?” I ask, feeling as though it’s the least I can offer to do. “Maybe I can be of some help with Peyton.”
“I think you’ve done quite enough, don’t you?” Logan asks heatedly. “Besides, I’m sure Peyton told Dillon that you people ripped her wings out. She’s not about to take the blame for doing it herself.”
“You have a point,” I say. “That was her plan all along; to have one of us do her dirty work for her.”
“Just leave us alone,” Logan practically orders me. “We don’t need your help.”
Logan runs up the grand staircase to the second landing. I can only assume she’s seeking out the sanctuary of her mother’s room.
“Don’t worry about her, love,” Abby says to me. “She’s always been a bit of a hot-head. Logan has always worn her emotions on her sleeve. I wouldn’t take what she said to heart. After she gets Dillon back, she’ll calm down.”
“She has every right to be mad at me, though,” I say, feeling like less than a hero where Dillon is concerned. “We did use Dillon to get what we wanted from Peyton. What happened to her is totally on our shoulders.”
“Well, I know it might make me sound like a selfish git,” Abby says, “but I’m glad my dad didn’t have to do that to Dillon. He’s too kind-hearted to have ever forgiven himself for doing something like that to her. I still can’t believe Peyton mutilated her own daughter, though.”
“Me neither,” I admit.
Abby and I part ways as she goes to the kitchen to get some breakfast. I return to the library, where I find Chandler and Zack sitting with Mason, Brand, and Malcolm now. Chandler and Zack tell us about some of their adventures with Isaiah and Baruch while the rest of us were busy handling the fallout from the breaking of the fourth seal.