by Larissa Ione
Just the way Revenant would look if he learned she wasn’t really a False Angel.
Stop it. You’re worried about nothing. He hasn’t been around in days. He may never come around again.
She squared her shoulders and put on her cheery doctor face. “Hi, Tavin. Eidolon said you have something to show me.”
“You could say that.” He tugged down his collar to reveal his personal Seminus symbol, the one his offspring would inherit just beneath their own symbols.
The markings would continue all the way to their fingertips, revealing the history of their paternity for dozens of generations. It was kind of cool, really. One glance at another Sem, and a Sem like Tavin or Eidolon could determine their relationship to each other. Tav and E, in fact, were related by a star symbol far back in their family dermoire.
She peered closely at the vaguely familiar snake symbol. The horned head rose up from a body coiled around a skull, and as she looked at it, she swore the tail moved. Squinting, she leaned closer.
“It looks like a—” She reared back. What had Eidolon said? An angelic symbol?
“What?” Tav let go of his shirt collar and twisted around to her. “What is it? Idess said it was an angelic protection symbol gone wrong.”
Blas shook her head. “It’s not angelic. It’s fallen angelic.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Angels and fallen angels draw their power from different sources,” she explained. “So they have different abilities and talents. For example, only an angel can create the patron cobra, and only a fallen angel can create what you have. The death cobra.”
Tavin snorted. “Well, I hate to tell you this, but it was an angel who did it. Not a fallen angel.”
She shook her head. “Impossible.”
“I’m telling ya,” he said with a shrug.
She wasn’t going to argue. Not when she knew she was right. “Just for shits and giggles, let’s say it’s the death cobra.”
“But I don’t want it to be the death cobra,” Tavin blurted. “That sounds really fucking bad.”
“It is. It’s a curse.”
“A curse? You mean, like a curse curse. Like, a bad curse?”
There really wasn’t any other kind, but seeing how the patient was getting worked up, she didn’t point that out.
“Yeah. A bad curse.”
Tavin swallowed, and the snake shifted. Damn, that freaked her out. And she was used to weird shit.
“Okay, so what am I cursed with, and how can I get rid of it?”
“I don’t know how to get rid of it. As for the curse…” She blew out a long breath. “Poison. I’m sorry, Tav, but it’s an ancient assassination curse, not even used anymore. Every time you agitate the snake, it’ll bite. You’ll eventually die. “
“Assassination?”
She nodded. “Ironic, yes?” His flat stare said he didn’t appreciate the irony. “I’ll see what I can find out about it. We’ll all work on this, Tav.”
Her name badge should read: DR. BULLSHIT. Curses were not easily broken.
“Fuck.” Tavin scrubbed his hands over his face. “Live by the poison, die by the poison. Awesome. I have a new mantra.”
Well, she thought, it was better than hers: Live a lie, die a liar.
Don’t borrow trouble. You’ve survived almost two hundred years without a problem. Keep your head down and your nose clean.
The curtain swished open, and Gem entered, all perky despite the fact that she’d been on shift for twenty-four hours. She must be getting ready to go home to her hot-as-hell husband and their daughter.
“Hey.” Gem thrust a note and a single black rose into Blaspheme’s hand. “Someone left this for you. Very romantic.” She acknowledged Tavin with a wave. “I’m outta here. See you later.”
Blas barely heard a word. Her gaze was glued to the note, to the block script that turned her blood to ice. No, not ice, because thorns on the rose stem dug into her hand, and blood trickled down her wrist and dripped onto the paper.
I’ll see you soon. Very soon.
It was signed.
Revenant.
Twenty-Seven
“What is it you want, Verrine?” Raphael poured her a glass of ice wine made from the azure grapes that grew in the Demura plains outside Archangel Hall. They were in the expansive kitchen of his palatial home, and she wondered how long she was going to be stuck here.
And what his game was.
They’d just come from the entrance of a hellmouth, where Harvester had been trying to sense Lucifer, but after watching Reaver lose his wings and fall from grace, her heart hadn’t been in it. Besides, it appeared that Lucifer had been moved. Now she had to find a place on Earth where she could get a signal, but it was going to take time.
Time they no longer had. So why were they in Raphael’s home talking as if they had nothing better to do?
“Harvester,” she corrected as she took the glass of the crystal-blue wine without a thank you.
Raphael graced her with a patronizing smile. “You’ll get over that eventually. Harvester.” He sipped his own wine and let out a moan of pleasure. “Now, tell me what you want.”
Your head mounted on a pole. That’s what I want. “That’s a broad question. I want peace on Earth. Three hundred and sixty-five days of Christmas. A ban on all remakes of eighties songs. Oh, and Reaver’s angelic status restored.” She traced the rim of her glass with her finger. “Shall I go on?”
“Sheoul has not positively influenced your personality,” Raphael said, but she didn’t agree. Well, mostly she didn’t agree. But he was still an ass. “Would you like to be the Horsemen’s Watcher again?”
Her heart skipped a beat. Was he serious? He gazed at her with narrowed eyes, clearly waiting for a reaction that he would, no doubt, use to his advantage.
So she didn’t give him one.
With a casual shrug, she tasted the wine. Instant arousal rushed through her veins and concentrated in her breasts and pelvis. Wow. She eyed the glass. Raphael was a sneaky bastard, wasn’t he? No more of that for her.
“I don’t think the Horsemen would appreciate it.”
“They might not like it, but their opinions don’t matter, and you know them better than anyone.”
“I suppose.”
Raphael took another drink from his glass, and his gaze darkened. He probably shouldn’t have any more of the wine, either.
“We’re going to assign you as Watcher.”
Yes. She gave another shrug. “Whatever. I suppose I need a job. But I’m telling you, they won’t be happy. Not after everything I did as their Sheoulic Watcher.”
“But you were helping them.”
“I doubt they’ll see it that way, and even if they do, it’ll take them a while to get over it. Thanatos especially.”
He gestured to her glass. “Have more.”
“I’ve never been much of a drinker.” Very deliberately, she put the glass on the counter. “Are we done here?”
“Don’t you want to know what will make the Horsemen welcome you back with open arms?”
She resisted rolling her eyes. “I give. What will make them suddenly forgive me for everything I’ve done?”
“A baby.” Raphael’s voice was low, seductive in a nonsexual way. Seductive in that way that promised you everything you ever wanted. She was drawn in, no doubt exactly the way he’d planned, and it occurred to her that she’d never had the upper hand in this negotiation. He’d only let her think she had.
“What baby?”
“Limos’s. You didn’t know she lost it?” He smiled, a real I-have-you-now smirk she wanted to slap off his face. “You can give Limos her dream back. You’ll be a hero.” He picked up her glass and held it out. “Drink up, and I’ll tell you how.”
* * *
Reaver jolted into consciousness, head pounding, eyes filled with sand. Or glass. He dragged them open and peered through slits at Eidolon’s concerned face hovering over him.
&
nbsp; “How are you feeling?”
He cleared his raw throat, wondering why it was so sore. “Like I went through an industrial meat grinder.” He frowned. “Where am I? Why are you here? Why do I keep waking up with you in my face?”
“We’re in Israel. I’m here because Harvester sent word. And you keep waking up with me in your face because you keep getting into trouble.”
Harvester. Right. She’d gotten her wings back. Thank you, God. She’d been so radiant, so full of joy, and so had Reaver. Even through the misery, Reaver’s heart had soared for her.
He tried to sit up, but when his skull threatened to implode, he decided that lying on the ground for a few more minutes couldn’t hurt. Then he remembered, with sickening clarity, being nailed to the ground, and suddenly he didn’t want to be on it anymore.
He struggled to sit up, this time making it past the skull-shattering stage. “My wings are gone, aren’t they?” He knew the answer, but he needed to hear it.
Eidolon’s eyes were sad. “I’m sorry, Reaver.”
He was a fallen angel.
Again.
Didn’t matter that he’d expected it. Hell, he expected to be destroyed. Still, pain that extended well beyond the physical wrapped around him, squeezing like a vise. He let himself mourn for a moment, and then he allowed Eidolon to help him to his feet, ignoring the aches that permeated every cell in his body. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—dwell on this or regret that it happened. The goal had always been to save Harvester from an eternity of torture. He’d have done it even if he’d known with certainty that he’d lose his life or his wings.
What was done was done.
“Thank you, Eidolon.” Reaver clasped the doctor’s hand in his. “I know you don’t normally make house calls.”
“Are you kidding? I’m always making damned house calls.” Eidolon reached into his medical bag and handed him yet another pair of scrubs to replace the ones currently Swiss cheesed and drenched in rain, mud, and blood. “I’ll admit I have an ulterior motive.”
“Are you offering me my job back?” Reaver asked as he stripped out of the destroyed clothes.
Eidolon gave him a sheepish shrug. “I’m desperate.”
“Wow.” Reaver paused to yank on the scrub pants. “You really know how to sweet talk a guy.”
Eidolon laughed. “So? Is that a yes?”
“Yeah.” Reaver flexed his shoulder blades under the scrub top, feeling the loss of his wings as a distinct, too-light sensation of phantom limbs. “I need a little time first.”
He was back in the human realm, but now there was fallout to deal with. He hadn’t had a chance to spend time with the Horsemen, and right now Limos, especially, was a priority. And Harvester… he had no way to contact her, but he had to try. His feelings had shifted the moment he learned the truth about her, and then they’d grown during their time in Sheoul. Now, being away from her left a hole in his chest where a ghost organ beat, much like the wings missing from his shoulders.
Then there was the issue of the brewing war between realms. A war that, if it boiled over, would be his fault.
Eidolon walked toward the Harrowgate that sat on the southern edge of the Megiddo plateau, and Reaver joined him. “Come back when you’re ready.”
They stepped into the gate, and Eidolon selected the caduceus symbol that would open into Underworld General. When the emergency room appeared, E stepped out. “Be safe. There’s trouble brewing in Sheoul, but I’m guessing you know that.”
“Little bit.” Reaver waited for the gate to close. When it was dark inside, with only the glow of Sheoulic symbols and map lines on the wall, he tapped until he found the Harrowgate that was closest to Limos’s Hawaiian house.
Losing the ability to flash himself anywhere in the world was one of the worst things about being booted out of Heaven, and Reaver cursed as he walked the sandy path from the gate to Limos’s house. When he arrived, it was Arik who met him at the door and surprised him with an enthusiastic embrace.
“Reaver, man, it’s good to see you.” Arik stepped back. “I heard you spent some time in Sheoul. Is it true that you rescued Harvester? And that she was a spy for our side?”
Reaver followed Arik into the beach themed living room. Limos was conspicuously absent. “Yeah. She’s been reinstated as an angel.”
“Cool, I guess.” Arik gestured beyond the canoe-shaped bookcase to the kitchen. “Offer you a beer?”
“Thanks, no.”
Socially required niceties over now, Arik sank onto the wicker couch as if his legs had given out. “Shit.” He braced his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. “I’m so glad you’re here. Limos is… I don’t know. I feel like she’s gone.”
Reaver’s heart squeezed painfully hard. “Where is she?”
“Bedroom.” Arik looked up, the shadows under his eyes speaking of a lot of worry and restless nights. “She doesn’t come out. I can’t get her to eat, and I have to carry her into the shower or she won’t even do that. She doesn’t talk. She doesn’t even cry.” He jammed his hand through his hair, leaving unruly grooves in the dark waves. “Help her. Please.”
Reaver would do anything in his power to help. He just hoped he could. Steeling himself, he went to the bedroom and found Limos curled under the covers, only her tanned feet sticking out from the lacy pink bedspread. An empty cradle sat in the corner, Thanatos’s scrollwork lovingly etched into the wood.
Heart breaking, Reaver sank down on the bed next to his daughter and gently placed his hand on her shoulder.
“Li?”
The Limos-lump moved under the covers. “R-Reaver?”
She clawed her way out of the tangled mess of blankets and sheets and threw herself at him, her arms clamped so tight around him that he could barely breathe. And Limos, who rarely cried, bawled until his neck, shoulder, and chest was wet with her tears.
He said nothing, simply holding her as she wept. If he’d learned anything at all about females… mostly from Harvester… it was that it was easy to say the wrong thing, and more often than not, saying nothing at all was the right thing.
Finally, Limos’s sobs turned to sniffles, and he twisted around to get a box of tissues off the bedside table. Very carefully, he dabbed the wet streaks from her cheeks and brushed the matted hair off her skin. There was nothing Limos liked more than to be pampered, and Reaver was prepared to do whatever it took.
She let him clean her up, and then she scooted backward just enough to give him room to sit more fully on the mattress. “You’ve been gone.” There was no accusation in her voice, simply a statement of fact.
“I’m sorry.”
Bloodshot violet eyes met his. “Arik said you were rescuing Harvester. Do you love her?”
Whoa. Talk about being blindsided. But Limos had never been anything but blunt. “It’s… complicated.”
“Why?”
He really did not want to talk about this, but he sensed that this was a turning point for Limos, a reason to join the living, even if only for a little while before she burrowed back under the covers.
“Back when I was Yenrieth, we were close,” he said, and Limos sat up a little straighter.
“Were you lovers?” Beneath her deadly Horseman exterior, Limos had always been a romantic.
“No, but we should have been. We can lay that one on me. I was an idiot. I don’t remember much, but I know it was you who told me you were my daughter and that I had three sons.”
She frowned. “I don’t remember that.”
“Because your memory was wiped along with everyone else’s.” His gaze drifted to the cradle, and sorrow clogged his throat. What he wouldn’t do to make things right. “Apparently, I went a little crazy. I still don’t know what happened, but I disappeared, and Harvester vowed to watch over all of you because I couldn’t.” Or wouldn’t. He had no idea, but that missing piece of his life was going to drive him mad until he knew. “She gave up everything to Fall and become your Watcher.”
/> “So you feel you owe her.”
“I don’t feel it,” he said quietly. “I know it.”
“And you love her.” This time, it wasn’t a question. It was a proclamation.
“Like I said, it’s complicated.”
Limos shook her head. “Complicated is when you fall in love with someone while you’re engaged to Satan and you’re wearing a chastity belt. Does Harvester belong to anyone? Is she wearing a chastity belt that will chop off your body parts? No? Then it’s not complicated.”
The image of Harvester holding Raphael’s hand flashed in his head, and his breath turned raw in his throat. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time given that he knew something bad was about to go down on the Megiddo hilltop. But now the idea that Raphael was acting a little too friendly with Harvester skinned him alive.
“She’s an angel now,” he told her. “I saw her get her wings back.” Harvester had glowed like a diamond in a ray of sunshine. She’d been the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. If he hadn’t been pinned to the ground like an insect in a display case, he’d have been on her in a heartbeat.
“That’s perfect.” Limos smiled, and he had feeling it was the first time since losing the baby. “Now there aren’t any rules between you—”
“I got the boot, Li,” he said, stopping her before she could finish. “I lost my wings.”
“Oh my God.” Limos’s eyes filled with tears again. “No. No, that can’t be. You saved her. How can they do that to you?”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I expected to die.”
Limos punched a pillow. “It’s still bullshit.”
He took her hand, which felt too fragile despite the fact that she was one of the most powerful beings in all the realms. “When I was fallen the first time, I prayed I’d get my wings back. When it happened, it was like I was home.” He could still feel the elation, the amazement that he’d done something to deserve entrance into Heaven again. “But you know what I missed? My independence. My freedom.”
“The ties that bind also chafe,” she mused.
“Exactly.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m okay. Seriously.” Strangely, he was. Maybe he’d fall into a deep depression the way he had last time, but he doubted it. So much had changed in the last few years, and now he had a family. Only two things were missing.