I don’t know her password, so after a few attempts, I log in to my account instead, wondering if she’s saved anything on the server. As the desktop loads, I notice I have a couple of emails.
The first is a reminder from the PR department to engage with the #IdSellMySoulFor hashtag they’re promoting on social media. As I click on the second, though, my heart sinks. It’s a meeting invite for a court case. Sent by senior management a few minutes ago, it’s gone out to all staff at both companies.
Attached is Adalind’s appeal letter. Gabriel couldn’t find it because she’d already sent it in.
Her retrial is tomorrow at noon.
“Shit.”
I message Gabriel to meet me in the alley, then slip back out of the building.
Gabriel is already waiting when I get there, his white blazer a stark contrast to my black one. His face is grave.
“I know,” he says before I can speak. “I’ve just seen the email.”
“Do you think she can win?” I ask.
“I think we need to plan for it. We need to find a way to defeat a Greater Demon while making sure Adam and Eve are safe. I can work on that.”
“And me?”
“Wait for Jonathon. Find out what happened. If the Omens have Adam, we can get Crow to strike a deal to get him back. Perhaps he’ll prove useful after all.”
I stiffen at the mention of him, and Gabriel notices. Before he can say anything, I make a show of smiling brightly. I really don’t want to get into what happened right now. It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t be important. Especially not when the world might end.
“Okay, sure! I can do that! I’ll let you know as soon as I speak to him!”
I cringe at my cheeriness, then I leave Gabriel looking perplexed in the alley.
Back on campus I sit at my desk, watching one YouTube music video after the next, trying to distract myself as I wait for my brother’s return. I’m trying to distract myself from thinking of Crow. It’s hard; my sheets smell of him, the mirror on my wall is still cracked, and I can’t believe I slept with a married man.
It becomes even harder to do when the man himself appears, wearing the same jeans and blue shirt as last night.
He says nothing, only closes the door gently behind him, then drops a glossy piece of paper in my lap.
“What are you doing here?” I say as he takes a seat on the edge of my bed, expression serious.
He glances at the paper he dropped on my lap. Heart beating fast, I pick it up.
“Her name is Maddie,” he says.
It’s an old black-and-white photograph, creased down the center. Crow is in the center of the frame wearing a black suit. The curly-haired girl in his arms wears a floor-length wedding dress. They both stand outside a church, beaming. She clutches a bouquet of lilies.
I swallow, staring at it. “Why are you showing me this?”
“The contract I got into with Devils Inc. . . . I did it for her. Wanted to clean myself up. Get out of debt. Stop the gambling. Stop getting mixed up with bad people. We married the year before I died.” He pauses. “The car accident that killed me . . . she was in the car.”
I look up to find he’s now staring at the threadbare carpet between his feet.
“She survived. But she suffered severe brain damage. Had to go into care because she couldn’t function on her own anymore.” He takes a shaky breath. “She couldn’t even remember me.”
My chest feels tight, and despite everything, I want to reach for him. To stop myself, I clutch the photograph tighter.
“When Gabriel took me under his wing, I saw an opportunity. I knew he liked me, and so I thought I could use that to get into Halo Corp., steal a Miracle, and use it to heal Maddie. I tried. But I got caught forging the paperwork. Gabe stuck his neck out for me. They agreed to have a hearing rather than just chucking me out. Only . . .”
He leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. He’s still not looking at me.
“Only, I reckoned they were going to get rid of me. And in a last-ditch act of desperation, I ditched the hearing and went to her care home instead. I thought that . . . I thought that . . .” He runs a hand over his mouth. “I thought that if I killed her, it would free her soul, and I could tell her I was sorry.”
Dread swells in the pit of my stomach.
“I don’t know if I’d have gone through with it. Tell myself I wouldn’t have, but, well. . . Never got the chance to find out anyway.” His gruff voice is low. “Gabriel realized what I was going to do. He stopped me. He was furious. It went against everything he stands for. One of the Commandments. Thou Shalt not Kill. He couldn’t allow me to stay after that, so this time when they decided to kick me out, he didn’t argue. He was demoted for his faith in me.”
Crow rubs his face with both hands.
“Since then, I’ve tried everything I can to get hold of a Miracle—trying to blackmail your brother to get dirt on an Angel being one of them. I started saving money, too, in case one came up on the black market. I just . . . it’s all my fault. I know I’ll never get her back. I can’t turn back time. But if I could heal her mind . . . I just want to tell her I’m sorry.” His voice breaks a little. “She’s in a good care home for the elderly in LA now. I visit her when I can. She doesn’t remember me, not from before, so it’s not against the rules. Last night, the staff called to say she got herself worked up about something, so I went over to calm her down.”
He takes another deep breath before finally meeting my gaze. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he says. “I didn’t mean for it to get as far as it did. I just . . . liked spending time with you. It made me forget. But I don’t have the room in my heart. It doesn’t . . . it doesn’t work properly.” He shakes his head. “Not anymore.”
I find I’m holding his wedding photograph so tightly my knuckles are white. I don’t know what to say. I want to find the anger I felt earlier, but I can’t. I just feel hollow and sad and confused. I want to pretend he hasn’t hurt me, but at the same time, I want to yell at him that he has. I want to tell him that things will be okay even though they won’t. I want to tell him it’s not fair he’s the one who messed up yet I’m left feeling the need to comfort him.
It’s not fair. None of this is fair. Not what happened to him. Not what happened to his wife. Not what he did to Gabriel. Not what he did to me.
I hand him back the photograph. He takes it. Then he gets to his feet, slipping the photo in his back pocket as he crosses the room.
“I’m sorry,” he says again.
And then I’m alone with the tornado raging in my chest.
The rest of the day passes by in a blur. Josie messages me to see if I want to hang out, but I can’t face explaining what’s happened. I sit at my desk listening to music and trying to push the feelings back inside me.
It’s almost dark outside when a tapping at my window makes me jerk out of my numb state. Gabriel raps at the glass. Despite the fact I’m on the sixth floor.
I hurry to the window and open the latch. He climbs inside, topless, wings shuddering back into his shoulder blades as he straightens by my desk. He’s holding his “Save the Planet” canvas bag.
“Jesus Christ, Gabriel,” I snap. “What are you doing?”
He puts the bag on the bed, then pulls out a neatly folded flannel shirt.
“I heard about what happened with you and Crow,” he says, slipping it on and quietly doing up the buttons. “And, well, I thought you might be upset, so I did some research about what to do with humans in this situation. I hope I got it right, but . . .”
With a deep breath, he pulls out a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream from his bag and offers it to me, his big blue eyes earnest. His gesture breaks the barrier I’ve been trying to keep up all day.
“Oh,” I say. “That’s really . . . That’s really nice of you.”
I burst into tears.
Chapter Forty
Gabriel’s eyes widen with alarm, and he drops the ice cream next
to my laptop as if it’s suddenly scalding hot.
“Sorry. I’m okay. I’m just . . . It’s fine.” He’s close enough that I can smell the citrusy scent of his bath products.
He frowns. “Did I get the wrong flavor?”
A laugh falls out of my mouth even as tears roll down my cheeks. “No! That’s not . . . You’re such a dork.”
The corner of his lip quirks up. Then he tenses as though preparing for battle. “Should I hug you?”
“No. It’s fine,” I say, then I add, “I’m not really a hugger,” when his coppery eyebrows knit together.
He visibly relaxes, though doesn’t move out of my personal space. “Oh, good. Me neither. Although . . .” He pauses, biting his cheek. “I did read that hugs stimulate the production of oxytocin, which is supposed to help when someone feels sad.”
I take a deep breath, my lip twitching. “Where did you read that?”
“Buzzfeed.”
“What if we just have some ice cream?” I say.
His blue eyes brighten as he turns to pick up the tub of Ben and Jerry’s again.
“Go and sit on the bed,” I tell him, my voice still a little thick from crying. “There are spoons in the desk. I’m just going to go wash my face and change into some comfy clothes, okay?”
Five minutes later, I’m in my shorts and a T-shirt, and we’re both sitting on my small bed, backs against the headboard. He holds himself like we’re at boot camp, an inch between his stiff shoulder and mine. My knees are raised to better hold the ice cream pint against them. It’s half-baked chocolate brownie flavor.
I don’t really feel like eating, but he seems pretty invested in my enjoyment of it, so I have a spoonful. I offer it to him. For a moment, he seems to consider it, then he shakes his head.
“How did you know I was upset?” I ask him.
“I called Ewan—Crow—about the retrial. He seemed upset. Particularly when I mentioned you. And you were being strange earlier as well.” He gives a stiff shrug, eyes focused on the wall planner hanging behind my desk. “So I asked him.”
“You warned me about him.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t tell me he was married.”
Gabriel clasps his hands together in his lap. “I’m sorry for that. I didn’t want to interfere in case my own feelings were clouding my judgement. I’d hoped he had moved on from the past. And when it comes to his wife . . .” He shakes his head. “I never told anyone what I stopped him from doing back then. I told myself I never would. Bringing her up again . . . it felt like opening old wounds. I hope you can forgive me.”
My heart clenches at the sincerity in his plea. “There’s nothing to forgive,” I say softly, then I take another mouthful of ice cream, which seems to relax him. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Did anything ever happen between you two?”
“Do you mean, physically?” he says, his eyes firmly trained ahead.
“Yeah.” I take in the rigidness of his profile. “I mean, if you don’t want to talk about it—”
“It’s fine,” he says. “No. We were more than friends, but nothing physical happened between us. Still, he made it very clear that it could if I wanted it to.”
At that, he reaches for the second spoon, apparently forgetting his initial reluctance to share. He puts it in his mouth, swallows hard, then stares at it, turning it back and forth.
“But you didn’t want to?”
“I was his mentor. It wouldn’t have been right for me to take advantage. Back then, I thought I was the one in the position of power, if you can believe it.” He pauses to sigh. “I don’t think he’s a bad person though. Not deep down.”
“Just a shitty person?”
Gabriel gives a half-laugh. “Yes. He is a bit of a shit, isn’t he?” he says before shaking his head. “He’s on a path of self-destruction. Has been for years. It’s like he’s constantly trying to dig himself out of a hole without realizing he’s digging the wrong way. If he’d just stop and make some peace with himself . . . I believe there could be salvation for him.”
“It makes it harder,” I say, leaning my head back against the headboard. “Feeling bad for him when I want to be angry.”
“I know. But perhaps we can be both. His actions being understandable doesn’t make them excusable.”
“Yeah,” I say, taking the pint back and eating another mouthful of ice cream. “I suppose.”
We sit in silence for a moment, staring ahead. It’s strange to be sitting here with Gabriel, an Angel, talking about a guy who screwed us both over—a guy who was in this bed just a few days ago. I try not to think about that, determined not to get upset again. And that’s when something occurs to me.
“You said you did some research into what to do with humans when they’re upset,” I say.
“Yes.”
“Weren’t you a human once?”
“No,” he says.
I wait for him to elaborate. He doesn’t.
“How come?” I say.
He turns his head, seeming surprised by my confusion. “Oh. Well. Some souls are recruited for the organizations; some are born into them. I was born an Angel.”
“How does that work?”
He shifts a little on the mattress. “Well, because my father is an Archangel,” he says.
“Oh, my God,” I say. “Your dad is the Angel Gabriel, isn’t he?”
“No!” He shakes his head, muttering under his breath. “Why does everyone always think that?”
“Sorry! I just thought—”
“Well, you thought wrong. Although, my father could have been a bit more creative with the name.”
I sense this may be a touchy subject from the way he’s frowning at the spoon. If he clutches it any tighter, he’ll bend it in half. “Who is your dad then?”
He pauses, and for a moment, I think he’s going to stand up, take his “Save the Planet” bag, and storm out. But then he shrugs a slender shoulder.
“Michael,” he says.
“The Archangel Michael,” I say softly. “He’s the Angel who’s supposed to win against Lucifer in the final war, right?”
“Yes.”
“What’s he like?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never met him. He’s up in Heaven and, well, I assume he’s very busy. I prayed to him a few times when I was younger, but I’m sure he has much more important things to be doing than having conversations with me. Preparing for the fight against evil.”
“Oh,” I say, remembering the snipe Crow made about this whole thing being another misguided attempt to prove himself to Daddy. And something about Gabriel suddenly makes sense.
“That must be a lot to live up to,” I say gently. “Having a dad who is so powerful. Living in somebody else’s shadow.”
He inclines his head. “I suppose so. And unfortunately, I’m not doing a very good job of it.”
“Why do you say that?”
“When I got Ewan to be my eyes and ears inside Devils Inc. all those years ago, it was because I thought Lucifer was trying to build an army to win the Revelation War against my father, and I wanted to help. But instead of acting like an Angel, I acted like a human, and moreover, like a foolish one. I got demoted, the World War ended without Lucifer making a move, and it was all for nothing. And now, this whole Adalind thing happened right under my nose.” Gabriel’s face is pinched. “I can’t imagine he’s particularly proud of me.”
“I feel like that with my parents sometimes,” I say.
Gabriel turns to me in surprise. “Really? Why would they not be proud of you?”
“Well, Jonathon was always the smart one—the one who could do nothing wrong,” I say, taking another spoonful of ice cream. “It’s no big deal. I’m used to it.”
“Rachel, I think you’re wrong. You might not be particularly . . . studious. And you’re quite messy. And a little sarcastic—”
“Are you going somewhere with this?” I ask.<
br />
“Yes. You’re kind, and strong, and assertive, and compassionate,” says Gabriel. “You had one of the worst things imaginable happen to you when you lost your brother, and yet you kept trying and caring anyway. I think your parents should be very proud to have you as a daughter. I think they probably are.”
I blink a few times, trying not to burst into tears again. Then I smile.
“I think you’re wrong, too, you know?” I say. “I mean, sure, things didn’t go to plan last time you worked to save the world, but here you are trying to do it all over again. And as for what happened with Crow . . . being human, having feelings—maybe that’s not the worst thing. Maybe letting someone in, connecting with someone, is actually a good thing even if it didn’t work out.” I pause. “I think your dad is proud of you.”
He gives me a half-smile, but his tone lacks conviction. “Perhaps.”
I go quiet as I realize what I said could also apply to me—both about letting someone in, and about my parents. I’ve shut myself off since Jonathon. I’ve never let anyone get close; never let a relationship develop past anything casual; never wanted to let anyone help. I’ve even pushed my own parents away, worried that if they knew the real me—the adrenaline-junkie me who loves movies and hates law—they would be disappointed.
And yet Jonathon said they were proud of me.
Gabriel can’t talk to his dad. But I still have a chance to speak to mine before the world potentially ends.
“So. Adalind’s retrial is tomorrow?” I say after a while.
“Yes.” Gabriel sighs. “I’ve brought Eve into the Halo Corp. offices and told Crow to get in touch with Kat. If we can get Adam before the trial, we might have a shot. I don’t know what we’re going to do in the long-term if Adalind gets her power back though. A Greater-Level Demon on Earth, unauthorized. I’ve never heard of it happening before. If she’s intent on destruction, I’m not sure what any of us can do to fight her. None of us have that kind of power.”
Devils Inc. Page 21