Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.
Vengeance is mine.
I sat still for a very long time.
I told myself to remember to breathe, although the effort of forcing air through the knot in my throat hurt. I should have busied myself with packing for a trip I had no plans to return from. Or I could have reverted back to my old ways—drowning my contempt in a fifth of booze before crying stubborn, useless tears into the fine silk linens, as if that would do anything to rewrite the wrongs spilled onto Chicago’s pavement.
But I did none of that.
Honestly, I don’t even think I know how to do that anymore.
So here I sit. Counting all the ways that I could die at the hands of the demon I love.
Mentally reciting how I could kill him just before he slowly ripped me limb from bloody limb. Or maybe he’d show me mercy, revealing a glimmer of his shattered humanity, and mist me into red vapor before fear and agony could set in.
None of it mattered anyway. Because I had only had one task to carry out before taking Death’s skeletal hand and following him to my daunting fate. The very task I was created for. And failure was not an option.
The Legion of Lost Souls would destroy our world and everything in it. And to stop him, I had to become what I was created for. I had to be the very thing that Uriel had bet on when he planted his seed of vengeance into my mother’s womb and sprouted the ultimate weapon.
No tearful goodbyes. No proclamations of unrequited love. Those were reserved for helpless human girls who had the privilege of coasting along in blissful ignorance, unknowing of the terrors that stalked in stolen skin suits.
I can’t decide what would hurt more: being killed or killing him. Maybe it’ll happen so quickly that I won’t even feel it. Or maybe he’ll draw it out and use his last moments on earth to maim and torture me. Or maybe the agony I feel right now as I sit here with my fists balled so tight that my nails have drawn blood from my palms, is as bad as it gets. Because this pain…there’s no beginning or end to it. No light to show me the way through. Just boundless misery that cuts so deep into my raw parts that I can’t even scream.
Yet, I don’t make a sound. I don’t move. I don’t cry. It’s as if I’ve forgotten how to even process the pain. It’s there, but it’s almost as if I’ve become numb to it. As if it’s grown too great and spread too far within me that my nerve endings have become desensitized. Or maybe what I feel is something so far from mere suffering that my mind and body have shut down in an attempt to salvage what’s left of me. My heart beats, but only out of necessity. There is no purpose in it. No reason for it to exist within the hollow of my chest other than to pump blood through my beaten and broken body. That and the only fucking reason I was still existing on this earth at all.
Vengeance.
Someone would pay for what happened to my city, my people, my mother. And whether that someone was The Seraph, or even the demon I had debased myself for time and time again, they would pay with their last breath.
I dash away tears that have long dried and look down at the small arsenal on the bedspread. I could do some serious damage with the weapons I’d collected, and to increase their effectiveness, each bullet and every blade is tipped in angelsbane. But even with the mini cache and my will-bending abilities—courtesy of dear old dad, the archangel prick who made me—there’s one thing missing. The Redeemer, the Se7en’s most sacred relic, and the only thing guaranteed strong enough to bring down a Seraph. I saw it happen just hours ago when Legion grabbed Raphael, using him as an angelic shield seconds before the tip of the blade sliced into his own chest. The knife was known to kill demons. This new revelation that it’s also lethal to angels, even the strongest, deadliest of them all, is a game changer for all parties involved. No one is safe. Especially not the remaining Seraphim.
There’s a quick rap at my door, but I ignore it. I know who it is. I can sense him—taste him. His scent clings to invisible dust particles in the air, a sensual concoction of belladonna blooms and raw passion. And every speck of dust that drifts across the room to dance upon my skin is charged with an electrical current that nearly sizzles on contact. With every inward breath, I taste the remnants of our kiss—cotton candy, sea mist, and night—and I’m back at the top of the Ferris wheel at Navy Pier. Just a girl from the wrong side of town, stealing a few moments of unburdened bliss.
I bite my lip to deny myself a gasp. Everything about Lucifer is erotic, and I hate it. Not just the way my body responds to his, but because even when I truly want to find a glimmer of trust in those violet, sparkling eyes, he never fails to prove that he is undoubtedly evil. Gorgeous, charismatic, and refined, but inherently evil to his core.
And he’s all I’ve got.
Another knock, and I hear him gently clear his throat from the other side of the door, a minuscule yet obvious sign of his disenchantment. It must really piss him off that I’m making him wait, especially when he can magically appear before me through whatever wicked sorcery he may possess. Or maybe this fucked up game of cat and mouse excites him—me telling him to fuck off every chance I get, him only using my words to fuel his twisted infatuation with me. I don’t get it. This was exactly what he wanted—for Legion and me to be apart. So why would he offer to help me find him?
To kill him? I don’t believe that. He’s had more than enough chances to end him, but through a brotherly bond neither of them can deny, he hasn’t.
To save him? That would suggest that there’s a chance that Legion could be saved. After what we all witnessed—Legion plunging The Redeemer into Jinn’s heart before ripping through dozens of demon-possessed civilians—it’s more than evident that Legion is beyond redemption. And as badly as I want to try, there may be nothing left worth saving.
The man I love is dead. We all watched with terror-filled eyes as he purged his humanity and shifted into death and destruction incarnate. An evil so great that even the Devil himself stood in frozen horror as his brother slaughtered his way through Grant Park.
I lift my heavy, exhausted frame from the bed and cross the room to the door. But before I twist the knob of my fate and let the devil in, I release a heavy breath, trying desperately to expel the haunting images that flash through my mind whenever I let my resolve slip.
I’ve been through literal Hell. But the last twenty-four hours tested me in every way I never knew possible. It stretched me raw and bloody and left me open to a whole new realm of horror that shouldn’t even be whispered in nightmares. And now that the dust has settled and the adrenaline has subsided, I can’t afford to lick my wounds and feel sorry for myself. I have to work with the fate I’ve been dealt. Even if it means bargaining with the Devil.
I whip open the door in a bluster, ignoring the cunning, crooked smile on Lucifer’s sensual mouth. “I need you to do something for me.”
His violet eyes flare with mirth, and he licks his lips as if he can taste the promise in my words. “And hello to you too,” he croons.
“I’m serious. I need you to make a deal with me.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
He crosses over the threshold of my bedroom door, hands in the pockets of his pristine slacks, and I hold my breath. His presence is overwhelming as it is. But having him so close, close enough for me to note the specks of blue and green in his gaze, feels wrong. It feels like betrayal. We may be plotting Legion’s demise, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love him. That every part of me doesn’t ache with the memory of him in my bed and me in his arms. And if I concentrate really hard, I can still feel the ghost of him throbbing inside me, thrumming with that inhuman heartbeat reminiscent of a hummingbird’s wings.
Lucifer moves to the armchair and gingerly picks up a discarded scrap of clothing, something I’d tossed in my flustered packing. Of course, it’s a pair of skimpy, black lace panties. Of-fucking-course. He lifts playful brows and let’s out a low whistle.
“Don’t forget to pack these.”
I roll my eyes. “If you’re done being a child, I’d like to discuss the terms of our deal. Unless you’d like me to seek out someone else. I’m sure there are countless demons running around who would be more than willing to oblige me.”
He barely twitches. Barely lets that perfect mask of elegance and nonchalance slip. But I see it. The slight flare of his nostrils. The narrowing of his eyes. The way his full, almost feminine lips seem to pale. He’s jealous. And it’s that jealousy that I’ll need to exploit and manipulate to pull this off.
“You needn’t seek anyone else. I’ll indulge you.” He says it so smoothly, as if his presence is a gift.
“I want to know that if I fail…if I can’t bring my self to do it, you’ll stop Legion. No matter who you have to kill.” No matter if you have to sacrifice me.
He dips his head from side to side, weighing my heavy request. I’ve just asked for the impossible. Legion is his brother—his blood. The one he loved so much that he incited a holy war in order to save him.
“Interesting.” He brings a hand up to brush his bottom lip with his thumb. “And what’s in it for me?”
I lift my chin, exuding manufactured resolve. “Me.”
“You. You’re offering me yourself.” The corner of his mouth curls seductively.
“Yes.”
He stalks around me, taking inventory of my steely frame as if he’s sizing me up for auction. I stay completely still. I don’t even breathe. “And what makes you think that I want you? What would make you believe that I would risk my own existence for a simple Nephilim girl?”
“Because you do,” I retort with certainty. “You never hesitate to torment and mock me. You get off on watching me squirm and making my life Hell. Now you have the chance to do it whenever you feel like it.”
“But what fun would that be?”
I huff out a frustrated breath. “We’re wasting time. Do we have a deal or not?”
Lucifer shrugs. “Quite the change of heart. I thought he was the love of your life. Your heart and soul. The very oxygen in your lungs.”
I ignore his taunting and answer honestly. “Sometimes you have to let a wound fester and rot before you finally realize that you’re slowly dying.”
He nods thoughtfully, stowing the sarcasm. “So what happened?”
I shake my head. If he knew…if he knew what I had become—what I was becoming—he wouldn’t understand. If he knew that since we had escaped, I had been…changing. In ways that I couldn’t comprehend. It was like something snapped into place as I watched the life seep from Jinn’s dark eyes. Legion may have been the one to wield the blade, but I let him. I hesitated. I could have stopped him and I didn’t, hoping to break through to him. And with his blood on my hands, I couldn’t face myself. There was no forgiveness for what I had done. The Se7en had risked everything for me. Jinn had shown me kindness when I was terrified and alone. And this was how I repaid him. This was how I showed my gratitude for giving me the sense of family that I never truly had and had always craved.
I wouldn’t fail again. I owed them that much.
I would make it right this time. It’s what Legion would want if he were still with us. I wouldn’t let The Many tarnish their memory of him any longer. This would be my retribution, the very thing Legion had been searching for when he formed the Se7en. Maybe somehow we would find it together.
“I can’t take anymore,” I utter just above a whisper. “I can’t take any more from them. Cain, Phenex, Andras, Lilith, Toyol…they’ve already lost so much. Their home, their city…” And it was all because of me. I swallow, biting back the tremor in my voice. “And now they’ve lost Jinn. I can’t take any more from them.”
“They haven’t lost him.”
I shake my head. “You saw him, Lucifer. You saw how The Many took control. He’s gone.”
“No,” Lucifer replies, rolling his eyes. He steps up to face me, leaving only about a foot of space between us. “Jinn isn’t dead. He’s alive, Eden. Barely, but alive.”
“What?” The word comes out in a rush, and I feel my face heat with emotion.
“He’s still alive. Whatever synthetic angel blood Phenex cooked up is working enough to keep him stable, for now at least. But he isn’t healing. Irin’s doctors can’t fix him. And even though I was gracious enough to lend him a bit of my blood…” He subconsciously rubs a spot over the crook of his elbow. “It seems as if Jinn’s injuries are too extensive.”
“But he’s alive.”
Lucifer notes the hope glossing my wide eyes and shakes his head. “They don’t expect him to last long. I came here to see if you wanted to say goodbye.”
“But I thought you said—”
“It’s not enough, Eden. It would take a miracle to heal him. And if the state of your world is any indication, the Big Man is fresh out of fucks. Besides, Jinn is a demon. Even if there were a way to save him, you think it would be an act of divine intervention?”
“But I thought that was the only reason we were keeping Adriel alive! What the hell else is she good for?” I lash out, my anger weighing out over confusion.
That was the plan: save Adriel in the event we need her blood to save one of the Se7en. She stood there and watched the carnage unfold, and she did nothing. She played the role of helpless damsel, while, once again, Legion was held to the fire for crimes they were both guilty of. She could have gone back to Uriel, and it would have all been over. Hell, she could have told the truth about her affair with Legion and none of this would have happened. There would have been no reason for Legion to fall. No reason for Uriel to come to Earth to put his revenge plot in motion. After everything she had done, after everything she was still doing, he still protected her. He still chose her life over his own.
Over mine.
Blood roars in my ears, coupled with the sound of my racing heart pounding in my head. It’s beating too fast, so fast that I can’t distinguish where one beat ends and the next begins. Almost like a trembling hum. A flush of fire sweeps over my face and dips down my neck, surging down into my belly. My fists are shaking at my sides. No, not just my fists. My entire body. Shaking with the need to hit. To batter. To destroy. To release a rush of holy light so bright and white hot that it would burn eyes from their sockets for miles.
And I’m gone.
I’m through my bedroom door, down the hall, zooming through corridors faster than human legs could ever take me. So fast that even Lucifer’s voice behind me grows faint. And before I can blink or take a breath, I’m kicking down the doors of the clinic.
“Where is she?” I snarl, baring teeth. “Where the fuck is she?”
The handful of nurses and technicians milling about don’t utter a single word, yet one spares a glance towards a set of double doors. I’m already flying through them.
My hands are quaking with unleashed power. My eyes are burning with unshed, angry tears. But even through my rage, I see them all, staring at me in varying shades of bewilderment and…and terror. Cain, Toyol, Andras, Lilith, and Phenex are all huddled around Jinn’s bed, each with a hand outstretched to his still, bandaged frame as if they’re praying, or lending him their own strength. And Adriel against the wall, her small frame draped in her usual winter white. Her hair is perfectly styled, not a hair out of place. Like the last twenty-four hours didn’t even happen. Like she doesn’t have a fucking care in the fucking world. Unlucky for her, her pristine gown won’t stay white for long.
I still the shaking in my hands long enough to unsheathe an angelsbane-tipped dagger from the small of my back, and before she can even scream, the blade is scraping her throat.
“You could have saved him. You could have saved both of them,” I seethe.
“Eden, what are you doing?” someone asks from behind me. I don’t know who it is, and I don’t care. Not even God himself could break my will.
“Doing what should have been done a long time ago. Jinn needs angel blood. Pure angel blood, and a lot of it. Get a bucket. I’m about to drain this bitch.”