I close the door behind me with a soft click that sounds more final than a deafening slam, willing myself not to look back at her stricken face.

I slump against the door, the coolness of the smooth white wood seeping through my jacket as the mask crumples.

What have I done?

Every noise is muffled. The soft hiss of the air conditioner, the ding of the elevator door opening. The despair threatens to drown me, and I don't know if it’s hers or my own.

What have I done?

I straighten, drawing myself up to my full height and step away from the door, tamping down on the bond that threatens to yank me back to her like a rubber band stretched too tight.

What have I done?

Probably the only unselfish act of my entire life.

I saved her from myself.

The elevator doors open, and I step into the shiny silver box, pushing the key for the ground floor. Steeling myself to be the unfeeling general again, I still keep my eyes on the closed door to the room, our room, as the elevator doors slide shut.

Forgive me.

Phenex waits at the bar, sipping something red out of a champagne flute and looking immensely proud of himself. His smile falters for a moment when he sees me, millennia of familiarity giving him a bit more insight than most.

"You look like you could use a drink," he says, sliding back into his usual jovial mood without missing a beat. "This city really is delightful. They have an entire bar menu based on the seven deadlies." He takes a long sip of the cocktail. "This one's Lust."

My jaw tightens, and only the awareness that if I drop my control for an instant, I’ll never be able to rein it in again keeps me from backhanding Phenex. Right now the world can bleed for all I care.

As long as Michael bleeds first.

Seeing that I’m not in the mood for games, Phenex drops the act. "I found Michael."

“And you didn’t lead with that?” I grind out.

Phenex shrugs. “He’s not going anywhere. He’s holed up in another one of the Katrina houses licking his wounds. I mean, bested by you and a human in the same day? God’s most fearsome warrior isn’t exactly inspiring much lately.”

I crack my knuckles. Violence is just what I want right now, and it won’t come from a blade. I want to feel Michael’s flesh rend under my hands until I taste the iron in the air.

It must show on my face. Phenex rises from his chair, abandoning the ridiculous cocktail and falls into step beside me, but he keeps far more distance than usual.

Phenex glances at the bank of elevators in the lobby, opening and closing his mouth quickly as he thinks better of his query.

Good.

I don’t want to hear her name crossing his lips. Murdering the closest thing I have to a friend would be the perfect end to this miserable day.

“Take me to him.”

Michael is waiting. In a battered armchair mottled with dust and claw marks from stray cats sits my brother, his blade resting across his lap as he counts down the minutes until our arrival.

I should have seen it coming. A few days ago, I would have seen it coming.

Phenex, at least, has the decency to look guilty. He stops in the doorway, letting himself have the illusion of maintaining a safe distance away from both Michael and myself.

“So tell me, Phenex, what’s the going rate now? Is it still thirty pieces of silver or did Michael offer you something better?” Phenex flinches but makes no move to defend himself, either physically or with those clever words that always seem to please him so.

And humanity has always been so convinced that pride is my sin.

I glance between the two of them. Michael spares only the shortest disdainful look at him, while Phenex sets his jaw, defiance flashing in his eyes, lit by the smallest ember of hope.

It dawns on me, and I let out a bark of laughter that he sold me out on a lie. “He offered you Heaven, didn’t he?” Phenex nods, the movement barely perceptible, and I bite back the laughter that threatens to bubble out of me. “You’re even more of a fool than I thought. Do you really think Michael would pollute Heaven with you?” The surety falters on Phenex’s face and he looks to Michael, no doubt expecting my obedient brother to confirm their little deal, but Michael doesn’t even deign to look at him.

“I’m not here for you, Lucifer.” Michael rises from his seat, keeping his blade pointed to the floor and his arms wide, his stance wary but not aggressive. For the first time in our long lives, my brother doesn’t look like he’s itching for a fight.

That makes one of us then.

I strike quickly, aiming for an uppercut to his jaw that will send Michael flying through the wall, tearing through the skeleton of studs and burnt out electrical wires. I can already see him sprawled on the floor, those blue eyes dazed from the blow. I can feel his blood pouring over my hands, thick and sticky and cleansing.

I see it all so clearly that I almost don’t register Michael blocking my punch with a meaty forearm. A sharp left hook strikes my cheek, snapping my head to the side. I shake off the ringing in my ears, rolling my shoulders as I prepare to dart forward and end this, but Michael’s blade rests against my throat, shoving me against the wall.

A broken copper pipe digs into my back as Michael pins me, and the blood wells up against the shallow wound the blade carves into my neck.

His grip on the blade is slacker than it should be. Michael has never been one for gloating. Almost idly I wonder why I’m still alive.

“That was for yesterday.”

The blade disappears from my throat, and Michael takes a few steps backward, thick muscles tense as he waits to see if I plan to attack again.

I consider it. This man with his military cropped hair and ill-fitting suit only vaguely resembles my holier-than-thou brother who always chose to follow the rules, even at the expense of his own happiness. That is the Michael I want to rip apart, not this hesitating creature unwilling to strike a killing blow.

I’m tired.

Tired of all of it. I left the only person that has made me feel alive in thousands of years broken and hating me. I want this to be done so I can return to Hell and bury myself in the screams of the damned until I forget.

“We may have had our disagreements, brother-” Michael begins, lowering his blade in a way that’s supposed to what- placate me?

Anger surges through me, and I interrupt him. “-You sold me out all those years ago, Michael. That’s a bit more than a disagreement.”

Michael’s next words are quiet, as he refuses to let himself be drawn back into the ancient feud. "Do you honestly think I'd let our Father's world burn?" When I remain silent, he continues. “Some of us grew out of our angry adolescence a long time ago, Lucifer. Some of us still do see it as our responsibility to protect our father’s creations.”

Michael’s revelation sends me reeling. “If not you, then who is causing this? Only an Archangel would have the power.”

“Uriel.”

I scoff at the memory of the tall, lumbering angel more concerned with watching the flowers grow in Eden than picking a side during the war. “The guard dog of Eden? I must have hit you harder than I thought.”

Michael soldiers on as if I haven’t spoken. “He’s gone quite mad, Lucifer. Solitude can do that.”

“You don’t say.”

Michael has the courtesy to look shamed for a moment before the familiar earnest look returns to his face. “He wants to cleanse the world of the plague of humanity. Blight their souls with the Hellbound, sacrifice the girl to wash them clean, and scorch the world into a new Eden.”

Every part of me goes cold at the word sacrifice.

“The girl has a name.”

The dumbfounded look on Michael's face would be comical in any other circumstance. If only I'd know what it took to shut my brother up years ago.

Incredulous, he says, “You actually feel something for her, don’t you?” When I don’t instantly refute him, he shakes his head, wonder written on every inch of his face. “That certainly must have been a shock.” Michael pushes past his surprise and is quickly all business again. “If you want her to live, stopping Uriel is her only chance.”

Phenex shuffles his feet from the doorway, reminding us both of his presence. I glare at him, but agree reluctantly.

We split up to cover more ground – the word sacrifice still echoing in my mind.