Reaver blinked. Wasn’t sure he heard the archangel right. “I just told you I planned to waltz off to become a fallen angel and Satan’s prisoner, and instead you want to give me my memory back?”

Metatron looked up at the heavens, as if seeking answers from above. Which had always seemed so strange to Reaver, since Heaven itself was much like Sheoul—an overlay occupying the same space as the human realm but on a different plane. Angels and human souls crossed over into Heaven. They didn’t fly upward to it unless they wanted to cross over in Heaven’s airspace.

“You will be given a choice, but first, I’ll give you a little about your past that should help you decide.”

Finally. After all this time, he was going to learn why his life had been taken away from him. And for the first time, he was actually having second thoughts. What if the truth was so horrible he couldn’t handle it?

“But the war—”

Metatron silenced him with a wave of his hand. “This is more important.”

More important than a war between Heaven and hell? Holy shit.

“I’m ready,” he said, even though he wasn’t. Not even close.

“I know you’ve pieced together your history with Verrine, but she doesn’t remember everything either. It’s odd that she remembers anything at all, although we’ve determined that the blood bond with you is the root of that.”

“How do you even know about the blood bond?”

“Long story.” Metatron started to prowl, his long strides eating up the ground as he strode back and forth, his hands locked behind his back. “Did you know that Radiants are recognized while still in the womb?”

“I’d heard that.”

Metatron nodded. “Your mother was an angel named Mariel. She mated with Sandalphon. I assume you knew of this.”

“I researched it after I learned the truth of who I was, yes.” Reaver narrowed his eyes at the archangel. “The records don’t say anything except that Sandalphon was destroyed by Satan’s forces, and after Mariel gave birth, she met the same fate.”

It was all very odd that their deaths hadn’t been chronicled in vivid detail, especially given that one of them, Sandalphon, had been considered a prince among angels. Princes didn’t just die and go forgotten.

“The truth about you, and about them, is in a private library to which very few have access.”

“Ah. Secrets among angels. Who would have thought,” Reaver said dryly.

Metatron pursed his lips, and Reaver prepared to be blasted by some painful angel weapon for his flippant response.

“Unlike most of my brethren, I’ve always liked your spirit.” He jabbed a finger at Reaver. “But be careful how far you push me. I do have limits.”

Well, that was a surprise. Reaver would have thought the guy hated him. He inclined his head in a rare, respectful nod.

“Now,” Metatron continued, “like I said, Radiants are recognized in the womb, but the moment the baby is born, they are no different than any other angel.” He shot Reaver a stern look. “That’s important to remember later in the story.”

“So that was like foreshadowing in a movie. Gotcha. Committed to memory.”

“Your association with demons and humans has made you vexing at times.”

“Funny, I tell them they’re annoying.”

Metatron didn’t quite roll his eyes, but the desire practically radiated from him. “We sensed a Radiant in your mother’s womb.”

Reaver’s breath caught. “The womb I was in?”

“No, the womb Mickey Mouse was in,” Metatron snapped. “Of course the womb you were in. Why else would I be telling you this story?”

Reaver didn’t say anything, which was a measure of how hard the news had hit him.

“Your mother was pleased by the news, but she didn’t change her habits. As a battle angel, she needed to fight, and Sandalphon remained at her side.” Metatron resumed pacing. “But we had a traitor among us, and Satan learned of your mother’s pregnancy. He captured her and destroyed your father. We tried to rescue her, but we lost legions of angels in the efforts.”

“None of this is in our histories,” Reaver said.

“No, it’s not. We erased it.”

“Wow. You guys are real f**king free with playing with people’s memories, aren’t you?” That earned him a lightning strike that put him on his ass with steam hissing off his skin. He wheezed, and when he finally found his voice, it was as smoky and cooked as his body. “I’m guessing I hit your limit?”

Metatron just smiled. “With all our efforts wasted and many lives lost, it was time for more extreme measures. We were to go to war with Sheoul. But on the eve of battle, Lucifer met with me. Your mother had given birth.” He pegged Reaver with a hard stare. “To fraternal twins.”

Reaver had been in the process of trying to stand, but at the news, his knees buckled and he went back down. Hard. On his ass.

“Twins?”

Metatron nodded. “They run in the family. These twins were males. But there was no way of knowing which boy was the potential Radiant. Lucifer brought a deal to the table. We would return four very powerful fallen angels we’d captured and agree to never create another sheoulghul.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Sheoulghuls are made from fallen angels. One per fallen. You can see why Satan would want that practice stopped.” Reaver could only nod dumbly. He hadn’t known how they were made. He’d had two dead fallen angels in his pocket for days. “In trade, they would give us one of the boys and they would keep the other.”

Reaver could hardly breathe. So many questions rattled in his skull, but he couldn’t speak. He could only listen, and even then, processing all of this was happening far too slowly.

Metatron continued. “Obviously, it was you we got back. Your mother, knowing you would be safe, chose to stay with your brother to protect him. To this day, we have no idea what became of her.”

“Who raised me?”

“My mate and I raised you.”

Okaaaay. Reaver hadn’t seen that coming. “Why you?”

“Because,” Metatron replied, “Sandalphon was my brother. As I said, twins run in the family.”

So Metatron was Reaver’s uncle? It was a good thing he was still seated. He should probably just stay that way. He had a feeling the shocks were going to keep knocking him on his ass.

“Did I know about my real parents?”

“You believed my mate and I were your birth parents.”

Reaver closed his eyes, trying to find even the smallest sliver of memory to help him sort this all out, but he might as well have been feeling around inside an empty box. “So I didn’t know about my brother, either?”

“No.” Metatron flared his wings just a little, a sign of his irritation with the matter. “We raised you as a battle angel, suspecting you were the potential Radiant. Your powers, even as a child, were stronger than most fully trained adult battle angels.” He smiled fondly. “You were a handful.”

Somehow, Reaver wasn’t surprised by that.

Metatron took a deep breath, and Reaver braced himself for whatever was coming next. “Your temper was legendary. Let me repeat the handful thing.” He shot Reaver an accusing look, as if Reaver could do anything about being a pain in the ass when he was young. “By the time you started battle angel training, we had to curb your powers. Then, when you were taken to Sheoul for your first lesson in fighting in the demon realm, we learned that you had the ability to draw power from evil sources. Again, a talent unique to Radiants. We had to seal it to prevent you from abusing the ability.”

Harvester had said she’d noticed something similar. “Sounds a little extreme,” Reaver muttered.

He got a full-fledged you’re a dumbass look from the archangel. “Have you even met yourself?” Metatron sighed. “Things went well until you slept with Lilith. When you learned what you’d done, you went on a bender, destroying every demon you came across, disobeying direct orders, and, in general, being an asshat. Verrine was the sole calming influence on you, but after you learned that she kept the existence of your sons and daughter from you, we lost even that.” He blew out a long breath. “Then you met your brother, and that was the beginning of the downward spiral no one could pull you out of.”

Thirty-Two

Reaver could really use a bottle of tequila right now. Maybe two. He stared at Metatron, the male who had raised him as his own, and then decided he didn’t need the alcohol, because his head was already spinning.

“So I met my brother. Did I know he was my brother at the time?”

“No, but he knew you,” Metatron said. “He, too, had been raised to think he was an only child. But somehow he learned about you, and he arranged a meeting. We don’t know what went down between the two of you, only that your anger was so formidable that you leveled entire cities at the height of your wrath. Your brother, too, was angry, and he barged into Heaven as if he’d lived there all his life.”

Reaver frowned. “How could he get in? Fallen angels can’t enter Heaven.”

“Ah, but think about it. He wasn’t fallen. He was a full angel raised in Sheoul, but the fact that he could also draw power from Sheoul made us suspect that you were both Radiants.” Metatron went back to wearing a path in the dirt. “One of the terms in the deal that gave you to us said that what was done to one of you must be done to both, so his ability to draw power from Heaven was sealed… and then we erased you both from all memories.”

Reaver’s stomach churned. “So he forgot who I was, and I forgot him?”

“Exactly.” Metatron’s boots hit the hard-packed earth with the force of thunderclaps.

“But why? I get that I deserved punishment, but why the memories?”

Metatron’s expression turned sour. “Because people began to talk. They began to suspect the truth, including the fact that one or both of you were potentially Radiants. We learned our lesson with Satan. He was a potential Radiant, but his anger over not being Raised—promoted—to Radiant status filled him with hatred. His hatred leaked out of every pore, and those around him began to resent his power and his potential. Envy is poison for angels, infecting huge populations like decay. We couldn’t afford another internal uprising, so we did what we had to do.”