Page 19 of The Devil You Know

A scathing response was on the tip of my tongue when I noticed how he swayed. I had only a second to catch him as Michael’s leg buckled under him. We fell together to our knees, the angel pressing his face against my chest to stifle a pained keen.

“Look at that.” Abaddon’s shadow fell over us. “It would be so easy to kill him like this. You can end this.”

I stiffened at the suggestion and, seeing no response from Michael, who was getting more delirious with each second, I made my decision.

Michael screamed.

Chapter 8

I stumbled after teleporting to the Embassy, a weeping angel in my arms. The additional wave of demonic power when I teleported both of us from Hell was too much for him and I could feel him shaking with pain and exhaustion.

The angelic helper the two bosses of the Embassy hired peeked into the room, no doubt alerted to someone’s arrival, and made a high pitched, strangled sound before he fled. By the time I reached the waiting room and laid the half-conscious Michael on one of the sofas, Zachariel and Hellion stormed in, both disheveled looking but ready to take on any challenge the world could throw at them.

“Is that...?” Zachariel started, but shook his head at himself. “Never mind, I can see it is. What’s going on? Why is Michael in such a state?”

“And why is he here?” Hellion added bluntly. “What are we, a wayward home for troubled angels?”

“I need to summon Raphael,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “And it’s not like I can just pop into heaven.”

“You want me to get him,” Zachariel sighed.

“Yes... please.”

“Wow, that looked like it hurt,” Hellion commented unhelpfully. “But we aren’t biting. We are not a charity.”

“Hellion...” Zachariel tried to chastise his lover.

“No, babe. This keeps happening and random angels and demons in need of help keep taking over our workspace, or even our quarters. You. Lucifer. You better approve furthering the neutral zone and letting us build an inn, or a hotel, or whatever, or else...”

He let the threat hang in the air and I looked toward the angel, expecting a ‘can you believe this little shit?’ expression, but Zachariel shrugged and said, “He has a point.”

“Fine! Whatever you want! You have my permission to build a brothel for all I care. Just hurry up and help him!”

Michael was completely passed out on the couch at this point, his magical energy entirely drained.

“I will be back as quickly as I can,” Zachariel finally moved his ass and vanished when he stepped into the teleportation circle in the adjoining room.

Hellion and I moved the unconscious angel while we waited – the receiving room was much too public – and indeed the Embassy’s bosses’ private room was once more occupied by a guest. I laid the disturbingly still angel on the soft bed gently and brushed stray strands of hair away from his face. He looked so pale, like a ghost. Why did he do this?

I was left to the predation of my own thoughts, Hellion leaving me alone except for setting a cup of tea next to me. I had a feeling the demon did it more for the ritual and to occupy his hands than out of any politeness.

About half an hour later, a whirlwind of an angel flew past the door. Well, he tried to, but he still had his wings out and without careful maneuvering they caught on the doorframe, turning his entrance into a chaotic mess. I would be amused to see Raphael making a fool of himself under any other circumstances, but I kept my expression blank as a piercing glare was leveled my way.

“Lucifer, what did you do to my brother?!”

“I didn’t do anything. It was Michael who waltzed into the middle of Hell,” I said through clenched teeth.

“And then you demons attacked him!”

“No, we didn’t!” I stood up and shouted back. “We didn’t have to because of his fucked-up— Zachariel, Hellion. Leave.”

The pair listened even if I heard the demon grumble about them obeying me only because I already agreed to the deal. When the doors closed, I collapsed back into the chair next to the bed.

“He went to Hell with his fucked-up leg, which is a magnet for demonic energy, while he had barely any reserves of power,” I explained, dragging a hand over my face.

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh,” I agreed. “Now, can you fix him? As much as possible, that is. I know the leg won’t get healed completely.”

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