Page 28 of Semi-Fallen

No, he had no idea where the clerics kept the biographical and locational information about reapers. In this realm, only an archangel (who he couldn’t contact for fear of death) or a powerful witch could discern where the information was kept because it was a location in the veil between dimensions—this one and the Heavenly one.

“So, let’s say you find Heaven’s library in the veil and get to talk to one the librarians,” Harper had said. “What book do you plan to check out, and how will it help Lane?”

He’d explained there were written records in the archives (or library, as Harper called it) that could lead them to a reaper or fallen reaper, who could help them figure out where the original kill order on Nephilim originated.

Harper had nodded, finally understanding. “OK, I do know a witch. She’s the one who spelled our prison so that demons can’t teleport in and out. She’s the best there is, but she’s…quirky.”

Lucien had raised a brow at her, because Harper was the quirkiest person he’d ever met. For Harper Hall to say someone else was quirky was oddly terrifying.

But he didn’t really start to get nervous until Harper gave her the rules for meeting the witch known as Celeste.

“Number one,” Harper said, “don’t mention me or my mother. She hates us both and she’ll refuse to do anything for you if she thinks it’ll benefit us too much.”

He’d started to ask why, but Riddick had cut him off with a stern glare. “You do not want to know.”

Since Riddick didn’t seem to be a man prone to exaggeration, Lucien let his curiosity go at that point.

“Number two,” she went on, “do not mention any JJ Abrams TV or film project. She’ll rant forever, and frankly, I’m not sure she won’t go after him again if you stir up all her Rise of Skywalker feelings. There’s probably still an active restraining order against her since that time she showed up at his house with a bag full of chicken bones, ten vials of goat’s blood, and three baggies full of hemlock.”

He opened his mouth, but snapped it shut when Riddick caught his eye and shook his head again.

Lucien sighed. Fine. “Got it. Anything else?”

“Yes. If you don’t want her to turn you into a toad on sight, you’ll need to take someone she likes and trusts with you, and sadly, there’s only one person on the face of the earth the old bat likes and trusts.”

At the time, he had no idea why Riddick had snorted and said, “Good luck with that.”

Now he knew. The only person Celeste liked and trusted was Hunter.

Which was how he’d found himself on Lane’s father’s doorstep, standing amid an army of vampires—one of whom was Lane’s mother—who looked at him like they’d rather rip his head off and wear it around as a hat than help him.

Fortunately, they had a common enemy and a common goal. Otherwise, he imagined he’d still be at the headquarters for the Vampire Council, fighting Mischa to the death.

Instead, he was here at a shop that looked like it had been marinated in black mold and set out in 100% humidity to stew for a hundred or so years.

The sign in the window advertised tarot readings, astrological charts, and voodoo herbs. The building itself advertised age, rot, and death.

It was a traditional shotgun home, so it was no wider than twelve feet, with all the rooms arranged one behind the other with doors at each end of the house. Set in a copse of oak and bald cypress trees that were generously draped in Spanish moss, it looked like something out of a horror film.

And to add to the mystique, it was overrun with spirits. He wasn’t sure if the vampire could see or sense them, but this place had seen more death than any Lucien had ever visited. Souls that hadn’t crossed over—for whatever reason—were everywhere, inside and outside the home.

It was…disconcerting.

The vampire glanced over his shoulder and smirked at him. “Don’t tell me the big, bad soldier of Heaven is afraid of a few ghosts.”

Well, that answered that question. Vampires—at least ancient ones like Hunter—could sense spirits. “Curious more than anything,” he murmured. “Each of these souls would’ve been given the chance to move on, but they chose not to.”

Hunter shrugged. “Sometimes the known—no matter how terrible—is less frightening than the unknown.”

The statement was so relevant to Lucien’s current state of mind that he almost stopped dead in his tracks. And the knowing look Hunter gave him made it clear he knew exactly how his words had affected Lucien.

And there it was. His daily reminder that these people—Lane’s people—were dangerous, even to an angel.

Especially to an angel, it would seem.

* * *

Lucien had entered Celeste’s shop with an open mind. Harper had made sure he would. And yet somehow, he was still surprised.

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