Page 7 of Eternal Mate

“We should show it to the others,” my mate murmured as I rolled my neck and stretched. I hadn’t kept track of the time as I hunched over the canvas, but the light was filtering between the curtains, so it had to have been a minimum of a few hours.

I nodded in agreement, my eyes still fixed on the painting. The image was haunting, filled with foreboding and a sense of impending doom.

In other words, nothing out of the ordinary.

Still, it was clear that something significant was on the horizon. Something involving Lucifer. The thought alone sent shivers down my spine.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I replied, my voice a little hoarse. “It might be a clue or a warning. We can’t ignore it with everything going on.”

No matter how badly I wanted to. Anything to do with Lucifer made my skin crawl, and seeing him plastered across the canvas was enough to have my hackles up.

As she left the room to get ready for the day, I studied the painting again, trying to glean anything from it. The chains were prominent, their cold metal links contrasting against the fiery backdrop, while the shadowed bodies seemed trapped, imprisoned by some unseen force. And there, in the center, was Lucifer, his presence looming over everything like a dark cloud.

I wondered what it all meant. Was it a vision of things to come, a manifestation of my own fears, or something else entirely? I had been coherent enough that it was making me question my original judgment about it being another prophetic painting.

The uncertainty gnawed at me. I knew I couldn’t dwell on it for too long, or I’d start to panic.

Pushing the unsettling thoughts aside, I carefully cleaned my brushes and set the painting aside to dry.

I couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling of unanswered questions swirling within me. The revelations about Lucifer’s games, the manipulation by Michael while I was in Hell, and the dread depicted in the painting left me restless and hungry for answers. I needed to make sense of it all, to understand why we were caught in this web of deceit.

Unfortunately, the only being who could help me decipher everything was the very Archdemon who’d gotten me into this mess to begin with.

My stomach hollowed out immediately.

It’s not a bad idea. He might be able to shine some light on it.

Aria’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I made a face. He only helps you.

Her amusement grated on my frayed nerves for a beat, but I breathed through it. Would you rather I talk to him?

I was standing and hurriedly getting dressed in yesterday's clothes before she even finished the thought. Her laughter echoed in our apartment as I headed to the door.

I hated the thought of meeting up with Barimuz, but I hated the thought of her doing it more.

My wolf and angel were in heated agreement, bristling at the idea of her being swept up by him again. The sensation must have echoed down the bond to her because her withdrawal was almost tangible as I shut the door behind me and stalked down the hallway.

Barimuz had been given the only livable space on the top floor, since it made no sense to give a creature that could teleport one of the lower spaces. I regretted that, though, as I made my way up several flights of stairs to hunt him down. There was no guarantee he would even be there, but it was best to do this while the image was fresh in my mind.

Not that he really needed to see it to answer my questions.

I was absolutely sure that he was privy to what was going on with Lucifer and his plans for us, he just wasn’t telling us.

When I reached Barimuz’s apartment, I took a deep breath to steady myself. My hand trembled slightly as I knocked.

I scowled at the muffled sound of his voice as he invited me inside. Pushing open the door revealed the dimly lit room beyond; shadows danced along its walls as if they had a mind of their own, and I tried not to let myself panic at the sight of them.

Barimuz sat on the loveseat, looking more than a bit ridiculous as he stared into space with hazy eyes. He looked up at me with a knowing smirk, as if he had been expecting my visit.

I wanted to knock it off his leathery face.

The demon’s presence was intimidating even without all my baggage surrounding him, but I refused to let fear consume me. I needed answers, and I was determined to get them.

“Barimuz,” I began, then paused to gather my thoughts. “I need to know. Why would Lucifer and Michael manipulate us? What is their ultimate goal?”

The demon regarded me for a moment, his gaze piercing.

“Hello, Sariel,” he said in a deep, rumbling voice, the reprimand tinged with laughter. “You seek answers to questions that have plagued mortals and immortals alike for eons. The motivations of fallen angels are as enigmatic as their celestial origins.”

---