Page 93 of Legacy of Chaos

“Agreed. Let’s chat.”

Like most Heavenly prisons, Reaver’s was featureless, endless nothingness. He floated about four feet off the floor…if it could be called that. Technically, there was no floor, no ceiling, no walls. Just…space. It was both complicated, yet unbelievably simple.

And even though Gabriel didn’t need his wings to hover next to Reaver’s resting form, he kept them out and low in deference to the angel.

Reaver was…a legend.

And a total jackass.

But lying there in a shimmering white robe trimmed in bronze, his gleaming hair hanging like a molten gold waterfall, he looked regal, like a king in repose.

At least he wasn’t being held captive like he’d been immediately following the Thrones’ coup. They’d cleverly used the restrained Archangels as power banks to contain Reaver.

But now, he was a prisoner inside his own body.

“Hey,” he said, trying to sound chipper and not like his entire world had gone to shit. “It’s Gabriel, your second favorite Archangel.”

Maybe. Reaver didn’t like any of them, save his uncle Metatron, who’d raised him. He treated the rest with disdain and disrespect. But then most of Gabriel’s brethren treated Reaver the same way. They constantly argued over whether he was deserving of his status as a Radiant.

In Gabriel’s opinion, he deserved it. The guy had literally gone to Hell and back, had sacrificed himself over and over. Gabriel might not like him much, but he respected him. Anyone powerful enough to lock an Archangel in a prison with Satan deserved to be held in high regard. And maybe a little awe.

“Look, I hope you can hear me because I’m going through some things.” He blew out a long breath as he questioned every move he’d made lately. “I gave up a chance to speak to someone who could actually help me so I could catch you up on the situation outside your thick skull.”

His attempt at humor fell flat, even for him. There was too much going on, and he was in too much trouble.

“You probably already know all the Archangels are being held in stasis. Only Metatron and I are conscious. I’m only free”—he held up his wrist, the restraining bracelet rattling—“if you can call this free, because they’re trying to punish me for what happened with Azagoth. Metatron is still around because they need him until they can find someone else who can givevoice to the Creator. Not that we’ve heard anything. We have no guidance, and things are getting…bad. The Thrones are in charge and have no idea how to govern except through heavy-handed control. Heaven is on lockdown, and everyone thinks everyone else is a spy.”

He paced, starting to regret his choice of pre-Ordeal counsel. Not that he wastooworried. But he wanted the least severe sentence possible. He didnotwant to be banished to another realm or planet or end up like the other Archangels, who could be held like that for centuries until they were needed in the Last Battle against evil.

“From what I can see, your family is doing good. Whatever’s going on in your head, be eased by that. And…I have news of Harvester.”

He watched closely for a reaction. Any reaction. That was why he was here. Reaver needed to be brought back. If he could escape and somehow free the Archangels…

It was a long shot. Absolutely. But Reaver had faced greater odds and emerged victorious.

He’d also failed miserably a few times.

And had paid dearly.

Reaver didn’t stir. Not so much as an eyelash.

“I know you can’t feel her anymore,” Gabriel said. “I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t comprehend the level of pain Reaver must be in. Gabriel had been in love a few times over the centuries, but he’d never felt the desire to take a mate. His purpose in life made him feel as though he was on a different path, one headed toward greatness somehow. Yeah, it sounded arrogant, but deep down, he felt as though he would make a difference—a critical difference—in the fate of the world. Taking a mate wasn’t part of that.

“You know Harvester went through the Gaiaportal,” Gabriel said, which was stupid because, of course, Reaver knew. His current condition was a direct result. “Well, not only did it kill her and sever the bond between you, but it also activated the Gehennaportal. She stirred up a lot of shit. So, when you think about it, she went out the way she lived.”

He smiled fondly, which was curious since Harvester had not been likable in the least. She’d spent so much time as a fallen angel, faithfully serving at her father Satan’s side, that darkness was part of her—even after she’d returned to the light.

“But here’s the thing, Reaver.” He stopped next to the Radiant’s head and leaned in close to his ear. No one was supposed to be listening to any of this, but Gabriel wasn’t taking any chances with information this sensitive. “Harvester’s Grace never returned to the Creator. She found a host vessel in your grandson’s female, Eva.”

Nothing. No change.

No…wait. Did Reaver’s eyeballs move beneath his closed eyelids?

Excitement stirring, Gabriel leaned in again. “Did you hear me? She’s not gone. But that human body can only contain her for so long. She needs you, Reaver. Especially if the Thrones learn where she is. They could rip her from Eva. You know that can be fatal. Or worse.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Poor Logan.”

Yeah, he was milking this, but he wasn’t lying. Reaver needed to be reminded of all consequences.

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