Page 1 of Deviled Eggs

Chapter 1

Micah

“Attention!Attention!Everyone, eyes on me.” My gavel strikes the podium with a sharp rap, the loudbangvibrating through the polished surface as the murmuring conversations fade. The light catches the flecks of gold in the marble, and I smile to myself as bright sparkles of color splash in reflections across the room.

An exquisite tool fit for the hand wielding it.

Wood is far too ordinary for an Archangel of my status, after all. No, those tiny wooden hammers are intended for common mortal judges and other human peasants.

Notme.

A satisfied smirk tugs on my lips as I flip my hair over my shoulder, its sheen nearly as powerful as that of the gavel. There’s a shift in the air as everyone’s attention focuses onme, an instinctual awareness tingling over my skin. It’s a trait Archangels developed millennia ago—an intuition that helped my kind avoid detection in the face of danger. We can sense not only that someone is watching us, but also the emotions that color their observation.

It's a handy way to determine friend from foe, no doubt, although the constant stimulation does get old.

Over time, though, we have less of a need to rely on it, and its intensity has faded. Instead of a warning, it’s a dull pain as I sense where their eyes land on my body. The jealousy and irritation they direct towards me are like sunburn, blistering on my skin as I take a moment to get used to the sensation. Right now, it’s the good sort of pain—the kind of anger people direct at those they can never aspire to be.

Envy is the highest form of flattery, after all.

Azrael advised me to wear a shirt today, because'that is what people do,'apparently. I'm kicking myself for listening to his advice. The fabric is restrictive against my chest, and I’m half tempted to rip it off and feel those eyes move lower as they appreciate my body.

It is not arrogance to acknowledge my flawless form and perfect proportions, merely simple truth. I was created in this image. Perfection is the only thing I’ve ever known.

“Some of you may wonder why I’ve gathered you here today…”

“Actually, all of us wonder that because,like always, you were incredibly cryptic with the summons.” Irritation washes over me as my eyes narrow at Damien, who is sprawled across Niklaus’s lap. He’s a picture of blatant disrespect, using my time to posture like a common whore.

“Why are you even here?” I ask with a sneer, gesturing at the languid way he lounges. “You are no longer important.”

“Micah.” The warning is laced with a threat as it escapes Niklaus—more commonly known as The Santa—from behind Damien. My eyes move to his, challenging him to say more while we are in my realm. Here, and almost everywhere else in this universe, my power reigns supreme. He’d be a fool to challenge me.

“Well, heisn’t,” I argue as his brows flick up just the smallest amount. He’s new to his position, stern and stony-faced. Until now, my interactions with him have been limited, but in those brief encounters, he has struck me as the type of man who doesn’t tolerate much.

Well, he’ll tolerate me, and he’ll do it without the attitude.

Iamthe head of the Heavenly Council, which makes me his boss.

“Everyone else at this table has an appointed title,” I remind him in a tone that leaves no room for argument. My chronically short patience is tested as his jaw tenses, but he smartly keeps his comments to himself. “You are The Santa, Azrael is The Cupid…” Azrael’s fingers flutter in an awkward wave as he smiles nervously, and Niklaus offers a brief, reassuring smile before his face once again hardens into a scowl directed at me. “Beatrice is The Tooth Fairy, Cecil is Father Time…” My attention moves to the ancient man, whose eyes are closed and mouth is sagged open.

A spot of drool hangs from his lips, and I retch.

“Ugh, so fucking gross. Is he even alive? Can someone check,please? Ew.” My hands jerk back as I cringe, although he’s a good fifteen feet away from me. Azrael and Niklaus jump up to make sure he’s okay, while Damien stares at him with the same horrified expression as me.

“Huh? What? I’m awake,” Cecil grumbles, but I spray hand sanitizer on my palms and rub just in case.

“That isrevolting,” I mutter as I glance over his wrinkles, smoothing the tight skin around my eyes with my fingertips. “Where was I before that absolute travesty of an interruption… oh, right. Rosemary is Mother Earth, and finally, we have Drekoth, The Lu… ci… fer…” My voice trails off as I stare at the empty chair. “Whereis The Lucifer?!”

“Oh, puh-lease.” Damien twists the hair of Niklaus’s beard between his fingers as the giant man purrs. “As if The Lucifer has ever been on time for a meeting in the history of forever.”

“Must you fornicate in front of everyone?” I snap, and he shoots me a sly, smug smirk and somehow sinks deeper onto Niklaus’s lap. “It is unbecoming.”

“Youare unbecoming.” A deep, amused voice booms from the hallway, and my glare swivels towards the newcomer. The man that stands there is enormous, even for a demon, and his towering frame takes up the entire doorway. Wrecking ball muscles bunch under skin the color of a dark gray storm cloud. Razor-sharp teeth form a predatory grin that makes me reflexively pull away.

He’s been here before with Damien, though I’ve never paid him any mind.

“I beg your pardon,demon.” My own blunt teeth flash back at him in a threatening snarl, although they aren’t where my danger lies. No, my power is my inner store of celestial magic—a deep, coiling serpent that strikes on my command.

He can flash that mouthful of knives as much as he wants. I could smite him to ashes before he ever gets close enough to bite.

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