Page 23 of Give a Devil his Due
“Is it just me, or does this seem wrong somehow to you, too?” Helena mutters to no one in particular. The others spread through the tunnel, stretching out and talking among themselves.
“It is wrong.” It comes out harsher than I intended.
She tilts her head to peer up at my face. “Right? It feels off somehow like we aren’t seeing the whole picture, and we are going headfirst into a trap.”
Oh.
We are still talking about whatever Satanael sensed and not his asinine accusations.
Right.
Eric leans forward to spear me with a look over his mate. “What in Hell’s name is the matter with you anyway, Angel?” A mocking curl of his lips brings a glint in his eye. “Did the trolls knock on your skull a few too many times?”
“Maybe that’s why I have a headache.” Helena joins in on his joke, her soft giggle warming me inside.
The tension tightening my body loosens, and I press my back harder on the wall behind me. Joining in, I nudge her gently with my shoulder, chuckling as well at Eric’s jab. “I will let a troll knock me around any day as long as Satanael stays away from me with his incoherent chattering. All it does is mess with my mind.”
And that is how, as humans would say, I put my foot in my mouth.
“What did he say?” Helena perks up straight away.
I mush my lips together with a groan.
“Raphael,” she says my name as a warning and pokes me in the stomach.
Teeth clenched, I tilt my head back and close my eyes. “He likes to tell me how I feel or don’t feel. It is not of importance, Helena. Do not worry.”
“That’s where you are wrong, mister. I do worry.” She rounds on her mate. “Eric, tell him to start talking before we get stuck here for days. I’m not moving until he tells me what’s going on. Or until I beat it out of him.”
Cracking my eyelids open, I smile at her frown. “Maybe I deserve a good beating once in a while.”
“You act like you’ve never met Hel,” Eric grumbles from her other side. “Just tell her what she wants to know, and I might catch a two-minute nap.” He grunts when she elbows him. “You told me to make him talk.”
My laugh bubbles out and echoes around us.
I will not tell her the truth regardless.
Not all of it, at least.
“After Purgatory, I may never step back in Heaven.” She sucks in a breath that speaks volumes about the gravity of my revelation.
“Oh, Raphael.” Sorrow saturates her tone, and she hugs me so tightly my ribs protest from it. “We will figure it out, I promise. There must be a way. There must be.” Her voice is muffled from my shirt.
“I am sure if anyone can find a resolution, it’ll be you, Helena.” My eyes lock on Eric’s over her head.
He stares at me unblinking as he tries to read what I did not say. My heartbeat speeds up for a moment, and my arm wraps around her shoulders, but I don’t look away. Satanael’s words swirl in my head like a cloud of bees, but that’s nonsense. I would be at peace if another, very distant voice didn’t rear its head in the furthest corners of my mind.
What if Satanael speaks the truth?
Helena
My heart hurts for Raphael.
From day one, when I felt lost, alone, and forgotten in that cursed white room where my blood was used daily like I was a human-sized Capri-sun by the jinn pretending to be Michael, this Archangel was my light in the darkness. His presence gave me hope that help was coming. That I wouldn’t be locked away forever until Death decided to lead me away. Raphael talked to me, healed me, and just knowing I would see his angelic face from time to time made me stronger when I had no strength left.
While his presence represented better things coming for me, I had doomed him for all eternity.
How’s that for a punch in the gut?
