Page 112 of Wicked Believer
Michael shakes his head. “You’re nothing more than an ancient serpent thrashing in the dirt.”
Neither he nor I move.
“You want to protect your precious human bride?” He sneers like the mere idea is beneath him. “Then on your knees, brother.”
My mouth twists into a sour expression as I look past Michael rather than at him, my gaze falling to my other siblings. “Fine. You win.” I take slow and deliberate care to strip off my suit coat, fanning it out onto the ground, before I slowly lower to my knees. “Isn’t this precious? Tell me, Michael, does it make you feel like a big angelic man to have the great and almighty Lucifer bow down before you asIuse my power to open the very seals that you can’t? You must be so proud to have me groveling at your feet, or are you too busy admiring yourself to enjoy this little victor—”
Michael arcs his sword at the last second, slicing through the back of my knees. I go down hard, face-first onto the pavement. Laughter erupts throughout the courtyard. But it’s my pride that’s injured more than anything.
At how Michael has chosen to humiliate me.
White-hot fury courses through me.
I lift my head, fangs bared.
To my surprise, Seraph steps forward, as if for a moment she’s considering helping me. She was once my friend. My most cherished sister. But I snarl at her, my gaze brimming with hatred and hellfire as she falls back in line, resuming her place.
I will destroy themall.
Every. Last. One of them.
A murmur ripples through the crowd as I slowly lift myself onto my knees. Already my tendons are beginning to repair themselves, knitback together—one of the many pleasures of being divine—but the reaction among the crowd is mixed. Everything from hatred to disgust to trepidation to pleasure.
They are used to my Father meting out punishment.
But they’re not accustomed to Michael’s open display of cruelty.
Bloodthirsty as they may be.
“Ah, so this is what it comes to, eh? The almighty serpent knelt before Heaven’s most obedient lapdog?” I give an exaggerated bow to my audience. “How quaint. You must think you’ve won something, right, brother? Look at you, playing the hero.”
Michael’s lips pull thin. “I seek no glory. Only Father’s mercy.”
“Don’t we all?” The edge of my mouth curls viciously. “But no matter how many times you force me to kneel, it’ll never erase the truth, will it, Mikey? You’re the real prisoner here. Trapped in this endless cycle of Father’s divine will.” I flash a cold smile. “You’ll die a slave whileIwill always be free.”
A few uneasy murmurs whisper through the crowd, signaling my siblings’ uncertainty. In the absence of our Father’s leadership, they cannot begin to know how to think for themselves, how to choose freely. They are nothing more than the well-trained sheep He made them. Michael silences them with the lift of his hand as he finally holds out the first scroll, unceremoniously popping open the first seal like it’s little more than a pesky soda-can tab. His eyes scan back and forth as he reads the glowing angelic inscription.
“So what’ll it be, humph? What gladiator-style feat of bravery or bit of hocus-pocus does Father expect me to perform to unlock His first trial for humanity? Kill a firstborn son? Build an ark with my bare hands? Walk on water? You tell me.”
Michael’s smirk widens as his gaze falls to me like he couldn’t be more pleased. “Oh, this is rich.”
The crowd laughs nervously as Michael begins to circle.
“Do you see what he’s become?”
I sit back on my knees, casting my arms out in a crazed pantomime of Christ as I allow Michael to have this one pathetic victory.
I’m losing blood fast, and while my wounds are healing, angelic weaponry does more damage than any human-forged blade. It may not be enough to kill me, but he’s weakened me.
And I cannot fight, cannot defend myself without starting a war the likes of which I am unprepared for.
Yet, anyway.
“Look at what his pride has wrought,” Michael calls to the crowd. “Once the shining star of Heaven, and now?” He glares down at me. “Bleeding in the dirt on his knees. And for the love of a human, no less.”
My siblings laugh.
My skin tightens, my Adam’s apple bobbing.
