Page 131 of Wicked Believer
We once were both foolish enough to believe we were two sides of the same celestial coin. Though my Mother had other plans, it seems.
Despite that I’m no fan of fate, I can’t bring myself to regret those years.
I limp to the far side of my desk, casting the scroll aside and supporting my weight with my arms as I lean against the edge of its surface. “And my siblings?”
“Are you asking me to serve as your shield? For both Charlotteandyou?”
“When I have my power back, which we both know that I will, I’ll make it worth your while.”
Azrael’s expression darkens.
I lift a single brow. “You’d do it for free?”
“Are you going to tell her?” he asks, instead of answering me. “About what you sacrificed for her?”
My spine goes cold.
I do not relish the idea of alerting Charlotte about my current ... predicament, the thought of her seeing me brought low.
“I’m not certain she would believe me,” I offer.
Not after all the ways I have lied to her.
To protect her.
It was never about anything more than that.
Azrael gives a curt nod like he understands me.
I cast him a sidelong look, considering him. “One would think you’d be more inclined to my brother’s bid for Armageddon, Azrael. You’re the final Horseman, after all. The Pale Rider. The Harbinger. Bringer of Ends.” I eye him up and down. “Wouldn’t the apocalypse suit you?”
Azrael shakes his head. “The others may be eager to spell humanity’s end when they awaken, but not me.”
I squint slightly, still unable to get a read on Death’s finer proclivities. “And why’s that exactly?”
Azrael’s eyes darken, more infinite and endless than mine will ever be. “Perhaps for the same reason you allow her to believe there is no bit of good in you, Radiant One.”
With that, he turns and disappears, leaving me standing there, still wounded and healing amid my family’s oldest heirlooms, lost in the past of more than one painful memory.
Chapter Forty-Two
Charlotte
It’s 7 p.m., and I’m on my knees in the playroom, so thoroughly exhausted I can hardly think straight. Lucifer’s new schedule for me didn’t give me a moment to breathe. Training with Azrael; then whatever the hell that living nightmare was with Greed; followed by a jam-packed workday complete with several live interviews, including a full-fledged photo shoot withVogue; followed by a fragrance consult with Maison Francis and an early work dinner with Imani and Cartier and one of Apollyon’s subsidiaries. I’m just one hard blow of the winter winds that’re now sweeping through the city from being knocked off my feet.
My muscles have never been this sore, my brain never this fried, and I feel like I can hardly string two words together, let alone think.
I’m pretty sure that’s by design, of course.
I haven’t once considered pulling another stunt like I did with Azmodeus. Or been able to dwell on the devastation the general population is experiencing. I haven’t worried about my powers or my immortality, about being fated, or even the seemingly inevitable apocalypse that’s pending. I haven’t had a moment to think.
I’ll never admit it to Lucifer, but it’s been strangely nice getting to turn my brain off, today especially.
Not having to make my own decisions twenty-four seven.
These days I’m so used to girlbossing my way through everything that having someoneelseconsider all the ways I need to take care of myself and then make all the plans for me feels indulgent, if I’m honest.
Even if I am barely able to keep myself upright.
