Page 154 of Wicked Believer
That’s also a distinct possibility.
I spend most of brunch listening to Wrath complain at length about some supply chain issues one of his aerospace holdings is facing connected to the new virus in China. I’m pretty definite the virus is a result of Lucifer unleashing Pestilence from whatever—prison? cage? Hell if I know what—he was being held in. Meanwhile, as I’m trying not to spiral from thinking about that, I simultaneously try to nurse Envy’s, well, envy, over the fact Wrath keeps dominating the conversation and speaking over both himandme.
I still haven’t found a way for Lucifer to make amends to me for breaking open the first seal. Even if he was doing it for the right reasons all along, it still resulted in him being stripped of his powers, and more importantly, heliedto me about it. Or, at the very least, encouraged me to think the worst of him by omitting lots of details.
It’s hard not to be angry about the fact that he fucked the world over so thoroughly and now has none of the power needed to fix it.
Now that he’s powerless, it’s not like he can continue with his plan to play Michael’s game to show his other siblings what a monster Michael is and convince some of his old angelic lieutenants to come to his side of the celestial divide.
That part’s going to be up to me now.
And Michael will no doubt find someotherway to open the seals without him.
God had to have known what He was doing and built some sort of fail-safe, since Lucifer being stripped of his power was His proclamation, after all.
I just haven’t figured out exactly what that is yet.
Which is why this brunch has become even more important to me.
If Lucifer can’t regain his powers, the whole of Team No Apocalypse may come down to this. To me.
To my pitch to get all Lucifer’s siblings on our side.
No pressure or anything.
We’re nearing the end of the third course, and I’ve been absorbed in trying to keep Envy from throttling Wrath while simultaneously popping down to the far end of the table to be a good hostess. Azmodeus brought no less thanthreeof his latest fuck buddies, which completely messed with my seating arrangement, making navigating between them all infinitely more difficult.
At the very least, Greed seems mildly amused by Mia in the same way a normal person would be with someone else’s child or maybe a yapping puppy they’re unable to escape, and Envy looks temporarily appeased. Meanwhile, I thank and praise Gluttony for his culinary skills on one of the few occasions he’s popped into the room.
Together like this, they’re all somuch, I haven’t been able to concentrate enough to truly enjoy anything.
I send up a silent prayer that Gluttony doesn’t notice my less-than-wholehearted offerings. Thanks to my anxiety, my stomach hates me lately.
I’m headed back to my seat, dreading the moment we all know is coming—my pitch—as I overhear Azmodeus say something to one of his partners about an upcoming thing he has at Sloth’s Hampton beach house.
Apparently, Bel’s throwing a huge after-party following the CFDA Awards, and I make a mental note to do whatever the hell it takes to secure an invite for myself. I don’t care if I have to suck Lucifer off every night for a week in order to make it happen, Iwillget that VIP invite.
Honestly, that doesn’t sound like a half-bad outcome.
I can imagine having to do a lot worse to secure a spot.
Bel wouldn’t want to snub me, after all, would he?
Iamhis future sister-in-law.
And one of the most sought-after celebrities in the city.
I inhale a sharp breath, steeling myself for what I’m about to do, as I lift my glass to make a toast, accidentally shattering it in my shaking hand.
Shit.
“Someone still doesn’t know their own divine strength,” Az quips, and the whole table laughs as he shoots a reproachful look toward Mimi.
“It’s notmyfault she’s practically untrainable.”
“I am not untrainable.” I frown.
“Once a brat, always a brat.” She grins.
