Page 74 of The Fallen
But you can’t own stolen things. They can’t claim that Lilith has taken me if I was already stolen from someone or somewhere else.
I don’t believe that will stop them, and Lilith doesn’t seem to think so either. It makes me feel better about denying them, though.
Lilith’s mouth cuts up into a jagged smile, malice shining in her eyes. “Never,” she says. “And that’s what terrifies them.”
A shiver runs down my spine at the malevolent satisfaction Lilith appears to get from that truth.
“Can I stay with you?” I ask.
Lilith considers me again, her scrutiny almost a physical thing that drags over my entire being, scratching across my skin, something new and confusing rippling underneath, a sickening ball of sensation squeezing in my gut at the open appraisal. Her eyes catch on my wings for a moment, and she hesitates, but then they slide lower to my exposed arms, lingering on the scars without shame.
“Alright,” Lilith allows, nodding her head once. “It’s been a while since I pissed offthe fam.” She offers me a wan smile. “This is gonna be some good, fun times.”
CHAPTER 2
LILITH
“So, like, in your head, did this idea seem … you know,sane?” Adam asks with faux curiosity, a cup of tea held halfway to his lips. “Because if it genuinely did seem like a sane idea, I think we might need to book you in for some sort of mental assessment. Where’s my phone, I’ll look up treatment centres right now.” He makes a show out of patting his pockets, “searching” for his phone. When he retrieves it, I lean over the kitchen island to slap it out of his hands.
Adam gasps dramatically, clutching his cup of tea to his chest as if he’s afraid it’ll be the target of my next assault. He darts a hand forward, seeking retribution by pinching a corner from my chocolate brownie that’s sitting on the ripped-open bakery bag. I slap at his hand again, harder this time, and Adam yelps, quickly drawing back, pouting at me like an injured puppy, practically forlorn.
"Touch my brownie again, and I will end you. In the face," I say, pointing my fork at Adam threateningly.
He shakes his head at me, brown eyes wide with innocence behind his glasses. The massive liar, I saw him checking out my chocolatey goodness, and I shall not be sugar robbed by my own brother.
"That doesn't even make sense," Adam says, like he thinks I care what makes sense. It's like he doesn't even know me.
I put the fork down and point a finger at my face. "You see this? This is the face of a woman who spent half the night trying to convince a runaway Angel to stop bloody staring at me with those creepy white eyes. She just sat there, Ad, on the sofa, not moving or talking or anything.”
It’d been a while since I’d been in the same room with an Angel, and I’d forgotten how disturbing their lack of … everything can be. Angels are like candles without a wick, their souls reaped by Death and bodies laid to rest until the Angels drag them back, half formed and barely alive. Just looking at her—Azrael—pisses me off. Not at her, but for her. For all they took that was not theirs to take and that she may never get back.
"How dare she!" Adam mocks, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “What troubles you’ve faced. What mountains you’ve climbed. What creepy Angel-shaped hurdles you’ve overcome this night.” Twat.
I pick up a small packet of brown sugar that I brought back from my visit to the bakery this morning and throw it, hitting him square in the face. "Anyway, so my night was shit, therefore I need my chocolate-brownie fix. You will not take it from me, Ad. I will battle you to the death, I swear to fuck."
Adam snatches the packet of sugar from where it landed on the table and throws it right back at me. It lands inside my cup of tea.
Tea splashes everywhere. Adam grimaces, and I shake my head him. "Fail, bro, epic fail."
"Your face is an epic fail," Adam mutters, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
I smirk at him. "Like, for real, though, that was just monumentally terrible. I don't think you'll ever be able to show your face in here again. Personally, I would move. Maybe to Mexico."
"I'm not moving to Mexico!”
I snap my fingers and put on a mocking “eureka” expression. "You're right, Mexico isn't far enough. People might still hear about the epic fail that just occurred. You could try ... New Zealand. Or bite the bullet and finally give yourself up to Heaven."
Adam pulls that face he always pulls when he's trying to think of a really great comeback. His lips kind of purse, and his eyes glaze over just a little bit. It's sad. I really do feel for him. But he’s my brother, so I reserve the right to tease him into oblivion without any guilt weighing down my conscience.
"If I go to Heaven, then you're coming with me. I am not facing God alone," Adam finally comes back with. See, so sad.
I pick up a napkin and start wiping up the sloshed tea. Luckily, none of it got on my clothes. Tea stains can be a bitch to get out, especially if it's the real-deal stuff. There have been many times when I've damned my need for high-market tea after I've spilt it on my clothes or my bedsheets.
But I refuse to drink any of that swill sold by most cafes around here. So yeah, I'm a tea snob. Whatever.
"I'm not taking on God to defend your honour. If that deadbeat dad wants to eat you, then I'm afraid you're just going to have to accept your fate." I rip off a bit of brownie, completely discarding the fork this time, and shove it into my mouth with absolutely no thought to how it will look.
I'll act like someone with manners and decorum tomorrow. Right now, I just want to scarf down my brownie.
