Page 104 of Alastair
“Gods help us,” I said under my breath.
Alastair softly smiled. “Perhaps Mephistopheles will be charmed by their idiocy.”
“The cake will help.” Michael stepped forward. “But if he doesn’t want it, I’ll happily take it off his hands.”
The interior of the cabin was cozy. A fire burned in the hearth, and a collection of books and leather-bound journals lined the built-in shelves on both sides of it. The armchair in front of the fire was worn from years of use, and a knitted throw blanket was folded and draped over the back. A tiny kitchen was to the left, consisting of an old-fashioned oven, a wooden counter with a bowl of oranges and a half-eaten loaf of freshly baked bread on top, and an antique brass faucet with a single basin.
“Make yourselves at home.” Mephistopheles grabbed a pot and filled it with water.
Castor watched him. “Not to be, like, rude or anything, but how did you manage all this? And more importantly… where does that water come from?”
Alastair scrubbed a hand over his face. No doubt he was cursing at his brother through their mind link.
“The cabin was here when I arrived,” Mephistopheles answered. “One of the very few amenities given to me with my banishment. My drinking water comes from an infinite well in the back that’s always fresh, another kindness from the council.”
A kindness from Raphael, to be exact. As an archangel of health and happiness, he couldn’t bear to think about Mephistopheles not having a clean water source. He couldn’t die from living off the rancid water in the realm, but forcing him to do so would’ve been cruel. And he’d been punished enough.
“I also have a small pond with an endless supply of fish,” Mephistopheles continued. Another of Raphael’s gifts. “Though it’s not big, I have an area with fertile soil where I can grow vegetables and plant fruit trees. There’s no sun in this realm, so I infuse the soil with magic to help the crops grow. I summon any other small items I need, such as yarn and books. I get by well enough.”
He was blocked from using magic any stronger than the warding he’d placed and the minor summoning spells.
Raiden set the red container on the kitchen counter. “We brought you some goodies. More of those soft gingerbread cookies, and Ti made you a Yule log.”
“As I said before, your gentle heart is a true rarity,” Mephistopheles told him, then looked at Titan. “Thank you both.” He grabbed a cookie, faintly smiled at the decorated gingerbread man, then took a bite, moaning softly. “Even better than last time.”
“Glad you like it,” Raiden said.
Gray sprawled out in front of the fire and closed his eyes. Sloth was taking him over. The others remained standing.
My impatience grew as the minutes ticked by, and I shifted my weight to my other leg. Once the tea was finished, Mephistopheles poured a cup for Alastair, who thanked him, and then offered one to me, which I declined. As he asked everyone else, I deeply inhaled and shifted my weight again.
“Should I tell you to behave too?”Alastair asked me telepathically.
“I take no orders from you, Pride.”
A smile lit his eyes as he took a drink. I fought a smile of my own. He had me wrapped around his finger, and he knew it.
Mephistopheles cut a slice of the Yule log and took the plate and his tea over to the armchair. Once seated, he took a bite and stared at the fire as he chewed. “Tell me why you’ve come.”
“You don’t already know?” Daman asked. He had rooted himself against the wall so he could see everyone in the room. Warrin stood beside him. “When we came for Kallias, you were already expecting us.”
“I see many things here, yes,” Mephistopheles answered. “Yet, much is hidden too. Sometimes the fog is too thick to see things clearly. It’s quite frustrating. My sight allows me to feel like I’m still part of the world, albeit small, and when my vision is shrouded, that’s when the loneliness seeps into my bones.” He brought the fork to his lips, but his hand stilled. “But that’s beside the point. Considering the reason why you retrieved Kallias from the veil, I imagine you’re here about the war.”
“We are.” Alastair set his cup on the mantel. “My brothers and I wounded Lucifer.”
Shock touched the fallen angel’s eyes. “You pierced his skin?”
“Yes. We weakened him and stabbed him with our celestial swords.”
“Like a pincushion,” Bellamy added. “We pinned the fucker in place from all sides, and he was choking on his own blood. We thought we’d won.”
“But then he healed himself,” Mephistopheles stated as a distant look appeared in his eyes. “So it’s true.”
“What’s true?” Michael asked.
“How to kill Lucifer. The eight cursed sons are the only ones capable of weakening his defenses, yet something else is needed to deal the final blow.”
The breath stilled in my lungs, and my blood raced hot through my veins.“You were right,”I told Alastair.“He knows how to kill him.”
