Page 111 of Legacy of Temptation

Currently, Michael was hosting a mind-numbingly boring scene of endless black sand. Two suns beat down on Reaver as he trudged across a featureless plane, his bare feet red and split like overcooked hot dogs.

The nightmare might not be real, but the pain was.

“What the hell, Mikey?” he shouted. “Why is your mind here?” And wherewashere? Wasn’t Earth.

“Reaver?”

He looked down at a green crablike creature near his plumped feet. “Michael?”

The crab waved one of its six pincers. “Why are you here? And why are you a polar bear?”

“I’m not a—” Reaver looked down at himself, and…yep, he was a polar bear, and they were now on a frozen tundra. Thanatos’s castle was in the background.

Why?

He looked down at the Michael crab. “We’re in prison. You’re linked to everyone but Metatron and Gabriel to create a cell strong enough to hold me. If we all come together at once, we can break it.”

Michael Crab waved all of his pincers. “Why does this sound familiar?”

“Because this is the third time I’ve told you. Right now, is when we usually get thrown out of your dream, so we need to make it quick. Fight against the shit in your head. Keep your thoughts happy. Stay aware that this is a prison.”

Suddenly, Michael himself was standing there, his eyes burning literal fire. “I remember now. The coup. The Thrones, and—”

“Yes, that. Listen, we don’t have time. I need you to—”

Reaver gasped, sucking in great lungsful of air. It was bright. Nothing but light. He’d been yanked out of Michael’s dream and into another.

He frowned. This didn’t seem like a nightmare, though. There was too much sensation. Pain. Cold. The smell of sweet fruit. He looked up, and yes, he could feel the crystal threads biting into his wrists. He hung where the Thrones had left him suspended in the middle of a ring made from the Archangels.

He couldn’t get a sense of how long he’d been trapped in Archangel head hell, but he didn’t expect to. Heavenly prisons cut you off from the angelic network, Heavenly energy, and mate bonds.

And that was the worst of all of this. He could deal with the nightmares. He could handle not having a sense of time. He could even live without the strength of the Heavenly energy. What he couldn’t live without was Harvester, and being unable to feel the bond between them was torture beyond anything these bastards could do to him.

A slice of brilliant blue cut into the blazing white. Three figures emerged. He squinted, unable to discern any facial features. A pair of flaming wings cast off orange lightning. Okay, that was Zaphkiel.

Suddenly, the light faded into a field of brilliant greens dotted by flowers of all the colors in the universe, some that human eyes couldn’t see until they were here in Heaven again. It was the Meadow of Azna, near where Revenant’s presence had left scars.

Zaphkiel approached, his lightning now tamed and sizzling only through his wings, and Reaver could finally make out Suroth. Between them, bound by the wrists and ankles, his wings strung up in golden twine, was Gabriel. His long mane, streaked in all the colors of mankind’s hair, hung in matted ropes, and his eyes glowed with hate.

“Bastards,” Reaver growled, disuse leaving his voice as fragile as ancient parchment. “You have no right.”

“But we do,” Zaphkiel said. “The Thrones are in charge now. We’re going to fix what the Archangels have ruined.”

“You should never have been elevated to Radiant,” Suroth said. “The honor should have gone to someone better suited to handle the great responsibility of so much power.”

“Like you?” Gabriel snarled. “Idiot.”

That earned Gabriel a backhand from Suroth that snapped the Archangel’s head back so violently Reaver heard the crack of vertebrae.

“We don’t relish this, Reaver,” Zaphkiel said in a voice tinged with regret. He genuinely believed they were doing the right thing. Which made him dangerous. True believers could justify anything. “But we must do what’s necessary to restore balance to all the realms. Balance is what the Creator intended, yet you and Gabriel betrayed that by helping Azagoth destroy Sheoul-gra while the Archangels sat by and did nothing. We must repair the realms before the Final Battle, and we haven’t much time.”

“The realms will balance themselves.” Reaver struggled against his restraints, but they were as effective as they were painful. “The Archangels put it on the right path. Hades is rebuilding Sheoul-gra. Angels are training the Horsemen’s offspring. Raika is hunting down the worst of the demons Azagoth released. The human realm doesn’t need your interference.”

“There shouldn’t have been a need to rebalance the realms!” Zaphkiel snapped. “Demons should never have been allowed to take over an entire continent. The Archangels failed in their leadership, and it is up to the rest of angeldom to right their wrongs. And as soon as we uncover the names of every individual who assisted you and Gabriel, we will begin the process of weeding out the traitors in our midst.”

“Tell him, Gabby,” Suroth said. “Tell Reaver the news.”

“Bite me.”

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