Reaver(104)

Reaver frowned. “How could he get in? Fallen angels can’t enter Heaven.”

“Ah, but think about it. He wasn’t fallen. He was a full angel raised in Sheoul, but the fact that he could also draw power from Sheoul made us suspect that you were both Radiants.” Metatron went back to wearing a path in the dirt. “One of the terms in the deal that gave you to us said that what was done to one of you must be done to both, so his ability to draw power from Heaven was sealed… and then we erased you both from all memories.”

Reaver’s stomach churned. “So he forgot who I was, and I forgot him?”

“Exactly.” Metatron’s boots hit the hard-packed earth with the force of thunderclaps.

“But why? I get that I deserved punishment, but why the memories?”

Metatron’s expression turned sour. “Because people began to talk. They began to suspect the truth, including the fact that one or both of you were potentially Radiants. We learned our lesson with Satan. He was a potential Radiant, but his anger over not being Raised—promoted—to Radiant status filled him with hatred. His hatred leaked out of every pore, and those around him began to resent his power and his potential. Envy is poison for angels, infecting huge populations like decay. We couldn’t afford another internal uprising, so we did what we had to do.”

Reaver supposed that made sense. “Then what?”

“Angels cannot be given the honor of becoming a Radiant; they must earn it. You weren’t going to earn it until you learned to control your temper and your powers, and the only way to do that was to give you a clean slate and let you reinvent yourself. We named you Reaver and let you continue on with your life.” He shook his head. “You were still a challenge. Maybe even more of one. You were like a dog that doesn’t get enough exercise or discipline and turns destructive. There wasn’t a rule you didn’t break. And when you transferred the Marked Sentinel charm from Serena’s mom to Serena thirty years ago, it was the last straw. We took away your wings and once again took your memory, and that of your brother, and you have both lived without memories since. Honestly, we all wrote you off. None of us believed you would earn your way back into Heaven by saving the world with that Seminus demon.”

Reaver had offered himself up as a meal to Serena’s mate, Wraith, allowing the demon to destroy a fallen angel who was hellbent on opening a portal from Sheoul into Heaven. He hadn’t counted on surviving, let alone being raised to full angel status again.

“Bet you didn’t believe I’d manage to lose my wings again, either.”

Metatron shook his head. “You’ve always been unpredictable. But now I’m giving you a choice.”

“And what is that?”

“Do you want your memory back?”

“Is that really a choice? Because… ah, yeah. Who wouldn’t want their memory back?”

“Someone who did terrible things.”

Okay, there was that. Reaver was happy with who he was now. He loved his sons, his daughter, his grandchildren—born and unborn. And then there was Harvester. The very thought of her made his heart trip all over itself. Would all of that be ruined if he remembered all his stupid, horrible mistakes? He thought about Reseph, and how happy he’d been before the memories of what he’d done as Pestilence turned him into a tortured, drooling mess. If not for his mate, Jillian, Reseph would probably still be insane.

But Reseph was also making amends. The people Reaver wronged deserved nothing less. Harvester deserved nothing less.

“I want them back.”

“And that,” Metatron said, “was the right answer. Stand.” He made a rising gesture with his hand, and Reaver rose to his feet without any effort of his own. “You, Yenrieth, also called Reaver, for your numerous sacrifices, will be Raised.”

A massive stream of light blasted down from the heavens, bathing Reaver in gold. Ecstasy infused every fiber with strength and bliss. He swore he could feel each individual cell in his body come alive, could feel his wings knit back together in a matter of seconds.

The light retreated back into the clouds, and when Reaver took his first breath, it was as if he was no longer breathing air, but power. It detonated inside him, filling him with electric euphoria. He flared his wings and nearly dropped his jaw when he took in their new magnificence. No longer layered with white, sapphire-tipped feathers, they were pure gold, and as he tested their might, golden, glittery dust settled around him.

An echo of awareness tingled deep inside him, familiar and warm. Harvester. Damn, he could almost feel what she was feeling. Sense what she was sensing. And right now, she was happy, was with Limos’s child. It was as if she were standing right next to him, and his eyes stung with pure, unadulterated joy.