Reaver(105)

“You are a Radiant,” Metatron said softly, and Reaver gasped.

He remembered Metatron. Remembered how the angel had taught him to swim, to heal a rabbit with a broken leg, to fly when Reaver’s first feathers grew in. He’d loved the archangel like a father.

Then his memories had been taken, and Reaver had lived for thousands of years seeing Metatron from only a distance, never knowing how important the angel had been to him. Then, thirty years ago, even those memories had been taken, and Reaver didn’t lay eyes on Metatron again. Not until Reaver had earned his wings back. His regular wings. Not these golden beauties.

“New memories will come back to you in waves,” Metatron said. “Even a Radiant can’t handle thousands of years’ worth all at once.”

“What…” Reaver swallowed a rare lump of emotion. “What does being a Radiant mean?”

“It means there are very few whose powers can match yours, let alone exceed them. Those who can exceed include me, Satan, and God himself.”

Reaver could barely catch his breath to speak. “Who can match?”

Metatron’s eyebrows shot up. “You know that there must be a balance between Heaven and Sheoul. My equal was Lucifer.”

Metatron, as the Lord’s right-hand man, had always been in an angelic class by himself. A lightbulb went off in Reaver’s head. “That’s why Gethel is pregnant. Without your equal, there’s an imbalance that needs to be corrected.”

“Precisely. We need to prevent his reincarnation for as long as possible to avoid destruction and more demon invasions in Heaven, but eventually, he will be reborn or another equally powerful fallen angel will take his place.” He looked down, uncharacteristically hesitant. “Balance is important, and part of the deal with Satan when we got you back was that if you were Raised as a Radiant, your brother must be Raised as well, though in Sheoul they call the equivalent a Shadow Angel.”

Reaver’s mouth went dry. All around, there was a rumble, as if a thunderstorm had started in the bowels of hell and had broken through Earth’s crust. Suddenly, something streaked out of the sky and hit the plateau like a bomb. Rock and dirt exploded into the air, and when the dust cleared, the massive form of a dark-haired male crouched in the center of the crater took shape.

“Reaver, meet your brother.” Metatron gestured to the male, who unfurled to his full height. “Revenant.”





Thirty-Three





Revenant’s presence triggered another memory blast that knocked Reaver backward several steps. Images tore through his head, everything from his childhood with Metatron and Caila to his history with Verrine to his fits of temper that destroyed entire cities. Oh, there were good things, too, like the time he rescued a village from demons who had been bent on eating the town’s children.

In fact, there was more good than bad in the massive memory dump. But the bad, especially the things that involved Verrine, ripped his heart in half.

“Reaver.” Gripping his head with both hands, Revenant stepped out of the crater. “Fuck… Yenrieth… I remember you. I remember… everything.”

So did Reaver. The memories kept coming, and if Revenant’s grunts were any indication, it was happening to him, too.

In his head, he saw Revenant standing on a boulder in a plain brown robe that matched his uneven mop of plain brown hair.

“Yenrieth.” The brown-haired male held out his hand. “Finally we meet.”

“Finally?” Reaver ignored the offered hand. “Who are you?”

“I’m Revenant. I’m your twin brother.”

Yenrieth snorted. “I have no brother.”

Sadness swam in Revenant’s black eyes as he dropped his hand to his side. “Your life is a lie. Just like mine.”

“We met. Here. On this very spot.” Reaver took in the landscape, seeing it in a whole new light. “You told me you were my brother, and that everything I’d ever known was a lie.” Revenant’s words rang in his ears as if they were spoken only moments ago. “You told me our father was dead and that Metatron was really my uncle.” He sucked in a sharp breath as he remembered what else Revenant revealed that day.

“How do you know all of this?” Yenrieth asked. “Who told you?”

“Our mother.”

Yenrieth grappled with his surprise and all the new information as Revenant leaped off the boulder he’d been standing on, his sandals hitting the hard ground with twin slaps of leather on dirt.

“Our… mother? You know her?” Yenrieth’s heart pounded wildly. “Where is she?”

“Dead.”