Reaver(108)
Either way, Heaven and Earth were going to lose.
I feel you, Reaver.
Harvester swallowed at the intense sensation of having Reaver’s life force buzzing through her, more powerful and more vibrant than ever before. He was an angel again, of that she was sure. But how?
She pondered the question as she paced outside of Watcher headquarters, waiting to hear the decision regarding Lorelia’s punishment. In many ways, she actually felt bad for the female, who had been operating under orders while knowing her actions would get her into trouble.
Harvester had done the same thing when she’d kidnapped Reaver and held him captive at Raphael’s command. And Harvester had, indeed, paid the price.
The door opened and Modran, a senior Watcher Councilmember, appeared, his short dark hair partially covered by a brown hooded mantle. It was quite the medieval monk fashion statement.
“Verrine. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“It’s Harvester.” She’d been Harvester far longer than she’d been Verrine, and besides, Verrine had been pure and innocent. Harvester could never be Verrine again, and she didn’t want to be. She didn’t want to be the Harvester she’d been as a fallen angel either, but in time, she hoped to find a nice balance of good and… experience. “I want to know what’s happening to Lorelia.”
“All you need to know is that we’ve met with the Sheoulic Watcher Council, and we’ve agreed on a punishment.”
“Does that include punishing Raphael for his role in ripping Limos’s baby from her womb?”
Modran’s brown eyes went chilly. “Archangel business is none of ours, and I’d suggest you make it none of yours, as well.”
Hard to do, considering she was supposed to get naked with an archangel in about ten minutes. “I’ll be returning the infant today—”
She broke off with a gasp, her inner Satanic alarm screeching in her head so forcefully she felt the ground shake.
Lucifer was in the human realm. Which meant Gethel was, too. But how could she feel him so far away?
Unless… Reaver. He was with Gethel.
“Ver—ah, Harvester?” Modran glanced nervously around. “What’s going on? Did you feel that?”
She blinked. “You felt it, too?”
Before the other angel could answer, the ground shook again, this time hard enough to put a crack in the great support pillar carved with images of famous angels of the past.
Was Gethel in labor? Or was she in another kind of pain? If so, Lucifer would be in agony as well, and the quakes they were experiencing now would be nothing compared to what was coming when he was born.
Harvester swore, which earned her a sharp glare from Modran. She wished she could flash to wherever Gethel was and end her now, but damned Raphael had restricted her movements to Heaven only. It was his way of ensuring she wouldn’t see Reaver again until Raphael had bedded her, the bastard.
She had a feeling he knew about her trysts in the Hawaiian pool and on the battlements of Thanatos’s castle. Good. She hoped he got an eyeful.
The complex rocked, sending angels streaming out of chambers and running for outside. But one angel was running in.
Michael jogged over to her, looking as frazzled as she’d ever seen him. “Reaver captured Gethel,” he said. “We have an opportunity to destroy her, and Lucifer with her. But Reaver is refusing. We need you to talk to him.”
“Why would he refuse? And why does he have any say in it? You took his wings.”
“Long story,” Michael said with an impatient wave of his hand. “As for why he’s refusing, we have a choice. War or Heavenly destruction. Apparently, Reaver would rather see Heaven leveled than lose a few humans.”
“Of course Reaver would choose the humans. Have you learned nothing about him at all? After everything Heaven has done to him and his family, why would he choose you?”
Michael flared his wings in annoyance. “It doesn’t matter. We need to do something. Now. Lucifer will be born fully grown, which is going to magnify the destruction beyond even what we’d initially believed—”
“Wait,” Harvester broke in. Gethel had talked about Lucifer being born fully grown, and now something was flitting at the far edges of her mind.
“Harvester?”
“I said wait!” she snapped. Grabbing her head, she paced in a circle, trying to coax the elusive thought into something tangible. “How many fallen angels have been reborn?”
“I don’t know,” Michael said in a voice overflowing with exasperation. “A hundred, maybe. Why?”
The why didn’t matter yet, because Harvester wasn’t sure of it herself. “How many have been born fully grown?” And ew. What a mess that would make.