Reaver(85)

Thanatos’s gaze was stricken, his pause ominous. “She lost the baby.”

“She didn’t lose it,” Ares growled. “The child was destroyed.”

Reaver’s heart skidded to a smoking halt and raw, grinding grief carved deep into his chest. Oh, Limos, I’m so sorry. His throat constricted into a tube so narrow every breath was like a searing whip of air.

“How?” he croaked.

Thanatos let loose a tirade of curses in several ancient languages. “Our new Heavenly Watcher lost her shit. The bitch took us all down. She even killed one of Ares’s hellhounds.” He inhaled a ragged breath. “The baby didn’t survive. We’ve been scouring the globe for Lorelia, but it looks like she’s hiding behind archangel skirts.”

Rabid fury and ice-hot hatred shot through Reaver with an intensity he hadn’t felt since learning Verrine had kept the secret of his children from him. Harvester was missing, was probably being held by the archangels until they decided what to do with her, and the Watcher who had been assigned to watch over Limos had hurt her and killed Reaver’s grandchild.

“I have to go,” Reaver ground out. “I swear to you, Lorelia will pay for what she’s done.”

“No, Reaver,” came a chorus of voices he knew too well. “It is you who will pay for what you’ve done.”

Suddenly, he wasn’t standing in Underworld General’s triage tent anymore.

He was in standing atop Mount Megiddo, surrounded by archangels. And a few yards away was Harvester, her curvy body wrapped in a skin-tight ivory leather dress that revealed more flesh than he wanted anyone but him to see.

Her eyes were downcast.

And her hand was twined with Raphael’s.



The leaden press of foreboding crushed Harvester under its weight. This was going to be bad. She dug her nails into Raphael’s hand as hard as she could, hoping to inflict as much pain as possible, hoping to make him feel a small measure of what she was feeling. The dickhead just smiled and watched four archangels escort Reaver into the center of a ritual circle drawn with the blood of three camels bathed in holy water.

Harvester’s heart bled as he was forced to his knees on the hard-packed earth where so much history had been made. Tel Megiddo was not only a site important to humans but to angels as well. It was here that fallen angels could summon those in Heaven. It was here that angels were elevated to higher ranks within their orders. And it was here that punishments were carried out.

Clearly, Reaver wasn’t here to be elevated. But what kind of punishment would he be forced to endure? Raphael’s smile grew wider, and a sudden, terrifying thought came to her.

Tel Megiddo was also where executions took place.

Oh, dear God, no. “You promised you wouldn’t kill him,” she croaked. “You bastard.”

Trembling with a combination of fear and anger, she jerked away from Raphael and bolted toward Reaver, but two Enforcers, angels assigned to ensure compliance of angelic law, seized her by the arms and hauled her backward.

“Leave her alone!” Reaver exploded to his feet, but four more Enforcers brutally pinned him to the ground.

“I promised you we wouldn’t destroy him,” Raphael assured her. “But what he’s done can’t be forgiven, either.” He cupped her cheek with a gentleness that didn’t match the ominous tone in his voice. “Calm down. You’re only making things worse for him.”

You son of a bitch. She hated that he was right, hated that Reaver was going to suffer for saving her. Swallowing dryly, she put on the cool, detatched facade she’d perfected as a fallen angel and forced herself to remain still.

Raphael joined five other archangels who formed a semicircle around Reaver as he lay on the ground, arms and legs held by the Enforcers. Another Enforcer reached under him and dragged his wings out to spread wide in the dirt.

Michael rose above the others as if on an invisible pedestal.

“Reaver, known also as Yenrieth,” he began, his rich baritone carrying such power that Harvester wondered if his words were being broadcast in the heavens. “You have defied us for the last time. Because of you, Satan is demanding a hundred thousand souls in payment for our breach of contract. His forces are gathering, and an assault on Heaven is now not a matter of if, but when. We have laws for a reason, and in thousands of years, you haven’t learned to obey them.”

He produced a golden treclan stake, and Harvester slapped her hand over her mouth, cutting off the cry of alarm that coiled in her throat.

Not long ago, Gethel had driven half a dozen of those things into Harvester’s body. Every place the stakes had penetrated began to throb anew, as if her muscles remembered the agony of the stakes developed solely to hold an angel for all eternity if one wished.