This again? The Heavenly types got so worked up about reincarnated fallen angels. Okay, sure, Lucifer, as Satan’s former right-hand man, wasn’t your run-of-the-mill fallen angel, and the fallen angel carrying him, Gethel, had conceived him while she was still rocking wings and a halo. Oh, and in Lucifer’s newest incarnation, he was also Satan’s son. Which meant Lucifer was extra, extra special.
The asshole. In a few short years, he’d reclaim his place at Satan’s side, and he’d spend his life trying to ruin Revenant’s. It wouldn’t matter that Rev would always outmatch him in sheer strength and ability – Lucifer would have Satan’s ear and clout. When Lucifer gave a command, it would be followed as if given by Satan himself. Just the way it had been before Lucifer went and got himself killed a few months ago.
Revenant cleared his throat. “A, I don’t care. B, when you cut off Gethel’s wings to prevent Lucifer from being born fully grown, you reduced his powers, so stop with the ‘it’s the end of the world as we know it’ bullshit.”
Harvester shook her head, her black-as-pitch hair swinging around her slender shoulders. “It’s not bullshit. We reduced Lucifer’s powers, but he’s still the most powerful fallen angel to ever be reincarnated. His birth will still send shock waves through the heavens.”
“And,” Reaver said grimly, “he’s growing stronger every day. Harvester can feel him.”
Ah, so maybe Lucifer’s growth was the reason Harvester was looking particularly pale, and maybe a little gaunt. As Satan’s daughter, she was connected to all of her siblings, born and unborn. Not that Revenant gave a shit. But it explained why Reaver did.
“It gets worse,” Harvester said. “After Lucifer is born, he’ll keep growing stronger, until he’s reached the pinnacle of power. Once that happens, he and Satan can join forces – with you. The Trifecta of Evil, the archangels call it, because you’ll be the three most powerful beings in Sheoul. Together, there would be very little that could stop you from wreaking hell on Earth. Reaver will be forced by the biblical prophecy to break all four of the Horsemen’s Seals and kick off the End of Days.”
The Heavenly types were as obsessed with Armageddon as they were with fallen angels. It was all getting old. “And what do you want me to do about it?”
Reaver folded his arms over his chest. “Give us Gethel before she gives birth to Lucifer.”
Another rerun. Yawn. They should syndicate this shit. “Why should I?”
“Because you’re an angel, Revenant. Metatron told me that we need to work together —”
“Did he now? Funny, because he won’t even respond to my request to meet him. Has he sent me an invitation to Heaven? No? Then go rot.” He flashed out of there, no longer caring about getting answers about what being a Shadow Angel meant. Besides, Satan’s summons was buzzing around in his skull like an angry hornet.
Interesting how Satan had his knickers in a twist about talking to Rev, while Metatron couldn’t be bothered to send even a Cherub with a message.
Fuck it. Heaven’s concerns about Lucifer’s birth had just made things interesting. If they were right and the Trifecta of Evil was the key to the newest round of apocalyptic threats, then Revenant was in a position of power.
And power was something he knew how to use well.
Revenant materialized inside Satan’s mountainous underworld domain. He crossed the iron bridge – decorated with the hanging corpses of Satan’s enemies – across a fiery moat to the gate of the king of demons’ massive castle. He was given entrance immediately, an ancient fallen angel named Caim escorting him to the throne room.
The moment Revenant stepped inside the cavernous chamber, his blood chilled. Yes, the air temperature was frigid as fuck, but what turned the red stuff in his veins to gel was Satan himself, standing in the middle of what appeared to be dozens of human remains. His naked body was covered in gore, but otherwise, he could have been a male model, and the old saying that evil came in beautiful packages popped into Rev’s head.
“It’s good to see you, my son.” Satan stepped outside the ring of carnage, and instantly, he was clean and wearing a black business suit with a clichéd silk crimson shirt and a fuck-ton of gaudy jewels.
“Don’t call me that,” Rev ground out. “My father was an angel.”
“Sandalphon was a self-righteous jackass,” Satan scoffed. “I’ve been a father to you in all the ways that matter.”
So apparently, what mattered in a father was that they kept their sons in cages and forced them to witness their mother’s abuse. Oh, and then, to be a truly good father, one should send said son to the Mines of Agony to slave for decades.