Reaver swallowed. Looked out over the landscape with renewed brightness in his eyes. “Did she talk about our father?”
“Right before she died, she said Sandalphon was a great warrior, and that he would have been an even greater father. She said they used to sit in this meadow and plan for our futures. He made cribs for both of us, and he swore to protect us from all harm.” Revenant snarled. “He was a liar. Same as the archangels.”
“Sometimes it’s impossible to protect those you love.” The regret in Reaver’s voice diluted Rev’s anger a little. Reaver’s own children had been raised without him, and with the exception of Thanatos, their lives had been less than ideal, and in Reseph’s and Limos’s cases, horrific.
In the distance, Singing Lilies started up a lullaby, their song a buzzing tinkle in the fresh air. Revenant’s memories crashed into him so hard he stumbled. His mother had put words to the lilies’ tune as she’d rocked him to sleep.
“Revenant?”
Reaver’s voice droned in the background as Revenant drowned in memories so powerful he couldn’t breathe. Their mother’s voice had been magical, so pure that when she sang, even the demons in the cells next to them would weep and the guards would halt in their tracks to listen.
Moonbeams and sunshine, the clouds and the seas, all part of the many worlds I want you to see. Fear not the unknown, nor the depths of the night, for nothing can harm you when I hold you tight.
Revenant’s breath burst from him in an agonizing rush. Just as his mother had sung those words to him, he’d sung them to her as she lay dying in his arms.
He looked out at the beautiful meadow, now pockmarked by the decay left by his footsteps. He’d come here to find something of his mother… and he had.
But his presence had poisoned her beloved meadow. He couldn’t stop hurting her, could he? She’d been imprisoned because of him. Tortured because of him. Killed because of him.
And now, her favorite place in the universe had been ruined. Because of him.
It was time to face the facts. He didn’t belong in Heaven, and he never would.
Blinking to clear his watery vision, he collected himself, digging deep into his bottomless well of hatred.
“Tell the archangels I’ve made my decision.”
“Rev, don’t —”
“I’m not handing over Gethel.” Nope, he’d make sure Lucifer died in the womb, and then he’d rule Sheoul at Satan’s side. “They can go fuck themselves.”
With that, he flashed out of Heaven.
Forever.
Twenty
Blaspheme had just spent the most miserable night in a cot next to her mother in the on-call room. Then the shower water had been only lukewarm. Now the blow-dryer didn’t work. She was going to scream.
The one positive was that her mother was getting stronger. Eidolon had personally given her a checkup last night, and while he was concerned that the internal damage caused by the grimlight weapon could still cause problems, he figured that if she continued to improve, she’d be ready for discharge in a week or so.
“Blaspheme,” her mother called through the bathroom door. “Your pager thingie is beeping.”
“Thanks, Mom,” she muttered.
“What did you say?”
Blas raised her voice. “I said, thanks, Mom!”
“You don’t have to yell.”
Blaspheme conked her head on the mirror. How were they going to occupy not only the same space, but the same tiny space for who-knew-how-long?
Screw the hair; she had to get to work. So what if she was an hour early? She should see if she could work an extra shift tonight, too.
She grabbed a green scrunchie that matched her scrubs and tied her wet hair up in a high ponytail. After brushing her teeth, she scooted out into the bread-box-sized on-call residence room, where her mother was kicking back on the bed and watching The Today Show.
“Take it easy today, Mom,” she said. “You’re still healing. No more harassing the staff.”
“Then you shouldn’t have ruined my plans to trap the False Angel.”
Blas clamped her jaws shut so tight her teeth throbbed. “I have to work with these people, Mother,” she ground out. “So behave. I’ll come get you for lunch.”
Deva muted Al Roker with an impatient click of the remote. “I can’t stay here forever.”
“And you can’t go home,” Blaspheme pointed out.
Her mother rolled her eyes. “I have plenty of friends I can stay with.”
“And you’re really willing to risk your friends’ lives like that?”
Her mother snorted. “Yes. They’d risk my life, too. It’s what evil people do, Blaspheme.” She reached over to the bedside table for a cup of lime Jell-O. “I’m damned impressed that you’re doing the same thing.”