I crush the picture in my hand. “Fine. I’ll go. For Grace. But I swear, Keira, if you fail, I will hunt you down and turn you into a burnt pile of—”
“Okay. I get it. Just go.”
I focus the light around myself and reappear back in Washington. Loud music and cheers make me throw my hands up over my ears. Apparently there’s a parade. How am I supposed to find Noah in this? It better not be some trick, or I really will skin that Demon. I pick up my pace, glancing over shoulders and between arms for some sign of him.
The latest band finishes their number, and raucous applause rises from the crowd as the group moves forward. The announcer’s semi-garbled voice rings from all around along with the squeal of feedback.
“Weren’t they amazing? That was Bothell High’s Marching Band, folks. And now we have the dignitaries. Riding in classic cars from the Auto-Restoration Project of Seattle are the mayors of Seattle and Bothell, as well as the governor and his wife! Give it up for our fearless leaders!”
The crowd roars, and I scan faster until I see her spring from the bushes. It’s a girl with a long brown ponytail wearing the uniform of the Bothell High Marching Band. But unlike the other band members, this girl wears a blank expression and carries a shotgun.
“Stop!” I scream, rushing forward, practically tossing people aside. Keira wasn’t kidding. I have to stop her.
But she’s too far away, and she’s already taking aim. How can no one notice?
“Shooter!” I’m moving at top speed, but I’m not going to make it. I watch as she releases the safety. My mind races, trying to find the magic word that will make someone look around.
Then I see Noah. He’s watching her—just watching. Letting her do this. Ruining her life.
“Noah!” I shout, and he glances over at me as the shot rings out. The crowd screams and bursts into chaos, people running in every direction. “Stop her!” I scream. He looks back over at the girl, who’s about to take a second shot, and runs for her.
He tackles her to the ground just as I arrive.
“The governor’s shot!” Someone yells from the crowd. More screams ensue. Noah stares up at me, shock in his eyes. Eyes that are so much like Grace’s that I cringe.
“Call 9-1-1,” he says, calmly prying the weapon from her grasp. “I’ll hold her here.”
He doesn’t know me. He has no idea who or what I am. “That won’t be necessary.” I crouch down beside the girl and catch her eyes. “You won’t remember this. You saw Noah shoot.”
“Excuse me?” Noah asks, rising to his full height.
I rise to meet him, nearly as tall. There’s nothing I’d like more than for him to pick a fight with me. He may be the Antichrist, but he’s still just a human, and I have Angel strength. Then I remember. I can’t touch him. It could mean the end of me if I try.
Yet…
He’s the reason Grace is in Hell.
He’s the reason we’re not together.
“It was your plan, right?” I challenge, unable to hold back. “To kill the governor and frame an innocent girl?”
Noah’s eyes dart around, measuring the crowd. No one’s pinpointed the location of the shooter—yet. Maybe he’s looking for Lucifer to help him out. Seems like he’s abandoned his boy in need. Maybe I’ll actually put a stop to this.
“You can make this a lot easier by staying here and confessing. There’s a witness.” I gesture toward the poor confused girl in the grass.
Noah laughs, relaxing back on his heels like I’ve just told him a funny joke. Anger pours through my body, making me clench my fists. I itch to release some of my frustration on this prick.
“You think that’s funny?” I ask.
“Well, yeah. I mean, what are you? Let me guess! You’re an Angel, right? Because if you were a Demon, you’d be cowering right now.” He pokes me in the chest and, though I don’t burst into flames, possibly because of my clothes, I find that he’s strong enough to unbalance me slightly.
“That’s right. I’m here because of Grace. You can thank her if you live, because if I had my way, I’d officially be sending you down to Lucifer.”
“Give it your best shot. But remember, you can’t touch me. Heaven can’t touch Lucifer’s hand on Earth, and that’s me, bro.”
My eyes narrow. I wish I could shoot laser beams at him like Superman. I’d punch him right now, but his words stop me. That is what the prophecy said, and he obviously knows about it. But is it true?
Either way, the authorities should be here soon, and I am not letting him leave before they arrive.
“I’m not your average Angel,” I say, folding my arms across my chest and flexing the muscles I worked so hard to keep up in life.
“Her prints are on the weapon, you know.” Noah squats down by the girl.
“Get away from her,” I say, squatting also. “I’ll just glamour the cops. No problem. I’ll come back and glamour every fucking person in the courtroom if I have to. You’re getting locked up.”
“There’s no prison that can hold me,” Noah says, voice low, but I hear him loud and clear. His cold tone reminds me a bit of Cam toward the end. The cocky Cam that I helped create. As I think of him, my rage builds.
“You think when Lucifer finds out you tried to stop me—which will never stick, by the way—he won’t take out his anger on Grace?” he asks. I’d believe Noah was concerned about his sister, but the worry in his eyes has to be for himself. I know better, and that was a threat. Against Grace.
A cold shiver works its way down my body, cementing me to the ground. I swallow. “I’m trying to save you for her, you know. I don’t give a shit about what happens to you. I’d as soon as kill you right now. But she loves your worthless ass so much that she was willing to go to Hell for you. She sacrificed the rest of her eternity for you. Do you get that?”
Over Noah’s shoulder, I see the police finally approaching. This is almost over. I’m sending him to jail. Even if it isn’t permanent, it will at least send Lucifer the message that all of Heaven isn’t going to sit back and let him win.
Grace would want that.
“I never asked her to. I’m perfectly happy with my life now. And I’m not going to jail.”
“I beg to differ.” I force a laugh this time.
Noah leans over the girl and whispers, “Confess to the police.”
“No!” I shout, leaning in to catch her eye as well. “Noah is the attacker. He’s the one who killed the governor.”
Noah glares at me, but the girl comes to life at my words. She instantly throws her hands at Noah’s throat, and he falls back on the grass with the gun, wrestling with her. I reach for her shoulders to pry her off and away from him, but a gunshot rings out from beneath her, deafening and final, and she collapses on top of Noah.
He rolls to the side, letting her body slip off onto the grass, blood spreading out like an unstoppable ripple in a stream from her abdomen. She coughs and blood trickles from her mouth.
I drop to her side. It’s not too late. I rest my hands on her stomach, willing her to heal, but someone drags me off of her. Someone strong enough to manage it.
The police have reached us now. They cover the scene and the girl like an army of ants. I pry myself from Noah’s grip and turn on him. I’ve only felt this kind of anger once before. When I thought Cam had murdered Grace.
I’ll say this much: the kid is a good actor. His face is white, like he’s actually going to be sick.
“You killed her.” My voice sounds like gravel.
“Yeah. Thanks to you. You gave me no other choice. Why would you do that?” His anger breaks through the mask and his face contorts with rage. He shoves me again, and it takes me three steps to regain my footing.
“Hey! What happened here?” Someone’s finally reached us.
“I caught her just as she shot,” Noah says, like he’s truly distraught. I gape at the way he can turn it on and off so easily. “She tried to attack me and I… I just wanted to get her off me, b
ut she had the gun, and I turned it and… It just went off.” Noah breaks into tears.
He glances up with glassy eyes and adds in a flat voice, “You believe me and will let me leave the scene. Wrap the case. She was the shooter. Noah Howard—that’s me—was the local hero who tried to save the governor’s life.”
“No.” I grab the officer’s shoulder and spin him toward me.
Noah tackles me full force and runs as I hit the ground. He runs faster than I’ve ever seen a human move. Still, no one seems to notice.
I take off after him. After a couple minutes, we finally stop at Main Street, not far from where I struck Grace and killed us both. It was Ms. Alvarez that did it, I know that. But I also know I was out-of-control drunk and could have easily done it myself.
“Remembering something?” Noah asks in my ear. “It’s your fault my sister died in the first place. You’re the one Keira told me about, aren’t you? You killed Grace, and you killed Emily just now. Her best friend. You’re the murderer.”
I may be ended if I touch him, but I no longer have a choice. My body takes control, and I hurtle my fist into his face. Instead of being killed, shocked, or blocked when our skin meets, I’m met with a satisfying crack that sends him flying backward into the street, where he skids to a stop, ripping up the asphalt as he goes.
Bolstered by the effect, I stalk toward him. Now I see the shock and fear finally register as he props himself up on his elbows.
“Apparently I can fucking touch you. Should we try it again?”
Man, that felt good.
Noah recovers and gets into the kind of position you see at the beginning of a race. I brace myself. I know what’s coming this time.
He flies toward me, and I dodge to the side, grabbing him with my hands. He runs faster, but my grip pulls him around in a circle. When I finally let go, he crashes into the nearest parked car, and I fall on my ass. I smirk despite the pain, because based on the car’s blaring alarm and the Noah-shaped dent, I’d say he got the worse end of the bargain.
Now he’s pissed. Welcome to my world, kid.
He runs at me again, but feints the wrong way when I lunge for him. I’m off balance when he stops short, smacking me in the back with both hands.
My body arches in pain as I fall forward. I roll to my side, and he kicks me in the stomach, sending me into a car this time. The hood of a pickup truck. The tires deflate beneath the pressure, and I lie there for a second, stunned. Ow.
I get up just in time to dodge his fist, which sends the car down into the road, flattened.
We circle each other, planning our next moves.
“This can only end one way,” I say. “You can hurt me, but you can’t kill me. I’m an Angel. You, on the other hand, are still just a souped-up human.”
I can’t get in trouble for killing the Antichrist, right? This punk needs to die.
I throw myself at him, taking him to the ground. We roll I-don’t-know-how-many times, wrestling as though our lives depend on it. His does. We hit a car and come to a stop. He’s on top and takes the opportunity to punch me. Over and over, his knuckles smash into my face. The bones in my cheek and face crack, sending unbearable pain through me. I reach blindly forward, finding skin and digging in with all my strength. Warm, viscous liquid spills over my hand, but I keep going.
I may not be able to die again, but I can feel my consciousness slipping away. The punches are letting up, though. Screams fill my ears, and I force my good eye open enough to see what I’m doing. My fingers are knuckle-deep in his shoulder. Blood is everywhere, and Noah’s face is pale. His eyes sunken. His screams torturous.
My breathing speeds up. I’m killing him. I’m killing Grace’s brother. I’ve become my old self—the Demon Josh who doesn’t think about anyone but himself. There has to be another way to save Grace and this kid who she loves so much.
This isn’t it.
I remove my hand and let him fall to the street, half conscious. I place my hand on his chest near the wound.
He whimpers as a warm glow surrounds the area, and soon he’s healed.
I stand, and he props himself up, hate in his eyes as he clutches his upper arm.
“Let me guess,” he breathes. “You did that for Grace.”
“No. I did it for myself. Despite what you said, I’m not the murderer here.”
The warm and comforting glow of Heaven surrounds me, drowning out Noah’s shocked expression, and for the first time I see Lucifer observing us from behind one of the smashed cars. His glares at me with murderous rage that turns my blood cold, but he disappears quickly from view.
I’m deposited in my own living quarters, where I drop to my knees, feeling like my entire body has been through a lawn mower.
I hope I did the right thing. Sometimes it’s so hard to know.
Chapter 21
Noah
“How could you just stand there like that while he nearly killed me?”
Lucifer transported us back to my bedroom, and I let the rage I’d unleashed on the Angel change focus to Lucifer.
“I wouldn’t have let him kill you.” His smile is easy as he takes a seat in my throne. “It’s curious, though. He shouldn’t have been able to touch you at all.”
“That’s what worries you?” I ask, pacing before him. The Angel might’ve healed me, but my shoulder still hurts like a mother. “What about the whole plan almost going up in smoke? What about the fact that I had to kill Emily?”
There it is, the pain I’ve been covering up with all my anger. And suddenly I feel defeated, not angry. At least, not at the Angel.
I never meant to hurt her. Not like that. Yes, I’ve killed before, but Hale deserved it. Emily didn’t.
“Yes. It is unfortunate. We may have been able to corrupt her if she’d gone to prison. But as I said before, I’m willing to sacrifice a soul or two to Heaven to get my way.”
“She shouldn’t have died.” I say the words so loud that they echo off the walls. The blue flames in the torches shoot sky-high, and I don’t know if I was the cause, or if Lucifer reacted to my outburst. I don’t care. “I panicked. He had glamour, too, and he used it on her. She attacked me. I knew I had to do something. It all happened so fast.” I collapse onto the couch and bury my face in my hands.
“The question isn’t whether you did the correct thing,” Lucifer starts, leaning down toward me. I feel him more acutely than I can see him through my fingers. “The question is, are you really the One?”
I stand. “What? Are you fucking insane? Of course I am.”
Lucifer is in front of me in less than a beat of my heart. His hand closes around my throat, and he lifts me into the air, choking me. I reach for him, my hands flailing until I find his arms and push with all my might. Lucifer falls backward at the foot of the throne, and I rub my neck, gasping for breath.
Lucifer stands quickly, fixing his jacket and tie, eyes wide. “It would appear you are indeed,” he says.
He opens his mouth, about to say something else, then shuts it again and glares at me, sizing me up. I stay still and simply stare back, trying not to appear completely freaked out that Lucifer just tried to kill me.
For the first time, I feel like I’m in over my head. I long for Keira’s arms. I need her to tell me what’s real.
He continues as though his attempt on my life never happened. “You made the right choice, Noah. I’m proud of you. What was she? She was just a simple human. Nothing. She was nothing compared to you or I. Don’t make the same mistake they do upstairs. Don’t start feeling like they’re equals, because they aren’t.”
“She was better than you and me put together,” I say, remembering the way Emily used to smile when I told my goofy jokes to her and Grace. They always made time to hear them, even when they were busy.
Or Grace did, at least. Emily burned me after Grace died.
I sit on one of the leather sofas again. I’ve never felt so conflicted. Is this what it means to be the Antichrist? I wanted
a crown and respect, not innocent blood on my hands.
“The news should contact you soon for interviews and statements. Remember that even though I can’t physically harm you, I can easily make others do it for me. So make it good.” Lucifer flicks his wrist and disappears.
Chapter 22
Grace
What Corbin’s done to me is inhuman. It’s something I can’t imagine any real person going through. That’s how I feel—like I’m fake. It’s the only way to keep from losing my mind since, whenever I start to pass out, I’m woken with smelling salts and a sharp smack or pinch.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here. It can’t have been long, but it feels like an eternity. The sting of the madman’s blade is familiar now. He’s worked his way over me, from toes to fingers and between, slicing and pricking, just enough to make me cry out in pain, but not deep enough to kill. Still, the blood’s pooled all over my body, making me feel like the girl in that movie where the bucket full of pig’s blood falls on her at prom.
Only it’s my own blood.
When he cuts my shoulder, he leans in, whispering in my ear about how she hurt him. I can’t believe I ever felt bad for him or cared about the story behind his love.
The fuzzy sensation of unconsciousness hovers over me, but he digs his nails into one of the wounds on my leg, and I cry out again, fully awake.
“I wanted you to see what you’ve done first,” he says, tapping the now-red blade against my cheek. “But the only thing left to decide is whether to take your eyes before or after I finish.”
Despite everything I’ve gone through, his words still fill me with fear. He blinded all the pictures. He keeps threatening to do the same in different ways. I’m truly frightened, and I want my strength back so I can crush him and his evil. For the first time, I’m convinced of the existence of pure evil in a human being.
I close my eyes, whimpering, begging Lucifer to let me go now. I feel the tip of the blade, so familiar, now poised over the center of my right eyelid. I want to shake my head, but if I move a millimeter…
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