by Amy Braun
The air was so silent it threatened to strangle us. Dro held up her head, trying to show confidence, to defend her actions and reason with Michael.
But she couldn’t do it. Like me, she had felt the pain and heartache of burning the Heaven Gate. Like me, she had lain awake and night, asking herself over and over and over if she’d made the right choice. Like me, she had mourned for angels who would never see their home again.
Unlike me, she kept her mouth shut.
“You’re so full of shit,” I hissed.
Michael looked at me again, pushing the tip of the sword until my head was tilted all the way back. His sword cut me anew, and this time I could feel the blade at the back of my neck poking deeper into my spine.
All of that should have silenced me. None of it actually did.
“You’re no fucking innocent, Michael,” I forged on. Across from me, I could make out the pleading stares of Warrick, Sephiel, and Max, begging me to stop talking before my mouth got me killed.
I ignored them too.
“Don’t pretend you wanted her to live,” I continued. “Yeah, you wanted a vessel when you thought you knew what she was. But you wanted to kill her the moment you learned she had Lucifer’s blood in her. You didn’t take the time to consider her offer to fucking help you. That maybe she doesn’t want to be around Lucifer any more than you do. You and your damn angels refused to give her a chance, which makes Lucifer smarter than you.”
For a second, I was sure he was going to kill me. There was so much rage flowing through him that I was nearly positive he was going to cut my smart mouth off my face so it wouldn’t offend him anymore.
My head remained on my body when he lowered his sword. I wondered if it was a trick, if he was going to stab me in the chest instead, but he shocked me even further by returning the sword to his side. I stayed tense, knowing how fast angels could be and if he were going to change his mind, nothing would stop him from hacking me in two.
“It would please me to kill you for your disrespect, but I shall allow you to keep your life, as you have provided me with a solution to my current predicament.”
Oh, shit. “Good to know we can both be generous,” I snarked.
Michael didn’t smile or even pretend to be amused. God must have left that piece out when he was creating Heaven’s Holiest Hard-Ass.
“It is clear Lucifer currently holds the upper hand, and he is in search of his spawn.” I bristled at what he called Dro, but of course he didn’t care. “Her powers of manipulation must be greater than I imagined. She has gathered a human,” he looked over his shoulder at the guys, “a demon slayer, a prophet, and an angel who was ready to Fall.”
I couldn’t imagine the look on Sephiel’s face right then. He’d never forgiven Michael for refusing to help in the search for his true love, Everiel. The stupid archangel should have listened. If he had, they might have found Everiel before Lucifer impregnated her. This whole disaster would have been avoided.
But then Dro would never have been born.
Would I really want to go back, knowing everything that happened and knowing more horror was on its way? Would I have wished she had never been born to spare myself and those I cared about pain?
No.
Because then I would never have met Manny, Max, or Sephiel. I would never have given myself another chance at being in a relationship with someone like Warrick. I would never have had a sister.
Michael brought me back to the present when he turned and faced Dro directly. “I shall keep your friends alive, provided you do as I ask.”
All my senses went on red alert. A supernatural creature asking for a favor was never good.
“What do you want?” she asked hesitantly. Her head was raised again, so there was no missing the shine to her cheeks. Michael saw her tears, and didn’t comment on them. I wondered if he found them pitiful, or disgusting. How he saw her right now might determine how much longer she would live.
When Michael gave his request, I had my answer.
“I want you to bring Lucifer to me.”
The edge of the sword at the back of my neck scraped through my skin when I jerked in my chair. The angel holding me in place gripped my hair and gave my head a hard yank. It didn’t keep me from continuing to lose my shit.
“No!” I shouted. “No fucking way!”
“You are under the assumption that you have a say in the matter,” Michael told me without breaking eye contact from Dro. “Or that I would heed you even if you were.”
I hated Lucifer. Hated him with every fiber of my being. But right then, I hated Michael more.
“Michael.” Sephiel’s voice was hesitant and tired. “Forgive me, but this is not a wise idea. A more thorough plan must be devised before engaging Lucifer openly. We have fought him on such grounds, and we barely escaped with our lives. He has spread his influence further than comprehension. No matter how badly he wishes to reclaim what he believes belongs to him, he is working on another plan. Presenting Dro to him would provide him with the final piece of it.”
The archangel turned to look at Sephiel. “You fear him so, Sephiel?”
“I have always feared him.” The ex-angel didn’t bother to lie. “I have seen what he is capable of, and know he will not be defeated if he gains what he wants. He will have plotted for every conceivable outcome.”
“Not this,” Dro said quietly. We all looked at her. “He can’t be expecting us to give in. He knows we aren’t the type.”
That was directed at me, and it was true as hell, which is probably what terrified me the most.
Dro looked at me with sad, exhausted blue eyes, and I couldn’t see a way of making her change her mind.
“We’re going to face him down sooner or later, Con. We don’t know how else to close the Hell Gate, so if meeting him this way is what we’re supposed to do...” I heard her hesitance. It was tied to her fear. “Then it’s what we have to do. It was inevitable.”
I didn’t want to hear that shit. Nothing was ever written in stone. It couldn’t be.
Except sometimes it was. All it took was a little time...
There were a lot of things I hated. People taunting or trying to hurt my sister. Those who disrespected me or disregarded me. Early morning talk shows and a lack of sleep.
Job hunting beat them all.
After the motel burned, I decided it would be smart to get out of Odessa and try somewhere smaller. Dro had silently agreed. The next stop we made was Midland, which was currently in the middle of a blue collar hiring spree. We looked for jobs that needed more than one person, since I refused to leave Dro’s side for any reason. As we drove and wandered around the city, dropping by the library to print off resumes filled with B.S., we noticed there weren’t a lot of options. Dro was too young and I was too pissy.
“What about here?” Dro asked, pointing at the window of a cafe. There was a chalkboard sign in the window that said, Now Hiring: Full Time Dishwasher and Part Time Barista. I frowned. I had no people skills, so the barista option was out. Which meant I would be going from a badass drug enforcer to an angry-eyed dishwasher.
Then again, this request was the most excited Dro had been about anything all day. She would get the job. She liked people, trusted them to the extent that I taught her to, and she would be able to work with ease knowing I could be out of the back in a flash if need be. How hard was it to wash dishes, anyway? Mom used to heap them on me all the time.
“Sure,” I agreed. “Can’t hurt.”
My little sister gave me a small smile and walked with me into the cafe. It was about 2:30 in the afternoon, so it wasn’t very busy. There were three people working behind the counter, one customer waiting in line for her coffee, and two more sitting in the armchairs reading the newspaper. I glanced at them all quickly. Dro would tell me if something was off about them, and we would get the hell out of here.
But she didn’t say anything, which meant the coast was clear.
A forty-something barist
a with thick red hair and brown eyes finished helping her customer. Her smile was pleasant and carefree. I wondered if she really was that blissful, or just putting on an act. She turned that smile on us, and it quickly faded.
My hand dropped to my side. I felt the edge of my father’s hatchet under my long T-shirt. I didn’t think I would have to draw it in a public place, but this was Texas. If that happy-go-lucky barista had a double-barrel under the cash register, I didn’t want to be the first one to meet it.
“Can I get you ladies something?” the barista asked, gliding over to the cash desk. Dro matched her smile and walked forward casually. My sister was shy, but she knew how to talk to people instead of threatening them.
“My friend and I saw the sign in the window,” Dro said, pointing to it. “We’d like to apply for the jobs, if they’re still open.”
“Sure, they are,” replied the barista. She looked at me nervously when I walked closer. I was used to people looking at me like I was going to hit them, but I thought I had my disinterested face on instead of my mad face.
“I just need to call my manager,” she said.
I narrowed my eyes. She flinched. “Is there a reason we can’t give you our résumés?”
“Our manager likes to take them personally,” the barista answered a little too quickly. “I’ll be right back.”
She moved to the swinging door that let her into the back. The other baristas glanced at me curiously, then nervously. I looked at Dro.
“We should leave,” I whispered.
Dro turned her head. “Why, what’s wrong?”
I shifted to look at her, stopping when something else caught my eye. One of the men reading the paper was looking at me. He was talking on a cell phone but I couldn’t hear the words he said. I was looking at the mirror, my gaze trailing down to the page reflecting in it.
And the picture of my face on it. Reading backward wasn’t a talent of mine, but I understood the word “WANTED” well enough.
I grabbed my sister’s arm and started dragging her toward the door, which was a huge mistake when the police car pulled up on the side of the curb.
The cops were out of their car almost immediately. Their guns came out even quicker.
“Let the hostage go!” one shouted. He was a middle-aged man with cold dark eyes and a hard frown.
“Get on the ground and put your hands on your head!” his partner ordered. She was a Hispanic woman a few years older than me, but she had the same hard eyes and frown as her friend.
“Wait, I’m not a hostage!” Dro pleaded, holding up her hands. “She’s my sister!”
“Step away from her!”
I didn’t know if they were referring to my sister or to me, but I wasn’t about to risk Dro’s life. I raised my hands and backed away from her.
My sister was horrified when the female cop marched forward. I went down to my knees slowly, until she stepped on the back of them and shoved me onto the ground. She put her knee on my back and pushed my face into the concrete with her free hand. Cold metal circled my wrists tightly and clicked shut.
“Connie! Connie!” Dro cried. “Please, you have to let me go with her! She’s my sister!”
I didn’t know what the male cop told her because the female cop gripped the handcuffs and jerked me to my feet. She was a lot stronger than she looked.
Dro tried to catch my eyes over the broad shoulders of the cop holding her back. She looked desperate and scared. I returned her stare with grief.
I’m sorry, little sister. I couldn’t have run. If I had, I might have been shot and Dro would have watched me die. On the other hand, I wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to see me while I was in prison. We’d never be able to afford a lawyer. We had no money for bail. Whatever I was being arrested for, I was most definitely guilty.
I could have just condemned her to another kind of loneliness.
The cop slapped her hand on top of my head and pushed me into the backseat, slamming the door closed. I looked out of it as the cops talked to my sister. My back was rigid and my mind wired as I watched Dro shout at them. She didn’t get angry often– as in only once when she wanted to leave the Blood Thorns– but when she did, she made an impression.
The cops were trying to calm her down but she kept shouting. Then they gave up, and the male officer took out a set of handcuffs and put them on my little sister.
I blinked, unable to believe what I was seeing. Sure, I knew that one day I would probably be arrested. It’s a given when you’re a dangerous criminal. But Dro? Innocent, sweet, loving Dro who stepped over ants instead of on them, who hated to lie, cheat, and steal? Who knew right from wrong even when she had blind loyalty to me?
Never thought I’d see the day. Yet sure enough, she was placed in the backseat beside me. I stared at her, eyes wide with surprise. My sister managed to look guilty and defiant at the same time.
“This seemed like a good idea earlier,” she said.
I laughed. It was such a Dro thing to say. That was the last laugh we got in before we were driven to the police station...
Chapter 8
After Michael left, it was back to silence. This time it felt more self-induced than forced, even though the angels holding swords to my neck and Dro’s still hovered incessantly.
No, this time we didn’t have anything to say. Nobody wanted Dro to give in to Lucifer, least of all me, but if we couldn’t escape, what could the rest of us do but sit back and watch her give herself up in a plan that would likely mean she was killed in the crossfire?
Even if things went his way, Michael would never let Dro live. All he could see was the daughter of Lucifer. If she weren’t supposed to exist, he would make sure that she didn’t.
As I tried to force my brain to come up with a scenario that wouldn’t end with us skewered, I sat slumped in my chair. The cut under my chin was still throbbing dully, and I knew it would scar. The wound on the back of my neck wasn’t as bad, but it wasn’t letting me forget about it, either.
When the door at the top of the stairs opened, my heart leaped. I was sure it was time, that Michael was ready to take my sister to the creature that wanted to use her and destroy every ounce of goodness in her.
No, I thought with an aching heart. No, it’s too soon. This isn’t supposed to happen. It’s not supposed to be this way.
Fuck that the angels behind me had swords. I was getting out of these binds. Nobody was taking Dro. I wasn’t letting her go without a fight.
Just as I began to twist my wrists, I heard an angel giving commands.
“You may both take leave,” he said.
I stopped struggling. It wasn’t Michael. This angel had a deeper voice, almost like a crooning jazz singer. I lifted my head and looked past Dro.
It was the mocha-skinned angel who had shadowed Michael earlier. I got a good look at him again, seeing how he virtually mirrored Michael’s mannerisms and posture. He clearly had an idol, and he wanted us to know he was proud of it.
Sephiel tensed a little as the angel drew closer. That was the biggest warning I could have asked for.
The angel stopped in front of us, giving each member of our group a harsh once over. He scrutinized Sephiel, Dro, and me the longest. He was still glaring at me when he spoke.
“Leave us,” he told the other angels.
His voice had a deep, baritone quality that soothed me as much as it unnerved me.
“Sir, are you certain?” the angel behind me asked.
The tall angel lifted his eyes from my face to the angel behind me. The sword at the back of my neck twitched.
“They pose no threat to me. Leave us.”
There weren’t any questions after that. Both angels standing guard behind Dro and me stepped back and started walking up the steps. The angel between us stood completely still, looking from one of us to the other even when the door was closed beyond him.
“Let me guess,” I said, when the silence became too long, “Michael wanted us tenderized
before the real torture started?”
The angel looked at me, enjoying my humor about as much as the rest of my group did.
“Michael does not know I am here,” answered the angel.
“I hope that isn’t supposed to make us feel better.”
