“You don’t know anything about me,” he shot back. “You don’t know what I’ve done in the name of evil.”
“It doesn’t matter. Things are different now. You are different.”
Revenant snorted. “Tell me, brother, can you see anything at all through your rose-colored glasses?”
He looked up at the fluffy cumulus clouds meandering across a field of blue, remembering the first time he’d seen the sky when he’d emerged from the dark depths of Sheoul. He’d been endlessly fascinated, staring in wonder and trying to figure out what magic kept the clouds in the air. But that boyish wonder was gone now, and with a thought, he poofed them out of existence. He hadn’t been able to manipulate the weather before, but with the Shadow Angel upgrade he could whip up nuclear-grade hurricanes if he wanted to.
He wondered how long it would be before Satan had him doing exactly that, just to kill humans and piss off Heaven.
Dammit. He needed to stop fucking around. Satan had given him a week to prove his loyalty and willingness to play for Team Sheoul, and his evil side was cool with that – as long as he didn’t have to lick Lucifer’s boots. But his status as an angel confused him, made him want to honor his mother.
He wouldn’t be honoring her if he chose to serve the demon who had made both of their lives unbearably horrible.
Sure, she’d told him a million times that in order to survive, he’d have to do distasteful, wicked things. But he doubted that killing legions of angels and dropping natural disasters on top of humans was what she meant.
“Tell you what,” he said, hoping he wasn’t making a huge mistake. “I’ve been trying to contact Metatron. Hell, I’d settle for any archangel at this point. Take me to them, and I’ll see what they have to offer.”
Reaver closed his eyes, not even bothering to hide his relief that maybe his wayward brother was finally coming around. “I’ll talk to them. Arrange a meeting.”
“I don’t have time to wait around,” Revenant said. “Take me to them. Now.”
Reaver shook his head. “I have strict orders to keep you out of Heaven. They don’t want your taint to defile the realm. If you can —”
“My… taint?” Fury seared to ash every ounce of amity he’d been willing to extend. “Defile? They left me to rot in hell, erased my memories, and let me think I was something I wasn’t for more than five thousand fucking years, and now they have the nerve to say I’ll desecrate Heaven with my presence? Well, fuck you, Reaver. Fuck you and fuck them.”
“Dammit, Rev!” Reaver shouted. “What do you want?”
What did he want? That was easy. He wanted to belong somewhere. He wanted a life of his choosing, where he didn’t have to fear being drawn and quartered for some minor infraction. He wanted choices. Answers. He wanted to feel comfortable in his own skin again. Because as evil and vicious as he’d been before he regained his memories, at least he’d known who he was.
But he wasn’t going to tell his brother any of that. He’d only sound like a whiny imp, and besides, Reaver, with his rainbow-and-unicorn life, couldn’t possibly understand.
“I want for you to fuck off, just like I said.” He changed his hair back to black and flared his gold-and-silver-threaded ebony wings, reminding Reaver how very opposite they were. “Good chat, bro. We’ll have to do it again sometime. As the French say, Au revoir, mon frère.”
Eight
Harvester waited for a long time after Revenant dematerialized before she worked up the guts to step outside the quantamun and make herself visible to her ex-slave. This was something she should have done weeks ago, the moment she was reinstated as a Heavenly angel.
But anxiety and shame had kept her away. What if he hated her for all of those years as her servant? What if he hated her for passing his slave bond to someone else? Although she couldn’t imagine that he’d hate belonging to Jillian. The human, immortal thanks to her bond with Reseph, was a gentle soul with a streak of kindness inside her a mile long.
Taking a deep, bracing breath, Harvester walked toward the barn, the cool, fresh Colorado mountain breeze bringing with it the sweet scent of wildflowers and the tang of coming rain. As she approached, the snort of a horse and the bleats of goats joined the sound of hay being moved around with a pitchfork. Did Tracker like his job?
No matter what, it had to be better than spending all his time in her old residence, where he’d cooked, cleaned, and tended to her needs… all of them.
Her stomach rolled, and she halted at the edge of the gravel drive that connected the barn to the main house. This was a bad idea. She shouldn’t be here. She had other things to do, like wash her hair. And the Grim Reaper himself, Azagoth, had, just days ago, called in a debt she owed him, which meant she had an angel to hunt down. Stamtiel was also on Heaven’s most-wanted list, so nailing him to the wall, literally, took priority over having a chat with her former slave.
Having talked herself into a new course of action, she ignited the spark of power she needed to flash out of there, and… let it snuff out.
Seeing Tracker again wasn’t for her benefit. It was for his. No doubt he had plenty to say to her, and he deserved a chance to say it. Besides, as Jillian’s mate’s Watcher, Harvester was bound to run into him sooner or later. Might as well get it over with.
Then there was the fact that she seemed to be weakening as Gethel’s pregnancy progressed, and she might not have many opportunities to see Tracker again. She could feel Lucifer growing stronger, and with every passing day, Harvester grew more tired and her powers were more difficult to summon. Only when she was in Heaven did she feel whole. How long would it be before she was forced to reside there permanently? She’d lose her job as Watcher, and she’d never again attend family functions with Reaver, which had, surprisingly, become one of her favorite things to do. The Horsemen and their mates had finally accepted her as part of the family, and she couldn’t give that up.
“It doesn’t matter. Things are different now. You are different.”
Revenant snorted. “Tell me, brother, can you see anything at all through your rose-colored glasses?”
He looked up at the fluffy cumulus clouds meandering across a field of blue, remembering the first time he’d seen the sky when he’d emerged from the dark depths of Sheoul. He’d been endlessly fascinated, staring in wonder and trying to figure out what magic kept the clouds in the air. But that boyish wonder was gone now, and with a thought, he poofed them out of existence. He hadn’t been able to manipulate the weather before, but with the Shadow Angel upgrade he could whip up nuclear-grade hurricanes if he wanted to.
He wondered how long it would be before Satan had him doing exactly that, just to kill humans and piss off Heaven.
Dammit. He needed to stop fucking around. Satan had given him a week to prove his loyalty and willingness to play for Team Sheoul, and his evil side was cool with that – as long as he didn’t have to lick Lucifer’s boots. But his status as an angel confused him, made him want to honor his mother.
He wouldn’t be honoring her if he chose to serve the demon who had made both of their lives unbearably horrible.
Sure, she’d told him a million times that in order to survive, he’d have to do distasteful, wicked things. But he doubted that killing legions of angels and dropping natural disasters on top of humans was what she meant.
“Tell you what,” he said, hoping he wasn’t making a huge mistake. “I’ve been trying to contact Metatron. Hell, I’d settle for any archangel at this point. Take me to them, and I’ll see what they have to offer.”
Reaver closed his eyes, not even bothering to hide his relief that maybe his wayward brother was finally coming around. “I’ll talk to them. Arrange a meeting.”
“I don’t have time to wait around,” Revenant said. “Take me to them. Now.”
Reaver shook his head. “I have strict orders to keep you out of Heaven. They don’t want your taint to defile the realm. If you can —”
“My… taint?” Fury seared to ash every ounce of amity he’d been willing to extend. “Defile? They left me to rot in hell, erased my memories, and let me think I was something I wasn’t for more than five thousand fucking years, and now they have the nerve to say I’ll desecrate Heaven with my presence? Well, fuck you, Reaver. Fuck you and fuck them.”
“Dammit, Rev!” Reaver shouted. “What do you want?”
What did he want? That was easy. He wanted to belong somewhere. He wanted a life of his choosing, where he didn’t have to fear being drawn and quartered for some minor infraction. He wanted choices. Answers. He wanted to feel comfortable in his own skin again. Because as evil and vicious as he’d been before he regained his memories, at least he’d known who he was.
But he wasn’t going to tell his brother any of that. He’d only sound like a whiny imp, and besides, Reaver, with his rainbow-and-unicorn life, couldn’t possibly understand.
“I want for you to fuck off, just like I said.” He changed his hair back to black and flared his gold-and-silver-threaded ebony wings, reminding Reaver how very opposite they were. “Good chat, bro. We’ll have to do it again sometime. As the French say, Au revoir, mon frère.”
Eight
Harvester waited for a long time after Revenant dematerialized before she worked up the guts to step outside the quantamun and make herself visible to her ex-slave. This was something she should have done weeks ago, the moment she was reinstated as a Heavenly angel.
But anxiety and shame had kept her away. What if he hated her for all of those years as her servant? What if he hated her for passing his slave bond to someone else? Although she couldn’t imagine that he’d hate belonging to Jillian. The human, immortal thanks to her bond with Reseph, was a gentle soul with a streak of kindness inside her a mile long.
Taking a deep, bracing breath, Harvester walked toward the barn, the cool, fresh Colorado mountain breeze bringing with it the sweet scent of wildflowers and the tang of coming rain. As she approached, the snort of a horse and the bleats of goats joined the sound of hay being moved around with a pitchfork. Did Tracker like his job?
No matter what, it had to be better than spending all his time in her old residence, where he’d cooked, cleaned, and tended to her needs… all of them.
Her stomach rolled, and she halted at the edge of the gravel drive that connected the barn to the main house. This was a bad idea. She shouldn’t be here. She had other things to do, like wash her hair. And the Grim Reaper himself, Azagoth, had, just days ago, called in a debt she owed him, which meant she had an angel to hunt down. Stamtiel was also on Heaven’s most-wanted list, so nailing him to the wall, literally, took priority over having a chat with her former slave.
Having talked herself into a new course of action, she ignited the spark of power she needed to flash out of there, and… let it snuff out.
Seeing Tracker again wasn’t for her benefit. It was for his. No doubt he had plenty to say to her, and he deserved a chance to say it. Besides, as Jillian’s mate’s Watcher, Harvester was bound to run into him sooner or later. Might as well get it over with.
Then there was the fact that she seemed to be weakening as Gethel’s pregnancy progressed, and she might not have many opportunities to see Tracker again. She could feel Lucifer growing stronger, and with every passing day, Harvester grew more tired and her powers were more difficult to summon. Only when she was in Heaven did she feel whole. How long would it be before she was forced to reside there permanently? She’d lose her job as Watcher, and she’d never again attend family functions with Reaver, which had, surprisingly, become one of her favorite things to do. The Horsemen and their mates had finally accepted her as part of the family, and she couldn’t give that up.
