Revenant’s lungs seized up. He was hell’s new overlord? “I don’t… how…”
“It’s prophecy, straight from the Book of Revelation,” Metatron said. “And they had a king over them, which is the angel of the bottomless pit, whose name in the Hebrew tongue is Abaddon.” Metatron’s expression turned grave. “You can’t turn Sheoul into a haven for the good and holy, and you can’t eradicate demons. There must be a balance of good and evil in the universe, so Sheoul must continue on as a bastion of malevolence. But that doesn’t mean you can’t… temper it. You can alter existing laws, even if you can’t completely disavow them.”
Revenant’s mind, already blown from the earlier revelations, couldn’t fully comprehend what the archangel was saying. “Like?”
“Like the fact that when humans… or angels… die in Sheoul, their souls must remain in Sheoul for all eternity, to be tortured by any demon who wishes to do so.”
“I can release the souls?”
“If you desire.”
Revenant practically trembled with that desire. How many tormented souls could he free? Including his mother’s and father’s. Reseph’s baby sister’s. So many souls could finally find peace.
“Being Sheoul’s big boss is going to take a lot of time,” Revenant pointed out. “And I already have a job.”
And why in the hell was he arguing, when all along he’d been scheming to take a position of power in Sheoul? Metatron was offering the position of power, and here Revenant was waffling like an idiot.
“With the Daemonica’s apocalyptic prophecy completely out of play, the Horsemen no longer need Watchers. Only Reaver can break their Seals now. You’re released from your duty, as is Harvester.”
Holy shit. “What about Blaspheme? She’s a vyrm —”
Metatron laughed. “She’s not a vyrm. She’s an angel.” While Rev stood there in stunned silence, the archangel continued. “Her mother… what name is she going by now?”
“Deva. Ah… Devastation.”
“Huh.” Metatron nodded in approval. “Good name. Anyway, she maintained the relationship with Blaspheme’s father after Devastation fell, which is why they believed Blaspheme was vyrm. But Blaspheme was conceived the day before her mother lost her wings.”
Revenant inhaled sharply. “So she was conceived by two angels, not one angel and a fallen.”
“Exactly. And your children will also be full angels. They will be welcomed… nay, embraced… in Heaven.”
Children. By all that was holy and unholy, Revenant never thought he’d go there. When he’d believed he was a fallen angel, some bone-deep instinct warned him to be careful, to not bring a child into the world. But now… now he had a future, and his children would grow up safe and with parents that loved them.
Still… “Vyrm persecution has to stop,” he said. “I saw the hell Blaspheme went through. All vyrm will be welcome in Sheoul.”
“Then we’ll honor that,” Metatron swore. “From this day forth, no vyrm will be hunted. But if any show signs of angelicidal tendencies, we will act.”
That was fair. “Agreed.” Revenant stuck out his hand, but Metatron merely stared. And then, in a move that shocked the shit out of Revenant, Metatron engulfed him in an embrace.
“My nephew,” he murmured. “How I’ve longed for this day. I saw it coming since the day the heavens were formed, but there were times when my vision grew so murky I feared the prophecies had changed.” He drew back, and Rev reeled at the emotion flashing in his uncle’s eyes. “Welcome home, Revenant. Welcome home.”
It was nothing less than an ambush.
Revenant and Reaver, working as a team, flanked Reseph as the Horseman reined his white stallion, Conquest, to a halt on the Oregon beach. The steed snorted and snapped at both Rev and Reaver, who stood just out of the beast’s reach.
“’Sup?” Reseph swung down from the saddle, clad in only a pair of swim trunks. The guy wore as few clothes as possible, and Rev swore he was naked more often than not. “I was just exercising the big guy before the barbecue.”
The barbecue at Reseph and Jillian’s Colorado hideaway was already in full swing, but Reseph knew that. According to Reaver, sometimes when the entire family was together, the Horseman needed to get away for a little while, to try to outrun the memories of what he’d done to his siblings when his Seal had broken and he’d become the evil demon known as Pestilence.
“I have something for you,” Revenant said.
“For me?” The blond Horseman eyed Revenant suspiciously. “What would that be?”
“Open a gate to your sister’s grave.”
Reseph’s eyes flared before narrowing. “Ariya? Why?”
“Trust me.” It was a bold thing to ask, given their history, but Revenant had always been a risk taker.
Reseph hesitated, the tense silence broken only by the sound of crashing waves and a few seagulls calling out from overhead. Finally, he looked to Reaver, who nodded. “Okay, but if this is a trick, I swear I’ll find a way to destroy you.”
“Noted.”
The Horseman called out to his stallion. “Conquest, to me.”
The beast whinnied before dissolving into a spiral of smoke. The tendril of vapor writhed as it fused with Reseph’s forearm until it settled into his skin as a tattoo-like glyph in the shape of a horse. No doubt not wanting to take any chances, Reseph armored up with a flick of his finger over the crescent scar on his throat. Instantly, shiny metal plates folded over him from out of nowhere like a damned Transformer.
“It’s prophecy, straight from the Book of Revelation,” Metatron said. “And they had a king over them, which is the angel of the bottomless pit, whose name in the Hebrew tongue is Abaddon.” Metatron’s expression turned grave. “You can’t turn Sheoul into a haven for the good and holy, and you can’t eradicate demons. There must be a balance of good and evil in the universe, so Sheoul must continue on as a bastion of malevolence. But that doesn’t mean you can’t… temper it. You can alter existing laws, even if you can’t completely disavow them.”
Revenant’s mind, already blown from the earlier revelations, couldn’t fully comprehend what the archangel was saying. “Like?”
“Like the fact that when humans… or angels… die in Sheoul, their souls must remain in Sheoul for all eternity, to be tortured by any demon who wishes to do so.”
“I can release the souls?”
“If you desire.”
Revenant practically trembled with that desire. How many tormented souls could he free? Including his mother’s and father’s. Reseph’s baby sister’s. So many souls could finally find peace.
“Being Sheoul’s big boss is going to take a lot of time,” Revenant pointed out. “And I already have a job.”
And why in the hell was he arguing, when all along he’d been scheming to take a position of power in Sheoul? Metatron was offering the position of power, and here Revenant was waffling like an idiot.
“With the Daemonica’s apocalyptic prophecy completely out of play, the Horsemen no longer need Watchers. Only Reaver can break their Seals now. You’re released from your duty, as is Harvester.”
Holy shit. “What about Blaspheme? She’s a vyrm —”
Metatron laughed. “She’s not a vyrm. She’s an angel.” While Rev stood there in stunned silence, the archangel continued. “Her mother… what name is she going by now?”
“Deva. Ah… Devastation.”
“Huh.” Metatron nodded in approval. “Good name. Anyway, she maintained the relationship with Blaspheme’s father after Devastation fell, which is why they believed Blaspheme was vyrm. But Blaspheme was conceived the day before her mother lost her wings.”
Revenant inhaled sharply. “So she was conceived by two angels, not one angel and a fallen.”
“Exactly. And your children will also be full angels. They will be welcomed… nay, embraced… in Heaven.”
Children. By all that was holy and unholy, Revenant never thought he’d go there. When he’d believed he was a fallen angel, some bone-deep instinct warned him to be careful, to not bring a child into the world. But now… now he had a future, and his children would grow up safe and with parents that loved them.
Still… “Vyrm persecution has to stop,” he said. “I saw the hell Blaspheme went through. All vyrm will be welcome in Sheoul.”
“Then we’ll honor that,” Metatron swore. “From this day forth, no vyrm will be hunted. But if any show signs of angelicidal tendencies, we will act.”
That was fair. “Agreed.” Revenant stuck out his hand, but Metatron merely stared. And then, in a move that shocked the shit out of Revenant, Metatron engulfed him in an embrace.
“My nephew,” he murmured. “How I’ve longed for this day. I saw it coming since the day the heavens were formed, but there were times when my vision grew so murky I feared the prophecies had changed.” He drew back, and Rev reeled at the emotion flashing in his uncle’s eyes. “Welcome home, Revenant. Welcome home.”
It was nothing less than an ambush.
Revenant and Reaver, working as a team, flanked Reseph as the Horseman reined his white stallion, Conquest, to a halt on the Oregon beach. The steed snorted and snapped at both Rev and Reaver, who stood just out of the beast’s reach.
“’Sup?” Reseph swung down from the saddle, clad in only a pair of swim trunks. The guy wore as few clothes as possible, and Rev swore he was naked more often than not. “I was just exercising the big guy before the barbecue.”
The barbecue at Reseph and Jillian’s Colorado hideaway was already in full swing, but Reseph knew that. According to Reaver, sometimes when the entire family was together, the Horseman needed to get away for a little while, to try to outrun the memories of what he’d done to his siblings when his Seal had broken and he’d become the evil demon known as Pestilence.
“I have something for you,” Revenant said.
“For me?” The blond Horseman eyed Revenant suspiciously. “What would that be?”
“Open a gate to your sister’s grave.”
Reseph’s eyes flared before narrowing. “Ariya? Why?”
“Trust me.” It was a bold thing to ask, given their history, but Revenant had always been a risk taker.
Reseph hesitated, the tense silence broken only by the sound of crashing waves and a few seagulls calling out from overhead. Finally, he looked to Reaver, who nodded. “Okay, but if this is a trick, I swear I’ll find a way to destroy you.”
“Noted.”
The Horseman called out to his stallion. “Conquest, to me.”
The beast whinnied before dissolving into a spiral of smoke. The tendril of vapor writhed as it fused with Reseph’s forearm until it settled into his skin as a tattoo-like glyph in the shape of a horse. No doubt not wanting to take any chances, Reseph armored up with a flick of his finger over the crescent scar on his throat. Instantly, shiny metal plates folded over him from out of nowhere like a damned Transformer.
