One side of my face lifted in a sneer as I lashed out. “And for the fifteenth time, you may be right, demons do shady shit like that, but the only reason I think Father was able to be shagged was because an angel is involved! Is that really so hard for you to believe?!”
He rolled his eyes, which were filled with distrust and disbelief.
“Is it really so fucking hard for you to believe that an angel could do bad things? Have bad thoughts? I mean, hello!” I motioned up and down my body in emphasis.
“Yeah, well, you and the few of the fallen who went with you were the exception. We have rules and regulations now to prevent that.” He motioned up and down in front of me, making me the ‘that’ he was speaking of. I gasped out, irritated as well as insulted, but it didn't last long. I gave as good as I got.
“Oh! You never told me you hadrulesandregulationsto prevent impure thoughts!” I hit myself in the head sarcastically, then straightened out and eyed him down with a lift of my eyebrow.
He growled but didn't say anything and he turned away from me. So, we kept searching.
After we searched every corner in Heaven, we both decided that he wasn't in Heaven either. So where the fuck was he?
I didn't want to give up, so I voiced my new idea. “Should we go check His office? Check to see if Meta missed anything?”
He swiveled around and got in my face. “So now you thinkMetahad something to do with this?!”
My rage started to build inside of me, but I had lots of practice at controlling bad behavior. Unlike someone I knew. I crossed my arms and gave him my most scathing stare.
“No. I think Meta is better than both of us combined. It's why Father chose her to be his voice and the scribe for humanity. He knows she has a sense of truth and honesty that the rest of us don’t have. You included,brother.” I leered at him on that last part, so he knew what I thought of him too.
I was surprised when his face went blank. Then he straightened and nodded, heading in the direction of Father’s office. What the fuck? Mood swings much? Is he pregnant? I don’t think Father would approve. Before I could pelt him with accusations and questions that I know would just piss him off, he looked back at me. “Come. Let's check his office.” Something in his voice made all my snappy comebacks and lewd responses disappear. I shrugged my shoulders, giving up for the greater good, and followed him.You’re welcome, world.
Father’s office was only known to those of us that were in the know. Apparently, He didn't want a whole long line of angels able to get to Him whenever they wanted. So He delegated, made only a handful of us “archangels” whom he would talk to, and we would tell the others what to do. I’d always liked to think it was because we were His favorites, but the day He told me that I was going to be made the ruler of Hell, I’d decided it was because we were the most gullible. Father said that wasn’t true, that he loved us archangels like children and gave us each jobs that suited our personalities, but I had yet to be proven wrong. Or I was being stubborn. It was a toss up.
I did get the delegation, though. When I’d become ruler of Hell, I found that it was a lot to handle on my own. I had to run the vast plane of Hell, torture souls, keep the order, and tempt living humans to sin. It was one of the reasons I had to get permission to make the seven princes and have them run each circle. The fallen that had come with me were little bandwagon bitches who'd complained endlessly after they’d seen where they would be living.
There was a point in the beginning, right before Lillian was born, when the three of them had tried to rise up against me. I’d had to smack them down a few pegs, but I also had to live with the fuckers. So in order to keep the peace, I gave them each a mountain to guard at the gates of Hell—which they rarely did—and made them all ‘generals’ for when the ‘final’ battle came.
At this point, I was convinced that this ‘final’ battle that my father kept talking about was bullshit to keep the angels and humans busy. Demons had always been ready for battle at a moment's notice. Fuck, they battle themselves on the daily and battle me weekly, so yeah. We were prepped downstairs.
We got to the specific snake-shaped cloud—I know, ironic, eh?—and at the part that was meant to be the head, Michael cringed and whispered in Latin, “Aperta sesamae.”
The mouth of the snake opened, and we walked through the portal to God’s office.
His office was in the style of the nineteen seventies. Wood paneling and desk, obnoxiously-colored vinyl seats, a butt ass ugly lamp on the corner that was just begging to be pushed off the desk, and cracked water-stained ceiling tiles. I’d asked Him once why He had it like this. He’d given me a very serious look and said, ‘it made Him feel connected to the people’.
And people wondered where I got my crazy from.
We took off in different directions and searched around for a clue, a scribbled piece of paper, a thing out of place, but we didn't find anything.
I sat down in his big papa chair, and Michael glared at me to get off, but I ignored him, like usual, as I spun around and around while Michael tore the place apart. I was starting to get dizzy, and when I looked up to get my head back on straight, I saw a chip in the ceiling tile.
I stopped spinning and started to stand up, wobbling at first, then I climbed onto the desk, not taking my eyes off the chip.
As soon as I got closer, I started to get this weird feeling. More like it was the absence of feelings, but it was only coming from the area this chip was. I went to touch it as Michael grabbed my hand.
“What do you think you're doing?”
I yanked my hand out of his grip, still looking at the chip as I responded, “This area up here feels weird.”
He proceeded to climb onto the desk with me; we were chest to chest, both staring at the ceiling as I went to touch it again.
I lifted my hand and as soon as my fingers touched it, I gasped. The feeling of nothingness was so foreign, yet familiar that I couldn't help the genuine smile on my face as I tipped my head back to Michael, just a hair away from his face.
“I think we have a lead.”
AssoonasItold Michael my theory, and he touched the spot himself to make sure I was right, we were on our way to Purgatory.
