Luce let out a strangled sound. “How repulsive!”
Michael huffed. “And it wasn’t even directed at you.”
“You can’t tell me you really believed I would say these things to you?”
“They’re coming fromyourlips.” Michael frowned. “I was already struggling with feelings of inadequacy. You were the Morningstar, and I was…”
“You were everything to me.”
Michael felt his throat tighten and cast his gaze back to the scene.
“Besides,” Lucifer turned back to Eve, who assessed the fig with rapt interest, and cupped her chin. “Look at her. She’s marvelous. Do you truly think you compare?”
Before Michael could respond, Lucifer kissed her. He gripped her hip and pulled her to him, claiming her lips in a hot crush of flesh. The fig dropped to the grass with a muffled thump. Michael heard a scream, and realized the enraged cry came from his own lips.
“Enough!” he bellowed. “Submit yourself to the custody of the Law, Lus’ior Morningstar, or be taken by force!”
Lucifer laughed. “Catch me if you can, then!”
He released Eve and tore off into the Garden, whooping and cackling. Eve blinked, stunned where she sprawled in the dirt.
“Does he think this a game?!” Jophiel sneered. “Too much time spent with Gavri’el, perhaps.”
Eve said amicably, “Today does seem to be a bit unusual.”
But Michael was already rushing after his lover, drawing his sword from its scabbard and trampling the greenery in his path, disappearing into the brush.
“Is that so?” Jophiel sighed, giving the young woman a last lingering look before he jogged after his Captain.
The scene froze.
Luce stood with his hands lifted and his expression horrified. “What…the fuck?”
Michael’s eyes narrowed. “You really have no knowledge of this. No memory of this encounter.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Luce snapped. “I saw Eve as adaughter,and I loved you more than my own life. You were the one person in the world I could be truly myself with.”
He folded his arms around himself, hugging his ribs tightly. It gave him the look of a small, lost child.
Michael closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. “Show me the rest. I need to understand how we can have such conflicting accounts.”
Lucifer nodded, too emotional for words. The scene began to play again.
Jophiel disappeared into the Garden, and Eve was left sitting alone. She picked up the fig that had fallen beside her, rolling it between her fingers curiously. She blew off the dust and brought it to her nose, sniffing it cautiously, and then pressed it to her lips, biting down.
“Lead the way,” Luce murmured. Michael followed his past self into the brush. Sounds echoed back—footfalls, the crashing and ripping of branches and plants, the faint peals of laughter. Michael could feel the tension rising, not only internally, but between himself and Luce. He wanted, against all odds, to be wrong, and of course Luce wanted to prove his claimed innocence.
Michael would be a liar if he said he hadn’t always found Luce’s actions very much out of character that day. But to be wrong would mean he had made a mistake with unbearable and irreparable consequences. He wasn’t sure he would be able to survive the guilt.
Before he could come to grips with the moment, light dawned close ahead. The laughter died, murmuring tones slipped into its place. His past self surged ahead, so Michael and Luce quickened their steps in response. Slowly, the unintelligible words became distinct.
“…and then we enter in tandem, you from the front and I’ll come from behind.”
The serious voice was interrupted by a burst of familiar laughter. “Careful darling, it’s a mutiny, not an orgy.”
Michel cut his eyes to Luce, who had the ghost of a fond smile tugging at his lips. He looked abruptly away.
Flustered sputtering transitioned into a quiet, embarrassed retort. “I didn’t mean to imply?—”
