Chapter Seven
After their walk to the Rift turned into a debate over how best to expedite the soul intake process, Remiel eventually realized Lucifer was stalling. She declared herself the winner and promised to get to work implementing the changes, then shoved Luce through the portal before he could respond.
She leaned against a nearby pillar to ensure he wouldn’t turn right back around, then turned to inspect the line of newly arrived souls that was, admittedly, much longer than the lines into Heaven used to be. Theydidneed to do something about this, but she had lied when she said it would be now. They had bigger priorities, the first of which included tracking down Mags to get a refresher about what the vision had beenexactly.
After searching for the smaller woman in her little cabin, the town square, and practically every room in the palace Lucifer called an ‘estate’, Remi grumbled the entire way to the kitchen, the last place left to check. The room was empty.
Mags was not currently in this dimension.
Remi made her way to the kitchen island and slumped onto one of the stools there. The stone countertop was cool where she laid her head down, soothing the gentle pounding that always seemed to follow most interactions with Luce.
“He better make this shit right,” she muttered, glaring at the saltshaker because it was the closest object in her sightline.
“Did that saltshaker personally offend you, babe, or did Luce piss you off again?” A smooth voice broke the quiet calm of the kitchen, wrapping around her like velvet and making Remi lift her head wearily. She narrowed her eyes at the way he always seemed to read her mind, but maybe it was to be expected after literal centuries together.
The exhausted woman groaned. “If I have to be Luce’s mother one more time, I’m gonna strangle him. Or scream.”
“Or you could screamwhileyou strangle him,” the newcomer grinned, stroking his long beard thoughtfully as he leaned against the counter.
Remi eyed it with distaste. “I swear I’m gonna cut that in your sleep, Rag.”
“You wouldn’t.” He looked horrified. His beard was a curly ginger mass that reached down to his collarbones, and it was his pride and joy.
“Wouldn’t I?” She grinned wickedly, but it didn’t reach her tired eyes.
Rag frowned. “Was it that bad this time?”
“He mentioned Armageddon,” she informed him drily. “Oh! Andapparently, he hasn’t spoken to his son infifteen years!”
His brows raised sharply. “I figured it would take him a while to talk to the kid, but I never realized he just...didn’t. Can’t tell if I’m appalled or impressed at the levels of negligence there.”
“Appalled!” she snapped in disbelief. “We’re appalled and angry, because that’sbadparenting.”
“To be fair,” he mused, “that’s probably why we never had kids. I’d be awful at it.”
“You’d be great at it,” Remi softened, like she only did for her husband. “But neither of us wants kids, and that’s fine.”
He reached across the counter and tucked a piece of her hair—a curly, frizzy mess now, after drying on its own—behind her ear. The curl popped free immediately. “You’re more than enough work for me, babe.”
She nuzzled her face into his palm and bit hard on the fleshy pad between his thumb and index finger.
“Rem!” he yelped, yanking his hand away and cradling it to his chest.
She grinned, and this time it was genuine.
“Crazy bitch.” He grinned back.
“Crazy about you, baby,” she crooned, laughing.
“You guys are so weird,” a melodious voice drifted from the doorway, announcing Gloriana’s arrival—along with the subtle scent of morning glories that hung around her like a delicate shroud.
Remi and Mags had quizzed her on it multiple times, only for the statuesque blonde to vehemently deny altering her natural scent in any way with perfumes or magic. They unanimously didnotbelieve this but eventually stopped asking.
“Weird is better than boring,” Rag quipped.
“Is it?” Gloriana wrinkled her nose. “Ifmylover ever bit me…”
“You’d need a lover first, Glory,” Remi teased sweetly. “Stop leading all the boys on and find a nice girl to torment.”
