Even now, he couldn’t yet tell if this ritual had been a success. Once he was able to compose himself, Luce pushed himself up and groaned at the deep ache in his muscles. It felt like he had just tried to bench press a semi-truck. He rubbed the back of his neck, stretched his arms up and felt the pop of his joints releasing, and moaned in relief.
Then he caught sight of his reflection on the glass door. Startled, his hands flew to his waist. He was both stunned and gratified to feel cool metal beneath his fingertips. Fastened around his waist was the unmistakable gold and sapphire glint of the Belt of Truth.
“Holy fuck, I’ve still got it.”
Michael knew things were going to go south very quickly if Mags had stolen the book. He didn’t expect it was going to begin during dinner on a Tuesday evening, or that Jehovah was going to overturn a vat of soup in his fury.
The dinner table was a seldom used fixture in their massive dining hall. It was typically only occupied during special occasions and parties, but every so often Queen Mary found herself in the mood for a ‘family sit down dinner’ and the archangels were obliged to join the royals at the table.
Michael and Christos exchanged wary glances as they entered, both stewing over their poorly concealed worries about the situation. Michael had been making plans with Uriel, his trusted lieutenant and one of his closest companions, to venture into the living world and attempt to contact Mags. He had to speak with her, to convince her to return the Gospel of Peace before Jehovah noticed it was missing and called her a trial for treason. Michael caught the stocky angel’s glance as he made hisway to his seat, directly across from Jehovah, and Uriel nodded his head slightly.
They were prepared. They would leave under cover of night, to reduce the chances of their absence being noted, and they would be there and back with the book before Jehovah woke for his coffee in the morning. It was a solid plan; a good one.
His plans were derailed during the first course of the evening meal, when the world seemed to tilt sharply on its axis and a ripple of power rolled through the early evening air. It was like being lapped gently by waves in the ocean; a soft cry of power that skittered down his spine, with the familiar weight of a magical signature he still recalled like it had only been a day.Lucifer…
A spell of that magnitude, strong enough to echo all the way to Heaven’s gates? It had to be something significant; something that would have repercussions for all the realms, mortal or otherwise.
Jehovah lunged up from his seat with a bellow of rage, sweeping his arm across the table in front of him and sending everything in its path scattering. Glasses and decanters of wine, silverware, bowls, and of course the entire tureen of soup went splashing and clattering across the linen tablecloth and over anyone unfortunate enough to be seated within range of the King.
His wife let out a shriek and jumped up, overturning her chair in her haste to remove her expensive velvet gown from the line of fire. “Jeho!”
“Shutup!You foolish woman, so caught up in gowns and gossip,” he snarled, gripping the edge of the table as if he might topple it, but visibly restraining himself. He took several deep, ragged breaths, and clenched the table hard enough that the wood groaned under his hands. “You have noideawhat has just happened, the calamity unfolding under our verynoses!”
Queen Mary recoiled, flushed with embarrassment at her public scolding. “Well! I suppose I shall retire for the evening, if I’m merely to be a burden here.”
She gathered her skirts and swished from the room imperiously. Jehovah watched her go, a frown on his lips and a touch of remorse in his deep blue eyes. Then his gaze hardened, and he whirled on Michael.
“I have it on good authority that Mary Magdalene was seen entering the Vault of Relics, and that later the Gospel of Peace was discovered to be missing.”
Michael managed to contain his reaction, if only barely. He knew better than to try to speak now and simply clenched his jaw and waited for the rest of the tirade. The King was many things, but concise was not one of them.
“Let me be explicitly clear, so there may be no mistake. Despite her standing and relationship with my son,” Christos flinched, but Jehovah barreled on, “Mary Magdalene is hereby and immediately to be considered persona non grata in this Kingdom, apart from her trial by fire.”
Christos shot to his feet, horrified. “Father, please?—”
There was no warning. One moment, Christos was upright and pleading, the next he sprawled on his back, a stinging red handprint blooming across his tanned cheek as he looked up at his father. Brown eyes wide with shock, he touched shaking fingers to his rapidly swelling lip. They came away stained golden with blood.
“Do not dare to argue, Christos. You may be my son, but your role in this remains to be determined. There are three keys to that vault, and mine is always accounted for. Anyone who may have aided Mary in her treachery is under equal suspicion and thereby house arrest.”
Michael tensed, frowning at the floor. He’d need to delegate to Uriel then, and make sure Jophiel would?—
“But not you, Michael.”
His head jerked up, confusion furrowing his brow.
“Oh, no.” Jehovah narrowed his eyes. “No, I can’t lock away my best tracker when I have a fugitive to apprehend.”
Michael swallowed hard, and nodded sharply. He wasn’t a fool; this was the same as it had been before with Lucifer—a test of his loyalty and resolve. Even as the devoted soldier within him yearned to prove himself still faithful, part of him recoiled in horror at the thought of turning Mary over to that fate.
“You will surrender your key to the Vault, and to the Gates,” Jehovah continued sternly. Though his chest tightened at the implication, Michael knew he had no grounds for an argument. “You are not above suspicion, Michael—a position you find yourself courting unfortunately often.”
The insinuation stung, but the warrior simply gave another terse nod. Speaking was liable to get him into more trouble, and what would he honestly say? He couldn’t in good conscience deny that he seemed to have a habit of mixing with heretics.
“Go, Michael,” Jehovah decreed. “Leave immediately and take only as many soldiers as you absolutely require. Find that damned girl and drag her to me at once!Donotfail me in this.”
With a deep bow and short glance at Christos’s troubled expression, Michael hurried from the room as fast as his long legs would carry him, Uriel hot on his heels. The situation felt as ridiculous as it did dire as they went racing down the hall, covered in tomato bisque, with Jehovah’s orders hanging over them like an ultimatum.
Jophiel entered the bath chamber with a swish in his walk and a scowl on his pouting lips.
