“You say that like it matters,” Luce murmured darkly, turning away. “You were brought here for Uriel to be healed, and so I could gauge what my brother plans to do. I don’t need an admission from you to know what he plans for Mags.”
Michael stared at those broad shoulders, taught with restrained emotion. He felt a flare of anger that Luce would turn his back on himagain, but it died quickly. What had he expected? A warm reception? A tearful reunion? Apologies and forgiveness?
He was a fool.
“You are not prisoners here,” Luce’s voice drifted over his shoulder, softer but still carrying a chill. “You’re free to leave at any time. But you will not take Mary Magdalene. She comes and goes of herownwill, and I don’t permit manhandling of my family.”
Michael wanted to shout but kept his tone controlled through great effort. “I had no plans totakeMags anywhere. I am not some mindless drone for your brother.”
"Could’ve fooled me,” Luce called as he stalked from the Garden without another word or glance.
Mags lay on her back, fingers skimming plush carpet as she stared up at the vaulted ceiling of her room. The hand-paintedstars glittered back at her, wavering in the film of tears that ran steadily over her cheeks and into her splayed chestnut hair. There was a chance, once Jehovah got his hands on her, that she would never see these stars, this room, thisKingdomagain. But she had known the risk. She had made the choice. These were the consequences of her actions, and she could live with them.
A quiet, firm knock on her door interrupted her musing, and she lifted a hand to swing the door open. Footsteps approached, and Luce sank into a crouch beside her.
“Hi,” he said quietly.
“Hi,” she murmured, trying to dredge up a smile for him. He clicked his tongue and pressed a slim finger to the corner of her mouth.
“Stop that,” he chastised gently. “No pretenses between us.”
The tears redoubled, and he settled down cross-legged, pulling her head into his lap.
“Let it out.” He ran his fingers along her brow, then wove them through her hair slowly.
The motion was calming, and his presence made her feel safe. Mags released the tension coiled tightly within. She bawled openly, tears spilling hot and fast as she curled into Luce’s embrace, a damp patch spreading along his slacks where she pressed her face to his thigh. He continued murmuring soothingly as he stroked her hair over and over, nonsense ramblings in Enochian just to fill the space between the silence and her sobs.
“I have to go back,” she finally whispered what felt like hours later, voice hoarse from a throat stripped and raw. She levered herself out of his arms and into her loveseat. A blanket drifted off the bed and settled around her like a shroud.
“Absolutely not.” His rejection was immediate, in a tone that implied no argument. “That’s insanity.”
“I can’t escape this.”
“Of course you can, your home is here.”
“But Christos isthere.” Mags curled into her chair and leaned her head against the arm, fingers gripping the blanket tightly.
“He could come here,” Luce offered.
“He won’t leave his mother,” she countered.
Her continued rebuttals were going to drive him mad. “My brother could very well have youkilledfor this!”
“I know!” The flash of pain and fury in her eyes took his breath away. “I knew that, and I chose this anyway, because it had to be done. And nowthishas to be done. Actions have consequences, Luce.”
“No.” He gripped his own knees tightly, as if to prevent himself from grabbing her and either shaking sense into her or spiriting her away to some secured room. “This is the overbearing whim of my idiot brother, not some plan laid down by the cosmos.”
“I can’t run from this, you know that.”
“I refuse to allow it.”
“It’s not your decision to make.”
“Like Hell it isn’t!” He sprang up quickly, long limbs unfolding so he could pace impatiently before her. “You did this forme, formyson. I cannot allow you to take the punishment for actions that are my responsibility.”
“It’s not,” she insisted tiredly, burrowing deeper into her blanket swaddle as the stress settled into her bones like lead and sapped her strength. “For an advocate of free will, you sound unbearably controlling at present.”
This stopped him in his tracks. “That’s not fair.”
