“So you’re proving your innocence with...a storage room?”
“Oh, for Hell’s sake,” Lucifer groaned, shoving past him to grasp a tall, dark cloth hanging on the far wall. “No! This!”
He gave a hard yank, pulling the curtain aside to reveal an ornate door set into the wall. Its strange material shimmered softly in the dim light of the storage room, swirling symbols and sigils carved into the frame that Michael couldn’t recognize. It was curious and unusual, but…
“A door,” Michael observed flatly, and the other man hissed in frustration.
“Thedoor!” Luce slapped the wall beside the doorway. “Are you seriously telling me you don’t know it? The Portus Praeteritum!”
Well, that changed things. Michael reached out tentatively, fingers brushing the delicate details bordering the door. “It was thought to be destroyed. I had never even seen it.”
“Well, it was never for public use.” He sniffed haughtily. “This power is not for the faint of heart or those with delicate minds. It takes a powerful will to withstand the temptation to meddle in the past.”
“Is that even possible?”
“It could be. We are forbidden to try.”
“Forbidden by whom?” Michael’s brow furrowed. “You…andJehovah? Who outranks you?”
Luce softened, arching a brow. “You truly believe there is no higher power? In all the world, in all the boundless universe, you think that my brother and I are the most powerful creatures?”
Michael blinked slowly, processing this. It wasn’t as if he had never considered it, but… “I suppose that would be quite incredible.”
“Trust me, if we were the top of the food chain, my brother would be much less intolerable.” He rolled his eyes. “Insecurity issues abound with that one. Constantly afraid of being overthrown.”
“And you’ve always followed the rule? That doesn’t sound like you.”
“Shut up,” he swatted Michael’s shoulder. “In all honesty, no. I tested the water, once. It… didn’t go well.”
“What happened?”
“That’s a story for another time.” He shook his head. “Right now we have a record to correct.”
“And how exactly does one do that?” Michael stroked his fingers over the door and noticed with wonder that they came away shimmering faintly. “There’s no handle.”
“That’s where you come in, myfeatheredaccomplice.” Luce flashed a grin that teased a hint of fang. “This door opens only at the touch of a special key.”
He reached out and traced his finger over the arch of a tawny wing.
Michael tensed. “An angel’s feather.”
Luce made a noise of agreement. “Only one that’s willingly offered. That bit is meant to dissuade would-be meddlers from ‘acquiring’ some through illicit means.”
Michael considered this. A single feather was nothing. He molted them often enough that he hardly noticed when one came loose. But knowing Lucifer, he would need to carefully specify that, or he’d soon find himself stripped ofallhis feathers. “You may takeonefeather at this timeonly.”
That fanged grin split wide and took on a sour cast. “You’ve learned to be careful with your promises I see. You don’t trust me?”
“Should I?” He glared. “You did try to slice me in half not even an hour ago.”
“Touché.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Alright, pluck it yourself then. Just so you can be sure I’m not trying anythinguntoward.”
Michael grunted but carefully felt through the edges of his wings to find a loose feather, presenting it to Luce with an overly dramatic flourish. The Devil smiled, taking it from his hand with a gentleness that caught him off guard.
“Come along then.” Luce pressed the feather flat to the center of the doorway. “Let’s settle this once and for all, so you can admit that I’m right and begin properly groveling at my feet.”
“I know what I saw, Lucifer.”
“Your inferior eyes clearly deceived you.”
