“Over?” I asked, heart tightening. “As in…?”
“The Devil is imprisoned once more,” another answered.
The breath rushed out of me, loosening every joint. Relief—until:
“But—”
“But what?”
“He took the youngest Reaper. Trapped her with him.”
“Ah,” I said quietly, already turning. “Come. Let us go to the scrying glass.”
“Why weren’t we ordered to intervene?” one of them asked, falling into step behind me.
As I stepped out of the home, the brilliance stopped me cold. Even my breath felt lighter surrounded by gold. I trudged through the gilded streets, surrounded by kin who touched my shoulders. Nodding, they whispered, “Welcome home.”
It was a wonderful time.
But there was something I needed to be sure of.
Some people I had watched for as long as I could remember…
“Faye?” one of the once-proxy warlocks asked. I had already forgotten they were following me.
“Yes?”
“Shouldn’t we have stopped him? What if he’d chosen to walk through?”
“It’s always been about choices,” I said. “Everyone has the chance to choose good or evil. But the day I fell to the Underworld…that was angels intervening.”
I paused, turning slightly. “I guided them as best I could in something we could not directly aid. Not when the time came.”
When I had been Melinda, I’d shared their confusion—longing for divine interference, wondering why it didn’t come.
But I knew now:
The angels did what we could, through me.
I could already see the dim in their light growing darker with doubt. That was fine. Not everyone understood peace. Not everyone understood home.
I never again wanted a hunger pain or the urge for a bowel movement—no sensation or lingering curiosity. Thankfully, I’d never experience those things again.
Whatever longing I had once held as an angel bled out during my time with the Reapers.
I liked my world.
And many humans would too, when their time came.
The burdens of their world were heavy.
Coming home lifted that weight—
A sensation, I imagined, not unlike what I had just felt.
Still…not everyone belonged.
I glanced at the three following behind me. Let their silence speak for them.
