“Well, you didn’t fucking tell me that!” she snapped back, no longer paying attention to what she was doing. Beer was now pouring out of the glass freely into the grate below, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“Mike… as in… pantry cook Mike?” I asked. Even to me, my voice sounded small.
Both of them stared at me. Art looked horrified, and Jezebel’s face was full of pity.
“Yeah. Art was just telling me. Something about getting caught stealing one of Yahweh’s scepters.”
My whole body went cold as the reality of what I had just learned sank in. Mike wasdead?
The kind man who had given a lonely girl a brownie to celebrate all her hard work finally paying off?
The gruff chef who wouldn’t let me steal a fry from the fry bowl but helped me through a panic attack when Ramel had finally pushed me to my breaking point?
The small spark of kindness in the world of a girl who had floated for so long, alone in the dark, was…dead?
“Why?” My voice was now a whisper, and my body began to shake. Art reached out and placed his hand over mine, looking at me with eyes full of regret.
“The angel who brought in his head said it was because he wanted to help make a stand against Yahweh.”
My eyes shot up to meet Art’s icy blue gaze. “Why?”I repeated. Why would quiet, unassuming, hardworkingMikewant to join a rebellion?
Jezebel and Art were both staring at me with eyes full of pity. Neither of them spoke, but they didn’t have to. The answer was plain as fucking day.
Mike had wanted to help make a stand against Yahweh because he had wanted to helpme.
“Ideas are bulletproof.”
—V, V FOR VENDETTA
“Please, Ramel… Just let me go… No more…” Rafael sobbed from where I had him strapped naked to a gurney.
“Stop begging, Raf. You’re making me hard,” Shemhazai muttered absently as he snapped on a pair of latex gloves.
It had taken both of us to get Raf out of his cell and into our torture chamber. He was a powerful angel, and we didn’t have access to the golden noose Yahweh used to bind powers. Not yet, anyway. That was another thing we were hoping Gabriel would help us get our hands on. Until then, good old-fashioned wood and steel would have to do.
Between the two of us, we could overpower Raf’s magic enough that he wasn’t a flight risk once we had him strapped down.
“We just need to test something, then you can go back to your cell,” I promised, though Raf didn’t seem comforted. I reached under the table and flipped up a pair of stirrups that were fastened to the bottom for such an occasion. “I’m going to unchain your legs. You can either put your legs in the stirrups on your own, or I will do it for you. If you make me do it, they’ll go in broken. You decide.”
Tears streamed down Raf’s cheeks. I gave him a small smile and tilted my head to the side.
“What’s it going to be?” I asked, and Raf choked but nodded.
“I’ll put my legs in the stirrups,” he said, his voice cracking. Hazai slapped him on his naked thigh jovially.
“Good choice, Raf.” He grinned and winked, undoing the cuff on his right ankle while I undid the one on his left. Raf’s face was so white that it was nearly green as he moved his shaking legs up into the stirrups, where Shem and I strapped him in with the thick leather straps.
Hazai hummed to himself as he moved to a small surgical table we had set up next to the gurney. Instead of surgical instruments, it hosted a nursery filled with the idea seeds we had harvested from the Infernal Woodlands. They were unassuming little plants. Just by looking at them, you would never guess the power they held. The tiny brown seed cases had already cracked and begun to grow little green idea shoots, each one standing erect like an army of soldiers readying themselves for battle.
“Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe…” Shem sang, pointing his finger to each of the seedlings in an attempt to determine which one we would be planting.
“What… what are you doing?” Raf asked.
“We’re picking an idea to shove up your hairy, angel ass. What the fuck does it look like?” I sneered. Lighting a cigarette, I leaned back against the gurney while I waited for Hazai to make a selection.
We had made sure to choose the most degrading ideas possible when we had combed the woods for our harvest. My personal favorite was the seed that would make him think he had an unquenchable desire to suck his own cock. The thought of him struggling to wrap his lips around his tiny dick was so amusing I nearly choked on my cigarette just thinking about it.
“Aha!” Shem exclaimed. I twisted to glance over my shoulder to find Shem holding up a seed triumphantly.
