“Can I touch you? Or will that be too painful?”
She’s close enough, her body heat warms my mangled wings. “It would hurt more if you did not, I think.”
Her fingers trail over the burnt feathers. Her acceptance tames the worst of the agony. One breath. Then another. Each easier than the last. She spends long moments tracing the base of my wings along my back. Blisters start to heal under her gentle strokes.
“How did it happen?” With her hands on my waist, she urges me to turn and face her. Her eyes hold no judgement. Only understanding.
I lead her back to the couches, force my wings away, and tug my shirt over my head like a shield. “Each of the archangels has a different role. Azrael helps souls cross over after death. Michael is a defender. Raphael is a healer. I am the great communicator. Or…I was supposed to be.”
Staring out the window, I let my eyes unfocus. Tall trees blur into a sea of green. Much like history has blurred in my memories. Years, decades, even centuries blended together, and I cared so little about any of them.
“I performed my tasks—when required. Handing the stone tablets to Moses? The look on his face is one I will never forget. I believe his exact words were—translation issues aside—‘What in God’s name am I supposed to do with these? They are huge.’”
Willow’s laughter is a balm to my soul. I even find myself chuckling along with her.
“What did you say to him?” she asks.
“Something along the lines of, ‘Start a library,’ I believe.” Her brows shoot up. It feels so good to smile back at her. To share this pleasant memory. “He did not consider that an appropriateresponse. But then the burning bush threatened to start a wildfire, and I had to divert a river to put it out. Not my finest hour. Lucifer is much better with flames than I am.”
Willow is silent for a moment, then shakes her head. “You’re talking about the Devil like he’s…a friend.”
“He was. Once. A brother, even. He was not always Hell’s keeper. Before that, he was a guardian.” I lean back against the well-worn cushions and return my gaze to the scenery. “Zoe told you some of what happened to her, yes?”
“That she was kidnapped by a demon, tortured, and branded. Yes.” Willow shudders. “Her friend Dion too.”
Guilt twists in my gut. The panther shifter did not leave her apartment for almost a week after her ordeal, and unlike Zoe, she was mostly alone. Kunchin checked on her, but the Bureau was in chaos for a time, and he had…duties.
“There is so much more you need to know.” I rest my elbows on my knees, unable to look at her as I confess my sins. How I did not stand up to Seraphiel when he sent Zoe’s soul—in another body with another name—to the earthen realm the first time, knowing if she was successful in trapping Thorn’s consciousness in Hell, she would spend eternity suffering the Underworld’s endless torment alongside him.
How I failed to protest Sinclair’spunishmentfor loving her. “Sin was forced to do many terrible things while he was Thorn’s prisoner. But he had no choice. Genevieve—Zoe—gave him the strength to fight back. It was he who carried the incubus and his fae lover to Hell,knowinghe would be trapped there with them. Seraphiel could have freed him. Instead, he imprisoned Zoe in her own body, forbidding even the simple act of breathing. She remembers those centuries. Every moment longer than the last. And I said nothing.”
“Why not?” Willow touches my arm, but I pull away.
“The Seraphim are revered. They came before all of us, and do not let us forget our place. Seraphiel, in particular, is a complete dick. But that is no excuse. I could have restored Sinclair’s memories at any time. If he had recognized Zoe from the start, perhaps Thorn never would have taken her. If I had bothered to visit my brother—myfriend—in the Underworld even once, Lucifer might have told me of the breach that allowed Thorn and Regina to escape.”
My tears fall silently, dripping down my chin, hitting my hands clasped between my knees, soaking into the carpet at my feet.
“I failed them. All of them. Zoe will live with those terrible memories for the rest of her life. She is a celestial. I damned her to centuries of nightmares. Dion barely survived. Thorn killed hundreds. If losing my wings is to be penance for my crimes, it is not even close to what I deserve.”
My chest tightens, and a lump swells in my throat. For a moment, I don’t understand. Until the first sob escapes my lips. Shame tears me apart, rending my soul into shreds.
Willow wraps her arms around me, comfort I do not deserve, and I bury my face in her hair.
“Shhh. I’ve got you, Gabriel.”
For the first time in all of my existence, I break, not caring if I am ever able to put myself back together again.
TWENTY
Willow
I don’t know what I expected when I demanded Gabriel talk to me. Definitely not this. He’s been so confident—full of himself, really—since the first night I met him at the cathedral. But now, he’s shaking in my arms.
His anguish is a physical presence in the room. I wouldn’t be surprised to find it standing over his shoulder trying to strangle him.
We stay locked together until his sobs fade. “I understand now why so many humans hate to cry,” he says and sniffles loudly. He won’t look at me, pinning his gaze to the floor.
“Oh my God. You’ve never cried before?” I grab tissues from the small bathroom and wipe his cheeks. “I know you said the celestial realm is…” I wave my hand vaguely, “paradise, but people cry because they’re happy too.”
