He’d been attacked, he remembered. He’d been…killed. Killed by a careless mistake.
But this wasn’t hell. This wasn’t where he’d thought he’d be forced to go…after. But he supposed that made sense. He’d always walked in and out of hell without a second thought; going there would hardly be a punishment.
And, gods knew, he deserved some sort of punishment for all the lives he’d taken.
Yet this riverbank did not seem to be one either. It was empty and silent, no other souls around. The river was wide and calm, slowly trickling past, though something told him the water would burn and try to drag him under if he stepped into it. But something also told him that he had to make it to the other side. To try again in a new life…
Something tugged at his chest, making him gasp andflinch.
Yes, he’d been stabbed, he remembered now. Executed. By…Heaven’s light. But who had wielded it?
Not an angel, he recalled. Not god. Somebody…lesser.
And it had hurt…hurt, not because of the blade in his chest, but because…
There had been someone with him. A boy. A man. Somebody he cared about. He knew it, though he couldn’t recall the feeling ofcaring.
The river called to him again, said that it did not matter, that there was a new life to be had, and that the man would meet him again there. Hesitantly, he took a step forward–and a hand caught his shoulder, spinning him around.
The man–not the man he had left alone, he realized with a jolt of disappointment, but a different one–was standing just a few inches away, his hand still on his shoulder, as if he were holding him in place. He was blond and beautiful and…familiar. Not the right person from his memory, but somebody he knew. Had known. Somebody he’d cared about.
“Lucifer.” The name came to him–and with it, a flood of memories. A long, painful fall. The shearing of an immortal wing being torn off. Blood and war and death, all of it beside this man here.
His…brother. The slow pulsing of his mind said, finally supplying him with the word. And not just his brother; his leader.
“Leviathan.”
He sucked in a breath, his eyes widening as more memories washed through him. Violence. So much violence. Shadows and blood, blood and shadows. And a boy with dark hair that looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky.
“I died.” The words huffed out of him in a breath ofdisbelief. And pain. “I died and…he’s alone.” He still couldn’t remember a name, a voice, but the thought was there. That he had left that precious boyalone.
“I can take you back to him, brother.” Lucifer murmured, squeezing his shoulder. “Your souls are linked and his is not yet extinguished. I can take you back, if you so wish it.”
He blinked slowly, as if he were focusing through tar. The river called to him again, drawing his attention.
The next life, it promised. It would not be a bad one. And the boy would be there with him…
“I am not supposed to return.” He whispered, meeting his brother’s eyes again. “Nobody is.”
“That is a choice you need to make, Leviathan.”
He hesitated, his mind working through sludge as he tried to call a name, a voice, a promise…
“Cullen.” Lucifer supplied gently. “His name is Cullen.”
The flood of memories came and this time they were sweet. Beloved. A warm touch of lips, a gentle brush of the fingers, words spoken in hushed, precious whispers that told him he was loved. Loved as most demons never had the chance, never craved. He himself had never craved it until he met the boy…
“Cullen.” He choked out, feeling warmth on his cheek. Wetness. There had been a time–many times–where he would have been ashamed to show such weakness in front of his brother. But Lucifer had never been one to judge such things.
“Cullen…” He repeated, his voice breaking. “He needs me…”
“But do you want to go back to him?”
“Yes.” He burst out, more tears slipping down. “Yes, brother. Please…”
Lucifer smiled and pulled him close and shadows wrapped them, taking them away from the river, that terrible river that had tried to take him away…
Home.He pleaded the shadows.Take me home.
