I looked at him, then looked away, if only to be respectful. He was clearly uncomfortable, doing his best to inspect the skyline—even if it meant counting every window on the neighboring skyscraper.
I gestured to him. “He loves his kingdom. He loves Heaven. He loves his abusive King. Even now, when he’s trying to choose something else. And…I get it. I don’t think it’s right to push him.”
Azrames’s easy air took on a solemnity as he stared me down. He spoke of Silas as if he weren’t there when he asked, “Is this why you’re so protective of the goddamn angel? Trauma bonding?”
Goddamned was right.
I looked away, facing the slopes, the peaks, the shiny steel, the reflective windows of the New York skyline. Below would be eight million unsuspecting citizens sleeping soundly, some waking up to start the day, some ending their nights stumbling up and down the sidewalks, scrolling on their phones, eating their bodega breakfast sandwiches, singing, fucking, crying, none knowing that there was anything beyond their deeply human moments. Nearly ten billion people filled the world, little more than the apex species of the fleshiest realm. Our lives, our consciousness, our actions hung in the balance of a war we didn’t even know was happening.
I understood why my allegiances were under more scrutiny than ever.
I wasn’t a catalyst for uprising because I was smart, or skilled, or special. I was merely someone whose life had intersected with a demon—someone whose career had been shoved into a prophetic line. Thousands of years prior, a dying, desperate, deeply human version of me had asked Caliban not to leave me in my final moments, and he hadn’t. That was the only thing that separated me from Kirby, or Priscilla, or anyone living their lives, hugging their families, slurping down ramen, driving their cars, and ignoring the world behind the veil.
“Maybe I’m not the antichrist you want,” I said to Azrames seriously. I waited for the words to cool before I breathed, “But I’m what you get.”
Azrames understood. He frowned at Silas, perhaps less than thrilled to be leaving us under an angel’s care while he took care of something.
“Where’s he going?” Nia asked.
I looked into the blank space where he’d sat only moments before. “I assume he needs to check on Betty.”
“Betty?” she prompted.
It took me a while to admit, “Yes. He has the biggest heart. And having him on my team is worlds better than I deserve.”
“He’s a good man,” Nia agreed, and I loved that she saw that in him, despite scarcely knowing him. She’d overcome her prejudice against demons in record time to see Az at his core. “But you’re wrong.”
I frowned. “Wrong about what?”
“You love to talk down on yourself, and then those lies you tell yourself become your reality,” she said. “You do deserve someone good. Friends, chosen family, witches, gods, angels, demons—you deserve someone great. And from the looks of it…well, you’ve got it.”
