“She isn’t a traitor,” Nadia snapped. “She’s a kind soul.”
“You know not what she did, hybrid.”
“I know you’re a dick, so I’m siding with her just because.”
His arctic gaze chilled her.
“I mean, I don’t know you all that well,” she hedged, hoping her death would be clean and he wouldn’t torture her as he’d done with Luc and Gabriel. “You might be nice, deep down, where it counts. Try therapy. I’ve heard it helps curb aggression,” she added.
Beside her, Thamiel choked, coughing to cover up his reaction. Some of the coldness left Michael’s eyes, and if she didn’t know better, she’d say she amused him.
“Come, Triscelene. You are to be presented to the Creator.” He tucked one sword away and swept his arm for her to pass him.
“Mind if I follow? If I’m going to have my head chopped off, I want to see it coming.”
“Go!” he bellowed.
Dust fell from the ceiling as the walls shook around them. Fearing a cave-in, Nadia bolted. She didn’t need to be told twice.
29
Walking through the corridors to the main receiving hall felt strange after so many centuries away. It seemed as if the last time Luc had been in this place, under these same circumstances, it was a dream. Yet, the faded memory returned to him in a kaleidoscope of images. Each snippet morphed into the other, creating a never-ending barrage.
Would he have defied the Creator had he known what awaited him? The hate, the bitterness, the atrocities done in his name? The isolation and loneliness?
And he had been lonely. He’d missed the easy camaraderie he’d had with his brothers and sisters. Missed being the golden son whom Father had loved most. Mother’s Morningstar. The child who had been the model for all others created after him, but with one fatal flaw—rebelliousness—smoothed out.
He’d been rotting in a too-white gilded cage for the better part of five earthly hours, and he was beyond ready to have this situation resolved. If only to have color back in his life.
And Nadia, the most colorful of all, surpassing his first love, Anida, in all ways.
He hadn’t thought of her in years, but it stood to reason she’d come to mind, considering the last time he faced judgment was over a forbidden relationship. If he opened himself up to the memories, he’d have to admit there were times when Nadia reminded him of her. Could their similar fighting spirits be part of the reason for his current attraction?
Perhaps. But Nadia’s humanity created the difference. Where Anida had been spoiled and selfish, uncaring of the chaos she’d caused, Nadia was unassuming and kind, seeking the comfort of others over hers.
Having led the way, Raphael halted their procession just outside the jewel-encrusted doors to the main chamber. The pattern of time was threaded through the wood’s grain of the panels. Each knot indicated a major world change. The largest indicated another cataclysmic event yet to come.
Soon, if he wasn’t mistaken.
Luc frowned.
What could possibly be so life-altering as to create this massive, ever-growing mark on the wood? His surrender?
Doubtful.
The doors swung inward and, as he spotted the Creator on the throne across the distance, nerves ate his guts. If an angel could have sweated profusely, Lucifer would have been standing in a puddle. Pasting on his trademark mocking smile, he sauntered into the room.
When Father held up his staff, Luc halted. His bow was anything but deferential. The lesser angels stepped back, their gazes ping-ponging back and forth between them. None wanted to miss the showdown, but neither did they want to be caught in the crossfire should Lucifer battle for freedom.
Fools.
He wasn’t here to fight. He was here to bargain for Nadia’s life.
“Lucifer.” God’s voice commanded attention.
“Father.”
The Creator’s lip curled, and displeasure showed in his eyes.
