by Larissa Ione
“Thanatos,” Reaver gritted out, “more.”
Instantly, Thanatos was there, a dagger in his hand. In a motion so fast she saw only a blur, he sliced into his wrist and placed the laceration against Revenant’s mouth. Limos appeared next to her brother, her pregnant belly bumping up against Revenant as she touched her fingers to a single teardrop in the corner of her eye.
“I don’t know why I feel the need to do this,” she whispered, “but…” She pressed the tips of her wet fingers to Revenant’s forehead.
Tears of the hungry. Of Famine.
Reaver’s glow intensified, blinding Blaspheme with painful stabs of light. Eidolon and Shade shouted in agony, and then they were blown backward, and the stench of charred flesh filled the room. She heard a commotion, people calling for help, but she was frozen in place, unable to move, let alone see.
She must have blacked out, because a moment later, she felt hands lifting her off the ground.
“Wha… what happened?”
Reaver’s blurry face appeared in front of hers. “I warned you.”
“Revenant,” she gasped. “Is he —”
“I’m… here.” Revenant’s throaty voice rumbled through her like a long-overdue caress.
She wheeled around, nearly knocking herself over again as her wobbly legs tried to reorient themselves to the new vertical position. Revenant was lying on the table, his body covered only in a sheet up to his waist, and although he was bruised and looked exhausted, he was whole.
“Thank you, oh, gods, thank you.” Blaspheme threw herself on him, hugging him hard, as if he hadn’t just been pretty dead.
He threw an arm around her, holding her tight against his chest. “What… what happened?”
Reaver gripped Revenant’s hand and squeezed. “We won.”
“Awesome.”
Blaspheme straightened, afraid of hurting the ribs that only moments before had looked like a jigsaw puzzle. “You died. That’s not awesome.”
“But we imprisoned Satan for a thousand years,” Revenant said, his voice as torn up as his body had been.
Shade, his right arm wrapped in bandages, snorted. “Seriously. What did you guys do?”
Reaver frowned down at Revenant. “How did you know they’d be gone for that long? Prophecy?”
Everyone who had gathered outside the room filtered in, and suddenly the tiny space was packed with Horsemen, Seminus demons, and a couple of mates.
“The Pruosi tome.” Revenant swallowed. Winced as if his throat was sore. Blas had a feeling he’d be feeling the aches and pains of this battle for a while. “It’s kind of a recipe book. I combined a recipe for a brig and an abyss, and both have a shelf life of a thousand years.”
“So wait,” Eidolon said, wearing bandages that matched Shade’s. “You’re serious. You’re saying you locked Satan in a magical brig and tossed him into an abyss? Satan. For a thousand years?”
“And we locked him up with Raphael, Gethel, and Lucifer.”
Wraith, lounging against the doorjamb, whistled. “Dude, he’s gonna be pissed when he gets out.”
“We’ll worry about that in nine hundred and ninety-nine years,” Revenant said. He took Blaspheme’s hand and tugged her down onto the bed. “You didn’t perform your ceremony.”
“The blood went toward a better use,” she said. “And you’ll be happy to know that Thanatos willingly gave it to you. And more.” She smiled over at the pregnant Horseman. “And Limos gave you her tears.”
From near the doorway, Thanatos dipped his head in a slow, respectful nod. Limos rolled her eyes.
“What ceremony?” Wraith asked, and Eidolon used that opportunity to usher everyone out to give them some privacy.
When everyone was gone and Blaspheme was alone with Revenant, she allowed herself to relax. The tautness in his body melted away as well, and for a moment, they lay there in silence, reveling in the relief that the nightmare was over.
“I wish you’d told me what you had planned,” she finally said.
“You only would have worried more.”
“That’s not your call to make,” she said sternly. “Next time, you tell me. Got it?”
He chuckled. “The next time I imprison Satan inside a mystical box?”
“You know what I mean,” she ground out.
His arms closed even more tightly around her. “I know.”
Another comfortable silence wrapped around them, and she almost wished they could remain like this, with no immediate worries, no dealing with anything except recovering from wounds, physical and mental. But at some point they needed to discuss the future, and Blaspheme had spent too much time facing uncertainty to want to delay the talk they had to have.
“So,” she said softly. “What now?”
His hand sifted through her hair as she snuggled against his chest. “That depends, I guess.”
Her stomach clenched. “On what?”
“On if you can get past what I did to your father.”
She pushed up onto her elbow so she could look at him while she spoke. “My mother told me everything. You were right. He was a bastard. And even if he wasn’t, you weren’t… you. Your past doesn’t matter to me, Revenant.”
He grinned. “That settles it, then.”
“Settles what?”
“We’re getting mated.”
She nearly swallowed her tongue. “Ah… what?”
“You don’t have to say yes right away.” His expression turned serious. “But never doubt what I feel for you. I lost everything the day my mother died, including my soul. And when no one else saw the good in me, not even my brother, you did. You brought me back to life in more ways than one, Blaspheme, and I never want to be without that lifeline again.” His hand came up to cup her cheek. “I love you, and whether you say yes or no, that will never change.”
Tears stung her eyes. “I love you, too,” she said, her voice breaking with the force of her emotion. “You let me in when no one else could. Yes, I’ll mate you. I’ll so mate you.”
Sliding his hand around the nape of her neck, he drew her down for a kiss so full of promise that the tears let loose. “I want you. Here. Now.”
Through her tear-blurred vision, she saw the evidence of that pushing the sheet into a tent. “As your doctor, I would be remiss if I didn’t say you should rest and avoid sex.”
His eyes shot wide in horror. “For how long?”
With a sly smile, she burrowed her hand under the sheet. “Until I say otherwise.” Her palm found him, thick and hard. “For now, I promise you’re in good hands.”
He groaned. “Who am I to go against doctor’s orders?”
Smart male. And as his doctor, she was prepared to give him a lot of orders.
Thirty-Three
An hour after being released from the hospital, Revenant strolled along a deserted tropical beach, face raised to the heavens as he watched seabirds sail across the blue sky. He’d sent out a mental summons to Metatron, and while he hoped the archangel would show up, he’d learned to temper his hopes.
“Hello, Revenant.”
Rev almost smiled. Almost. He turned. “You finally deigned to see me, huh?”
Metatron’s silver-blue eyes flashed, matching the seizure-inducing, color-shifting robe that reached all the way to the leather sandals on his feet. “I would have responded to your other summons, but —”
“But you were busy,” Revenant said with a dismissive wave.
“But you weren’t ready,” Metatron corrected.
Revenant scowled. “Ready for what?”
“Everything that’s happened.” Metatron gazed out at the sunset, his face glowing as the sun’s golden rays kissed it.
Fucking archangels and their shimmery shit.
“What you and Reaver did… it was something no one else could have done. All of the angels in Heaven combined couldn’t have done that.”
Revenant snorted. “Yeah, well, it was dumb luck. Reaver and I shouldn’t have been ab
le to do what we did. We both should have died.”
Metatron turned back to him. “Did you ever wonder why your mother named you Revenant?”
Well, technically she’d named him the Sheoulic equivalent, which was unpronounceable to almost anyone with a tongue.
“I guess.” He’d wondered a lot. Mainly because she hadn’t given him an angel name.
“Mariel sometimes had clairvoyant episodes,” Metatron said softly. “I believe she foresaw your return from the dead, and she gave you a prophetic name to subconsciously guide you. To keep your soul on track to that destiny.”
As much as Rev would like to believe Uncle Met, he couldn’t see his mother putting that much thought into a fallen angel name when she hadn’t put any at all into an angelic one.
“Whatever, Obi-Wan,” he muttered. “What does my name have to do with Reaver and I locking Satan away?”
“It has a lot to do with it.” Metatron’s eerily intense gaze seemed to penetrate all the way to Rev’s brain, and he had to wonder if the mighty archangel could tap into all of Revenant’s shameful deeds. “You see, your mother was just as clairvoyant with your other name.”
For being an archangel, his uncle was kind of clueless. “I don’t have another name.”
“Of course you do. She smuggled it out of Sheoul, written in blood on the inside of Reaver’s swaddling cloth,” he said. “And I find it interesting that during your time in Sheoul you were often called The Destroyer, because that’s what your angelic name means.”
Revenant shook his head to clear it of whatever was affecting his hearing, because Metatron couldn’t have just said what he thought he’d said. But the archangel was looking at him expectantly, so maybe Rev had heard right.
“What name?” he croaked.
“Abaddon.” Metatron’s voice sang with resonance so powerful Rev felt it all the way to his marrow. “The dark angel destined to lock Satan away for a thousand years. You were the key, Revenant. When Satan finally breaks out of his prison, Reaver will break the Horsemen’s Seals, and the End of Days will kick off. But until then, you and Reaver have given the realms ten hundred years of peace, just as you were prophesied to do.”
“What?” He sounded like he was being strangled. “Prophesied? By who?”
Metatron stared. “Haven’t you ever read the Bible in any of its forms and translations? You and Reaver have been central to the Apocalypse since the first waters streamed into the Nile. The signs were there from the beginning. You two thick-skulled dopes just kept missing them. Honestly, there were many times I didn’t think either one of you would find your path.”
“That makes two of us,” Revenant muttered. “Wait… if this prophecy is biblical, Satan knew about it, right?”
“No doubt. He had a prophecy written into the Daemonica that countered it. That’s why your mother hid your name. The prophecy hadn’t been written at the time you were born, but again, she saw it coming. She couldn’t let your real name be leaked or Satan would have destroyed you. No one, not even the other archangels, knew. My mate and I were alone in that.”
Mind. Blown. But now so much made sense. All the hell he, his mother, and Reaver had gone through had been for a purpose.
Which didn’t make it any less sucky.
“Did you know my blood can’t be cleansed of Satan’s taint? Were you in on the bullshit deal Raphael and his cronies offered me?”
“I’m sorry about that, Revenant,” Metatron said. “I am aware that there’s no way to remove the taint while Satan is still alive, but I didn’t know about the deal. I didn’t know until after all of this was over that Raphael lied to you. The other archangels who tried to double-cross you will be dealt with. And screw it, you are welcome in Heaven whenever you want. On my word, you won’t be harassed by any archangel, and we’ll repair the damage you cause, even if it takes centuries.”
“Thanks,” Rev said, even though he didn’t intend to step foot in Heaven as long as his presence destroyed everything around him. His mother’s memory deserved better than that.
Metatron inclined his head in acknowledgment. “And Revenant, you do realize that Sheoul is yours.”
He snorted. “Uncle Met has a sense of humor.” He paused. “Oh, hold on… no you don’t. You’re serious?”
Metatron shrugged. “Satan is gone, and Lucifer’s soul is trapped with him. You are now the most powerful being in Sheoul. You can rule it as you see fit until the time comes when the trap containing Satan fails and Reaver breaks the Horsemen’s Seals.”
Revenant’s lungs seized up. He was hell’s new overlord? “I don’t… how…”
“It’s prophecy, straight from the Book of Revelation,” Metatron said. “And they had a king over them, which is the angel of the bottomless pit, whose name in the Hebrew tongue is Abaddon.” Metatron’s expression turned grave. “You can’t turn Sheoul into a haven for the good and holy, and you can’t eradicate demons. There must be a balance of good and evil in the universe, so Sheoul must continue on as a bastion of malevolence. But that doesn’t mean you can’t… temper it. You can alter existing laws, even if you can’t completely disavow them.”
Revenant’s mind, already blown from the earlier revelations, couldn’t fully comprehend what the archangel was saying. “Like?”
“Like the fact that when humans… or angels… die in Sheoul, their souls must remain in Sheoul for all eternity, to be tortured by any demon who wishes to do so.”
“I can release the souls?”
“If you desire.”
Revenant practically trembled with that desire. How many tormented souls could he free? Including his mother’s and father’s. Reseph’s baby sister’s. So many souls could finally find peace.
“Being Sheoul’s big boss is going to take a lot of time,” Revenant pointed out. “And I already have a job.”
And why in the hell was he arguing, when all along he’d been scheming to take a position of power in Sheoul? Metatron was offering the position of power, and here Revenant was waffling like an idiot.
“With the Daemonica’s apocalyptic prophecy completely out of play, the Horsemen no longer need Watchers. Only Reaver can break their Seals now. You’re released from your duty, as is Harvester.”
Holy shit. “What about Blaspheme? She’s a vyrm —”
Metatron laughed. “She’s not a vyrm. She’s an angel.” While Rev stood there in stunned silence, the archangel continued. “Her mother… what name is she going by now?”
“Deva. Ah… Devastation.”
“Huh.” Metatron nodded in approval. “Good name. Anyway, she maintained the relationship with Blaspheme’s father after Devastation fell, which is why they believed Blaspheme was vyrm. But Blaspheme was conceived the day before her mother lost her wings.”
Revenant inhaled sharply. “So she was conceived by two angels, not one angel and a fallen.”
“Exactly. And your children will also be full angels. They will be welcomed… nay, embraced… in Heaven.”
Children. By all that was holy and unholy, Revenant never thought he’d go there. When he’d believed he was a fallen angel, some bone-deep instinct warned him to be careful, to not bring a child into the world. But now… now he had a future, and his children would grow up safe and with parents that loved them.
Still… “Vyrm persecution has to stop,” he said. “I saw the hell Blaspheme went through. All vyrm will be welcome in Sheoul.”
“Then we’ll honor that,” Metatron swore. “From this day forth, no vyrm will be hunted. But if any show signs of angelicidal tendencies, we will act.”
That was fair. “Agreed.” Revenant stuck out his hand, but Metatron merely stared. And then, in a move that shocked the shit out of Revenant, Metatron engulfed him in an embrace.
“My nephew,” he murmured. “How I’ve longed for this day. I saw it coming since the day the heavens were formed, but there were times when my vision grew so murky I feared the prophecies had changed.” He drew back, and Rev reeled a
t the emotion flashing in his uncle’s eyes. “Welcome home, Revenant. Welcome home.”
It was nothing less than an ambush.
Revenant and Reaver, working as a team, flanked Reseph as the Horseman reined his white stallion, Conquest, to a halt on the Oregon beach. The steed snorted and snapped at both Rev and Reaver, who stood just out of the beast’s reach.
“’Sup?” Reseph swung down from the saddle, clad in only a pair of swim trunks. The guy wore as few clothes as possible, and Rev swore he was naked more often than not. “I was just exercising the big guy before the barbecue.”
The barbecue at Reseph and Jillian’s Colorado hideaway was already in full swing, but Reseph knew that. According to Reaver, sometimes when the entire family was together, the Horseman needed to get away for a little while, to try to outrun the memories of what he’d done to his siblings when his Seal had broken and he’d become the evil demon known as Pestilence.
“I have something for you,” Revenant said.
“For me?” The blond Horseman eyed Revenant suspiciously. “What would that be?”
“Open a gate to your sister’s grave.”
Reseph’s eyes flared before narrowing. “Ariya? Why?”
“Trust me.” It was a bold thing to ask, given their history, but Revenant had always been a risk taker.
Reseph hesitated, the tense silence broken only by the sound of crashing waves and a few seagulls calling out from overhead. Finally, he looked to Reaver, who nodded. “Okay, but if this is a trick, I swear I’ll find a way to destroy you.”
“Noted.”
The Horseman called out to his stallion. “Conquest, to me.”
The beast whinnied before dissolving into a spiral of smoke. The tendril of vapor writhed as it fused with Reseph’s forearm until it settled into his skin as a tattoo-like glyph in the shape of a horse. No doubt not wanting to take any chances, Reseph armored up with a flick of his finger over the crescent scar on his throat. Instantly, shiny metal plates folded over him from out of nowhere like a damned Transformer.