Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE
ABADDON
I am angry that my brothers have driven Hannah-consort from the room. I want her back. I want to roar at her to return. Or better yet, chase her to her bedroom, tie her to the bed, and feed her the last bits of food from the tip of my claw.
She does not even look back at me as she leaves.
The fury that burns low in my belly feels like hellfire, not that of the angels. But for once in my damned life, I manage to stay still.
I swallow my rage. For as much of a fool as I am beginning to realize that I am, I do see this: I am pushing her away even as I aim to draw her near.
But the fury bubbles nearer the surface because I do not know how to change it.
I am a monster. I was built to conquer through destruction, pestilence, and death. I am a despicable creature. There is no solace to be found in my arms, and yet I cannot—will not—give her up.
Even as I watch her walk away from me.
As soon as her footsteps fade on the stairs, I turn my attention to my brothers. On them, at least, I don’t have to hold back.
“You,” I snap at Remus, pointing a clawed finger at his smirking face. “Give me your twin. Now. I need Romulus to scry.”
Fire flashes in Remus’s eyes. He’s always hated relinquishing control, but I don’t have time for his ego.
“Do you want to lose her?” I demand. “Hannah encountered someone the day she left the dungeon. A man who gave her clothing and took her into his cottage.”
Remus shrugs with infuriating casualness. “So?”
I surge toward him, barely restraining myself from wrapping my hands around his throat.
“Thing razed the nearest village two centuries ago. I’ve maintained a hundred-mile perimeter ever since, giving plague to anyone who dared come close.
There should be no one out there. No cottage, no hermit, no place to run. ”
“Maybe you’ve gotten lazy,” Remus taunts.
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you—I haven’t.” My voice drops to a dangerous growl. “Which is why I need your twin to scry and find out what the hell is going on.”
For a moment, Remus’s jaw works like he’s chewing on something bitter. Then his eyes roll back, his face goes blank, and his head performs that sickening one-eighty turn that never fails to disturb me.
Romulus blinks awake, immediately accessing their shared memories with that creepy upward eye movement that makes my skin crawl.
“Lovely to finally have you join us,” I say once he’s oriented. “Now call the angel runes.”
Romulus stretches, reacquainting himself with control of their body. “I haven’t scried in over two centuries, brother.”
“It’s like riding a bike; it’ll come back to you.” I clap him on the shoulder, then squeeze. “Hannah was right about one thing. We’ve all been rotting down there too long. Time to live again. Which means being ready for whatever threats might be coming for what’s ours.”
Romulus pulls away with that calculating look he’s perfected over the millennia. “Don’t pretend this is for our collective good. You’re being predictable again—taking the path that serves your desires. Just like always.”
The accusation stings because it’s partially true, but before I can respond, he claps me on the back. “But your predictability is oddly comforting, brother. And yes, if there’s something out there that might threaten what we now have to protect, we need to be ready.”
We move to the open half of the hall, giving Romulus space to spread his magnificent wings. His tail lashes as he begins chanting in the bell-like angelic language that few of us bothered to learn.
Watching him work brings back memories of the day Father created the twins. Each experiment had been more disastrous than the last, but Father’s ambition wouldn’t be denied. When he first saw Romulus emerge from the creation basin—beautiful, winged, perfect—he laughed with pure joy.
Then their head spun, revealing Remus, and Father’s joy turned to rage. The first thing my brother experienced in this world was being beaten for the crime of existing.
Father’s “gift” to them was the spirit of War—eternal conflict for control of a single body, bringing spite and enmity wherever they went.
It hasn’t been easy for any of us. But watching Romulus now, I feel something I haven’t experienced in centuries: shame for my own role in their suffering.
I’m the eldest. In this cold universe, if not each other, who else do we have? I should have protected them instead of believing Father’s lies about strength and weakness.
Wind begins to whip around Romulus, white-blue runes appearing between his outstretched hands. They glow brighter, cutting through realms—
Then his eyes widen in shock.
The blast sends him flying backward like he’s been shot from a cannon. The dining table explodes into kindling as he crashes through it, runes disappearing as quickly as they came.
Thing reaches him first, helping clear wood chips from his feathers. “Brother!”
“What the hell was that?” I demand.
Romulus struggles to his feet, eyes wide and unfocused. “An angel,” he whispers.
“Impossible.” My blood turns to ice. “They retreated behind the gates millennia ago.”
“Obviously not all of them,” Romulus snaps, more ruffled than I’ve ever seen him. “We never should have become so complacent.”
The challenge in his words ignites my fury. “None of us knew we’d ever have something worth protecting!”
Until her. Until the possibility of a future growing in her belly.
For so long, I’ve existed out of stubborn habit rather than any real desire to live. But now... now everything has changed.
“What did you see?” I grab his shoulders, desperation creeping into my voice. “Tell me!”
This feels like history repeating itself. Father’s consort had been a brief light in our darkness before being snuffed out like a candle flame. I won’t let the same happen to Hannah.
Before Romulus can answer, his eyes go blank and his head spins. Remus grins at me with manic glee. “Trouble in paradise, brother?”
I toss him away with more restraint than he deserves. “Bring your twin back. I have questions.”
“We share memories, genius.” Remus accesses their shared consciousness, eyes widening. “Holy shit. An angel, huh? One of those bastards escaped the pearly gates?”
“What did it want?” The question comes out sharper than intended.
Remus picks wood splinters from his shirt with infuriating calm. “How should I know? Romulus didn’t get a good look before the motherfucker blasted him with angelfire. But it was already looking our way—this wasn’t accidental. And it was shielding itself. Rom’s rusty, wasn’t careful enough.”
My worst fear crystallizes. “It already knew about us?”
“Obviously.” Remus laughs. “Your scent was all over Hannah that day. Any worthy adversary would have taken her as leverage.”
A growl builds in my chest at the thought. “She’s not to be left alone. Ever.”
“I volunteer for first watch,” Remus offers with that predatory grin.
My growl becomes a roar. “Touch her and I’ll rip your throat out.”
He leans closer, teeth bared in challenge. “I’d love to see you try.”
“Stop being fools!” Thing rises to his full imposing height. “Must stop fighting each other if threat to Hannah-consort is real.”
“Oh, it’s real,” Remus confirms. “That angel-fire knocked me across the room, and energy manipulation through scrying is usually minimal. I’d hate to meet this bastard in person.”
The implications hit me like a physical blow. Angels abandoned this world when Father began his experiments, which is why he thought stealing their fire would make him unstoppable. If one is back now, when I finally have something to lose...
“I’ll watch my consort myself,” I declare. “Thing can take shifts when I sleep. No one rests until we know more.” I pin Remus with a glare. “When Romulus returns, tell him to practice warding until he can scry without getting his ass handed to him.”
I storm from the room, purpose driving every step. Hannah might think she can hide in the kitchen, but until we know what we’re facing, she’s not leaving my sight.
Not when I’ve just found something worth protecting with my life.