Chapter Nineteen Charlotte
Chapter Nineteen
Charlotte
The scream that tears from my throat is barely human.
But the little girl in my arms is counting on me.
I keep one eye on the water, desperate for Lucifer to resurface as I shimmy closer to safety. We’re near the sturdier trunk of the tree now, and the rapid waters are starting to deplete, making gravity our newest enemy, until suddenly a familiar pair of hands grab me.
Azrael.
I cling tight to the little girl, pulling her into my chest as we’re both flung inside the ether.
When we come out the other side, I land with a wet smack on the penthouse’s marble floor, coughing and sputtering, the crying girl still clutched in my arms.
I double over, holding her to me. “Shhh. It’s okay. It’s okay.” I look toward Death, eyes pleading. “Lucifer.”
“I’m on it.” He’s gone again in a blink.
The warmth of the penthouse’s heaters seeps into us, the sudden change in temperature barely registering. I’m still shivering from all that freezing water.
The little girl lets out a strangled sob, her arms around my neck tightening as I pull her closer. “Shhh. Shh. It’s okay. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”
Though I can’t say the same for her mother.
Oh God. Oh God.
What terror did I just wreak on this city?
I rock the little girl back and forth in my arms, holding on to her almost as desperately as she does to me. “Shhh. Shhh. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”
Those seem to be the only words I’m capable of saying.
The same ones I’d always wished had been said to me.
We sit like that for minutes that feel like hours, her small, trembling body wrapped around mine. I’m only vaguely aware of one of the penthouse’s staff putting a thermal blanket around our shoulders.
And the other people.
The penthouse is full of them.
Humans. Survivors.
Terrorized by what they’ve just seen.
The third seal was even bigger than the others. More catastrophic.
I have no doubt New York City wasn’t the only place that trembled from God’s divine fury.
Azrael returns a few minutes later, his back to us, and my heart stops as I watch him lay out a long, dark body on the penthouse’s floor.
Bile rises inside my throat.
No. No. It can’t be . . .
And then that version of him is gone again.
“Mommy?” The little girl pulls away from me just as the supine woman coughs and sputters. Her daughter runs toward her.
Several of the staff and a few of the survivors, who clearly have medical training, rush to their sides as I bow my head in relief.
That’s one small win at least.
But Lucifer is still nowhere to be seen.
I rise to my feet, my legs wooden and unsteady. As if I’m standing outside of my own body. My eyes comb over the survivors. Their injuries. Their wounds. Those who are stricken with grief and mourning for the loved ones they lost.
So many people. So many people.
But what choice did I have?
What choice did God give me?
It’s this or allow even more to suffer.
It’s this or the end of everything.
Where is He?
I stumble through the first floor of the penthouse, the survivors parting in shock as soon as they spot me—I’m more of a myth to them than anything else now—until I find my face pressed against the freezing glass of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The waters over Madison Avenue have receded mostly.
But the chaos, the destruction and devastation, still lie in their wake.
Wet, watery debris lines the streets, and everywhere I look, cars, taxis, and dumpsters are overturned, their contents scattered about the city. Several nearby parking meters are bent and bowed all the way to the ground from the wave’s force. And the people . . .
Oh God, the people.
Already they’re turning on one another.
Desperate to survive the societal collapse we all know is coming.
Looters and criminals and others are out on the street, hastily making their way among the shattered glass and the dead.
A plump hand squeezes my shoulder.
I turn, only to find Greed staring back at me, her normally smug expression so solemn it’s almost . . . regretful.
And yet, she and the other Originals are completely unscathed.
My anger, my frustration at the injustice of it all, is immediate. This whole situation, the unfairness of how humanity’s been forced to suffer at the hands of these uncaring immortals, these out-of-touch billionaires, for so long, all in the name of God’s will, just pours out of me.
My power comes rushing back on a tide of vengeance.
A lot like the wave that just decimated our city.
Without warning, I lash out, an unexpected blast of Holy Fire bursting from my hands. It instantly singes the broken Schiaparelli Greed’s wearing.
I’ve never conjured anything like it.
“You angelic bitch!” Mimi stumbles back, glancing down at her now exposed body.
She’s nearly as stunned as I am.
Every eye in the penthouse turns toward us.
“Where were you?”
“I don’t remotely know what you’re—”
“Where. Were. You?” I snarl, the fire in my hands blazing.
Greed’s eyes narrow. “For your information, I was trailing Uriel, who—”
But I silence her with the single lift of my burning hand, my fear, my grief for humanity, for Lucifer, compounding until I’m practically glowing with the force of it.
“How could you?” I ask, my voice seeming to echo from everywhere.
My entire body glows like an angelic halo—though I’ve never actually seen any of the real angels I know with a halo—and the foundation of the penthouse starts to tremble as I stride toward Greed. “How could you leave him when you were supposed to be—”
“Charlotte!”
The familiar reprimand stills me.
Instantly makes me regret what I was doing.
I turn just in time to find Lucifer stumbling from the crowd, his arm slung over Azrael’s shoulder. He’s balanced on one leg like he can’t stand on his own.
All the fight rushes out of me.
My fire’s glow dims.
He’s pale and wet, his dress shirt completely soaked through with water and blood that doesn’t appear to be his. His pant leg is torn. It looks like he’s injured his leg, and one of his thighs is bleeding. Several small cuts and bruises mar his cheekbones, but he’s alive. He’s still breathing.
My heart races.
The next thing I know, I’m wrapped in his arms, crying into his chest as he staggers from where I’ve just thrown myself at him. He manages to keep hold of me as I start to let out all the grief and sorrow I’ve been choking back.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten angry like that. I’m—”
“It’s all right, darling.”
All those people. All those people.
“Why?” I whisper to him a few moments later, barely able to speak around the emotions that grip me. “Why would He do this to His own children?”
Lucifer tenses beneath me.
His grip on me tightens as I bury my face into him.
But he doesn’t say anything.
He just holds me.
And for once, I’m certain he feels it too.
Humanity’s pain. Their anguish.
The one thing that connects him and me . . .
The scars we both carry. Made in the name of an angry God.
One whose love has all too often been used like a weapon by the very people who claim to live for Him.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m vaguely aware of the survivors, all the humans around us, watching, until Ramesh and some of the other staff begin to usher them into the penthouse’s gymnasium to be clothed and fed and sheltered until emergency services can arrive.
There’s not nearly enough of them to serve the entire city.
My chest tightens.
Finally, when we’re alone—Lucifer, me, and Azrael—save for a few of the staff who pass through occasionally, I pull back, gazing up at my devilish future husband.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again.
Lucifer’s expression softens. “Whatever for, little dove?”
I meet his eyes. “For everything He did to you.”
Lucifer wets his lips before he glances away.
He nods slowly.
Gently, he cups my cheek, pulling me into him until he kisses me.
It’s soft at first, not like him, but still confident.
Steady. Sure.
A lot like someone else I know.
His kiss deepens, his tongue overpowering mine as his hold on me becomes darker, hungrier, more like the fallen angel I fell in love with initially.
I’m so lost in the destructive pull of it all, in each stroke of his tongue, and the overwhelming devotion I feel for him, that the new feeling of fullness low in my belly tightens with need.
I’m his completely.
With or without my collar.
When we both resurface, I gaze up at him, my pulse racing, certainty expanding inside my chest at the understanding that’s just formed between him and me.
All this time I’ve been looking at him the wrong way. Hoping that maybe someday he would change for me. Learn to love humanity as I do. Or at least, believe they deserve to be saved. But there’s no such thing as good and evil in celestial battles. No singular villain.
Immortality exists within the shades of gray.
And if there is one villain?
Well, maybe the only one who’s been standing in the way of Lucifer defeating Him is me.
I grip both of Lucifer’s hands, shaking with regret at how angry I feel as I lean into my devil. “I think I may need to go and see my father again soon.”