Chapter Thirty-Nine Charlotte #2
I snort, suddenly all too aware of the fullness in my belly. “Don’t I know it.”
Imani leans forward. “I can’t tell you much about the time I spent in Hell because now that I’ve been resurrected into a new body, it’s a blur to me.
But I do remember the day Lucifer came to see me again.
” She looks me directly in the eye. “He said he’d come to collect his due, that he needed a soul, someone to help him craft a new image. ”
I shake my head.
“And why did you—”
“Agree?” She scoots forward. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. I’m sure you know by now that he and the other Originals weren’t always locked away. Their rebellion against God didn’t reach a true defeat until Christ’s crucifixion.”
“Lucifer never mentioned it, but I always sort of assumed, since . . .”
“‘Now is the judgment of this world; now will the ruler of this world be cast out,’” we recite together. John 12:31.
My pulse picks up.
“Even then, there were cracks, loopholes. Lucifer built Hell. It’s his domain.
God was never going to be able to keep him locked away there.
There were ways for him and the others to break through, but never for long.
Then when Gabriel came and delivered the news about God’s redemption, suddenly the Originals learned what they needed to open the gates of Hell permanently. ”
I lift a brow.
“A single human soul. That’s all that was needed to get through.”
My breath comes out in one fell swoop.
“And Lucifer chose you,” I say. “The same way he chose me.”
She nods. “He thought I could help him win his Father’s redemption, even if it technically was only offered to his siblings. That my skills would buy him influence.”
I snort. “He wasn’t wrong.”
Imani is so good at her job, it’s terrifying.
Lucifer’s mystery, his brand, the mystique. It’s all thanks to her.
“No, he wasn’t. He hardly ever is.”
“So, resurrection must be the only way to permeate a celestial barrier, if you’re not of that realm, considering what Lucifer’s trying to do with his powers now.”
Imani nods, her eyes distant. “From my understanding, before the gates of Hell opened, moving between planes wasn’t simple. You needed a prophet to raise someone from the dead, a new body, and then someone with wings to carry them.”
“And the person who carried you was . . .”
“Gabriel. On God’s decree.” She meets my gaze. “But with the gates permanently open, Lucifer and his siblings can walk between Hell and Earth, and the angels can descend from Heaven, but . . .”
“Only Azrael and I can walk between all three.”
She gives a curt nod. “I’m loyal to Lucifer, because he gave me a second chance. The kind of second chance God never gave me.”
“So why tell me all this? Why now?”
“Information is currency, and I don’t know whether my story will be any value to you, but I saw you in that meeting the other day. You’re starting to make your own moves. Your own plays.”
She’s right.
I’m becoming an immortal power player.
Independent from Lucifer.
I reach across the space between us, taking her hand. “Thank you for telling me.”
“There’s one more thing you should know.” She squeezes my hand before we both lean back with our coffee.
“And what’s that?”
Imani shrugs. “His feud with Mario Prada is because of me.”
I throw back my head and laugh, completely relieved it wasn’t something more serious.
“Why did you pick my résumé out of that pile? Was it because of Lilith?” I take another generous sip. “And where does the modeling come in?”
Imani snorts. “The modeling background was just a cover, to create a plausible backstory for how I came to work for Lucifer. It was his idea. Just like his plan to focus Apollyon on luxury goods. You know it’s his thing.
As for the résumé, yours was as good as any, and I thought there might be a few similarities between you and me.
Someone fiery under all the people pleasing. ”
“Not as many as I’d like there to be.” I smile, and she returns it, beaming.
“I’m only going to say this once, girl, but I’m so damn proud of you.”
My eyes fill with tears as I lean forward and pull her in for a fierce hug.
We both retreat from the embrace, teary eyed, and for once she’s the one who glances at me uncertainly. “Does this change anything?”
“Not a chance. If anything, it only makes me love you more.”
She and I are alike in so many ways, our stories so similar. A young girl taken advantage of by those around her, forced to make impossible decisions before she was ready.
Forced to become what biblical tales warn of in order to survive.
We sit in silence for a few moments, the weight of everything we’ve said settling.
“I’m not ready to hear about what this means for the world yet.”
She winces. “It’s about what you’d expect.”
“And the rest?”
“I’ve got your couture ‘resurrection’ for Fashion Week well in hand.” She winks.
“And my image?” I shake my head. “God, that seems so trivial now, but you know I need for things to go well, so that none of the other Originals try to—”
“It’s not as bad as you think.” She whips out her phone and turns it toward me. The first image I see is the little girl I saved.
A pang of guilt twinges through me.
I haven’t so much as thought about her since.
“Her name’s Lily Parker. She’s five, and she says you saved her.” Imani passes me her phone, and I stare at the headline. At the image of the little girl—Lily—reunited with her mother.
New York City’s Guardian Angel.
“But she was just one—”
“You know as well as I do that small acts of kindness can make a big difference when it comes to PR.”
I swipe at a few tears that have managed to break free, and Imani smiles at me.
“I see who you are, Charlotte. I’ve seen who you are from the very beginning, and if you’re brave enough, I think that despite all this apocalypse nonsense, despite being engaged to Lucifer, the world is going to see it, too, if you let them.”
She squeezes my hand, but I’m no longer capable of saying anything. For the first time in a long time, I feel proud of who I am, of the woman I’m becoming, and the shame I was raised with feels like nothing more than a distant memory.