Chapter Forty-Eight Charlotte
Chapter Forty-Eight
Charlotte
My fingers dig into my palms from all my pent-up anger at both of them, but I shake my head, brushing past them easily.
If they’re allowed to make unilateral decisions about whether I live or die, about whether I’m allowed to sacrifice myself to save all of humanity, then at least I can decide for myself that I want to pay my father a visit.
I prowl forward.
The interior of the meat locker is as cold as it was last time, the scent of blood and the smell of rotten flesh lingering.
I struggle not to gag, thankful that my morning sickness isn’t acting up, other than for that dizzying prophecy, but the smell still gets to me.
I’m pretty sure I’m far enough along I’m starting to get past the worst of the nausea, but I’m still not certain how I’m going to tell Lucifer and Azrael.
Especially not after this.
Not after they both took my choice away from me.
I glance in their direction.
Azrael crosses his arms over his chest, standing guard by the door like if I decide to run, he’ll be there to catch me, though I’d just as soon use my powers to plow him over, like he’s done to me so many times in training, and Lucifer—my gaze snags on my fiancé, and I nearly scream—fucking Lucifer leans against one of the refrigerators, looking like he’s just as irate about this whole situation as me.
How dare he.
How dare he make decisions about my life for me. When I hadn’t asked him to.
I know him better by now than to assume he’d sacrifice me to win some war against his Father—if he didn’t love me, he wouldn’t have given up his redemption for me in the first place—which means he must have had some other reason.
For making me think I could win this apocalyptic battle, could save humanity, when the whole time he was keeping the one damn blue chip that could save all of humanity from me.
He doesn’t want to lose me. Isn’t sure he could live without me.
But that doesn’t lessen the sting of what he kept from me.
It’s like fate and free will have finally converged, and both paths have led here.
To this moment.
I face my father.
As far as I know, this dingy, disgusting meat locker that looks like it’s straight out of a horror movie isn’t Hell’s worst accommodations, but it’s not ideal either, and I’m pretty sure Lucifer chose it with a clear purpose in mind.
For the drains.
Torturing hypocrites is one of his favorite things, and sometimes when he comes home, he can be a bit . . . messy.
Just like I’m about to get.
I’m finally furious enough to put an end to this whole thing.
Let out everything I’ve previously been holding in.
No matter how sinful it makes me.
I step forward, standing confidently in front of my father much faster than I did the last time, and the steady, self-assured way I’m able to hold his gaze sends an unexpected shock of fear through me.
Something’s changed since our last visit.
But I haven’t quite put my finger on what it is yet.
My father lifts his head, looking at me wearily, clearly disgusted by everything he was just forced to overhear. But I don’t care.
I no longer give a damn what he and his followers have to say about me.
Imani’s right.
People will see me for who I am if I let them.
And if they don’t?
Then they were never really looking.
I’ve wasted enough of my life trying to be palatable.
I’m going to start living for myself now.
Everyone else already is.
His lip curls. “‘And behold, there met him a woman with the attire of a harlot, and subtil of heart,’” my sperm donor rasps, his gaze sweeping over me.
“That’s a misquote, actually,” Lucifer murmurs.
I cast him a furious look, and he stops talking.
I’m learning all sorts of new things about my husband tonight.
Including that he’s memorized more parts of the Bible than I have.
“I make it a habit to study my enemies,” he offers, clearly having read my thoughts through our connection. I haven’t been very good about safeguarding them lately.
I’m going to have to change that.
Azrael huffs like he doesn’t believe him.
I just shake my head, my mouth pinched as I turn back to my father, claiming the space I need. The two of them are here as more of a courtesy than anything. I don’t need either of them to catch me if I fall anymore.
I’m going to be my own safety.
This time, I’m ready.
I’m certain of it.
“You’re right,” I say to my father, shocking all three of them.
My lovers grumble in disapproval.
They may call me worse in the middle of a scene, but never outside of it.
And they’ve been trying to rid me of my shame and self-loathing from the start.
I nod, starting again. “You’re right, I am a shameless whore. But I’m his whore.” I nod toward Lucifer. “And also, his.” I shoot an irate look to Azrael.
He could have told me himself about his and Lucifer’s deal, but he didn’t.
“And nothing you could do or say is going to take that away from me.” I lift my chin high. “I’m not scared of you anymore.”
I summon a bit of Holy Fire into one of my palms to prove my point, and my father stiffens. The sight of his fear galvanizes me.
“I’m more angelic than you’ll ever be.”
My first question comes easy.
“Who among the Righteous’s leadership made the deal with Michael?”
I think of Lucifer, of how, whatever his reason, he broke his promise to me, of all the transparency I thought that he was giving me.
“‘For such men are false apostles, deceitful workmen, disguising themselves as apostles of Christ.’” My father’s voice drips with self-righteous venom. “‘And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.’”
“2 Corinthians,” Lucifer mutters without looking up. “You really are obsessed with my greatest hits.”
“And me.” I shake my head. “What exactly is it that the Righteous are working toward? What’s your endgame?”
I think of Azrael, of how he came barreling back into mine and Lucifer’s life like the force of nature he is, upending everything, only to make me fall in love with him, while the whole time he was keeping Lucifer’s secrets from me.
My chest aches.
“Did you target Jax specifically, or was it because she was my friend? And how did you get Ian on board? I know he really was the one who drugged Jax at Lust’s club, so was he just a creep, or was he one of you all from the start?”
“‘Woe to those who call evil good and good evil,’” my father hisses, straining against his restraints, “‘who put darkness for light and light for darkness—who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter!’”
I think of Jax, of the terrified look on her face when she thought Lilith was coming for her. We need to get to her, fast.
“What about the bombs at the Met Gala? Were those just so Mark could kidnap me, or were you planning something bigger? Why couldn’t you just let me live?”
My father leans forward, eyes wild. “‘They will throw their silver into the streets, and their gold will be treated as unclean. Their silver and gold will not be able to deliver them on the day of the wrath of the Lord—’”
“Ezekiel 7:19,” I snap, showing him I didn’t forget everything, just the parts that are no longer relevant to me, to allowing myself to live. “And you still believe Michael’s silver will buy your way into Heaven?”
The silence that follows is bitter enough to curdle blood.
And then I think of him, the monster before me.
Of how he taught me to abandon myself, become smaller.
“I just can’t understand why you’re obsessed with—”
“It was never about you!” he spits. “You think Michael came to us? We went to him. Long before the first seal cracked. We saw the signs. The chaos rising. The world slipping. We made the deal years ago, long before you ever whored yourself to Hell. We arranged everything. The club. The drugs. Ian was one of ours from the start. The gala was a smokescreen, meant to draw your fire. While you were busy protecting yourself, we delivered the prophet straight into the hands of the Most High.”
My stomach clenches.
“Why?” I breathe. “Why would you target my friend all because I didn’t believe in your twisted doctrine?”
My father shakes his head, like he doesn’t believe I still don’t get it. “You were never the prize.” His pale lips curl into a disgusting grin. “She is. She is the key to the fourth seal, and thanks to Michael, her death will be our Rapture.”
Her death . . .
I stand there, frozen in shock as the weight of my father’s words sinks into me.
As I recognize the full extent of everything he’s done.
It was never about me.
I was just a distraction, collateral damage on his path to eternity.
My palms start to burn, the feeling reminding me of my husband’s hellfire. It’s one of his favorites, obviously, but I can wield Holy Fire far better now.
My hands ignite like a torch, the warm, ethereal glow illuminating my face, and when I speak, it’s a demonic voice that comes out of me. The one Lucifer’s powers gifted me.
“I want you to know I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure you never get into Heaven.”
My father’s eyes twitch, and I know in that moment I have him right where I want him.
He’s more disgusted by me than he is by Lucifer.
And that tells me everything.
Nothing I ever could’ve done would have pleased him. Would’ve been enough.
“That’s what you want after all, isn’t it?
Why you’ve been keeping up this ridiculous routine, staying silent, like His word actually means something to you.
” I step forward, gesturing with one of my fiery hands toward the ceiling.
“So, what exactly did Michael promise you? Eternal salvation? A place in Heaven? That he’d liberate you and all your persecuted friends from Hell? ”
I watch, unsurprised, as his face contorts with rage and he becomes the vicious monster he’s always been.
If only the members of our congregation had seen it more readily.
But they’re just as blind as he is.
And I don’t shy away.
Because I’m not afraid of him anymore.
My anger may have been locked away for a long time, but now I’m going to let it out to play.
Because now I’m a more vicious creature than he’ll ever be.