Chapter Fifty-One Charlotte
Chapter Fifty-One
Charlotte
I don’t have time to fully process the metaphysical mindfuck that’s the In-Between or everything that’s at stake—Lucifer’s powers, the end of humanity, God, the afterlife—all I know is that my best friend is in danger, and my crazy three-headed goddess of a Mother-in-Law has her.
I can’t waste another second waiting.
When Azrael snaps us all topside and we appear in the Whispering Gallery in Grand Central, I’m as confused as I’ve ever been.
“I thought you said Limbo and the In-Between weren’t the same thing?” I say, my voice echoing. I glance at the time on my iPhone.
It’s nearly three in the morning.
Long past when the city’s night owls have gone home and well before the morning commute begins, so the station is empty. Only a few routes have resumed after the third seal flooded mass parts of the subway, and crime’s been getting out of hand since the third seal collapsed everything.
“Not everyone’s limbo is Grand Central Station.” Azrael gives me a pointed look.
I flush, looking away. If I’d bothered to consider how he felt, considered a different perspective than my own, maybe I wouldn’t have hurt him.
I should have told him where my head was at before putting my collar back on, that it didn’t change anything for me and him.
Hurting him wasn’t intentional, but clearly, I need to be more mindful of my own blind spots.
I take an interest in a spot on the floor near my feet as he turns to Lucifer. “It might be best for you to wait here. Let me and Charlotte take the lead like we’d planned.”
“Like hell am I going to—”
“Enough.” I step between them, suddenly aware of how they both tower over me. “There’s no time for your bickering right now. Every second counts. Save it for Lilith.”
I glance around the empty space, to the nearby Oyster Bar and Restaurant, and the echoing halls.
At this time of night, there’s almost something eerie about it.
“What are we supposed to do? Shouldn’t there be some kind of door?”
Lucifer lifts a brow at me, like he’s uncertain how I’d know this.
“There was this door when Azmodeus took me to the In-Between from this gallery in Brooklyn. Transmitter, I think?”
“When the fuck did my brother take you to—”
“When the paparazzi caught us in that club, remember?” I shoot him a reproachful glance.
“I might’ve neglected to mention it was the In-Between at the time, but it’s just because I didn’t fully understand it was in another dimension.
Besides, you have no place to talk with the secrets you’ve been keeping. ”
Lucifer frowns, but he doesn’t argue.
My attention cuts to Azrael. “So how do we get in? And why not go straight from Hell?”
He and Lucifer exchange a meaningful look.
“We built Hell with very few connections to the In-Between,” he answers.
My gaze darts between them. “Because . . . ?”
Azrael’s brow furrows as he says to Lucifer, “She’s your sub.”
Lucifer’s mouth pinches, but then he turns to me. “There are, in fact, some truths that are better left unspoken.”
I frown at him.
Azrael shakes his head. “Let’s just say we weren’t keen on the idea of unexpected wanderers.”
So, either they were trying to keep Hell’s souls from getting out or they were trying to stop something from getting in.
I pale a little.
Azrael runs his hand over the stone of a nearby wall, like he’s searching for a clue he can’t seem to locate.
“Do humans sometimes . . . wander into the In-Between?” I think back to the odd mix of the dance club’s patrons, and how the hell the paparazzi might have found me.
“Sometimes,” Azrael answers.
“Among other things.” Lucifer shrugs.
My pulse picks up. “Other things?”
Azrael crosses his arms over his chest. Clearly, I’m no longer his responsibility.
Lucifer scowls at him. “My Father’s lesser-known creations, what some might call his creative failures.”
His creative failures?
I don’t particularly like the sound of that.
My thoughts turn to some of the patrons Azmodeus and I encountered in that club. Their glowing eyes, how otherworldly they seemed.
Even more otherworldly than Azrael.
I shudder.
“And what happens to the humans who wander in?”
Azrael grunts noncommittally.
“That’s enough questions, darling.” Lucifer steps toward one of the archways and begins searching, his hands trailing over the tile.
“But couldn’t we just go to the one in—”
“The entrances move,” Lucifer mutters.
I want to ask exactly how they know there’s an entrance here, but I fall silent. Like my Dom told me. My hand flits to my collar.
I should take it off. I should rip it from my neck and drop it at his feet.
But I don’t.
Because I’m not ready to stop being his. My hand falls to my belly.
Even if he broke his promise.
My gaze flits to Azrael, my limbs suddenly feeling heavy.
“Should we have brought your siblings?” I ask Lucifer a few moments later. “Whichever ones haven’t abandoned us, I mean.”
“If your friend is in as much danger as we think she is, there’s no time.” Azrael switches to another arch. “We stick to the original plan.”
Sneak in. Get Jax. And get the hell outta Dodge.
Before Lilith or Uriel or anyone else standing guard can suspect anything.
I turn and start searching over the nearest stone archway, like they are, even though I have no idea what I’m looking for.
There must be a switch or a lever or who knows what, but then my eyes snag on a small phrase etched into the stone tiling, the letters carved so small and haphazardly that if I weren’t looking, I’d never see it.
I run my fingers across the inscription, reading it aloud. “‘I’m still here.’”
Something in the air shifts then, and for a moment, I swear I hear the echo of another whisper, of someone answering back, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.
When I turn and glance over my shoulder to look for them, the hairs on the back of my neck rise on end, and the arch opposite me seems farther away.
The white tiles have shifted, and a heavy feeling settles into my stomach.
There’s a supply cabinet door that wasn’t there previously.
A door marked in large red, spray-painted letters.
No Access.
I cross the Whispering Gallery toward it and try the handle.
At first, it’s locked, the handle not even moving.
“Can you hear me?” I whisper to it, wondering if that voice will answer back, but when I try the handle again, it turns, and the door creaks open.
The sound draws both Lucifer’s and Azrael’s attention.
“I . . . think I might’ve found it.” I shrug helplessly.
Lucifer’s smirk turns wicked. “Clever girl.” He steps past me, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing it as he looks me directly in the eye. A heavy weight settles in my chest, the fullness in my belly aching.
How can I still want him, even when he betrayed my trust?
Even if it was because he loves me.
Didn’t want to lose me.
Lucifer releases me, forging ahead, and I glance away, trying not to let Azrael see how Lucifer’s praise still affects me.
I fail miserably.
Azrael’s jaw goes suddenly taut, and he brushes past me.
He takes out one of his blades a moment later, gripping it as he moves in front of me and Lucifer like the well-trained soldier he is.
My ribs tighten.
Even after everything that’s happened tonight, he’d still put himself on the line for us.
My shoulders drop, the pressure feeling too heavy.
“Follow me.” Azrael steps into the darkness.
Lucifer beckons me forward, ushering me past him, like he means to put me in the middle, but I place my hand on his wrist. We need to go about this strategically.
“Maybe I should—”
“I may be mortal now, darling, but it’s my powers on the line, and I’m considerably more trained in celestial combat than you are. Don’t insult me.” He nudges me forward.
I drop my chin. “Yes, sir.”
I step into the darkened stairwell, and he follows, closing the door behind us.
We descend into the darkness with me caught between the two of them, Azrael at my front and Lucifer protecting my back. My attention ping-pongs between them.
Maybe that’s been the problem all along—me being caught in the middle.
Between Lucifer and Azrael. Heaven and Hell. God and humanity.
Maybe Lucifer’s right. Maybe that’s why removing myself from the equation, sacrificing myself, sounds so appealing—because it’s just another form of self-abandonment.
What I’ve been fighting against all along, actually.
But how do I make a choice when every road leads to an imperfect outcome?
To losing what I have?
The pressure inside my head builds and builds exactly like it did when I unknowingly came here with Azmodeus, making it hard to think.
I press my palm to my head, trying to stop the ache, but just when I think I can’t possibly stand it for another second, the staircase levels and the feeling dissipates.
We’re standing in the middle of what I’m fairly certain is an abandoned subway tunnel. The darkness around us encompasses everything.
A sporadic drip of water echoes nearby, followed by the sound of a falling pebble.
I use a bit of my Holy Fire to light both of my hands like torches, lifting them high, the ethereal glow flickering.
“This way.” Azrael nods.
Lucifer and I follow him.
We walk for what feels like hours, the tunnel gradually growing narrower and narrower, until my feet start to hurt and I’m grateful I switched into sneakers for training with Seraph this afternoon despite the Hermès I’m wearing.
Greed insists that training in athletic wear is counterintuitive since I’ll never know when I’ll find myself in a celestial battle and heels are what I’m usually wearing. She’s right in any case.
But at least Seraph gave my feet a break.
“How do we know when we—”
Azrael hushes me, and a moment later we come to a stop outside another door, this one labeled in large, spray-painted block letters: Restricted Zone.
My stomach cinches into a knot.
I hold up my hands, allowing Azrael to use my firelight to examine it.