Chapter Fifty-One Charlotte #2
“This isn’t right.” He glances to Lucifer. “Do you think Greed lied?”
Lucifer gives a slow tilt of his head. “Not likely. She’d never admit it, but she’s attached to Charlotte, and I had Seraph confirm.”
If Greed’s “attached” to me, I don’t want to know what she’s like when she doesn’t like someone.
Azrael lifts his scarred brow, the firelight making it appear even more jagged.
I drop my chin to my chest, forcing myself to look away.
What I saw in Jax’s prophecy feels . . . intrusive. Intimate.
“Could Seraph be working both sides?”
“Not likely. It’d be too great a risk for her.”
Azrael shakes his head. “Something’s wrong.” Then to me. “I should be able to sense Uriel and the others standing guard.”
There’s no one here but us.
“Do you think that means—”
“They knew we were coming.” He looks to Lucifer. “Whichever of your siblings went rogue must’ve sold us out already. She might not even be here.”
Adrenaline shoots through me.
But if she’s not here and Lilith has no more use for her, then she . . .
“It’s not too late to turn back now. Recalculate.” Lucifer places a hand on my shoulder.
Like he’s leaving the decision up to me.
My heart clenches. He didn’t mean to hurt me either. Just like I didn’t mean to hurt Azrael.
He loves me. He doesn’t want to lose me.
But that doesn’t make this any easier.
“Your friend would understand, little dove. She’d never want you to place yourself at unnecessary risk.” He gives me a pointed look.
If the roles were reversed, if it were his life at stake, would I have done the same? Made the decision for him? So that he didn’t have to?
“Maybe he’s right.” I glance at Azrael, and he gives a reluctant nod.
Better to waste time and come prepared than walk into a known trap.
Resigned, we turn to head back in the other direction.
Only to find a dead-end wall where we just entered.
Lucifer mutters a few choice curse words. “I fucking hate the In-Between.”
Azrael swallows, nodding toward the door. “Looks like it’s decided the only way out is through.”
“It?” I extinguish my fire, just as Azrael opens the door.
We step inside, and I instantly regret it.
My stomach pitches into my feet as I relight my hands. “Where are we?”
“The Vestibule, it looks like,” Azrael says quietly, like saying it too loud might wake something ancient.
The space beyond the door isn’t a room exactly, but it feels enclosed—like we’ve stepped into the forgotten pause between heartbeats.
A hall stretches out in front of us, open and unending.
It’s not dark exactly, but the light here doesn’t feel real either.
It’s gray and flickering, like a dying fluorescent bulb, but none of it connects right.
Angles refuse to align. Doorframes hang midair without walls to anchor them, and a cracked mirror leans next to an old discarded vending machine.
On the far wall, there’s a flickering sign that reads: Not an exit.
“Seriously, what is this place?” I ask, though my voice sounds smaller than I want it to.
I can’t help the goose bumps that start to prickle over my skin.
“A non-place,” Azrael says, as if that’s supposed to make sense. “It’s a threshold. Grown out of memory. Things people tried to forget. It’s the heart of the In-Between.”
“So what? Like a purgatory for unfinished thoughts?” I spin in a slow circle.
Lucifer gestures around us, jaw tight. “More like a waiting room for the cosmically fucked.”
Azrael lets out a slow breath. “The Vestibule isn’t here to help us. It’s here to make us hesitate.”
“Hesitate about what?”
“About everything.” He turns to face me. “There’re no real doors here. Only choices that look like doors.”
“What does that even mean?” I look again at the doorframes, but none of them seem like they actually go anywhere.
They’re just shapes, suggestions.
“There’s no way out, is there?”
“Not a real one,” Lucifer says. “Just choices. Until it’s done with us.”
I glance around.
They’re all labeled in past tense.
You Chose This.
You Left.
You wanted to know.
The worst part is I think some of them might be right.
On the nearest, the words This is not a door have been scrawled in black marker. Another not far to its left says You Left Her.
I hate this place already.
“It has to be that one,” I say, pointing toward the one labeled You Left Her.
Lucifer scowls. “Of course you’d pick that one.”
I frown at him. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s obviously talking about Jax.”
Lucifer’s expression hardens. “Not for me.”
My eyes dart to Azrael, and I lift a brow.
“It says different things for different people.”
My breath catches. “And what does yours say?”
He swallows. “‘She chose him,’” he admits.
My eyes widen. “And yours?” I ask Lucifer.
Lucifer tugs uncomfortably at his tie. “I’d prefer not to say.”
I huff. “Oh, come on. Azrael and I both—”
“It says ‘This is what he meant,’” he snaps. He looks away, running a ragged hand through his hair.
The silence that stretches between us is deafening.
My gaze flits to Azrael, but I ask Lucifer, “Which he?”
But my husband doesn’t answer before he crosses the space in three quick strides and wrenches the door open, plowing through.
It doesn’t swing open so much as unravel.
Azrael ushers me through a moment later, following right behind me, and then we’re standing on a marble floor that’s slick with blood.
Though I have no idea whose.
The Vestibule is gone. No more flickering gray. No more whispers. Just a wide, cathedral-like chamber, lit by light that doesn’t seem to have a source. The air hums with something ancient and wrong.
A familiar form lies on the floor nearby.
Jax!
My heart races.
She’s crumpled beneath one of the high arches, her hands bound and chained by some filament-like material that glows blue. Her face is bruised, one cheekbone swollen and split, but she’s breathing, barely, and I move to—
Azrael grabs my wrist. “Wait.”
His voice is so tight it freezes me.
Because Jax isn’t alone.
Across from her, standing like the messiah he thinks he is, is Michael.
I shouldn’t be shocked by the sight of him. “Where’s Lilith?”
Michael tsks. “Not exactly the friendliest way to greet your future brother-in-law, is it?”
He’s holding the Holy Lance, twirling it in his hands. Something deep in me recoils.
That thing isn’t just celestial. It’s final.
I try not to consider Azrael’s connection to it.
Michael glances down to where my gaze leads, like he sees my fear and he’s amused by it. “Mother bowed out for this. She’s on her hunt for Father.”
“Azrael, can you—”
“On it.”
Like searching the universe for the Goddess of all Creation while also simultaneously standing ready to defend us is no big thing.
“Jumping the gun a little?” Lucifer asks Michael.
My gaze flits to Jax again.
My heart races.
I’ve never seen her look so sickly. Not even after Ian nearly . . .
“Mother won’t have her full power unless we open the fourth seal for you, and why would we do that?” Lucifer says, showing our full hand.
Michael’s already onto our plan, so I guess what’s the point of keeping up the pretense any longer? I trust Lucifer’s judgment.
He’s a brilliant strategist.
And he hates Michael more than anyone.
He’ll do whatever it takes to win this.
Michael chuckles. “And what do you think this is, brother? Teatime? I wasn’t about to let you turn any more of my army against me.” He shoots a resentful look in Lucifer’s direction, then faces me. “But unfortunately, I still need you.”
“I’m not opening any more seals, and neither are the other Originals. Not if I can help it.”
Especially if there’s no longer the benefit of getting more of Lucifer’s old army on our side.
Michael smirks. “Oh, but I think you are.”
“And what’ll you do when Mother destroys Him before your little apocalypse can even truly begin? Before He has a chance to return?” Lucifer asks.
Michael laughs like the question amuses him. “You truly think Mother will be able to find Father? To best Him?”
Lucifer shakes his head. “You underestimate her. You always have.”
Azrael steps forward. “Let her go, Mikey.” He nods toward Jax. “You want the fourth seal open? Let her go, and we’ll consider it.”
Michael scowls like Azrael’s personally disappointed him.
“You were a great fuck, Azrael. We could’ve been good together.
Too bad you’ve always been such a lovestruck fool for him.
” Michael clicks his tongue and gestures to Lucifer.
“And you’re not in a position to make any demands this time.
” He spins the lance once, almost lazily.
The gesture makes my stomach twist.
Even Jax winces in her sleep, like the weapon hums at a frequency none of us can stomach.
I drop down by her side, no longer heeding Azrael’s warning. “Shhh, it’s okay,” I whisper to her, running a soothing hand over her hair.
I’m going to do whatever it takes to get her out of here.
“She’s human. She’s no threat to you, and if Lilith’s already used her for her prophecy, to find God, she’s no longer valuable to you. Let her go.”
Michael’s smile is terrifying in how gentle it is. “Oh, but she is valuable. Because she matters to you.”
A sour taste coats the inside of my mouth.
I don’t like where this is heading.
My fists clench. “What do you want?”
Michael tilts his head. “The same thing you want, Charlotte. For our Father to return, and for His broken toys to stop trying to put themselves back together.” He casts a glare toward Lucifer and steps down from the dais. “You’re going to open the next seal for me.”
“We’ve already been through this. I’m not going to—”
Azrael shifts. I can feel his tension, see the way his hand hovers near his blade. It’s not just the threat of the lance. It’s something else.
Something’s wrong.
“Charlotte, don’t move,” Lucifer orders.
I can tell from the tone of his voice that if there were ever a time to listen, this is it.
When Lucifer speaks, his voice is low and dangerous, like he’s already connected the dots. “This place—this isn’t part of the Vestibule.”
Michael’s smile widens. “No. This is something older.”
My adrenaline spikes. “Older than what?”
“Older than doors. Older than choice.” Michael gestures wide, and the walls seem to pulse like they’re breathing. “You didn’t choose this door,” he says softly. “It chose you.”
And behind him, something stirs in the dark.
A shape. A presence.
Watching.
Waiting.
My heart races.
Oh fuck.