Chapter Fifty-Five Charlotte
Chapter Fifty-Five
Charlotte
I stare up at Azrael, fully understanding what was missing from every interaction, every memory I saw between him and Lucifer.
The knowledge that he was never truly on our side to begin with.
Of how his promise to God pitted him against me, against Lucifer.
And the fact that Lucifer had been my choice, right from the start.
“Why?” I ask, trying to understand what would cause him to hurt us both like this, what could possibly cause him to stay loyal to God throughout all this, choose his promise over me, over Lucifer. “Why would you—”
“If I could tell you, I would, Charlotte.”
But he can’t.
He swore himself to secrecy. In devotion to the Creator.
A choice he refuses to unmake.
He still believes that the cause he stands for, whatever it is, is more important than me. Than Lucifer.
I stare down at my friend.
Than her.
The tears clouding my eyes start to fall like raindrops onto her face.
“You’re just like them,” I whisper to him. “You’re just like them.”
When I glance up, Azrael doesn’t seem to understand what I mean.
“The Righteous.”
He pales slightly.
He knows how this ends.
Whether I live or die.
Whether we defeat Michael. Stop Lilith.
And whether Lucifer ever gets to be free.
From the pain, from what his fall cost him.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter to Jax, swiping one of my tears from where it’s fallen onto her cheek, my voice breaking. “I should’ve come sooner.”
I don’t know that it would have made any difference, not with what Michael and the Righteous and Lilith had planned, but I still wish things could be different.
That I could save her.
Jax’s hand shakes as she tries to point toward the ceiling, but then it drops again.
“He wept when He showed me this moment,” she whispers, staring off, unfocused, into the distance as though she’s seeing past the dark ceiling overhead and into the starry night sky.
“He wept, but He never said I could change it.”
God, she means.
Something inside me finally breaks clean through.
My hope. My humanity. My faith.
I don’t know what.
All I know is that I’ll do whatever it takes for this to never happen again.
For Him to sacrifice someone I love in the name of His fucked-up plan.
Me included.
Lucifer was right.
I’m going to live for me.
Morality be damned.
I hold her close, cradling her in my arms.
“Do you remember when you took me to my first party on the Lower East Side?” I ask, struggling to keep my voice steady, to comfort her in the only way I can. “The one where I kept tripping over my own two feet?”
She smiles up at the ceiling but doesn’t look at me.
“Do you remember what you said when we ducked out onto the balcony? When I told you that I didn’t feel like the city was ever going to be my home?”
She shakes her head.
“You told me that home isn’t a place. It’s the people who see you when you can’t see yourself.”
“I remember.” A shallow breath escapes her. “Maybe that’s why He was crying.”
My voice catches, and a strange stillness settles over her face, like a kind of peace.
“I love you.” I drop my head onto hers, our foreheads touching, her skin already cooler than it should be. “You’re my home. My best friend. You always have been. Please don’t leave me.”
Her chest stutters.
Once.
Then stills.
I hold her tight as she gradually grows colder in my arms. Until I feel the last shudder of her breath as she leaves me.
When she’s finally gone, with trembling hands, I brush her eyes closed, shaking as I lift my head.
Azrael doesn’t appear to take any enjoyment in this, at least.
He just watches. Quiet. Unmoving.
And does nothing.
Just like Him.
The thought sickens me.
He crouches in front of me sometime later, and reluctantly I pass her to him, unable to even look at him as he cradles her in his arms. I can only grieve one thing at a time, currently.
Lucifer helps me to my feet, pulling me into him and tucking me into his chest as I turn my back on Death, on my friend, on everything I thought we could be.
“Please,” I whisper to my devil. “Please just take me home.”
Even if there’s nothing left of it.