Chapter Fifty-Nine Azrael
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Azrael
I follow Lilith as closely as I can, determined to put a stop to wherever this leads.
I don’t know if it’ll be enough to redeem me to Charlotte—to show her and Lucifer that every promise I’ve made, every step I’ve taken throughout this whole fucking thing, has been for them, for their shared life—but it doesn’t make a goddamn bit of difference.
I love them. I love both of them.
And they’ll know it in the end.
Even if it’s the last thing I make them understand.
Lilith pours herself through dimensions like oil over fire.
Where she passes, reality frays. Galaxies spiral harder, stars flicker with second thoughts, and the rigid math of the cosmos collectively loosens its collar.
She’s birth and decay in the same breath, and time skips around her ankles like a frightened child. Seductive. Luminous. Lethal.
She’s not destruction. She’s unraveling with purpose.
Because she’s understood only by what came before understanding. Just like I am.
I don’t know how I sense there’s something wrong, but I know without a doubt that things aren’t going according to her plan when I end up down at that damn church on Seventh again before I can even blink. There’s another end near. A significant one.
I see Lucifer and Father Brown on the steps first.
The unmarked car second.
The barrel of the gun aiming.
And then I see the priest step in front of Lucifer, just before the gunfire comes loud and hot. Several rounds in quick succession.
From a tactical standpoint, I’m not familiar with human weaponry, but I’ve reaped enough victims of this kind to know what it means.
To know it’s rare for a mortal to survive.
And Lucifer is . . .
Lilith screams as the priest falls. Her fury ripples out like a tear of fabric through the universe, too primal to be grief, but there’ll be another time to chase her.
I’m at Lucifer’s side a moment later, realizing within seconds that he might be . . .
He clutches his now bleeding shoulder, staring down at the priest.
One of the bullets grazed him, but Father Brown, on the other hand, is . . .
I stare down at the priest’s body, expecting to see the soul, the shimmer of what was once there for me to reap. But there’s nothing.
Lucifer’s white as a sheet.
And that’s when I realize that Father Brown must be . . . his Father.
“He died for me,” Lucifer says, his gaze unfocused like he isn’t seeing anything. But this is a twist even I didn’t see coming.
I knew that Fucker left out several key details, but this?
It only makes the promise He made me seem cruel. Hollow. Like a lie.
Charlotte appears in the doorway alongside Greed a moment later, unscathed, though Greed is covered from head to toe in . . .
“Yours?” I nod to the blood coating her.
Mimi makes a show of licking some of it from her too-plump lips. “What do you think, Reaper?” She grins at me.
Gluttony appears behind them, nearly as drenched in it as she is.
Charlotte’s hand flies to her mouth as she notices Father Brown. “Oh, Lucifer.”
“He was . . . my Father,” Lucifer mutters, voice broken.
Greed seems to catch on before anyone else. “What?” Her gaze falls to the priest, and immediately she drops to her knees. Her hands flit over His prone form, and the small sound that whimpers out of her is all too familiar to me.
Grief. Regret.
“No. No, He can’t possibly die like this, can He?”
There’s something desperate in her voice, like she needs Him to exist to stay anchored to herself.
Charlotte places her hand on the doorframe, struggling to remain steady. “The Righteous . . . killed God?”
“In His earthly form. But He can’t die. Not like this.”
Lucifer’s expression morphs from one of shock to fury. “He does this on our goddamn wedding day? This”—he gestures wildly at the corpse—“this self-serving, sanctimonious bullshit?”
“Wedding day?” My breath stops.
She really has chosen him then.
Charlotte shoots me a regretful look, and for the span of a heartbeat, it almost softens something sharp in me.
She loves me. Even if she’s chosen him.
I know she does.
But that love won’t be enough to save us. Not from what’s coming.
“I didn’t think you were coming back,” she whispers.
As if it would’ve made any difference.
I shake my head, stepping toward her. “I’m not going anywhere, little siren.”
I’ll guard her and Lucifer for the rest of my days.
She stares up at me, her expression reluctant. There’s a hesitation behind her eyes now, like she’s waiting for permission from someone else. Her eyes dart to Lucifer. “I’m sorry, Azrael.” But she doesn’t move closer. Doesn’t reach for me.
I grip the back of her neck, noting the way she shivers, holding her steady. But it’s not enough. I know that instinctually.
I don’t know what changed when she put his collar back on.
Only that I’m no longer a part of it.
“So, Father Brown was . . . God?” Charlotte steps back, giving me an almost wary look. “Did you know?”
“No.”
No wonder that bastard knew exactly what to say to make me hope for more.
My face turns to stone.
Charlotte’s eyes go cloudy as she stares down at the corpse. She sways slightly, blinking hard, like she’s trying not to come apart.
“I followed Lilith here,” I say.
“Mother was here too?” Greed sniffles, her eyes narrowing on me.
She’s never trusted me. Not after I broke up with Lucifer. Locked her and the other Originals in a cage right along with him.
And for what? Because I was ordered to?
Because I made a promise?
Only for God to fuck all of it and abandon me right near the finish line?
Charlotte’s eyes widen. “But if this is where Jax prophesized God would be, and now He’s gone, then—”
“Lilith will tear apart the universe searching for Him,” I finish.
Charlotte pales. “And with our plan for Michael, with the seals already ruined, Lucifer’s power is . . .”
The sentence doesn’t need finishing.
Lucifer stands, his tie hanging loose in his fingers, like he forgot what it was for. He stares through the blood on the steps, through the priest’s body, through all of us.
He’s unraveling.
But it’s Charlotte I look to.
She takes a half step toward him, instinctive, gentle. She doesn’t touch him, but she doesn’t need to. Her body knows where she belongs.
And it’s not with me.
I feel it land, sharp and slow.
I was never first. I always knew that.
But I thought maybe I could be last.
Thought maybe I could matter enough to change the ending.
Charlotte’s gaze flicks briefly toward me like she senses the shift—like some quiet part of her still cares—and for one thin breath, I want to believe that’s enough.
But she doesn’t move.
Not toward me.
The silence between us is heavier than any scream. I take a step back, trying not to show the way it tears something open in me.
I glance down at the priest’s bleeding body.
Why come here? Why toy with us if He planned to leave again?
Greed huffs, suddenly rising to her feet. “Well, this has all been fun, but I’d prefer not to stick around, especially now that my seal doesn’t need opening.” She casts Charlotte an almost regretful look. “I wasn’t too fond of the idea of potentially losing my powers.”
“It appears I’m the only one Father chose to fuck in that particular way.” Lucifer crumples his tie and casts it onto the ground, glaring at it like he doesn’t know how it got there.
The universe is tilting and bleeding around us, and they’re still squabbling like it’s a sport.
“Well, you always were His and Mother’s favorite.
” Greed rolls her eyes, her mouth flattened, then looks to Charlotte.
“I’d rather live in another universe than end up dead thanks to some self-righteous human fools.
No more deals for me, and I think I speak for all our siblings when I say, you’re fired, Charlotte. ”
Charlotte’s face reddens, her hands clenching, but she doesn’t say anything.
Signaling their leave, Greed snaps at Gluttony, but then pauses and says, “Oh, I almost forgot.” Gluttony passes her a blood-sprayed dossier, and she shoves it into Charlotte’s chest. “Consider it an early wedding gift.” She walks off, her designer heels clicking down the stone steps and leaving blood prints in her wake, her twin trailing behind her.
Charlotte stares at the dossier with shaking hands, opening it, only to see . . .
“Lust.” I growl at the image of Azmodeus’s face staring back at us.
I knew that fucker would screw her eventually.
She shuffles through image after image of him with Michael, Gabriel, all the angelic members of the family, flinching at the betrayal in each one.
Lust opened the second seal. We know that now, at least.
But it doesn’t make a goddamn bit of difference.
I glance at the priest’s body.
At the blood. At the absence where the soul should’ve been.
Even He’s gone now. Without a goodbye. Without a purpose left for me to serve.
Why bring me this far just to leave me?
I look at Charlotte again, one last time.
But even now that she’s closed the dossier, she isn’t looking back. Not at me.
I step into the shadow, becoming Nothing.
And for the first time in my existence, I wonder what happens to a reaper when there’s nothing left to reap.