Chapter Sixty Charlotte
Chapter Sixty
Charlotte
We’re on Apollyon’s private jet, the promise of Paris looming before I’m even able to fully process what’s happened.
We’re headed to the wedding, to my debut at Paris Fashion Week.
I’m supposed to look happy, to pretend that the world isn’t falling apart all around us.
But I can’t muster the will. I haven’t had the heart to tell Xzander and the other members of the team that most of what we packed for Haute Couture week is pointless.
We won’t be needing it. I just . . . need some time to think.
It’s not long after takeoff, and I stare out the window, looking at the Manhattan skyline.
Why would God choose to be here in the city, only to vanish the moment He revealed Himself to Lucifer?
I shake my head.
I guess it doesn’t make a difference now.
It’s only a matter of time until Lilith tracks Him down.
Until she tears apart every inch of the universe, of reality, looking for Him.
The wedding may distract humanity temporarily, allow us to take one last stand against Lucifer’s family, but regardless of what we do, Lilith and Michael aren’t going to stop, and even if we could get Lucifer’s siblings back on our side, then what?
It’s starting to feel like we’ve been fighting a losing battle right from the start.
I watch the city grow smaller and smaller in the distance.
With Jax gone, it somehow feels right to be saying goodbye to New York like this.
Paris will be my debut on the international stage, and though I’ve been looking forward to this for months, I can’t bring myself to feel anything even close to happy.
Paris isn’t going to be the resurrection I’d hoped it’d be.
It’s a stage built for glamour and bloodshed.
All I can hope is that Lucifer and I meet the end on our feet.
“Why?” I whisper, pressing my hand to the window’s glass and watching the heat imprint that forms there. Maybe, wherever He is, God can hear me.
Though I’m not sure I have any hope left that He’ll answer.
That’s been the problem this whole time, honestly.
The door to the main lounge bursts open, and I jump, startled by the noise.
Lucifer staggers inside a moment later, swaying with each step. “Talking to my Father again?” He shuffles toward the bar, an empty tumbler in his hand, his speech slurred. “Apparently, we’ve both been doing that a lot lately.” He snorts.
He’s cleaned up from where the bullet grazed him, in a fresh suit with his hair wet and effortlessly messy in a way that makes my knees weak.
He’s stripped down to just his dress shirt and pants, his shirt chaotically hanging untucked on one side, and his tie is dangling over his shoulders like he’s forgotten he took it off in the first place.
“Are you drunk?”
He lifts a finger, hesitating for a beat too long. “No.” He grabs an entire bottle of whisky from the cabinet and uncorks it, taking a swig.
“You are drunk.”
He looks at me, pawing at the five o’clock shadow on his jaw as he weaves slightly. “I thought you’d be with him.”
“With who?”
“Our lllover,” he says, overexaggerating the l. He swaggers across the lounge and drops down into the seat beside me, shoving the bottle too close to my face, but I wave it away.
“Suit yourself.” He tips it back, chugging for so long it’s concerning, before he swipes his mouth with the back of his hand and gives me a bleary-eyed look. “No powers. No creation. Maybe you would be better off with him.”
I shake my head, playing the good girl. “I’m yours, sir. There’s nothing Azrael can give me that you—”
He chuckles too loud like I’ve just said something extremely funny.
“Oh, but there is.” He scoots forward, precariously propping the bottle in the chair and muttering “stay” as if it might actually listen, and then the next thing I know, he’s on his knees in front of me, kissing my stomach before he flops his head into my lap.
“If it wasn’t for Him, I’d have already put a baby there. ” He runs his hand over my belly.
The dip inside me is instant.
I blush, a rush of heat igniting in me. “You mean Azrael?”
“No.” He presses another kiss to my middle.
His hand comes to my neck, and he brushes his thumb over my collar affectionately, before he rises to his feet, unsteadily pointing toward the ceiling.
“Our Father who art in fucking Heaven.” He reclaims the bottle and collapses into his seat again, sprawling out.
“He took my ability to create and sacrificed Himself for me on our wedding day.” He snorts, taking another swig. “Make it make sense.”
I blink at him. “He took . . . your ability to create?”
“Don’t worry, love.” He kisses me on top of the head, then the tip of my nose without explaining. “Maybe Azrael can knock you up.”
He rises from his chair. His lips press flat in thought, like he’s considering going to tell Azrael about that genius idea, before he staggers off to who knows where.
I likely couldn’t locate him if I tried. This plane is so freaking huge it’s like Air Force One, with multiple levels. I can’t wrap my head around it.
I sit there in silence, calculating dates, adding up months and weeks and questioning if Lucifer might not be . . .
No.
I shake my head. No, there’s no way.
I was pregnant long before I ever slept with Azrael.
This is just one more thing on a long list of celestial improbabilities that don’t make any sense when it comes to Lucifer.
I place a hand on my belly, wondering what this could possibly mean.
But then Azrael appears in the doorway.
“Hey.” My hand falls away.
He tips his chin in greeting. “I see you’ve had a visit from the Prince of Tipsiness.” He nods to where Lucifer left the bar cabinet open, a few bottles scattered in disarray.
My lips flatten, and I try not to grin. “More like the Prince of Drunkness.”
Azrael sighs. “He’s like this whenever he has a run-in with his Father. I’ll keep an eye on him.” He moves to follow Lucifer, but I grab his wrist.
“Azrael.”
I stare up at him, not knowing what to say.
We haven’t had a moment alone together since . . .
“Please.” I pat the seat next to me. “Sit with me?”
He nods, lowering down into it, but once I feel him there, the warmth of his body, the intense sensation his nearness brings, doesn’t do anything but make my chest ache.
“He’s not a good man, but he’s better than he believes he can be, deep down. You should know he didn’t want to lie to you. But he’d do anything to protect you.”
“I know.”
I’m not certain what else to say.
I swallow. “I’ve never been to Paris.” I nod to the window.
Azrael grunts. “You’ll like it.”
I wring my hands together, glancing at them. “Do you think Azmodeus will . . . ?”
“He already picked a side, and it wasn’t ours.”
I nod slowly. That betrayal stings more than I want it to, but I don’t even have the space to feel it right now.
Not with everything falling apart around me.
I hold Azrael’s gaze for a beat, staring into those endless blue orbs like liquid ice, and I can see the frustration, the hurt inside him freezing over.
Like he’s trying to lock it down, stay steady for me.
Even after everything.
I bite my lip, locking my hands together to keep them from shaking. “Maybe he was forced to. Maybe Michael made him do his bidding.”
Reluctantly, I glance toward him.
Neither of us is talking about Lust anymore.
The light in his eyes dims, and he lets out a long exhale. “He made a choice.” His brows gather, elbows propped on his knees as he stares at his feet. “Even if he might regret it.”
I take his hand in mine, my breath bottling up inside my chest. “Sometimes we make choices without understanding what they mean, without knowing what the consequences are.” I lock his hand tighter in mine. “People make choices all the time, but if we love them, we have to trust that they—”
“I knew the reasons.” Azrael holds my gaze, his certainty cutting through me. “I knew the consequences, and I still chose Him.”
My throat closes. “Why?”
Azrael huffs, shaking his head. “If I told you, would it make a difference?”
I open my mouth, trying to find the right words, but I’m not certain how to answer him.
Resigned, he nods. “Didn’t think so.” He rises from his chair. “I’ll always be here when you need me, little siren. I just won’t be . . .”
The one you chose.
Even if you love me.
He turns to head in the same direction as Lucifer.
But then I grab his hand again and . . . “I’m pregnant.”
Azrael’s eyes go wide, his gaze combing over me, and I think he might be wondering if he . . .
“It’s Lucifer’s.” I nod to where my husband went. “I just assumed . . .”
“I can’t.”
I nod. I figured as much.
Death can’t create life.
Though I’m a lot further along than that anyway. I avoided that pregnancy test for a while. Buried my head in the sand.
A crease forms between his brows, not in anger, but in thought.
“Why do you look so . . . ?” I struggle to find the right word. “Concerned?”
Azrael sighs. “Charlotte, you know that any child of Lucifer’s would be—”
“Don’t.” I lift a hand. “Don’t even say it. She’s going to be baptized the minute she’s born.” I place a hand on my belly, frowning. “For sentimental reasons more than anything.”
“She?” Azrael lifts a brow.
“I just . . . have a feeling, I guess.”
He gazes at my midsection like he might be able to see the thread of her life there.
“Do you want to feel her?” I ask. “I’m not sure if she’ll be immortal, but Death or not, your touch hasn’t seemed to hurt anything.”
Slowly, he draws closer, sitting down next to me. Hesitating, he reaches out his hand, but then he . . .
“It’s okay.” I grab it just before it falls. “You won’t hurt us.” I press his large palm to my belly.
I don’t know how I know that. I just do.
It’s instinct, it seems.
Azrael rubs his hand over me, his touch gentle and reverent, and his eyes widen slightly like he—
“I can feel her there,” he says, his gaze darting to mine.
I smile, eyes shining.
She’s not big enough to feel from the outside yet, but I know that he means . . .
Her essence. Her potential.
Until she draws her first breath and her life begins.
And he eventually becomes her ending.
If we even make it that far.
“This is why you put your collar back on.” He stares down at where he touches me, his eyes filled with a longing so intense, my breath quickens. “Does Lucifer—”
“He doesn’t know. Not yet.” I shake my head.
“You told me first,” Azrael says, not breathing.
It’s a statement, not a question.
“Yes.” My eyes fill with tears.
“Because this means . . .”
I nod once, sharp, trembling. I don’t want to admit that this changes things. Already what happened with Jax nearly tore us apart, but once Lucifer learns about this, he’s going to be more protective of me than he’s ever been.
If Lucifer learns about this.
If I have the heart to tell him now that we’re both headed toward the end.
Azrael’s face falls. “That’s not something I can compete with.”
“No,” I admit.
My tears start to fall in earnest, and deep in my soul, I know this is the end of him and me.
Even though I don’t want it to be.
“I understand.” He steps away.
“Azrael.” I reach for him again. One last time.
“Yeah, baby girl?”
That nickname sends a fresh ache through me.
“If the wedding is our final stand, if Lucifer and I are injured, or if it comes to that, will you . . . ?” My voice trails off.
I feel him tense beneath my grip, like despite who he is, what he is, he’d never want that for me, but then he grumbles, “I’ll make it a mercy.”
And then he’s gone, disappeared into the Nothing.
Leaving me sitting there, belly full, but with my heart smashed to pieces. Like I’ve lost not only one life but two in the same breath.