16. Idle Hands do the Devil’s Work
Kais
C offee bubbled in the percolator on the stove and I dug my knuckles into my temples, trying to excavate the headache pounding in my brain. Behind me, feathers rustled anxiously.
“Father Kais.”
I frowned and my fists lowered to the stove door handle, clenching tightly. “Not really in the mood right now, Azariah,” I bit out.
Listen to the way you’re talking to an angel , part of me thought, still a little dazzled, still marveling at being so close to one of God’s closest children.
Forever coming to grips with the fact that all of this was real.
It was one thing to believe, to want to be a priest, to guide people in their faith and through their troubles.
It was another to wrap my head around the fact that there was a man standing behind me, with massive golden wings, who could produce light from his hands that defeated the hellions that hovered at the edges of my world.
Suddenly, the years before recent weeks, when it was all super soakers of holy water and crossbows pointed at monsters, seemed so simple.
“I have an explanation to give. To all of you.”
“Well, Zach’s not here right now, and I haven’t gotten any fucking sleep tonight, so like I said, not in the mood.” Not that I ever got much sleep.
And then, because it was my luck or my burden, the door to the priest’s house opened and I heard the telltale thunk of Zach kicking his boots off by the door like a kid who’d just arrived home from school.
“Where’s Deyva?”
“Zachariah,” Az breathed, plaintively.
I was living in a teenage supernatural drama.
“No. Don’t. Kais, where’s Deyva?”
I was one hairsbreadth from slamming something and telling them all to go fuck themselves, and I wasn’t even entirely sure why.
Was it seeing Deyva take down that demon general?
The slam of my heart in my chest as I watched her, and the violent jealousy of how easy she made it look?
Or was it all this bullshit of who was fucking who and whether or not it was moral, while I was stuck with my fucking hand in the shower?
Zach hurried past me as I snapped the cupboard door closed and poured myself some coffee.
This wasn’t going to help. I’d end up with the shakes and there was still a ton of work to be done, especially on that old house we’d started on yesterday.
But the last thing I wanted to deal with right now were the night terrors.
“Oh, Deyva. I...I need to talk to you,” Zach said softly, his face turned up the stairs, none of his usual sneer directed at her.
“Please,” Azariah moaned, standing by the old avocado-green refrigerator. “I need to speak to all of you.”
“Move,” I growled at him. I kept my rice milk in the fridge.
He stumbled over to Zach, who inched away and revealed Deyva.
She’d been pale after the battle, haggard and angry looking. Now she had pink in her cheeks and, even as she glared at Az, there was a mischievous smile on her lips.
I opened my mouth to ask if Stavros was still breathing and then shut it quickly again. Deyva deserved better than that. And a moment later Stav was thumping down the stairs in a pair of sweatpants, shirtless. Shirtless because his old Boston U t-shirt was hanging down almost to Deyva’s knees.
“Coffee?” Stavros asked me, eyebrows waggling. He had a hickey on his neck and some scratch marks on his back I was pretty sure he didn’t know about, ones that made Zach’s eyes bug out.
“Help yourself,” I grunted.
“What’s up?” Deyva asked Zach, whose eyes were tracking Stavros with an expression I wasn’t sure how to read.
“Would you all just listen to me for a minute?!” the angel barked, words heavy with power and windows rattling with his command.
I stiffened, clenching too hard on the brown carton in my hand and Deyva’s nose wrinkled.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, angel boy,” Deyva muttered.
Zach’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t correct her or snap back, and Azariah just shuddered with frustration.
“Fine. Dining room table, everyone. Azariah has something he’d like to say.” The others looked at me, everyone ready to argue, and I raised an eyebrow, hushing them all.
“It can wait, I guess,” Zach whispered to Deyva.
“Babe, you want honey?” Stavros asked.
Zach and I shared a wide-eyed glance as Deyva twisted shyly in place, reaching up and fingering the end of one of her gold horns. “Yes, please.”
For a moment, I let my brain go in a direction I really shouldn’t have.
What kind of sex did it take for a man to feel comfortable calling a woman ‘babe’ after watching her tear into a monster’s chest and rip out its heart?
Brain addling, no doubt. But Deyva seemed cautiously delighted as Stavros passed her a steaming cup of coffee sweetened with a spoonful of our hives’ honey.
And then we all moved into the dining room like the universe’s most dysfunctional family unit.
I took the head seat by the window, Zach on my left, and Deyva and Stavros cuddled up in the chair to my right, as Azariah stood at the other end, his hands braced against the back of the chair.
“I...I have a confession to make to you all,” Azariah said softly, meeting each of our eyes, stopping with Deyva and holding hers longest. Her eyes narrowed back at him and his head ducked. “I would like to begin though, with...with my fall from grace.”
Deyva’s eyes rolled and accidentally landed on mine, a brief moment of understanding passing between us. Was this more holy bullshit we were about to be fed on Azariah’s sanctimonious platter?
“I questioned God,” Az said, some of his usual elegance fading, the words coming out flat.
“When Hell rose up, I assumed my maker had some plan, that it was all part of the divine cycle. I thought perhaps the holy fleet would be sent down. The rapture is primarily a human concept, but I even considered the possibility that the blessed would be shepherded home. After...a time, too long I think, I realized that there was no help from Heaven that would be sent to Earth.”
It was strange. Azariah’s words were like a reflection of my own mind. I’d wondered at first if I was being tested. I wondered if I’d been found wanting. And then after a very long while, even after finding Bethel and setting up our sanctuary here, I’d felt abandoned.
Poor Zach. His face was sheet white right now, his eyes fixed to the top of the table in a crushed kind of horror. I would’ve spared him this moment if I could have.
“I implored God to send aid, and when I was refused I grew frustrated and I…” Azariah cleared his throat and Deyva leaned forward, catching his eye. He shrugged once, and Deyva nodded. “I made accusations. My faith faltered, and then so did my wings.”
“What?” Zach gasped. “No. No, you are not telling me that you—that because you were upset for our sake that God—”
“Zach, it’s not that,” Deyva said softly.
“God may yet have designs for his earthly children,” Azariah said.
“An angel’s flight relies on their faith and love for their maker,” Deyva said to Zach, ducking her head to meet his stare. “If Azariah’s anger fractured his trust, his belief in the righteousness—”
“That isn’t right ,” Zach bit out.
“My love for human beings compromised my love for God,” Azariah said. “My fall was my own doing, my inability to hold faith.”
Deyva looked between all of us, worry creasing her brow. I’d thought this woman was evil when she arrived. She’d told us of Heaven’s faults and we’d thrown her nature back in her face, and now here she was, worried over our feelings at Azariah’s revelation.
“I’m sorry. That is only the beginning of the story. What you really need to know begins with my time spent in Hell,” Azariah murmured. “An angel’s fall is cause for celebration in Hell. If we can be converted, we make powerful warriors. If we cannot…”
“Angels are endless sources of powerful feeding and the enjoyment of harming someone for the sake of it,” Deyva finished for him. Her eyes narrowed up at him. “They wouldn’t have let you walk out. Not unless there was a reason.”
“Wait, you’re saying Hell sent Azariah here ?” Stavros asked. “Why? Because of us?”
Azariah’s lips pressed into a flat line and his gaze never left Deyva’s face. The color she’d been sporting in her cheeks, the smile in her eyes, all of it faded.
“Whose domain did you land in? What demon broke your wings?” Deyva breathed, eyes going yellow and pale.
“Kimaris.”
Deyva hissed and launched herself off Stavros’ lap, jostling the table, coffee splashing out of our mugs as she edged away from Azariah, toward me and the windows.
“First Daughter,” Azariah said, his hands raised as he moved to round the table.
All three of us stood up out of our chairs, Zach and Stavros flanking me on either side. Out of the corner of my eye Deyva was visibly trembling, body hunching in on itself.
“Don’t fucking call me that,” she hissed. “Kimaris sent you after me.”
I stiffened, the answer written plainly in Azariah’s wince. The bruises and cuts on Deyva’s body, the old scars around her ankles.
“I’m sorry. I was promised freedom. I was only there for months and the agony was unimaginable. He must’ve had you for—”
“Shut up,” Deyva snapped, cutting Az off, jumping forward between Stavros and I. Over her shoulder I glared at the angel, my arms crossing over my chest. At my side Stavros scanned the room for a weapon.
“It seemed such an easy exchange, returning a succubus to her domain and then taking an opportunity to find my way back to mine. I never expected you to be here . I never expected you to be…” Azariah trailed off, glancing at us, the humans who stood tense and ready to protect the woman who had escaped Hell to reach our gates.
“You are doing an angel’s work in a demon’s body. ”
“I am not a demon!” Deyva shouted. “I fell too! I fell first, and I fell hard , but I have not been and I never will be a demon.”