Chapter Twenty-Eight
RATHIEL
Hours after Lily destroyed the crown, I moved through the palace with my injured wing bound tight against my back.
It would heal, but without any blood to drink, it would take time.
The only source of blood I was really interested in was Lily—and she was currently asleep in her room.
It didn’t feel right leaving the palace to hunt while she slept.
Not after everything. So for now, I’d just have to go without.
She’d never admit it, but I knew she hadn’t slept properly since we’d returned to Hell.
Obliterating both the crown and throne hadn’t helped either.
The amount of power it’d demanded had wrung her out both physically and emotionally.
So, I’d carried her to her old room, helped her change into something more comfortable than fighting leathers, then left her to get some undisturbed sleep.
While she rested, I wandered the hallways with no real purpose, much like I had in the days before the first rebellion. Back when I’d realized I’d fallen in love with Lucifer’s daughter and hadn’t the faintest idea what to do about it.
Back then, the halls had been alive with patrols and servants—a constant murmur of hellspawn. Now the corridors were silent. Too silent. We hadn’t noticed it at first, mostly because we’d been so focused on Lily. But once the dust settled, I’d realized what was missing: all the hellspawn.
Calyx had flown back to the battlefield, then returned with an unhappy imp and a pissed-off cat in his arms and a hungry hellwyrm at his side. According to Vol, shortly after we’d left the battlefield, every single hellspawn—including Dragon—had simply vanished.
“It looked like the freaking rapture out there,” he’d said while I’d led him and Purrgy to Lily’s room.
The imp had been eager to check on her—a secret he’d made me swear to take to my grave—while the cat merely followed out of interest, inspecting the new territory.
Typical cat behaviour, or so Vol assured me.
After tucking them both in with Lily, I returned to Calyx, who assured me nothing remained on the battlefield but discarded weapons and armour.
Since then, the rest of us had fallen into a sort of awkward silence.
We simply didn’t know what to do with ourselves.
In the wake of everything, I felt almost lost, and could only imagine the others felt the same.
We had no one to fight, no plans to scheme, no world to save.
We’d accomplished it all. And now, I didn’t know what to do with myself other than wait for Lily to wake.
I passed Lucifer’s office and paused at the threshold.
The door hung half-open, offering me a glimpse inside.
I nudged it open and entered, marvelling at just how empty the room felt.
Almost dead. Any time I’d stood in the room in the past, I’d done so with Lucifer.
I’d always stood on the other side of his desk, awaiting his orders.
And those orders had always consisted of teaching Lilith a proper lesson.
One that would prove to him that she was worth his time.
Well, she’d proven that, hadn’t she?
Even now, I couldn’t believe half the things I’d seen today.
When I’d imagined Lily destroying her father, it’d always been with me at her side and an army at her back.
Yes, she’d had both those things, but neither of us had been any help when it’d come to the final battle against her father.
The image of her holding him aloft in the air, her darkness piercing his body over and over would stay with me for the rest of my damned existence.
But worse—far worse—than watching the darkness obliterate Lucifer was seeing what it did to Lily.
It’d taken her over completely, practically consumed her.
Her eyes had bled to pure black, and veins as dark as pitch had spread beneath her skin.
The power had drained all the emotion from her and turned her into a soulless husk.
She’d turned away from me with barely a flicker of recognition.
In that instant, it’d felt as though someone had reached inside my chest and torn out my heart.
It’d turned her into a complete stranger—a monster—who didn’t care about anyone and only craved more power.
But even that paled in comparison to everything that had gone down in the throne room.
Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined Sofiel would appear.
Celestials were nothing like humans—I knew that better than any—but I’d never seen one return from the dead before.
Her presence here had raised so many questions for me.
Questions I doubted I would ever find the answers to.
And standing around contemplating them wouldn’t help matters.
Nor would standing around in Lucifer’s office, staring at what remained of his legacy.
I left the study to the dust and carried on. I wasn’t even sure of the directions I took until I turned a corner, glanced up, and halted.
Calyx and Eliza sat at the top of a small set of stairs that led past me and down to the fallen angels’ private quarters—all of whom were dead now, other than me and Calyx.
They sat close enough that their shoulders touched, and neither were armed.
Come to think of it, neither was I, because there was no one left to fight. Such a strange feeling.
Eliza had unbound her hair, and the locks had slipped forward on her shoulders.
She stared at the floor, unblinking, her lips pressed into a grim line.
Calyx sat with one ankle hooked over the other and his hands linked loosely in his lap.
His position looked relaxed, but the hard set of his jaw told me he wanted to crush something.
He bent his head toward her as she spoke—too low for me to catch the words—and quietly responded to her.
I didn’t go to them. I wasn’t sure they wanted me to intrude on their moment. Eliza was another who had faced so much. Perhaps arguably more than Lily.
Lily had killed her father and given up an extreme amount of power. But she’d also received a once-in-a-lifetime gift—the chance to see and touch her mother. Someone Lucifer had robbed from her before she’d even begun to form memories.
Eliza, though, had lost something truly special.
She’d believed herself falling in love with someone—an angel, no less.
She’d given her heart and loyalty to him, only to learn he’d manipulated and betrayed her.
I couldn’t imagine how that must have felt, learning not only was the one you’d fallen in love with dead, but a monster was masquerading as them.
That she was willingly talking to Calyx told me all I needed to know about her current state of mind.
I turned, ready to return to Lily, but the moment I moved, Eliza called to me.
“Rathiel.”
Sighing, I turned back to them.
The two had moved apart a fraction of an inch, but Calyx’s body language still screamed protector.
“How’s Lily?” Eliza asked.
Ah. A safe topic.
“She’s resting,” I said. “But she seems okay. I haven’t been able to ask her many questions, but she was awake long enough to assure me the darkness is gone. I think she’s more tired than anything.”
Eliza’s head bobbed, her eyes still wet and her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
“How are you?” I asked.
Those damp eyes flicked to my face, then darted away. “Um,” was all she said.
After a moment, I stepped closer and leaned against the closest wall. She stared at her fingers, her knuckles white from the grip she held on herself.
“I haven’t had a chance to say this, but I’m sorry about Levi,” I said. “He was a good angel.”
“He was,” she whispered. “I just don’t understand how I missed the signs. He died, and I…didn’t know.”
None of us had. Somehow, Lucifer had infiltrated our group perfectly. We’d been so focused on killing the dragon and Sable’s death that we hadn’t noticed anything else. And Lucifer was the perfect monster. Disguising himself was a skill he’d always done well.
“He started calling her Lilith,” Calyx muttered. “That should have been the first sign we noticed.”
Understanding dawned, and I raked a rough hand down my face. He had started calling her Lilith. How could I not have realized?
“He encouraged her every step of the way,” Eliza added. “And every time she succeeded, he told her he was proud of her. But that had seemed so normal. So Levi.”
Lucifer had just been playing a role, but he’d likely been curious himself—curious what his daughter could accomplish.
He’d always been disappointed in what he’d always called her “meager abilities” when she was younger.
It must have thrilled him to see her growth, to finally have someone he could mold in his image.
“Levi and I had only just…started,” Eliza continued quietly.
“We were only together once, the night before Sable’s death.
After that, he became more intense. Or rather, Lucifer did, I guess.
Not physically, thank goodness—we never—but emotionally.
He started pushing me to make a commitment, and I never questioned why.
I just thought it was because we didn’t know if we would survive this war.
And I was so head over heels in love that I didn’t see the truth.
I should have known better, should have seen the manipulation. ”
“Eliza—” Calyx started.
She huffed a bitter laugh, cutting him off. “It’s ironic, really. I’m a siren. My powers literally lure people in. But this time, I was the one lured in.”
“Berating yourself for not seeing the signs isn’t going to accomplish anything,” I said gently. “Lucifer is—was—an expert manipulator. No one expected him to seamlessly infiltrate the group as Levi.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Eliza said.
“No, I don’t imagine it does,” I said. Levi was more than just a lost ally to her.
“Time is the only thing that will,” Calyx assured her, his voice stripped of its usual edge.
Eliza gave a short, rough laugh. “Time,” she muttered, like the word itself hurt. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and drew in a shaky breath.
Calyx shifted his weight beside her. “He conned us all. Not just you.”
Her mouth twisted. “But you didn’t love him.”
“And neither did you,” Calyx said, insightful for once. “You loved Levi. You never loved Lucifer. You fell for a lie. A trick.”
I had a feeling nothing we said would help. Truly, there wasn’t much we could do about it other than giving Eliza space to grieve and heal.
Quiet footsteps approached, and I instinctively turned. My hand immediately fell to my side, only to remember I wasn’t armed. Right. Because we didn’t need to be anymore. But old habits died hard.
My gaze shot to the end of the corridor, only to find a rumpled-looking Lily.
Her dark hair spilled loose over her shoulders, and she wore the simple, thin shift I’d helped her change into.
Curled against her neck, half draped over her shoulder, was Purrgatory.
He lifted his head and turned it toward us, his green eyes luminous in the dim light, and gave a soft mrrp as if unimpressed by Lily’s lack of attention.
Because her attention was on me. And at the sight of her beautiful celestial-blue eyes, every anxious knot in my body loosened. I wasn’t sure I’d ever forget the way she looked when the darkness possessed her. Demonic, monstrous, and one-thousand percent not Lily.
I instantly closed the distance between us and took her into my arms, holding her as tightly as the slightly annoyed cat would allow. She tucked her head against my chest, right beneath my chin. Exactly where she belonged.
“I thought you were resting,” I said at last, my voice soft.
“I was,” Lily answered. “But then I woke up and you weren’t there, so I came to find you.”
“Where’s Vol?”
“Sleeping,” she said. “I didn’t want to disturb him.” She pulled back from me to glance at her friend, and her expression shuttered. “Oh, Eliza.”
Lily’s voice was soft with sympathy, and that was all it took for the siren to break. Her breath hitched, so she ducked her head and covered her face as if she could hold back her tears by sheer will. A small, broken sound slipped between her fingers anyway.
Calyx’s jaw tightened, and he laid a hand on her back.
I caught his eye. “Come on,” I said quietly. “Let’s give them some space.”
For once, Calyx didn’t argue. He gave Eliza’s shoulder the barest squeeze, then rose in one smooth motion. I stepped back with him, the two of us retreating a few paces down the corridor, far enough to give the women a sliver of privacy.
I paused and glanced over my shoulder to find Lily watching me, Purrgatory still draped on her shoulder. She gave me a soft smile before sitting beside Eliza and spilling Purrgy into her lap. Eliza immediately gathered the cat up and buried her face in his fur.
I turned away, letting their voices—soft, too low to catch—fade to a murmur. Whatever words passed between them weren’t ours to hear. But maybe together they could begin to heal.