Epilogue
LILY
ONE MONTH LATER
Rathiel and I stepped out of the gate onto the Alberta Legislature Grounds.
I drew a deep breath, savoring the taste of Earth’s air, then sealed the gate behind us as neatly as a torn seam sewn together with hardly any strain.
Travelling between Earth and Hell was far simpler now and required less energy since I’d restored Hell.
Heaven, however, had yet to open the gates—probably waiting to make sure I didn’t go batshit crazy like my father before swinging open all the doors.
Night hung over the city, the moon illuminating the white legislature dome. Lamplight warmed the sidewalks, and the last scraps of snow clung to the deadened grass. Soon, spring would breathe life back into this world.
Rathiel tipped his head, taking it in. “The sky looks smaller than I remember,” he murmured.
“Well, that’s because there aren’t two moons up there vying for attention,” I said, snickering. “Come on, we’re going to be late. Eliza will kill me if we miss last call.”
“She’d have to kill me first,” he replied, and before I could argue, he bent, scooped me against his chest, and unfurled his wings.
“Rath—”
“We’ll be careful,” he murmured. And then he shot off the ground.
Truly, Rathiel took any opportunity to fly us somewhere. With the destruction of the darkness came the loss of my wings. Yet another sacrifice I’d made but didn’t regret. As Rathiel often pointed out, any opportunity for him to hold me was a happy one for him.
He carried us so high that the legislature’s copper dome shrank beneath us, the North Saskatchewan River a slow curve to our right.
I tucked my face against the warm line of his neck and listened to the steady beat of his heart. Rath kept to the shadows as we crossed the dark stretch of the river valley, then banked toward Whyte Ave. We landed in the alley behind the bar without a sound, then walked around to the front.
Wraith & Whiskey’s sign still flickered in the cool night, and I smiled. I’d poured drinks here for years, hiding what I was even from myself.
Rathiel folded his wings and caught my hand. “Ready?”
I wasn’t sure what to expect inside. Had Eliza told them who I really was? The adventure I’d dragged her along for? The heartbreak she’d experienced at my father’s hands? I guess none of that mattered. I was here to see Eliza—that was all I cared about.
“As I’ll ever be,” I said.
Rathiel pushed the door open and the warm thrum of music and laughter spilled out.
For a heartbeat, no one noticed us. Then Mason looked up from behind the bar, a bottle poised in one massive hand. The gargoyle’s slate-grey eyes widened. “Holy—Lily!”
The shout cut through the music. Heads turned. Chairs scraped. And then the whole place erupted in cheers.
Someone whistled. Someone else called my name like a victory cry. I laughed, startled and suddenly aching with something that felt a lot like love.
Mason vaulted the bar with the effortless strength of living stone and swept me into a hug that lifted me off my feet. “Eliza told us you’d be here tonight, but I don’t think any of us actually believed her.”
“I’m here,” I managed, hugging him tight. “And I missed you.”
He set me down with a grin that softened the hard planes of his face. “We missed you too, kid.”
A familiar laugh sounded behind me. “Do we really want to call Hell’s queen a kid?”
I turned, and there stood Eliza, leaning against the end of the bar. Her dark hair hung loose over her leather jacket, her eyes bright.
“Eliza!”
I ran to her. We collided in a hug that nearly knocked us both over. She squeezed me until my ribs ached. “God, it’s good to see you.”
“You too,” I whispered. “You look better.”
“I feel better.” She pulled back and gave me a grin that carried both mischief and a little hard-earned steel. “Earth agrees with me.”
Before I could answer, Calyx strolled in through the side door, all devil-may-care swagger, his dark hair a little longer and eyes glittering with mischief, as always.
“You brought the tall, brooding one,” he said, nodding toward Rathiel, “so I figured I’d even the odds.”
Rathiel’s mouth curved in something that might have been a smile. “Still trying to look dangerous, I see.”
“Trying? Please.” Calyx lifted a hand to request a round of drinks for us all. “I look dangerous without trying.”
Rathiel joined him at the bar, and they started chatting about the last month and comparing Earth to Hell.
“It’s so different here,” Calyx told Rathiel. “You get to decide who you are. No one decides for you.”
Rathiel nodded slowly. “True freedom.”
I turned back to Eliza, who watched the two fallen with a fond, almost exasperated smile.
“So,” I said, nodding to her leather jacket and daggers, “mercenary work again?”
She lifted her chin. “It’s what I know. And Calyx has been a surprisingly decent partner. We take the jobs we want. No wars. No hidden devils. Just work.”
“Together, huh?” I arched a brow. “Just work partners? Or is there…more?”
Eliza laughed, the sound light and a little wicked. “Lily, please.”
Across the bar, Calyx leaned toward me with a wink. “Not yet,” he said, grinning. “But maybe one day.”
Eliza rolled her eyes, but I caught sight of the pink blooming across her cheeks. I let it pass without comment.
Mason slid our drinks across the counter and I handed them out. One sniff told me everything I needed to know. My favourite whiskey.
I lifted the glass and caught Eliza’s gaze.
“To starting over,” she said, her eyes straying toward Calyx. If she didn’t think I noticed, I most certainly did.
“To new beginnings,” I replied, laughing.
Eliza tipped her glass toward Calyx without quite meeting his eyes. He caught the motion anyway and answered with a slow, knowing smile, the kind that promised trouble without a word. I leaned against Rathiel’s shoulder and watched the two of them over the rim of my drink.
Whatever came next for them, it was already sparking, and I couldn’t wait to see where it led.
I clinked my glass lightly against Rathiel’s and let the sound of laughter carry us into the night.