Chapter 28 #2
"Angels aren't known for their compassion." He returns with a tray I didn't see him pick up, food that smells like heaven. Soup and bread and fruit and something that might be tea. "They're known for their self-interest. So we make them understand that protecting you is in their self-interest."
"How?"
"By proving that you're the key to stopping whoever killed your grandmother." He sets the tray on my lap. "By showing them that the missing souls conspiracy threatens all S=seven houses. By making them afraid of what happens if they don't help."
I look down at the food. My stomach growls, apparently three days unconscious works up an appetite. "And if they decide I'm not worth the risk?"
"Then I go to war with six angels to keep you safe." His voice is matter-of-fact. Like he's discussing the weather. "I've fought Heaven before. I can do it again."
"You'll lose."
"Perhaps." He sits on the edge of the bed, watching me eat with that intense focus he has. "But I'll make sure you survive long enough to run."
"I'm not running."
"Then you're crazier than I thought." But there's no heat in it. Just tired acceptance. "Eat. You need your strength. Tomorrow night, we'll meet the other six angels who are either going to help us or kill us. I'd prefer you didn't faint in front of them."
I take a bite of soup. It's perfect, rich and warm and exactly what my body needs. "Have you eaten? Slept? Since I know you lied about needing those things."
"No."
"Croesus"
"I was watching you." He says it simply, like it's obvious. "Making sure you kept breathing, making sure the void hadn't left any trace inside you. Making sure," He stops. "Making sure you came back to me."
My throat tightens. "I'm back."
"I know." But he doesn't look away. Doesn't stop watching like I might disappear if he blinks.
I eat slowly, letting him watch. Letting him reassure himself that I'm real, I'm here, I'm alive. Through the binding, I feel his tension gradually ease. Not disappear, he's too shaken for that, but soften into something manageable.
"Tell me more about them," I say after a while. "The other angels. What should I expect? I saw them before but I’ve only interacted with Seraph and Idris so far."
He's quiet for a moment, considering. "Seraph you've met. Pride incarnate. Beautiful, perfect, and absolutely convinced of his superiority. He'll try to undermine me, probably flirt with you to prove he can."
"Charming."
"He's powerful. Dangerous. And he holds grudges for centuries." Croesus's expression darkens. "He'll help if it benefits him. But he'll make us pay for it."
"Who else?"
"Idris. Envy. Master of illusions and mind games, as you found out." His mouth twists. "He'll see through any lies you try to tell. He'll know your desires before you do. And he'll use that knowledge without hesitation."
"Looking forward to it."
"Kael is Wrath. Fire and fury and violence barely contained." Croesus's voice drops. "He's the most dangerous in direct combat. If he decides you're a threat, he won't hesitate to eliminate you."
I brought his image to my mind’s eye. Nope. Not someone I want to go up against. "And if he decides I'm useful?"
"Then you'll have the most powerful fighter on your side." He pauses. "But don't mistake his protection for kindness. Kael serves his own interests. Always."
I nod, filing that away. "The others?"
"Lysander, Lust. Charming, seductive, and completely amoral. He'll try to seduce you within five minutes of meeting you. It's not personal. It's just what he is."
"I remember."
"Dorian is Gluttony. Excess in all things. He'll want to consume you, your power, your uniqueness, everything that makes you interesting." Croesus's eyes narrow. "Don't let him touch you if you can help it. His power is...invasive."
"Noted. And the last one? The one who was absent at your political council?"
"Caspian." Croesus's voice goes flat. "Sloth.
Apathy. The absence of caring made manifest." He's quiet for a moment.
"He's the most dangerous of all of us, in his way.
Because he has nothing to lose. Cares about nothing.
Feels nothing. He'll help, or he'll watch us die, and either outcome will mean the same to him. "
I set down my spoon, suddenly not hungry anymore. "So basically, we’re about to meet with six angels who are either going to help us, kill us, or stand by while someone else does it."
"Yes."
"And you think this is a good idea?"
"No." He meets my eyes. "I think it's the only idea. Alone, I can protect you from assassins and collectors. Maybe even from lesser angels. But if this conspiracy goes to the highest levels of Heaven, if archangels are involved, then we need allies. Even dangerous, self-interested ones."
He's right, damn him.
"Okay," I say finally. "Tomorrow night. I'll convince them to help."
"You don't have to convince them of anything." His hand finds mine. "I'll do the talking. You just need to survive the meeting."
"Such low expectations."
"I'm practical." But his thumb strokes the back of my hand, gentle, almost unconscious. "These angels have survived three thousand years by being ruthless. They don't help out of kindness. They don't protect the weak. They serve their own interests and nothing else."
"Except you." I squeeze his hand. "You're helping me."
"You're mine." Like that explains everything. And maybe it does. "I protect what's mine."
Through the binding, I feel the truth of it, the way his nature as greed has twisted into something that might be love. The way possessing me has become needing me. The way keeping me has become choosing me.
It's not healthy. It's probably not even sane. But it's real.
"Get some rest," he says, taking the tray from my lap. "You still look half-dead."
"Such flattery."
"I'm practical," he repeats. But there's a softness in his face that wasn't there before. A vulnerability he's not quite hiding. "Sleep. I'll wake you when it's time."
"Will you sleep too?"
"Eventually."
"Croesus, "
"I'll sleep when I'm sure you're okay." His voice is firm. "Not before."
I want to argue. Want to tell him he needs rest as much as I do. But exhaustion is pulling at me, heavy and insistent. And the bed is soft, and he's here, and I'm alive.
Tomorrow, I'll see six more fallen angels and probably get threatened six different ways. I push the thought of what Idris might to do in retaliation for our earlier theft. That can wait for later.
Tonight, I'll sleep in the bed of the devil who saved me and hope that's enough.
"Stay," I whisper as my eyes close. "Please."
Through the binding, I feel his surprise. His pleasure. His fierce determination to never leave.
"Always," he says.
And he means it.
I fall asleep to the sensation of his hand in mine and his presence through the binding, steady, warm, and absolutely refusing to let me go.
Tomorrow, we face the other Houses.
Tonight, we rest.
Together.