Chapter 30 #2
I want to scream. Want to tell them all to shut up, that I'm not a thing they can discuss and dissect and claim.
But they're right.
In ten months, I will go to the House of Ruin. Seraph will have his year. Then Idris. Then Kael. Then the others, one by one, until seven years have passed and I've served them all.
That's the deal. That's what I agreed to.
And nothing, not Croesus's possessiveness, not my own fear, not the danger we're facing, nothing will change that.
"Fascinating as this discussion is," Caspian's tired voice drifts from the shadows, "we're avoiding the actual problem. What are we going to do about it?"
The question hangs in the air.
Seraph is the first to speak. "We share information. Cross-reference our records. Find the pattern in our missing souls."
"We investigate Heaven," Kael adds. "Find out which archangels are involved."
"We protect the girl," Dorian says firmly. "Whatever our...disagreements about her future, she's the key to understanding this. If she dies, we lose our best chance at answers."
Agreed. Idris's mental voice carries weight. Though I suspect protecting her will be easier said than done. If Heaven wants her, they'll come for her again.
"Then we make sure they fail," Croesus says. His hand finds my shoulder, claiming, possessive. "We work together. Share resources. Set aside our territorial disputes."
"For now," Seraph interrupts. "We set them aside for now. Until this threat is dealt with. But make no mistake, Croesus, the moment this is over, the moment she's safe, our agreements revert. And she becomes fair game."
Through the binding, I feel Croesus's barely controlled fury. "She's not."
"Fair game," Lysander agrees cheerfully. "I'm already counting down the days until my turn. Though I'll admit, the anticipation is half the fun."
"You're all disgusting," I mutter.
Yes. Idris agrees, amused. But we're also the only ones who can keep you alive. So I suggest you tolerate our 'disgustingness' a bit longer.
They're not wrong. As much as I hate this, hate being discussed like property, hate knowing they're all waiting for their turns with me, hate the casual way they talk about claiming me, they're right.
I need them. Need their power, their resources, their protection.
And they know it.
"So," Kael says, his ember eyes burning. "We have an agreement. We work together. We protect the sin eater. We find out who's behind this." His scarred lips curve in a dangerous smile. "And then we kill them."
"Slowly," Seraph adds.
"Painfully," Lysander agrees.
"With style," Dorian finishes.
Idris's laugh echoes in all our minds. I do love it when we're all on the same page.
Caspian doesn't comment, but his pale form shifts slightly in the shadows. Agreement, in his own apathetic way.
Seven fallen angels. Seven sins. Seven deadly beings who hate each other.
But right now, for the first time in centuries, they're united.
I look at Croesus through the binding, feel his fury and frustration and fierce protectiveness. He wants to tell them all to burn. Wants to claim me as his and refuse to share.
But he can't.
"Thank you," I say to the assembled angels, my voice steady despite the fear crawling up my spine. "For agreeing to help. I know this isn't about me, I know it's about the theft, the insult, the threat to your territories. But I appreciate it anyway."
Seraph's mirror eyes catch the light. "Don't thank us yet, little sin eater. We haven't decided if keeping you alive is worth the trouble."
"She's worth it," Croesus says firmly.
"To you," Kael counters. "We'll make our own judgments."
In our own time Lysander adds with a wink. I'm very much looking forward to judging her...thoroughly.
Through the binding, Croesus's rage is a living thing. But he swallows it down, forces control.
Because he knows what I know: this is the deal. This is what I agreed to.
And there's no escape.
"Then it's settled," Croesus says through clenched teeth. "We meet again in three days. Each house brings their records of missing souls. We compile the data, find the pattern, and identify the threat."
"And in the meantime," Seraph says, "the little sin eater stays with you. Under your protection. For now."
The emphasis on "for now" isn't lost on anyone.
"For now," Croesus agrees.
The angels begin to disperse, melting into shadows and light and reality-tears that lead back to their respective houses. But each one pauses as they pass me.
Seraph: "Ten months, little sin eater. I'll be counting."
Idris: Try not to break before then. I prefer my playthings intact.
Kael: "Survive Croesus. Then we'll see if you can survive me."
Lysander: "Sleep well, darling. Dream of me." His smile is pure sin.
Dorian: "Be strong. You'll need it." There's genuine concern in his voice.
And Caspian, barely audible from the shadows: "Good luck. You'll need more than strength for what's coming."
Then they're gone, the cathedral empty except for Croesus and me.
I let out a long deep breath I sure as shit knew I was holding.
"That went well," I say weakly.
Croesus pulls me against him, his heart racing under my cheek. Through the binding, I feel everything he's been holding back, fury, fear, possessiveness so intense it's almost painful.
"They're already planning," he says into my hair. "Already anticipating their turns with you."
"I know."
"I want to kill them. All of them. For looking at you like that. For talking about you like you're something they're entitled to."
"The contracts say they are entitled."
"Fuck the contracts." His arms tighten. "You're mine. Mine. And the thought of Seraph putting his hands on you, of Lysander..." He can't finish the sentence.
"Ten months," I remind him gently. "We have ten months before that happens. Let's focus on surviving the next ten days first."
He laughs, bitter and broken. "Then I have to watch you walk away. Watch you become someone else's. Watch each of them claim you, one after another, until seven years have passed and you're—"
"Changed," I finish. "I'll be changed. We both know that."
"I don't want you changed." He pulls back, frames my face with his hands. "I want you exactly as you are. Mine. Safe. Alive."
"You can't have all three," I say quietly. "You can't keep me and keep me safe and keep me unchanged. Not with six more houses waiting."
Through the binding, I feel his agony. Because he knows I'm right.
"I hate this," he whispers.
"I know." I touch his face, feel the tension in his jaw. "Me too."
"But you'll do it anyway."
"I don't have a choice."
"There's always a choice."
"No." I step back. "There isn't. Not for me. Not with Luna's safety on the line.”
His gold eyes are bright with unshed emotion. "And I have to watch."
"Yes."
"I won't survive it."
"You will. Because you're three thousand years old and you've survived worse."
"No." His voice is certain. "I haven't. Losing you will be worse than anything Heaven ever did to me."
The confession hangs between us.
"Then don't lose me," I whisper. "Hold on. Even when I'm in other houses. Even when other angels are claiming their time. Hold on. Because I'll come back. Eventually."
"Will you?" His hand finds mine, desperate.
I don't have an answer for that.
Because honestly? I don't know.
Seven years is a long time. Seven angels is a lot of influence. Seven sins is a heavy burden to carry.
And by the end, I might not be the woman standing here now.
But I'll try. For him. For Luna. For myself.
I'll try to remember who I was before all of this.
Even if it kills me.