Chapter 28 #2
“You knew before—” I hiss, clutching my head.
Fucking ow, fuck, I shouldn’t have yelled.
I clutch my head with one hand, hobbling over to a kit of medical supplies left beside my nightstand.
One-handed, I start rifling through it. At least the medical gown they put me in actually closes in the back.
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”
Finally, some gauze! I grab a couple of packs before hobbling back to my bed, shooting Abaddon a glare. “How could you have possibly known?”
“As I said, it was just a hunch. The entity was very powerful. I thought it might be able to sustain your life indefinitely, especially if you could somehow consume it.”
“I didn’t consume it.” I rip my IV out, applying pressure to the puncture wound. “It allowed me merge with it.”
It was a mutually agreed-upon arrangement. No murder of sentient celestial entities was involved… I think. At least, I wasn’t trying to kill it. My conscience is clean.
“And you could have still warned me about your ‘hunch.’”
“Right.” Abaddon takes a step backward, toward the door. “Perhaps I should get you some food. I’m sure you’re very hungry.”
I am starving, actually. If I were really unconscious for weeks, they must have magicked some nutrients into me—or, if they were feeling up to the primitive and barbarian practices of modern medicine, they had me on a regular old food pump.
Regardless, I’m not withered away or dead, so they took care of me somehow.
“Fine, but leave Dusk.”
Abaddon’s brow crinkles slightly before he dips his head in a farewell, making a hasty exit.
I guess all isn’t well between the two of them, after all? They really had me fooled for a second there. At least I know the world isn’t spinning in reverse now.
Dusk is left standing in the middle room, awkwardly rubbing his head in that nervous tell of his. All traces of his anger with me seem to have dissipated. After a moment’s hesitation, he says, “I’m glad you’re okay, Dawn.”
“What happened,” I demand, my voice flat.
“Well, first of all, Michael confessed—”
“No, we’ll get to that later. I mean, more specifically, why did something happen?
What caused all the hundreds of thousands of locusts to go into red alert in the first place?
” I try my best to remind myself that it’s not him I’m mad at, but it’s a struggle.
I’m pissed off in general. “Nobody told me a damn thing, and fucking Michael got to my head while you two were God knows where, doing God knows what. Something about the Council summoning a bunch of demons to the Abyss?”
“Oh. Right. Uh, about that. It was a false alarm.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You mean there was never actually anything there—” Ow, ow, ow, shit, I really need to stop yelling.
“No, there was definitely something there. They just didn’t mean any ill intent.”
I’m too busy pinching both sides of my head to glare at him properly, even though he definitely deserves it for being the worst messenger to ever speak words.
“Elaborate.”
Casually, he sits down beside me. “Well. It was very tense for a bit, but we managed to form a shaky truce. They just felt the summons and came seeking refuge. Apparently, Abaddon and Semyaza go way back. He was surprisingly amicable about it all, actually. Hell, compared to when you and I showed up, he was nearly jumping with joy.”
“Semyaza? I feel like I’ve heard that name before. Who is he?”
Dusk huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, he’s kinda the guy who originally led the twenty Watchers out of Heaven. You’ve probably heard someone mention him a time or two.”
“Huh... So that’s it? No big battle, no casualties? Lucifer just shows up one day, and we’re immediately buddy-buddies with him?”
I have a hard time believing any of this.
“Well, he’s not exactly Lucifer, for one. Most people give that credit to Azael, though the stories are a bit muddy. Semyaza is just… Semyaza. His followers, the fallen Watchers who remain with him, are sometimes called the Profuga, I guess.”
“How many of them are there?”
“Uh… Four archangels, I think? And a dozen or so of their close descendants?” He lifts his finger to count. “Kiba, Armaros, Daniel, Yetarel… oh, and Ramiel. I almost forgot. He’s an interesting one.”
“Weren’t there twenty archangels? Where are the rest?”
“I dunno.” He shrugs, almost making me hate how casual he’s being about everything. “In hiding somewhere, maybe? I know at least one of them went back to Elohim already.”
“Fucking Michael. He must have planned the whole thing. Knew it would cause a panic, knew he’d be able to get to me…” I shake my head, fury growing red hot inside of me. “He killed two birds with one stone.”
“Yeah, he does that kind of thing. I tried to warn you.”
“I know, I know. I should have been more careful. I was just so obsessed.” I was literally willing to die for it, and I almost did. It’s a small miracle I didn’t. “That’s the last time I let him get to my head.”
Dusk is already shaking his head before I’ve finished my sentence. “I wouldn’t hold your breath on that. I’ve been trying for thousands of years, and he still finds new ways to get under my skin. You’ll drive yourself insane trying to outwit him.”
Sounds like a challenge to me. “Well, then I guess I’ll just be insane for the rest of forever, because I’m never going to stop trying.”
Abaddon suddenly strolls in, a servant trailing behind him with a loaded food cart, and inserts himself into our conversation. “You will learn to find peace with being alive for eternity.”
“Easy for you to say,” I mutter. “You’ve never been a human before—is that bread? Ooh, bring me some, please, Abaddon dearest.”
As commanded, he walks over to hand me a fluffy yeast roll, letting the servant set up the rest on the bed. It likely isn’t the best bread I’ve ever tasted, but it might as well be. I have to keep myself from moaning as I chew.
His eyes watch me far too intensely. “We should give you some rest.”
“I just rested for weeks,” I quickly respond, even with my mouth full. Not the best manners, but I’m too voraciously hungry to be polite. “I think I’m okay.”
“How about you eat, shower, change, do all that fun stuff,” Dusk suggests, “and then, if you feel up to it, you can join us for dinner?”
“Hmm…” I suppose that would be a good enough use of my time.
Looking around, I realize that the familiar sight of my room fills me with ease. I don’t know when I started to normalize it, to feel at home here.
“Deal.”
For someone who’s been unconscious for about a month, I’m unusually hygienic.
Not only does it seem like my hair has been regularly brushed, but it’s also free of any oils or residues.
I have no doubt there’s angel magic to thank for that—waist-length wavy hair can quickly become unforgiving if not cared for.
Though it’s still an unnerving reminder of how much was done to me without my knowledge.
For all I know, they could have cut open my skull and rearranged my brain.
Raphael definitely didn’t give enough details to satisfy my medical mind.
When I reach my bathroom, I immediately shed my wrinkled gown—and I catch a glimpse in the mirror of something on my chest.
I freeze, eyes wide and fixed on my reflection. Then they flicker down, looking at my actual chest, as if the mirror could be lying. I wish it were. But it’s not. The skin over my heart is marred, and I touch it with shaking fingers, feeling the sore ridges. The angry, red scar tissue.
I’ve been fucking branded.
Two four-point stars, placed diagonally over each other, form an eight-point star.
“You fucking asshole,” I growl to the entity, even if I know in my bones that it can’t hear me. I don’t think it’s dead, but it certainly isn’t where it used to be. It’s oddly quiet in my soul now, actually.
I guess my shadow couldn’t leave me without marking my heart as literally as possible, so I’d always have a constant reminder of it. A visible, ugly reminder. “A tattoo would be bad enough, but branding me like fucking cattle? Seriously?”
I move toward the mirror to get a better look—
Oh. Oh, ho, ho. It gets even worse! No wonder Raphael was so vague about ‘discovering myself’ and kept looking me dead in the eyes. It’s because they’re not my eyes anymore!
I lean in as much as I can, even pulling myself on the counter to see my irises as close as possible, but it’s unmistakable. The familiar hazel is entirely gone.
They’re golden now.
Similar to Dusk’s, but a shade deeper, tinted with flecks of copper.
They’re so unnaturally vibrant, I feel like a piece of the sun has crawled into my eyes and taken up residence there.
Hell, my whole face looks different. My nose isn’t crooked anymore, my complexion is flawless, my skin is radiant…
Combined with my grossly overinflated muscles…
I hardly recognize myself.
I push off, backing away from my reflection like a monster is threatening to burst through the mirror.
There might as well be, because this is not the person I knew myself to be.
This is a stranger. A version of myself that had her soul torn from her body, forced a sentient celestial body to concede to her, did the impossible, and achieved immortality.
I can’t stop staring at her like a wild animal that has never seen their own reflection.
My breath shudders, and I have to take a moment to calm myself, just like I used to.
Breathe in, count to five…
Breathe out, count to five…
Slowly and deliberately, I force myself to walk back to the stranger in the mirror.
I know I’m only delaying the inevitable. I have a feeling that even Raphael wouldn’t be able to make these changes disappear, just like he couldn’t help my still-pounding headache.
Maybe I shouldn’t want to, either.
This stranger is who I am now, and I need to make my peace with that.
She is an evolution of who I once was, a testament to what I accomplished.
I practically died, after all, and somehow forced my dead body to take back a foreign soul.
That is perseverance. A month-long nap, some scarification, and forever looking like I’m wearing bad colored contacts is a small price to pay for my survival.
If my shadow intends for me to wear this brand like a battle scar, then so be it.
I’ll just have to learn to like this new version of myself.