Chapter 8 #3
“Try to look at it from his perspective,” Mags countered, worrying her lip with her teeth. “He just learned that his son is trying to end the world. There’s a possibility here that we won’t be able to sway him from that path.”
“And then we’ll have to kill him,” Rag surmised bluntly, expression falling.
“Rag!” Glory looked scandalized.
He shrugged. “It’s the truth. We all need to wrap our minds around the possibility, because this isn’t the little boy you sang to sleep, Glory. This isn’t the kid who baked cookies with Mags.”
“Shut up,” Remi groaned again. “I hate that you’re right; shut the hell up.”
Glory wrapped her arms around herself, as if to ward off the idea. “No, he is right. We need to consider all the outcomes.”
“I refuse,” Mags said quietly, then pushed back her seat. “I will not accept that until we’ve exhausted all other options.”
“The Armor,” Glory sighed.
“Yes,” Mags laid her hand on the ancient book, stroking the space where there had once been a title. “I’m going to talk to Luce about it.”
“And hopefully drag him out of whatever hole he’s crawled into,” Remi muttered.
“Knock it off,” Rag cuffed her on the ear. “You’re just mad because you didn’t get as many hits in this time.”
“Whatever.” She buried her head in her arms.
Mags smiled fondly. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell him you still love him.”
“I do not love him,” the muffled retort was weak at best.
“Sure sweetie,” Glory patted her shoulder gently. “We all definitely believe you.”
“Fuck off,” Remi reached out without lifting her head, groping along the table to grasp the first item her fingers found—the saltshaker, which she blindly chucked towards the blonde. It flew wide, missing by a mile and landing with a clatter in the corner.
“On that note…” Tucking the book into the cradle of her arms, Mags swept out of the kitchen in the direction of Luce’s suite, leaving the others bickering softly behind her.
The home Luce had given Mags was more than generous.
She had a spacious, open plan bedroom and living space.
The bathroom’s sunken tub could fit three people at once.
There was a full, state-of-the-art kitchen with a fully stocked pantry, and a lounge to entertain guests.
She was more than happy there and would never have thought to complain about the space.
But Lucifer’s wing of his estate made her cottage look like a broom cupboard.
On her visits here through the years, Mags had discovered a private cinema, a bathroom with a tub the size of a small swimming pool, an art studio, a gaming lounge, his own private kitchen, a sauna, several closets stuffed with forgotten projects, endless rooms of discarded clothing from eras past, a wine cellar, and of course, his bedroom.
It was to the bedroom that she headed now, knowing exactly where she could find Luce when he was in a mood like this.
She slipped through the doorway into the silent darkness, knocking lightly on the doorframe as she entered.
Even with all the lights off, she knew the path to the massive bed, swathed in its canopies of burgundy velvet.
Many hours had been spent in this room, baring their souls until their voices were hoarse from tears and talking.
There was a reason Luce was her closest friend, and it was because they knew all of each other’s secrets.
This chamber was for long, whispered conversations and drunken confessions; for comforting hugs and gentle murmurs of reassurance whenever their tattered hearts got too ragged and broken to bury the pain.
“Lucifer,” she laid her hand on the vaguely devil-shaped pile of blankets as she sunk onto the edge of the plush mattress.
“No,” the burrito nest answered, and she smiled fondly.
“Uncover your face, please.”
“Also no.”
She discarded the gospel on the bedside table so she could lay down beside the bundle of fabric. “Well come here, then.” She hugged him tightly to her and felt him relax just a bit. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“Horrified,” he admitted.
“Okay,” Mags ran a soothing hand up and down his spine. “I can understand that.”
“We have no real choice here.” Luce curled tighter into her side. “I couldn’t turn up anything else that would restore my power, short of...severing them. I can’t do that.”
“I know,” she sighed. “But I did get what we needed, when I went up…”
A pause, and then the rustle of blankets. Luce’s suspiciously narrowed eyes appeared in the gap. “What are you trying to say, Mary?”
“I’m saying that when I went to Heaven…I collected the Gospel of Peace.”
“And my brother just handed it over to you? He saw our side of things?” He sounded understandably dubious, and his eyes narrowed further when she hesitated over her answer. “I know you didn’t risk your life like a fool over this, Mary. Regardless of my brother’s wrath, the wards on the book—”
“Um…not exactly. The book wasn’t as heavily guarded as you were led to believe.” She swallowed around a lump forming in her throat. “It was stored in the Vault of Relics.”
“Mags, no.” He struggled out of her grip and tossed off his blankets, sitting up and looming over her. “Please tell me you didn’t.”
“Okay, I didn’t.” She looked pointedly at anything other than his face.
“Don’t lie to me,” he deadpanned.
“Well, I can’t do both,” she protested.
He groaned, falling onto his back dramatically, and cut his eyes to the side to stare judgmentally at her. “Why are you like this?”
She snorted. “It’s not like you could go do it.”
“This is fair.”
They laid in companionable misery for a moment, contemplating the turn their lives had taken and the choices they had made—and the harder ones soon to come.
Luce broke the silence, reaching out a hand to enfold her smaller one. “Do you think I was wrong, to stay away from him?”
Her heart broke at the doubt and regret in his tone. “You did what you thought was best. That’s all any of us can ever really do. Our best.”
“But do you think I was right or wrong? Look at Eden, or what happened to my wife. Look what’s happening to Foster. The common thread is my influence. Am I just inherently evil? Destined to destroy everything I try to build?”
“I have never thought that about you, even once.”
The silence settled back over them, and Mags rubbed her thumb in reassuring circles on the back of his palm. Lucifer closed his eyes and carefully locked away the doubt and regret. He could muse on the past once the future was secured.
“How can we be considering this?”
“It’s kind of our only viable option.” The tremor in her tone betrayed the anxiety hiding behind her casual words.
“Considering I’m not likely to be ready anytime soon, we might as well get the ball rolling. Tomorrow, I suppose, since I’ll have to recall Camiel and the boys from the field. Then we can all sit down and discuss it.”
She squeezed his hand wordlessly.
“Besides,” Luce said with a weak grin, “you’ve already committed treason; it would be a shame to make it all for nothing.”