Chapter 22 #2
“The power…” She raised a small hand, reaching out with delicate fingers to take the fig Lucifer proffered. “I could possess?”
“Enough,” Michael gripped Jophiel by the bicep. “We have our proof, we must intervene.”
“Lus’ior Morningstar,” Jophiel called out, tone laced with authority.
But they could see his knees wobbling from where they stood watching.
“You stand accused of treason and will resign yourself to our custody.”
“Will I?” Lucifer laughed darkly. “You seem awfully sure of your ability, Jophiel.”
“And you seem awfully calm for someone caught plotting treason, Lus’ior.”
The vehicle of that treason was ignorant of their interaction, fixated instead on the small fruit in her fingers, lifting it to her nose to sniff it. She looked up briefly, glancing between them briefly before returning to her inspection of the fig.
Lucifer turned his golden gaze on Michael, a kind of heat simmering in the gaze. “Is it the treason that upsets you, Mikha’el? Or is it jealousy that drives your anger?”
“My duties are to uphold the law, regardless of who defies it.”
But of course, Lucifer had been right. He was always able to see right through Michael’s flimsy walls.
The betrayal of witnessing Lucifer wound so intimately with Eve had burned Michael in such a way that the law was merely a convenient scapegoat.
The phantom pain licked his soul even now, and he absently pressed a palm to his sternum as if to soothe the wound.
Luce eyed him warily. “Michael, that…isn’t me.”
Michael snorted. “It sure looks like you.”
“But it isn’t!” He groaned. “I had no idea this even happened, though it sure makes a lot of things make more sense.”
“Always so morally…rigid,” Lucifer clicked his tongue, grinning in a way that showed off slightly pointed incisors. “I think that’s why I’ve been growing tired of you, dear Mikha’el.”
“How charming,” Michael ground out sharply, his hand going to the pommel of his sword and gripping it hard. Jophiel cast a wary look at his captain, before shifting his focus to Lucifer. Michael tried to ignore that his subordinate was witnessing his humiliation.“This is how you end relationships?”
“Relationships?” Lucifer trailed a long finger down the side of Eve’s face. “Is that what you thought we had? A relationship?”
Jophiel’s wince added to Michael’s embarrassment.
“Forgive my assumption,” Michael hissed. “I thought that was the term when you share the romantic and personal company of another.”
Lucifer smirked. “When it’s more than just a passing amusement, of course. But I’ve found a much more intriguing pet now, and I’m done with you.”
Luce let out a strangled sound. “How repulsive!”
Michael huffed. “And it wasn’t even directed at you.”
“You can’t tell me you really believed I would say these things to you?”
“They’re coming from your lips.” Michael frowned. “I was already struggling with feelings of inadequacy. You were the Morningstar, and I was…”
“You were everything to me.”
Michael felt his throat tighten and cast his gaze back to the scene.
“Besides,” Lucifer turned back to Eve, who assessed the fig with rapt interest, and cupped her chin. “Look at her. She’s marvelous. Do you truly think you compare?”
Before Michael could respond, Lucifer kissed her. He gripped her hip and pulled her to him, claiming her lips in a hot crush of flesh. The fig dropped to the grass with a muffled thump. Michael heard a scream, and realized the enraged cry came from his own lips.
“Enough!” he bellowed. “Submit yourself to the custody of the Law, Lus’ior Morningstar, or be taken by force!”
Lucifer laughed. “Catch me if you can, then!”
He released Eve and tore off into the Garden, whooping and cackling. Eve blinked, stunned where she sprawled in the dirt.
“Does he think this a game?!” Jophiel sneered. “Too much time spent with Gavri’el, perhaps.”
Eve said amicably, “Today does seem to be a bit unusual.”
But Michael was already rushing after his lover, drawing his sword from its scabbard and trampling the greenery in his path, disappearing into the brush.
“Is that so?” Jophiel sighed, giving the young woman a last lingering look before he jogged after his Captain.
The scene froze.
Luce stood with his hands lifted and his expression horrified. “What…the fuck?”
Michael’s eyes narrowed. “You really have no knowledge of this. No memory of this encounter.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Luce snapped. “I saw Eve as a daughter, and I loved you more than my own life. You were the one person in the world I could be truly myself with.”
He folded his arms around himself, hugging his ribs tightly. It gave him the look of a small, lost child.
Michael closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. “Show me the rest. I need to understand how we can have such conflicting accounts.”
Lucifer nodded, too emotional for words. The scene began to play again.
Jophiel disappeared into the Garden, and Eve was left sitting alone. She picked up the fig that had fallen beside her, rolling it between her fingers curiously. She blew off the dust and brought it to her nose, sniffing it cautiously, and then pressed it to her lips, biting down.
“Lead the way,” Luce murmured. Michael followed his past self into the brush.
Sounds echoed back—footfalls, the crashing and ripping of branches and plants, the faint peals of laughter.
Michael could feel the tension rising, not only internally, but between himself and Luce.
He wanted, against all odds, to be wrong, and of course Luce wanted to prove his claimed innocence.
Michael would be a liar if he said he hadn’t always found Luce’s actions very much out of character that day. But to be wrong would mean he had made a mistake with unbearable and irreparable consequences. He wasn’t sure he would be able to survive the guilt.
Before he could come to grips with the moment, light dawned close ahead. The laughter died, murmuring tones slipped into its place. His past self surged ahead, so Michael and Luce quickened their steps in response. Slowly, the unintelligible words became distinct.
“…and then we enter in tandem, you from the front and I’ll come from behind.”
The serious voice was interrupted by a burst of familiar laughter. “Careful darling, it’s a mutiny, not an orgy.”
Michel cut his eyes to Luce, who had the ghost of a fond smile tugging at his lips. He looked abruptly away.
Flustered sputtering transitioned into a quiet, embarrassed retort. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
“Stop, I know,” Lucifer spoke with an audible smile. “You are adorable, I keep forgetting how new you both are.”
They entered the scene a moment behind the Michael of the past, who broke the edge of the tree line fast and furious.
“One is not enough? You need them both?” He nearly roared, bearing down on the two men where they hunched together over rolls of parchment. Adam swiftly rolled the papers and tossed them beneath a nearby bush.
“Sorry, what?” Lucifer’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“You know, I always did wonder what the hell you meant by that.” The Devil murmured under his breath.
“Don’t feign innocence with me!” Michael snapped. “Look at the two of you, cozy here in your secret space. Is Eve not enough?!”
The scene was, admittedly, rather compromising.
The gazebo was shrouded by the gentle ivy that had been climbing its walls for centuries.
A pale cloth, laden with platters of fresh fruit and sliced bits of cheese, laid over the table.
A carafe of wine sat in a bowl of slowly melting ice.
And in the center of it all, the two men bent with heads close together, laughing about orgies.
“Mikha’el, you’re rambling like a madman,” Lucifer protested. “What are you talking about?”
“You think me a fool,” Michael spat, advancing on them slowly.
“I think you are acting foolish, at the least.”
Adam rose slowly from the bench he sat on, and all eyes turned to him—or at least to the odd cluster of leaves that he wore as some sort of belt.
“Mikha’el, great warrior,” he began to plead, and Michael thrust a hand between them, palm flat in a universal gesture.
“Stop.”
Adam stilled so quickly he almost fell backwards, his eyes wide with alarm.
“That name is not for the masses.”
“I beg your forgiveness.”
“You do not receive it.”
Adam recoiled completely this time, shrinking in on himself with a stricken look on his face at the rebuke. Michael wondered if this was the first time someone had treated the newly minted being with anything other than deference and wonder.
The air hung taut. Lucifer cleared his throat. “Are you going to explain yourself?”
“Are you?” Michael retorted. “Such sweet settings, and a mention of mutiny. I find myself for want of some elaboration.”
A weighty pause. Even the world around them seemed to still, hanging on their every word. And then Lucifer made a choice that would have repercussions echoing across centuries.
“No.”
“So be it.”
And Michael drew his blazing sword.
The lights had been dimmed as far as Gabe could get them, and taper candles flickered at either side of the bed.
Foster watched him lay out various pieces of their impromptu spell kit, relentless doubt gnawing at the edges of his gut.
Doing the right thing wasn’t supposed to feel this terrible, was it?
Gabe hummed a vaguely familiar tune as he worked, settling the spheres of selenite and amethyst against the pillow on either side of Sra. Delgado’s throat. Foster realized he was humming “If You’re Happy and you Know It” and recoiled slightly.
“Really? Of all songs?”
“I’m trying to stay positive. Maybe she can sense the mood.”
“It’s poor fucking taste.”
“Sure.” Gabe stopped humming. “Pass me the bone powder, and the Gospel.”