Chapter 28 #2
The sheer arrogance almost made Michael want to fight, but Luce gave a sharp shake of the head. In his battered state and with Luce powerless to back him, they stood no chance against Jehovah. Michael tensed but ultimately followed Jophiel back to Jehovah’s side.
Ithiel hesitated, then quickly followed, pulling Mags by her bound wrists. To her credit, Mags did not panic. She held her head high and dug in her heels, not truly resisting but making Ithiel work for every inch he marched her toward confinement.
Jehovah gave them both a sweeping glance and shook his head in disappointment. “You were both held in such high regard in my realm. My favored soldier, and my own son’s consort. And now I bring you back in shackles.”
“This is your choice,” Michael said softly. “These are your laws.”
Darkness clouded Jehovah’s expression again, and he gripped Michael roughly by the jaw. “That’s enough, Mikha’el. You’re treading a dangerous line.”
“You’ve already made me a prisoner,” Michael frowned. “I see no reason to stay my tongue any longer.”
“Is that so?” Jehovah’s voice took on a deadly cast, and his eyes narrowed to slits.
“I’m tired of keeping quiet when I disagree with your methods and decisions, Jehovah.”
The King’s grip tightened, squeezing until his fingers were digging into the angel’s flesh hard enough to bruise. “You have one more chance to shut your mouth, Mikha’el, or I will do it for you.”
Michael met his glare head on. “I’ve been silent for you long enough.”
“On that, we disagree,” Jehovah purred, and yanked Michael’s mouth open. Before any of them could react, before they could even register what was happening, Jehovah pulled a gleaming knife from a sheath on his belt.
“Hold still,” he said sternly, and drove his blade into the angel’s mouth. In one swift movement, he sliced out Michael’s tongue, casting the lump of flesh to the dirt as the other man began to choke on the golden blood pouring from the wound.
“Michael!” Lucifer screamed, stumbling towards them, but Jehovah flung him back with a flick of his wrist.
“The mouth of the righteous brings forth wisdom,” Jehovah purred darkly, as he healed the gaping wound to prevent it from growing back. “But a perverse tongue will be cut out.”
The clearing was silent as they all dealt with the shock of what they had just witnessed. Michael’s pained whimper cut Luce to the bone. He tried to rise, but he was too worn down, completely depleted and unable to fight.
“I trust I’ve made myself understood,” Jehovah said coldly. “Now, I think it’s time we left this decrepit plane.”
He clapped once and the horses paraded forward.
He clapped again, and a golden cage wove itself from sunbeams, affixed to the harnesses of two horses like a morbid gilded carriage.
Jophiel was quick to usher Michael into the cage, while Ithiel struggled to wrangle Mags, ultimately shoving the petite woman into the golden prison with the angel.
Michael took her small hands in his own, carefully unwinding the cord that bound her.
She lifted a freed hand and touched his cheek lightly, though she had to fully extend her arm to reach.
Michael smiled fondly despite being in clear pain and rested a comforting hand lightly on her shoulder. Luce’s heart broke to see it.
There was so much he wanted to say, so many things to apologize for and promises he wanted to make. The weight of Jehovah’s power lifted, and he staggered upright. “Michael... Mags...”
“Luce!” The small woman reached for the bars of the cage but recoiled as her fingers met the shimmering metal with a stinging hiss.
Lucifer tried to go to her, but Jophiel quickly stepped into his path, brandishing Michael’s sword. “I can’t allow you to interfere.”
“And I can’t allow you to keep that blade.”
“You have no claim to it.”
“I have more claim to it than you,” Luce sneered, “as I’m the one who originally gifted it to Michael.”
“Oh, let him keep it, Jophiel,” Jehovah threw his hands up, impatient. “It’s just a sword. Frankly, it has a negative history that I’d rather not have around.”
“I’m surprised you even want it.” Jophiel still hesitated, sounding like a sullen child.
“Call me a masochist,” Luce shrugged. “Maybe I just want it to remind me of him.”
Jophiel huffed but sheathed the sword and practically threw it into Luce’s hands. “Fine, torment yourself.”
Luce rolled his eyes. “So glad to have your permission, Lord Jophiel.”
The blond sneered but climbed astride his horse without additional comment.
“It’s going to be okay, Mags.” Luce swallowed. “Christos won’t let anything happen to you.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Michael squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.
“You are bold, to speak for my son. Be prepared to deal with me again once I settle these affairs,” Jehovah cautioned Lucifer as he climbed onto his horse, and Ezekiel actually took pains to fluff and settle the King’s cape before he mounted his own steed.
Rag balked at the action, averting his gaze with an expression of mingled disgust and disbelief. Ezekiel refused to look at any of them, staring off into the distance with a practiced disinterest.
“I would expect nothing else,” Lucifer muttered. “You always did insist on dictating the lives of others.”
“And you insist on testing my patience.” Jehovah frowned deeply. “You tread dangerous ground, Lucifer. If I were you, I would get that wayward son under control before I am forced to address that situation for you.”
“I could say the same of Gabriel for you,” Lucifer hissed. “It is his fault we’re even in this situation, after all.”
“Liar!” Jophiel spat. “Always with your lies!”
“Settle down, Jophiel.” Jehovah waved a hand, annoyance in the furrow of his brow. “You honestly expect I would take you at your word, Lucifer? That might be your greatest delusion yet. Gabriel is one of my most loyal servants.”
“So was Michael,” Luce said, flippant. “So was I.”
Jehovah looked at him for a long time, and then simply shook his head. “Goodbye, Lucifer. This is not the end of this.”
They were gone before Lucifer could shield his eyes, enveloped in a brilliant glare of sunlight that quickly faded out.
The world seemed duller in the wake of such bright light.
Colors were faded, the clearing vaster and more desolate.
He waited one beat, then another. After a tense moment, Luce allowed himself to breathe again.
He dropped his barriers, then fell immediately to his knees.
Uriel tried to turn and help despite his own pain, only to be cut off as Remi rushed to Luce’s side, Rag and Bal at her heels.
Glory remained in place, staring vacantly at the space her brother had occupied moments before, arms wrapped around her knees in a defensive hug.
Judas sat beside her, watching her cautiously.
“You idiot!” Remi shouted, falling to her knees and flinging her arms around Luce. She hugged him tightly, tears streaming down her pale cheeks, and rocked him like a child. “You could have died!”
Bal sank into a crouch. “You can siphon power from me, if you need to.”
“I’ll be fine,” Luce insisted, absently patting Remi’s back as she clutched him tighter.
“Stop putting on a show,” Rag said sternly, and gripped Luce’s wrist in one hand, Balthazar’s in the other. “And take what we’re offering.”
Rag closed his eyes and focused on drawing enough energy from Bal and transferring it into their King to bolster his shockingly depleted reserves. When he finished, Bal sank back on his heels.
“Damn, Luce.” He whistled. “You haven’t gone that low since…well, I’d probably say Sodom and Gomorrah.”
“Still don’t forgive ol’ Jeho for that bullshit,” Rag said.
“I don’t forgive him for existing,” Remi hissed, finally loosening her borderline chokehold on Lucifer. Her expression quickly shifted from murderous to depressed. “He took Maggie.”
“You know she hates when you call her that,” Luce reminded her.
Remi glared at him. “As if it matters now. We’re never going to see her again.”
“All of this,” Bal muttered. “All of this chaos and for what?”
Luce sighed. “It seems like it was foolishness, I know. But it really is the best chance we have to contain my son.”
“You mean it was the best chance,” Rag said, frowning. “Because not to be blunt, but we just got our asses handed to us by a kid. The book didn’t help at all.”
“And now I’ve lost two of my Fallen,” Luce muttered. “Seven was such a perfect number.”
Remi slapped his arm. “How can you joke about this?”
“If I don’t laugh, I will cry,” Luce said simply, closing his eyes. Remi shrank back slightly, unaccustomed to Luce being genuinely vulnerable. Dramatic tantrums were one thing, but this was too raw.
“Cami and Sachi are gone,” Remi swallowed thickly, “And Mags is going to be imprisoned forever at best, but more likely he’ll—” She cut herself off, bringing a hand to her mouth to stifle the sob.
Rag placed his hands on her shoulders, not trying to comfort her with words but simply offering his presence. What could even be said?
“All for nothing.”
They all jumped slightly at Glory’s abrupt appearance, no one having noticed her approach from across the field, Judas trailing behind her with his hands jammed in his pockets.
“You alright, love?” Bal knocked her shoulder gently with his, and Glory shook her head.
“My brother is…not the man I remember,” she whispered, hugging herself tightly.
Bal threw his arm around her shoulders and gave a reassuring squeeze. “I can be your new brother, Glor.”
“It’s not the same,” she muttered, but her lips quirked up in the subtle ghost of a smile.
“Not all for nothing,” Luce smiled tightly. “Thanks to your slimy worm of a brother and his obviously limp backbone, Glory, we now have the next piece of the Armor of the Gods.”
He raised Michael’s sword, sunlight glinting off the golden blade as he pointed it to the sky.
“The Sword of the Spirit,” Rag said, realization bringing a smile to his face.
“Indeed,” Luce smiled, and sheathed the blade once more. “With this to bolster my powers, I can begin to work on restoring the bits of me that I gave to you all.”
“Restoring?” Remi frowned.
“You must have noticed, over the eons,” Luce arched a brow. “The abilities that came with your standing as my Deadly Sins have been dwindling ever since I bestowed them.”
“Is that why I have to use twice as much power and end up with a headache after?” Remi demanded. “I thought I was just stressed or out of practice.”
“Yes," Lucifer nodded somberly. "And if we’re going to restore your full powers, free Michael and Mags, and stop my son… I’m going to need you all to cooperate with me. We have one chance to get this right.”
Remi sobered up instantly, resting her hand on Lucifer’s knee. “You know that we’re loyal to you until the very end, Luci. Whatever it takes, you only need to ask it.”
“I may have to ask a great deal from all of you, before we’re through.” Luce leveraged himself up from the ground, with Remi following suit. Rag helped Uriel to his feet and looped the other man’s arm over his broad shoulders for support.
Glory smiled. “We’ll do whatever is needed.”
Luce took in his Fallen’s solemn and determined expressions.
He looked back at the charred remnants of Foster’s former apartment, a sense of overwhelming loss mingling with the concern and regret that always warred when he thought of his son.
Lucifer closed his eyes as the last rays of sunset kissed the landscape, sliding down past the horizon.
When he opened them again, his eyes glowed brilliant gold in the darkness.
“Then we’d better get to work.”