Revenant laughed. “Satan’s forces are coming. The gate is open!”
“Reseph!” she screamed.
Reseph threw himself against the wall of the tornado, over and over, clutching his head as the noises grew louder.
“Please! You can do this.” Jillian’s voice was a sob now as despair squeezed her in its grip.
Throwing back his head, Reseph roared. The vortex wobbled, just a little. Another roar, and the wobble moved the entire thing several feet. Sections of it began to disintegrate, and the wobbling grew more violent.
Jillian shoved to her feet. “Reseph?”
He hurled himself out, landing in front of her, his body bruised and bloody. Groaning, he twisted around to look at her.
With Pestilence’s eyes.
Swallowing her fear, Jillian framed his face in her hands. “I love you. Come back to me.” Without thinking, she kissed him.
Startled, he pulled back, but she didn’t let him go. She kept her mouth on his, kissing him hard, kissing him in a frenzied, last-ditch effort to bring back the Horseman she loved.
For a beautiful moment, he kissed her back, his lips tender, his tongue a fleeting brush against hers. Elation warmed her, fed into her hope that this was it. This was Reseph winning—
Stinging pain seared her mouth. He’d bitten her lip. She tasted blood, felt her world crash down around her.
“Jillian.” Reseph’s voice dripped with agony. He reared back, a snarl tearing from his throat. “You. Will. Not. Win!”
Reaching up, he gripped the two chains around his neck and yanked them hard enough to snap the links.
As if the air had been let out of a giant balloon, everything went still and eerily quiet. The tornado disappeared as if it had never been, the gate closed, and Reseph collapsed onto the ice.
“Reseph?” She brushed his hair away from his face, willing him to open his eyes. “Are you okay? Talk to me.”
When he didn’t move, she put her ear to his chest. What if Wormwood had worked? Please don’t be dead… please don’t be dead…
He had a heartbeat. Thank God, he was alive, but why wasn’t he moving? “Reseph!” She shook his shoulders, and his eyes popped open.
An exhausted smile curved his lips. “Hey, babe.”
She threw herself at him. Covered his body with hers and just held on. “Please tell me it’s over. Please.”
His arms came around her. “It’s over,” he rasped. “I beat the bastard. It was like mental arm wrestling, but I did it.”
“Are you sure?” Thanatos crouched a few feet away, the broken chain belonging to the evil stone dangling from his hand. “Pestilence is contained?”
“Yeah. I repaired the vessel.”
Jillian’s breath trembled out of her. “Vessel?”
“Long story.” Reseph looked up at Jillian, his gaze so tender it brought tears to her eyes. “It was you, Jillian. I honestly don’t know if I’d have had the strength to overcome him, but I couldn’t let him hurt you. And I couldn’t let what he’d done keep haunting me and cracking the container.”
She buried her face in his neck, not caring about any strange container. What mattered was that he’d won. “I knew you could do it. I never doubted you.”
“Arik, you got your soul back.” Reseph smoothed his palm up and down her back. “I know it doesn’t make up for everything—”
“Hey.” Arik cut off Reseph. “I think it’s time we all start over.”
“I agree,” Jillian murmured. “I’m ready for a fresh start.” She pushed up and looked down at her blood-streaked skin and torn shirt. “And a shower.”
Reseph grinned. “I’m in.”
“Jesus,” Ares muttered. “A whopping two minutes have passed since you nearly started a war between Heaven and Sheoul and you’re already getting frisky?”
“It wasn’t me who nearly started the war,” Reseph said. “It was Pestilence.”
Jillian tightened her arms around him, relief settling over her in the first pure, warm peace she’d felt in a long time. This was truly the first time he’d acknowledged that Pestilence had been the source of evil in every event. Yes, she knew he’d always harbor guilt for everything that had happened, but the victory today had gone a long way toward healing a devastating wound.
“And,” Reseph continued, “Do you even know me? Hellooo… I’m na**d, with a drop-dead gorgeous female lying on top of me. I’m not made of stone, you know.”
Jillian’s cheeks heated as a chorus of groans came from all sides.
“Yeah… that’s our cue to leave,” Limos said. She smiled down at Jillian and Reseph. “Thanks, Jillian. We all owe you. And Reseph? Good to have you back.”
They all offered some sort of thanks and acknowledgment that Reseph was back… except Revenant. He looked like he’d swallowed a rotten egg as he flashed away with a snarl.
Reaver went down on his heels, taking the malador from Thanatos and tossing Heofon to Kynan. “I’m proud of you, Reseph.” The angel squeezed Reseph’s shoulder and brushed the pads of his fingers over Jillian’s cheek. “Take care.”
And then he was gone, flashing away in a burst of golden light.
“I hate it when he takes off like that,” Kynan muttered. He gestured toward Jillian’s house. “I’ll handle the Aegis situation and arrange for repairs to your house. You two… get a room for the night somewhere. You deserve it.”
He tucked Heofon in his coat pocket and strode away. Tracker inched closer, but kept his gaze averted. “Mistress, I can take care of the animals and bed down in the barn.”
“That’s not necessary—”
“Please.”
Reseph tapped on Jillian’s shoulder, and when she caught his eye, he nodded. She sighed. “Okay, Tracker. For tonight. Tomorrow we’ll work something else out.” Looking like she’d given him a reprieve from death, he took off at a run. “What was that about?”
“He doesn’t know anything else,” Reseph explained. “Slaves in Sheoul don’t know kindness. When they get it, it’s always followed by pain. He’s not used to being treated well, and it’s making him uncomfortable.”
“That’s horrible.” And familiar. She stared after the werewolf, thinking about how she’d been wary when men were charming and nice, because inevitably, she’d get hurt. It had taken Reseph to change that, and somehow, she’d show Tracker that kindness didn’t have to hurt.
Sighing, she looked down at Reseph. His eyes were liquid, and on her back, his hands quivered. Alarm rang through her. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he whispered. “Everything’s right. So right.”
“Because of your family? Because they’re welcoming you back?”
“Yeah.” Caging her in his strong arms, he rolled her onto her back, his muscled weight a welcome indulgence. The chill of the ice barely registered as he settled himself between her legs. “And because of you. A few days ago I had nothing but revenge to keep my heart beating. Now I have my family back, and I have you.” He paused. “I do have you, right?”
“Oh, yes.” She trailed her fingers over his jaw, loving the way he rubbed against them. “I said I wanted the Reseph I found in the snowbank, and here you are.”
“But I’m not exactly him,” he said, an emotional warble in his voice revealing his fear. “So much has happened since then—”
“Shh.” She silenced him with a finger against his lips. “Yes, so much has happened. You learned you were strong enough to keep Pestilence at bay, and I learned that the man I love is willing to fight demons for me. You have me.” She gave him a sultry smile and slid her hand between their bodies to palm his erection. “And you can have me anytime.”
“God, I love you,” he groaned. The next thing she knew, she was in his arms, cradled against his chest, and he was opening a Harrowgate. “First, we’re stopping at Ares’s place for a hot shower and clothes. Then I’m taking you to the most luxurious hotel in the Bahamas.”
“Sounds decadent.” Even as exhausted as she was, she could imagine all the ways they could enjoy each other. In both places.
He hugged her tight. “This is just the beginning for us, and I can’t wait to get started.”
Neither could she.
Forty-three
Reaver didn’t bother to ask permission to enter Archangel Hall. He strode inside with an I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude and a smug expression to match.
Maybe at some point in his life he’d been in awe of the giant gold columns that pierced the endless azure sky and of the crystal rivers that wound through lush grass that went on forever. But not now.
Now he just wanted answers.
An angel dressed in some sort of obnoxious crimson medieval garb came from out of nowhere and blocked Reaver’s path. “Who are you, and why are you here?”
“I’m Reaver. I need to see an archangel.”
The male smiled. “Then go through the proper channels with your request.”
“It’s not a request, and I can’t wait years for this.”
Crimson Angel Guy narrowed his eyes. “Go away—”
“Hold.” A tall black-haired male materialized like something out of a Star Trek transporter, all gold and silver sparkles. His Greek-style robe was cinched at the waist with a simple brown rope, and his leather boots were nothing to write home about, but somehow this angel exuded power and royalty. His raven wings, shot through with gold, were probably the envy of everyone he came into contact with.
Reaver included.
The newcomer, definitely an archangel, waved his hand, and the angel in the crimson getup flashed away in a huff.
“Well, well,” the archangel said. “Reaver. Still not one for following rules, I see.”
“Since you seem to know so much about me, how about some reciprocation?”
The male’s smile was cold. “Raphael. Now, why are you here?”
Straight to it, then. Good, because Reaver wasn’t in the mood to mess around. “I want to know why my memory was taken.”
“I’m sure you do.”
Alrighty then. “I know who I am,” Reaver ground out. “I know my given name is Yenrieth, so I might as well have my memories back.”
The chilly smile fell off Raphael’s face. “That is… unexpected.” He wheeled away, only to pace in a wide circle before stopping in front of Reaver again. “But it makes no difference. You don’t get your memory back.”
“Damn you—”
Reaver didn’t get to finish his sentence. Pain like a million lightning bolts crackling through him sent him crumpling to the ground, blinded and groaning like a green soldier who’d taken his first wound. When he could see again… felt like a year later… Raphael was looking down at him, his silver eyes flashing like blades.
“You do not speak like that to me, nor do you question my decisions.”
By some miracle, Reaver didn’t groan again as he staggered to his feet. “So memory loss it is.” His head throbbed like he’d been clobbered by his own halo. “Maybe you can tell me why my daughter and sons have a new evil Watcher. Do you know what rule Harvester broke?”
For a long time, Raphael merely stared, his expression blank. Just as Reaver’s archangel-acute migraine started to ease, Raphael said, “She didn’t break any rules. She was taken for espionage. For helping the wrong side.”
“Helping the wrong side? You mean us?” Raphael had to be mistaken. “How?”
“By manipulating events.”
Now it was Reaver’s turn to stare. “I don’t… I don’t understand. She’s the one who wrote the note that The Aegis found… the one that Pestilence believed would break Than’s Seal.”
The archangel inclined his head in a slight nod. “She did it knowing sex wouldn’t break Than’s Seal. She did it so a child would be conceived. A child who could end the Apocalypse if all went well, and she had faith that the Horsemen would figure out how to stop Pestilence.”
Reaver’s head spun, which didn’t help the throbbing. “Why would she do that?”
“Because she was a spy.”
“A… spy?” Reaver asked, incredulous. “For how long?”
“Since the beginning.” Raphael said it so easily, as if everyone should have been aware of this information. “We fabricated a story about how she’d begun to kill humans for fun, leading to her fall, but in truth, she fell in order to infiltrate the highest orders in Sheoul and earn her way to become Watcher.”
“But why? Why would she give up so much to become a fallen angel?”
Raphael’s shake of his head and rolling eyes told Reaver what the archangel thought of Harvester’s reasons. “She’d been watching over your children since before they were Horsemen. She even saved Reseph from a fire that would have killed him. She loved them.”
This kept getting more and more unbelievable. “Where was I?” Reaver demanded. “Why wasn’t I watching over my children?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Raphael said, his tone making it clear that Reaver wasn’t going to get any answers about his past. “What matters is that Harvester was a spy, and she’s done the world a great service.”
Reaver threw his hand out to catch himself on a pillar before he fell over. “Why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t someone tell me about her?”