Lucian saw a shadow appear near where Zerachiel stood and knew right away
that Lucifer had joined them. Ela shrunk
a bit behind him, squeezing his hand.
She had every right to be afraid; the mere presence of the Adversary changed
the entire feel of the Holy. Get used to
it, Lucian thought to himself.
He had never noticed the heaviness of
Hell and, by extension, HellQuarters.
When he had watched Ela in the Hall of Mirrors, he had seen her struggle
to breathe until she acclimated to the space; he understood why only now. The presence of evil sucked the air from the
room and even Heaven was no exception.
“Late, as usual,” Gabriel said, the
change in his voice immediately recognizable.
The Messenger was now the Voice.
“You know,” Lucifer yawned, looking at
Gabriel but avoiding the curtain altogether, “just hanging out. Lots to do now that I have to resettle one of
my HellQuarters.” His eyes met Lucian’s,
and they were black. There was no pupil,
only emptiness. It made the former
Hellion cold in his core.
“I’m scared.” Ela buried her face in his arm, and he
tightened his grip.
When he turned to tell her that he
would protect her and to not be afraid, Gabriel’s voice addressed him. “Step forward and be heard.”
How many times had he heard that
before? How many times had he been in
the gallery of angels as one of their own had been offered the chance to plead
their case before God passed judgment?
How often had he heard Satan tell the Hellions how he had laughed while
the soul of a poor, begging human asked for mercy? Lucian knew what he was up against. He also knew that he had nothing that could
show more than his actions had over the years; nothing could show who he had
been or who he was now more than his last few mortal hours.
He looked at the archangels he had
fought alongside, all watching him.
“Take care of her for me,” he said softly when he looked at Raphael,
loosening his grip on Ela’s hand. The
angel lowered his head once in reply, and Lucian saw sadness creep over
Raphael’s face. Even the angels know that I’m in for it, he thought.
“What are you doing?” Ela’s voice shook as he let her go.
He forced a smile and stepped away,
while Raphael placed a protective arm around Ela’s shoulders. “It’s time.”
Lucian knew that Raphael was doing it as much for Ela’s support as it
was to stop her from running after him, and he was grateful.
“No,” she looked back and forth between
them, “no, you can’t. Stop him,
Rafi. Stop him!”
He could hear the panic in her voice,
but Lucian turned instead to Michael and unhooked the leather straps that held
the sheathed blades to his back. “When
Uriel over there grows up,” he winked at the angel in question, “make sure he
gets these.”
Uriel tried not to smile- it was a
serious situation after all- as he muttered, “Nothing but smart aleck quips
from you still.”
“Why change now?” Lucian looked back to Michael, whose face
held none of the comical notes that the angels of light shared between
themselves.
“Don’t do this.” Michael took the weapons. “You have a chance to speak. Take it.”
With his free hand, he took Lucian by the shoulder. “You can sway this judgment, brother,” he
whispered.
Lucian grasped the man’s other
shoulder. “You’ve done more for me than
I could have ever asked for. Like with the paralytic, the four of you cut open the roof of Heaven
and lowered me down. You gave me another
chance. But,” he said with a deep
exhale, as he looked first to Ela and then back at his old friend, “my life has
spoken for me. I’m ready to accept the
consequences.” With both pain and
understanding in his eyes, Michael dropped his head and hand.
