Page 4 of Alastair

My stomach fluttered. Someone he cherished. “I have thought over various options, and this is the only one that holds merit. I am the last one he hasn’t yet taken. He is sure to come for me.”

His frown transitioned to a smirk. “You are wise beyond your years, dear boy. At only age eight, your bravery is greater than most of my army combined.”

Father glared at me.

“However…” Lucifer breathed a sigh. “I cannot allow it. The risk is too great. Lazarus may have the other children, but without you, Uriel’s plan will be fruitless.”

“But—”

“Alastair.” My name left Lucifer’s lips on a growl. “I have given my answer. Do not push me further.”

I bowed my head, biting my tongue. I knew my plan would work. Why didn’t Lucifer trust me? Why didn’t he believe in me?

“Show him,”a voice whispered from a place inside my head.“Prove your worth.”

I excused myself from the throne room and moved down the long corridor, a plan already forming in my mind.

***

I stood in the forest outside a small neighboring village, having left my bed before the sun rose that morning. The barrier around the castle that shielded our location didn’t reach me in the forest—the precise reason for choosing it.

I wanted him to find me.

And find me, he had.

The angel appeared in a whirlwind of ice and snow.

“Who are you?” I asked, feigning surprise. Though a tiny part of mewassurprised. He was taller than anticipated, and the nightmarish, angry face I had imagined in dreams was nowhere to be found. Instead, he appeared youthful, with pale skin, white wings, and hair like the snow he stood upon.

“You know who I am,” the angel spoke. “The son of Azazel is no fool. He has told you of me and what I’ve done.”

Very well. Might as well drop the act. “Lazarus. You’re the one who’s taken the other boys.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” An honest question. My father and the king speculated the reason, yet no one knew for certain.

“That I cannot say.” Lazarus held out a hand. “Come with me. I will only ask you once.”

“What will you do if I refuse?”

“Challenge me and you’ll find out.”

I studied his face. His eyes were unreadable. “Did you kill them?” I asked. “The other boys?”

“No. The eight of you are too important.”

A strange sensation swirled in my chest. Important. Cherished. Words that described how others felt about me. I had disobeyed Lucifer’s orders by sneaking away from the castle, knowing the moment I left the barrier that my location would be exposed. The need to prove myself was too great.

Once I returned with the other boys, Lucifer would see my value. He would see my worth.

So, I reached out and took the angel’s hand. As our skin touched, I was surprised by the warmth of his palm. Not icy at all. He spread his wings, shook them once to rid them of the snow that had accumulated on his feathers, then lifted into the air, taking me with him.

“It will not work,” Lazarus told me as we flew above the wintery landscape, traveling faster than my own wings could carry me. “Your plan.”

“Plan?”

His pale blue eyes moved to my face. “Since your birth, Azazel and Lucifer have kept you hidden away in that castle like a prized possession, never allowing you to leave the barrier. You expect me to believe you wandered off on your own to play in the snow?”