Page 10 of Grave Revelations (Prophecies of Angels and Demons #3)

Chapter 9

Rebecca

Rebecca wrapped the blankets tighter around herself, staring out the single window Azazel had created in their room. Her brain felt like mush.

Her ancestor or her—if Azazel was to be believed—had died to trap Sanura in Sheol. And Sanura’s soulmate had somehow twisted the magic to end everyone in her line, not just Ada.

Then, what did Azazel mean when he said he traded one of his gifts for the men?

Thoughts were jumbled in her mind, swirling together, and she couldn’t make sense of them. How had any of that answered her question? She was lucky to get one-word answers from Gabriel and when he finally chose to speak, it only confused her more. But he wasn’t Gabriel; she had to keep reminding herself of that. The creature who had trapped her with him was something else.

Just as she was. Nephilim.

Her throat was dry, and she thought back to his suggestion to call water from the earth. If he wasn’t lying and using her magic wouldn’t drain her, it would be worth it for a drink.

She stood, pulling the edges of her blankets up around her ears, and strode to the nearest wall. Running her hands over it, she searched for a seam or weak spot to push through .

It was solid.

Exhaling a long breath, she pressed her palms to the surface, imagining it crumbling away. Dirt and debris sloughed under her touch, bits sliding down to the floor, but it remained intact. She bit her lower lip, pressing against dirt, and tried again.

More soil came loose, but the wall must have been incredibly thick because her efforts hadn’t made a dent. She huffed, searching for a thin spot. He’d made it surprisingly spacious for a one-night stay. Her gaze snagged on the small window beside the bed and she crossed the room, dropping her blankets, and stepped onto its arm. It was a tight fit, but she could make it.

Rebecca wedged herself into the hole and pushed off the chair, hanging halfway out the window. Squirming against the dirt circle, she wriggled her arms free and pressed off the outside wall.

Landing in a heap on the ground, she stood, dusting her arms and legs. Surprisingly, there was no blinding pain. What had he said? The pain only came when she was actively intending to leave him. Whatever strange bond they had didn’t seem to be rattled by her decision to go out in search of water.

Spinning in a circle, she shivered at the sudden chill. It was several degrees cooler out here than it had been inside. Was that some magic trick of Azazel’s as well?

She spied his pink swim shorts tossed against a tree branch and smirked.

Moving between thick trunks to a place where moonlight filtered through the canopy, she held up her hands and hummed. Was that right? She felt ridiculous, but that was how the other witches had called rain.

“Don’t be afraid of it,” she told herself, splaying her fingers wide.

Nothing happened. And why would it? Her magic wasn’t called through song or by any external element. It was in her. At her core, some invisible ember rested, waiting to be set free. But opening the safe where she’d sealed it away meant unlocking all the feelings that came with it.

She wasn’t ready for that.

The ground shook as a hulking shape landed beside her.

“What are you doing out here?” Azazel growled .

Rebecca stumbled backward, losing her footing, and fell onto her butt.

His harsh expression slackened, and he moved toward her, holding out a hand.

She glared up at him, some of her fiery temper flaring to life, and pushed to her feet, ignoring his outstretched hand. “I was trying to summon water. I’m thirsty.”

Azazel pulled it back, and an emotion she couldn’t read flashed across his face before it disappeared. He swiped his shorts from the tree nearby and slid them on.

Some of her anger banked. He was wearing those ridiculous shorts to make her comfortable.

“Cup your hands,” he instructed.

She blew out a breath and did as he said.

“When you’re ready, this is how you call it.” He held his palms facing down and flexed his fingers.

Pebbles rattled across the dirt and her feet vibrated with the nervous tension running along the ground.

“What’s happening?”

Rocks jumped and skipped as the rumbling intensified just before a thin stream of water shot from the earth a few feet to her left and rained down in a geyser.

Rebecca rushed forward, holding her cupped hands tighter and laughed as clear liquid pooled in her palms. She brought them to her mouth, slurped up the water, and repeated the action several times, not caring as the geyser sprayed her face and hair.

Light—blindingly bright—seared Rebecca’s retinas, and the world was momentarily black as her vision adjusted, taking in the brilliant white outline of a man hovering just above them in the air. He had seemingly appeared from nowhere.

Azazel flung out a hand, and a wall parted in their makeshift house. “Get inside!” he shouted.

Rebecca darted through the opening and whirled in time to see Azazel seal the wall behind her, leaving her in total darkness.