Page 18 of Grave Revelations (Prophecies of Angels and Demons #3)

Chapter 17

Rebecca

Gabriel, or a man who looked like Gabriel, faced her. Her gaze slid over his winter white suit and stopped on a pair of cream loafers. A thick ivory scarf was snug around his throat, and his hat was pulled low over his brow. With his wings suspiciously absent and sunglasses hiding his eyes from view, he could almost pass for human.

Rebecca crossed the space, pulling expensive-looking sunglasses from his face. Swirling black and red eyes stared back at her.

“How?” she breathed.

“This is what you wanted. A man.” He waved a hand down his body. “In extravagant things.” He pressed a handful of garments into her chest. “Get dressed. I’ll take you to eat.”

She wrapped her arms around the clothing and turned from him, dumping them on the bed. She wanted to offer him comfort, but what could she say? If he could hear her thoughts, nothing she said would matter.

She stared down at velvet leggings lined in fur, a thick, black cashmere sweater, socks, boots of fine Italian leather, and a heavy wool coat with gold buttons. She lifted the coat to find thin, lacey strips of fabric underneath. “What are these supposed to be?” she scoffed, holding up the sheer scraps.

“Undergarments. ”

He moved to the corner of the room, setting his hat on a table, and crossed one leg over the other. His gaze never wavered as he watched her.

She found a pair of leather gloves and a beret in the pile.“Did you raid the Fendi store?” She laughed nervously.

“These are the sort of things you are like, are they not? Overpriced material goods, made on the backs of the poor.”

Was he chastising her? For her expensive taste? It stung. Maybe she liked nice things, but she hadn’t complained once about being dragged through the woods for days in her dirty sweatshirt and leggings.

“Not out loud."

“Will you stop that? I’m allowed to have my own private thoughts.”

He arched a brow, saying nothing.

She wondered again what was going on in his head. But if there was some magical way to hear his thoughts, he hadn’t shown her. “Could you leave so I can get dressed?”

A feral grin broke over his face, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure he would go. A thought crept into her mind, but she crammed it down, praying he hadn’t caught it.

When he was gone, she dressed quickly, flushing as the sheer fabric of the unnecessarily sexy underwear slid over her thighs and breasts. As she stepped into the hall, Azazel held out an arm, and she took it.

Her thoughts had begun to race after he left the room and hadn’t stopped. Fear for Rhea, Sophia, and the witches plagued her; guilt crept in as she thought of all the time she’d wasted on a bath while they were suffering or dying.

Between those fears, thoughts of Simon slithered in, insidious, but she pushed them down, refusing to give them a voice. He would recover in New York with some of the world’s best doctors, and when she saved the others, she would find him and demand answers.

The smell of eggs, sausage, and spices hit her, wiping all thoughts from her mind .

They strode through the lobby, into the dining room, and stopped at a buffet table. Rebecca picked up a plate and began scooping food onto it. Azazel stood beside her, silent. She looked up.

“You really never eat anything?”

He glanced down. “No.”

He’d been quiet since he’d returned for her, but this was different. She wasn’t sure how to navigate the creature who had taken up residence in her life. And now, dressed like a regular man, he was even more discomfiting.

They left the buffet and found a table in a dark corner of the room. She bit into eggs seasoned with some delectable spice and looked up.

“This is my first time outside the US. I’ve never been to most places, actually. Rachel moved around a lot, but it was always a stop overnight here or there and a quick bite at a gas station. I never got to experience different foods and cultures.

“Boston was my first time living somewhere new and meeting people from other places. It’s silly, I know.” Rebecca had never been good at silence and knew she was babbling. She closed her mouth.

Azazel’s dark glasses hid whatever emotions he was feeling as he said in a flat voice, “You asked me for privacy, to allow you to keep your thoughts to yourself, but I can’t turn it off. Gabriel would have left you alone and given you all the space you needed. But I suspect you know what it means to remember a part of you who died and to no longer be that creature.”

Rebecca set her fork down and reached for his sunglasses. He didn’t flinch as she lifted them from his face and set them on the table.

When their gazes met again, her breath caught. His eyes were drowned in sorrow.

She grabbed his hand.

“I’m sorry, Rebecca. I can’t be what you want. I can’t be him.”

The ember in her chest flared to life. She reached for it.

“Don’t,” he breathed. “Don’t call for me when I know you don’t want anything to do with me.”

She blinked. “That burning in my chest. You feel it? ”

He squeezed her hands tighter, at odds with his pained words. “It’s our soul. The part of me that lives in you.” Her fingers slackened, shock racing through her, and his grip tightened. “Can you not feel that you share it? That it’s not yours, but ours ?”

Her throat was scorched dry as she whispered, “I thought it was my magic.”

“Magic lives in seraph blood. Born of us and passed to our offspring.”

“But… You said I was the last Nephilim. There are many witches.” She lowered her voice, glancing around at the other patrons sitting nearby.

Azazel ignored them, but his voice, a deep rumbling sound, dropped another octave. “Witches are the diluted line of Nephilim. To be a true offspring of seraphim, one must possess pure blood. In it, all four elements will be present.”

Rebecca pulled her hand from his, rubbing it over her face. “I don’t understand.”

“Have you eaten your fill?”

She looked down at her empty plate. Only a few crumbs remained. Sipping from her glass, she set it down. “Yes.”

He stood, sliding his sunglasses back on his face, and held a hand out to her. She took it, and they moved between tables toward the exit.

“Disculpe,” someone called behind them.

Shit . She had no money with her and nothing to offer for the food. Rebecca was considering making a run for it when Azazel turned, saying something in another language to the server. The man’s eyes widened, and he shook his head.

Azazel turned back to her, ushering her out the door.

“What did you say to him?” she whispered.

“I told him to put our bill on room three-seventeen.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Who’s room is that?”

“Olivia Rodrigo.”

“What! I was in the room next to Olivia Rodrigo, and you didn’t tell me!”

His lips lifted a fraction. At the exit, he stopped, grabbing three bottles of water from the counter.

As they stepped out into the crisp air, Rebecca slid on her coat and gloves and took the water bottles, stuffing them in her pockets .

“I thought you might have chosen the first empty room you found below the fourth floor.”

“I know. You still think of me as a demon.”

She bit her lip. It wasn’t that she truly thought of him as a demon, but… “Why aren’t you evil if Satan is?”

He hissed, glancing sideways at her. “Don’t say that name out loud.”

“Why not?” She lowered her voice to match his.

“His cursed moniker is meant to draw his attention. It’s akin to pointing a blazing arrow at our location on a map. He may have released me from his torturous domain, but I am powerless against him should he choose to drag me back.”

Rebecca shuddered, ice rolling down her spine. But his words had reminded her of something she’d wondered for quite a while. “Why did Jophiel think I could save you from that place?”

As if saying her name aloud had summoned her, the angel appeared on the sidewalk beside them. Rebecca halted, stopping Azazel with her. He tugged her arm, urging her forward.

Jophiel strolled beside them as if she’d been there the whole time. “Brother, I hate to see you this way,” she said, glancing at him.

“It would’ve always come to this. You and I both know it.”

Jophiel shook her head, not bothering to acknowledge Rebecca as she stuffed her hands into her pockets and continued down the sidewalk, passing shop after expensive shop.

“Something is interfering with the souls attempting to enter Alaxia.”

“It’s not my problem anymore.”

“You can’t mean that.” Jophiel shifted her gaze to Rebecca. “You may have Rebecca back, but countless souls are trapped like she once was.”

“She’s right here,” Rebecca bit out the words. “Hi, Joph. Good to see you.”

“What do you expect me to do? Father has turned his back on me,” Azazel continued.

“Go to Primoria,” Jophiel said. “See if they’re there. I’ve been looking for you. You’re the only one who can help with this. ”

Azazel stopped, halting Rebecca with him. “You dare ask a favor of me? Might I remind you I’m in this new form by your actions?”

Jophiel’s gaze darted to Rebecca again. “Brother…”

“Ask Raphael.”

Jophiel turned, giving up all pretense of a stroll. “I’m not talking about one or two lost souls. There may be thousands trapped in Primoria, being tortured for crimes they did not commit. Would you leave them to that fate?”

“It’s no worse than the fate I suffered for coming to the aid of my other half.”

Jophiel’s swirling, multi-hued eyes turned pleading. “You’re not like him, Gabriel. You don’t want humans to suffer needlessly.”

The sky darkened in a flash as thunder rolled overhead and a burst of lighting shot through the clouds.

“I am not Gabriel!” His voice echoed the sounds above, and people on the street ducked and ran for cover.

Rebecca looked around, awed at how quickly the world had transformed. She’d never seen him angry. It was something.

She squeezed his arm, and the dark clouds receded as quickly as they had come, leaving room for the sun to peek out.

Azazel took a calming breath before saying, “I’m searching for the nasdaqu-ush who is likely behind all of this. When I find her, I’ll end her. Everything will be put right.”

Jophiel eyed Rebecca’s hand wrapped around Azazel’s arm and said, “The reashes in this territory have been searching. They believe she’s hiding on a small island off Tropea.”

“Thank you.”

Jophiel nodded and winked out of existence.

Azazel turned his gaze to Rebecca. “Would you like to see Italy?”