Page 40 of Grave Revelations (Prophecies of Angels and Demons #3)

Chapter 39

Rebecca

Rebecca slid onto her favorite velvet couch, wrapping a soft cream blanket around herself, and sighed. She’d wanted to be free of her captor, but now that she was alone, she was nearly paralyzed by indecision.

She knew where Elizabeth was hiding but was woefully unprepared to face her. Although the memories of that night were hazy, coming in and out of focus, she remembered one thing: there were hundreds, maybe thousands, of Elizabeth’s creations in those caves.

None were like Simon or Sophia, though. The others had been silent and motionless unless called, standing like statues, awaiting Elizabeth’s command. But something else was scratching at her memory. Something important.

Rebecca closed her eyes, picturing that night.

She lay still when she awoke taking in her surroundings before giving herself away—a trick she’d learned from Simon. Intuition had spiked adrenaline in her veins the moment her brain had cleared from the drug-induced coma long enough to catalog the strange smells and sounds around her.

As she strained to listen for clues, she opened her third eye, taking in swirls of hazy color permeating the space. They mingled together, bisecting one another’s paths, trailing in every direction, but the largest concentration of haze was centered in one place. That was where she would find the rest of the coven.

She had opened her eyes, looked down at her wrists, and smiled. Hadn’t her sister learned the first time? Spelled bonds couldn’t hold her.

“ Reserare ,” she whispered. But the bonds didn’t fall away. Perhaps she’d misjudged the girl. She tugged at the metal chafing her skin, frowning.

Buzzing sounded in her ear, tearing her from the memory.

Rebecca stared down at the phone beside her on cerulean velvet.

54672 - Your driver is arriving with your order. As if in response to the message, her stomach grumbled loudly.

She hadn’t seen Azazel since he’d disappeared from her room the day before. All night, she had lain awake, waiting for him to return. He hadn’t.

He wasn’t far, though. That tether between them was taught, but not stretched beyond her awareness, and occasional thoughts from him flitted through her mind. It was as if the more time they spent near one another, the stronger their connection became.

And if Rebecca was getting glimpses of his thoughts, she was confident he had a front-row seat to hers. She’d sent as many lewd, dirty thoughts as she could when she woke but only got an occasional brooding response. When that hadn’t worked, she tried her hand at jokes.

He hadn’t laughed once.

She didn’t have a lot of practice telling jokes, but she had thought a few were funny. Eventually, she gave up on trying to coax more from him and focused on the issue at hand—her coven.

Her phone buzzed again. She looked down at a text from Simon.

Are you feeling better? Can we talk?

She flipped the phone over, sighing.

Dog.

I heard that, she thought back.

Good.

Rebecca stifled a laugh. Will you come in?

No.

I can tell you’re very close.

I’m outside the door .

Come in then.

The silence that followed sliced through her chest.

Her phone buzzed again. 54672 - Your order has been delivered.

Rebecca hopped up from her place on the couch and went to the foyer. She flung the door wide and froze. Azazel filled the doorframe, casting the world behind him into darkness while holding out a plastic to-go bag.

“Eat with me?”

He arched a brow. “I don’t eat.”

Butterflies erupted in her stomach.

Beautiful .

A thrill shot through her.

Want her.

He hadn’t moved an inch, the bag dangling off a finger.

The flutter of her heartbeat pulsed in her throat, and the pull that had only seemed to be growing stronger tugged her forward.

She slid the bag from his finger and closed the door in his face.

In the living room, she tugged her bag open, pulling out a to-go box and plastic silverware.

A sound like lightning cracked outside, and she tossed the cardboard to the seat, dashing out of the room. Throwing the front door wide, she stopped on the porch and glowered at a gleaming creature standing in a circle of melted snow outside her door.

Azazel was across from him, arms folded over his chest. “Raphael.”

“You hold no dominion on this plane, Prince of Primoria. Take your legions and depart!” Raphael drew his sword.

Rebecca stormed off the porch, marching toward him. “You’re not welcome on my estate. Leave!”

Raphael cast a glance at Rebecca before lifting his sword and pointing it at Azazel. “This is your one warning.”

Azazel said nothing, his jaw clenching as he stared down the angel .

Rebecca stopped beside him. She looked up and up. He was a lot bigger. Somehow, he’d regained that ability to shrink and grow at will. Maybe it came with his new title.

Raphael raised his sword overhead, slicing in an arc.

Rebecca screamed, and the world moved in slow motion as she threw herself in front of Azazel. The sword came down, slicing across her chest.

Azazel lunged forward, sweeping her up into his arms as time caught up with her.

She touched her chest and stared down at smooth, unmarred skin. Leaning her head back, she looked up at Azazel in confusion.

Seraph.

What does that have to do with anything? she asked.

A seraph's blade can’t harm you.

She stared back down at her uninjured body, finally understanding why her sword hadn’t drawn blood when Elizabeth used it on her all those months ago in her father’s basement.

Raphael dropped his blade to his side, looking horrified. “What game is this? Think you I will fall to your whims and be swallowed by the fiery bowels of Hell?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes, tapping Azazel’s arm. He released her, letting her slide to the ground.

“We’re on your side. We’ve been trying to stop the monster. With no help from you.” She stepped forward, pointing a finger at him. The angel’s light dimmed. “Why don’t you go find Elizabeth and leave Az alone?”

He shook his head, golden locks reflecting the sun’s glare. “A Prince of Hell cannot exist on this plane, little lamb. His presence upsets the balance.”

Rebecca swiveled her gaze to Azazel.

He nodded in affirmation, but his mind was suspiciously silent.

She bit her lip. If only Jophiel were here. She would probably have an idea.

You may be right.

“Dina,” he said aloud.

As if the words were a summoning spell, the angel appeared beside them .

“I should have known this was where you’d be,” she said, shaking her head at the trio. “Raphael. You’re needed in Greece. Why are you here?”

His gaze moved between her and Azazel. “He is a Prince of Primoria. He cannot dwell on this plane.”

Jophiel gave an exasperated sigh. “In case you haven’t noticed, things are already dire. His presence does nothing that wasn’t already set in motion long ago.”

“Dina. If you would consent to protect her, I will return to my realm.” Azazel gave his sister a meaningful look.

“You’re not leaving me again. You can’t,” Rebecca pleaded as Jophiel looked between them and dipped her chin. “Last time you left, she took me. I nearly died.” Ice climbed up her spine, and invisible claws scraped her skin, dragging her back to that dark cave.

Jophiel nodded, and Azazel winked out of existence.

Rebecca twisted around, hoping he’d only disappeared into the shadows, but he was gone. He’d left her.

Raphael launched into the air and disappeared, leaving Rebecca and Jophiel alone.

“How could you let him go? I thought you would help him!”

Jophiel opened her mouth, something placating surely prepared to launch from her tongue, but Rebecca held up a hand.

“Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.” Rebecca marched away from the angel, a chill creeping over her. She hadn’t noticed the cold before, but suddenly the blistering wind whipped at her, cutting through the lacy pajamas Azazel had given her.

She spun when she reached the patio, finding Jophiel behind her. “Don’t follow me.”

“I gave him my word."

Rebecca stopped at the entry and wrapped her robe tightly around herself, and despite her protests, Jophiel followed her in, closing the door behind her.

She scowled at the angel, stomped into the sitting room, and stoked the embers of a dying fire, noticing a chill in the drafty room that hadn’t been there before.

Jophiel flicked her wrist, and the flame roared to life, white at the edges .

Rebecca dropped to the couch and caught a whiff of her burger. Her stomach grumbled, and all at once, she was ravenous.

Jophiel’s display of magic tickled at something in her mind, something that had been just out of reach until now.

“Az said my gifts reflect his,” she said, and Jophiel nodded. “And I’ve seen him use earth, water, and air magic, but my strongest gift is fire. I’ve never seen him use that one.”

“Your strongest gift is air magic, like my brother’s,” Jophiel replied.

Rebecca wrinkled her nose.

“As a descendent of my line, fire should have been your strongest ability,” she continued. “But the bond with your other half supersedes familial transcendence. Therefore, fire is your second strongest ability.”

“So he doesn’t have fire magic?”

“True.”

“But I can share it with him?”

“Yes.”

Jophiel’s one-word answers were sour in her mouth. They weren’t lies, but... “What aren’t you telling me?”

“He would not want me to say.”

“No. He wouldn’t.” Azazel moved into the room, stalking toward them. His dark gaze suggested he may truly harm his sister if she spilled his secrets.

Rebecca glanced between them, some unspoken battle of wills playing out.

Jophiel looked away.

He continued striding forward. Was it her imagination, or did the faint outline of a wispy black crown encircle his dark brow? She blinked, and nothing was there—a trick of the light.

He stopped in front of her, holding out a hand. “Come. We have no time left to waste.”