Page 8 of Grave Revelations (Prophecies of Angels and Demons #3)

Chapter 7

Rebecca

“We’re soulmates. Destined to be together until the end of time.”

Rebecca narrowed her eyes. “We’re not soulmates.”

Azazel pushed off the tree, crowding her. “Are you telling me you feel nothing when I’m near you?”

A thrill shot through her as she stepped back, giving them space. “Sure. I feel a lot of things. Loathing. Disgust.”

He grinned, lifting one of her dark curls and twisting it around his finger. “Lies.”

Damn angels and their abilities to sense dishonesty. But he wasn’t an angel anymore. Did they get to keep that skill forever?

“What are you now, if not a demon?”

“I’m a fallen seraph. If I accept my place beside my brother, I’ll become one of Primoria’s rulers.”

Rebecca let out a startled exhale. Co-rulers in Primoria. Was that possible? Could he lie now, as a fallen angel?

She ran her gaze over his broad chest, pausing on three slash marks. She reached for them, running a finger down the deepest one in the center. “What are these from? ”

“Samael marked me. Claiming me as his general in the coming war.”

She dropped her finger, looking up. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve had visions. You know what comes next on this plane. The war to end all wars is near.”

“None of my visions have been about the end of the world. Are you saying the apocalypse is real and that you’ll fight with the devil when it comes?”

His dark wings twitched, shaking the low-hanging branches at his back. “No.”

Rebecca blew out a breath. None of what he said made sense. How could they be soulmates? She’d always believed if she had a soulmate, it would be Simon. Her heart stuttered at the reminder of him. But she shook the negative thoughts away, refusing to believe he was gone.

Her gaze dropped to Azazel’s feet, vision going unfocused. Every time she fought through the haze of memories from those moments before she lost consciousness, an image flashed in her mind: Simon’s arms wrapped around her as she carried them higher and higher. Their eyes had met, and his eyes had gone dull, the yellow in them flickering before they returned to the deep amber they’d been all those years ago.

It didn’t mean anything. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. All the while, this fallen creature claimed to be her soul’s other half.

She looked up, meeting Azazel’s dark, swirling eyes. “If we’re soulmates, why did you wait until Allie was dying to show yourself? Why wait until six years ago to find me? I’ve been alive for more than a century. Where have you been?”

Something like hurt suffused his features—an emotion she’d never seen on his face.

“Gabriel was selfless. He believed your human life didn’t belong to him, that it was yours to do with as you pleased. I am not Gabriel.”

Silence hung around them. Even the breeze stilled.

Rebecca bit her lip. “Are you saying we would have met in the afterlife? When I died?”

“Just because you haven’t seen me doesn’t mean I haven’t been here.”

“Another cryptic response. I don’t think that counts as an answer. ”

His rumbling chuckle rolled over her, sending goosebumps down her spine. “You meant it when you said you weren’t going anywhere until I answered all your questions, didn’t you?”

She quirked an eyebrow, taking a step back when she realized how close he’d gotten. How had that happened?

The silence hung heavy between them. She’d never been comfortable with it, but two could play his game. He wasn’t the only one who could ignore a question.

“Come, you need to eat.” He held out a hand.

She didn’t take it, narrowing her eyes. “And if I don’t come with you?”

“If you work to separate us,” he sucked on a tooth, “well, you’ve already seen what happens.”

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed further. “Are you trying to tell me the pain wasn’t something you did?”

“You can’t think I’d harm you.” He raised a brow.

“We’ve been apart my whole life. Why would it hurt only now?”

“It only hurts when you decide to separate yourself from me and act on it.”

“That’s unfair. Why don’t you have the same problem?”

The smirk that had been playing at the edges of his mouth fell. “I do.” As if to prove himself a liar, he stalked past her, heading down the steep hill.

Rebecca spun on her heel, marching after him. “What do you mean? You’ve left me a hundred times.” He ignored her, parts of him misting in and out of his solid form as he walked straight through tree branches and logs. Rebecca cursed, stumbling over a branch. “Hey! Don’t ignore me. What did you mean by that?”

She fumed, her temper flaring as he continued, saying nothing. “Gabriel, I’m talking to you!”

He spun so quickly that her cheek smacked into his chest.

“This is the last time I will tell you. My name is Azazel. Gabriel died in Primoria. Do not mistake me for him again.”

Planting a hand on his chest to steady herself, she peered up and up to meet his gaze. From this close, the red and black swirling in his narrowed eyes was menacing.

“Answer my question. ”

“We’re in town,” he reminded her. “Hold my shorts so I may remain out of sight.”

She blinked as he lost form, stretching into a tree’s shadow. His pink shorts dropped to the ground. She scowled down at them.

“Why should I?” She glanced around, but he was gone.

She squinted into the shadows stretched long by the setting sun. If he was there, she couldn’t make him out. How many demons slid among the shadows out of sight every day?

Dropping her gaze to the enormous pair of swim shorts, she considered leaving them, but remembering the alternative was a very naked Azazel, she stooped and swiped them up.

Rebecca stepped onto the street and sucked in a breath. She hadn’t realized how much magic she’d been channeling from the earth until it was no longer coursing through her. The stone was cold and dead under her feet. An ache started in her stomach, and it grumbled loudly.

“This way,” a voice like smoke curled against her ear as phantom fingers touched her shoulder, guiding her to the right.

It wasn’t quite dark, but it would be soon. They’d wasted too much time in the woods. If Elizabeth had something planned tonight, she was nearly out of time. He’d been right. Not that she would ever tell him that.

Bleached white buildings lined her path. Vines crept up their sides, making them look cozy and inviting. She would have killed to spend the night in a real bed with blankets and pillows. Sighing, she continued down the cobbled path, peering in windows and down alleys as she passed. It was silent apart from the soles of her shoes slapping stone.

“Azazel,” she whispered into the chill quiet.

Silence.

The smell of yeast and something deliciously spicy hit her, making her mouth water. She turned, following her nose. The low hum of voices drew her forward, and she stepped out of the shadows, stopping in front of a small shop. It was brightly lit with shelves lining the window facing the street, filled with pastries of all shapes and sizes .

A TV was mounted in its far corner, playing the news in a language she didn’t know.

Rebecca wiped the drool pooling at the corner of her mouth, stomach gurgling loudly. She would give her left arm for any of the delectable treats trapped behind glass. Pressing a hand to the pane, she leaned closer. Dizziness hit hard, and her vision went white at the edges as her focus narrowed on the pastries before her.

“Take what you want.” Soft words brushed against her ear, making her stagger back.

She whipped her head around, scanning her surroundings, but saw nothing. Not waiting for more encouragement, she moved to the door and pressed it open, reveling in the warmth that blanketed her. No one was behind the counter.

“Grab something now before they return,” the voice whispered.

She darted her gaze left and right, noting the utter stillness of the space. Lifting to her tiptoes, she strained to see into the back of the store and turned, spinning for the shelves, and began stuffing pastries into her pockets.

Pockets full, she ran from the shop, stumbling over cobbled stones before flinging herself against a wall tucked into the shadows. She reached into her pocket, pulled out several mashed pastries and bit into them, hardly chewing before she swallowed. The ache in her stomach was a bottomless hole, and she crammed food into her mouth, filling her cheeks.

“You’ll need blankets,” Azazel breathed along the collar of her coat. “And water.” She continued stuffing her mouth with bread, moaning as spices assaulted her tongue. “You’ll make yourself sick, Rebecca.”

His teasing tone only infuriated her. What did he know about being hungry? She’d only had a power bar and one meal over the last few days. Demons or fallen—or whatever he was—didn’t have to worry about hunger.

“Your human side needs food. Your seraph side doesn’t. Open yourself up to the idea and discover what’s possible.”

Was he reading her mind? Could Azazel read her mind? She grimaced. There were too many thoughts tumbling around in there that she didn’t want anyone to have access to—least of all him .

The loud clang of metal hitting stone made her jump, and she looked up in time to see a brown and tan tabby pad out of an adjacent alley. She pursed her lips.

If the words whispering along her jaw were any indication of his location, Azazel was close, even if she couldn’t see him. Cats were a sign that no demons were nearby, as they instinctively knew when one was near. What did that mean?

A phantom nudge of her shoulder had her looking left. Rows of laundry hung from a second-story window, drying in the evening air.

She stared up at the tattered bedding and frowned. Another nudge, more insistent, bumped her.

“I see it,” she seethed.

A sound she could have sworn was his dark laugh ruffled her curls.

She stretched her head back, looking up at the sheer white wall, wondering how he expected her to get up there and pull the bedding down. A light wind blew her hair back from her face, curling around her fingers.

Her heart rate increased as a cold sweat broke out along her back. “I can’t. I can’t use magic.”

“Why?” the wind asked.

“It’s killing me. It will kill me to use it.”

“Ridiculous.”

The word gave her pause. Had the witches been wrong? Did the use of her magic have no effect on her lifespan? The weakness she’d felt before hadn’t been her imagination, though. It had taken healers to restore her. And Azazel had already said he was waiting to claim her until she died.

Perhaps this was a trick to hasten her demise.

“If I wanted you dead, would I have saved you from Elizabeth?”

“You can read my mind!”

Darkness pooled in a corner under the clothesline just across from her. “You could read mine if you tried.”

Before she had time to process his words, Azazel formed the solid shape of a man, fully nude, and stalked toward her.

Rebecca backed up, hitting the wall in the cramped space .

He knelt before her and laced his fingers together. “Climb up.”

She gaped down at the creature kneeling at her feet. “Get up,” she breathed.

“Put your foot in my hand so I can give you a boost.”

“Can’t you just fly up there and get it for me?”

“The space is too tight. My wings won’t fit.”

She frowned, peering up at the narrow space before dropping her gaze to the crown of his head. Tentatively, she set a hand on his shoulder and stepped into his cupped palms. He lifted her, and she held her hands out to either side for balance as he stretched his arms over his head.

She snatched a blanket, wobbling as it came free. He cupped her ankles, steadied her, and stepped left so she could grab a second blanket. She winced as the pain in her foot flared to life, but in moments, his grip loosened, and he set her down gently.

The sun was well and truly beyond the tree line now, and a sinking feeling settled in her. The town seemed small and sleepy, but they hadn’t crossed paths with anyone yet.

“Azazel,” she whispered. “How far are we from my sister’s hideout?”

He glanced down, giving her an inscrutable look. “Far enough.”

She frowned. “There aren’t any people in this town.”

“She couldn’t have made it to this island by boat in the time it took me to bring us here. If she were coming for you, she would have had to wait till tonight to set sail.”

Rebecca chewed her bottom lip. “You’re wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Azazel asked, turning his sharp gaze on her.

“Her new creatures can exist during the day or night. They are some sort of demon-night-being hybrid. They would have been able to man the boat, transporting her body by day.”

Azazel grumbled something before he bent, scooping her up.

“Put me down,” she demanded.

He ignored her, launching into the sky.

Rebecca’s stomach dipped as they shot up, and she turned her head into his chest to avoid seeing just how high they were .

“Someone might see us!” she hissed.

He said nothing, whether because he couldn’t hear her over the sound of the wind or because he chose not to answer, she had no idea.

When her stomach settled, she dared to glance at the treetops below. This close to the bottom of the mountains, the trees were more sparse, rocky hills dotting the landscape, and every so often, white speckled the earth. They were small buildings, possibly houses, but the surrounding land wasn’t cultivated.

“They’re churches,” Azazel said, answering her unspoken question.

“All of them?”

“Once, Sfakia had over one hundred and fifty active churches. It was a beautiful place, but after the war that triggered the start of the end times, most were destroyed or abandoned.”

Rebecca gazed in silence as they continued their glide up the side of the mountain. The trees grew denser as they ascended, and when they reached a point near the top, they dropped into the canopy and dipped below it, settling on snowy earth.

From above, it was invisible, hidden from the naked eye. Speaking of naked…

She unwrapped the swim trunks from her blankets and tossed them at Azazel. He caught them, sliding in one leg at a time before he stepped into their small dirt shelter.

It was a visual she wasn’t likely to erase from her mind any time soon.

“We didn’t get water,” she said, following him in. “And I don’t think we should hide out here all night while Elizabeth continues killing.”

Azazel raised an arm, pulling vines and branches up into the shape of a chair, and sat, his wings disappearing as he reclined. He made it look so effortless. She envied his ability to use magic freely and without consequence.

“You can call water to you. Why don’t you try it?”

Crossing the room, she dropped the blankets she’d pilfered on the makeshift bed and turned. “You truly are trying to convince me to kill myself, aren’t you?”

Azazel arched one dark brow. “As I said before, using your gifts will not hasten your death. In answer to your earlier question, you’ll remain here. I will find the nasdaqu-ush and stop her. ”

“What happened to not leaving me alone?” she asked. “I’m not useless. In case you’ve forgotten, I killed at least a few dozen of the night-beings in Bermuda.”

Azazel snorted. “And yet you’re still afraid to use your gifts.”

Rebecca frowned. She had used an immense amount of power, yet she was still here, feeling better than she ever had. Could he be telling the truth? But she’d grown so weak all those times and only ever felt better when a healer had funneled magic into her. Even if she didn’t use her own magic, Ada’s sacrifice hung over her, counting down her life.

She ran her gaze over Azazel’s reclining form. Was there a way to break the deal? Would he tell her if there was?

“If I’m not growing weaker from using magic, what exactly kills me when I turn twenty-five?”

He rested both arms on his armrests, meeting her stare. “Dina trapped a very powerful Naphil named Sanura in Sheol, but only another Naphil’s blood—the last Naphil—was strong enough for the spell.”

Sanura. She had heard that name before.

Azazel continued, “But there were two parts to her sacrifice. To remove a necromancer from the human plane, Dina needed a willing supplicant. Adalaide,” he tripped over her name, “gave herself too freely. When the magic was woven around the spell, Sanura’s other half corrupted it, pulling not just the life from Adalaide’s body but from every single one of her future descendants.

“Gabriel traded one of his gifts for the lives of the males of her line. It was the only deal he would make.”

Rebecca’s mouth hung slack as she stared at the creature across from her. “But… you said I’m Nephilim. If Adalaide was the last one, how can that be?”

“Rebecca, you are Adalaide.”