Page 52

Chapter 51

Not a Religious Celebrity

SJ

“I really hope this works,” I muttered to the invisible man in my arms. “Because if it doesn’t, I might be consigning us both to a very nasty fate.”

I didn’t just hope it worked. I needed it to work. I needed to prove to Jemma that I could be the male she needed. The male who took action. The male who could make up for his mistakes.

But there were so many of them, stemming from that very first encounter outside the hospital.

So much to atone for.

She’d told me she loved me. My throat had closed over at the sound of that word, on her pretty lips … said about me .

I reminded myself vehemently that she had also just been rescued from a violent, horrific situation. One that many humans would simply not come back from. What had she seen inside her father’s torture chamber? I had a fair idea, and even that was enough to give me chills …

People said strange things that they might not really mean when in those sorts of situations.

And then there was the issue of my future. And the future of two Soul Realms and all the eternal souls yet to be assigned to them. I felt the weight of that responsibility on my back; my entire reason for existence in the first place was because of that very responsibility.

The golden light at the end of my portal grew closer, and I steeled myself. Get Jemma’s father safe. Confront my … mother.

My father had been reaping souls long before God had intervened … he was, as recently as eighteen years ago, tricking good people like Jemma’s father into selling their souls … and since then, he’d all but given up on actually ruling Hell … which, while it meant he was no longer doing despicable things, he was letting the kingdom slowly die.

But God was just as complicit in ruining the balance between Heaven and Hell … and She had also planned to make a slave out of me, a minion, caged forever in Purgatory to judge souls, while She continued to live her cushy life in her opulent Heavenly High Rise, taking all the credit for everything.

And then there was Hellen. Who, I thought, probably did really care about Hell. But she was also an evil bitch who thrived on the pain of those who didn’t deserve it. Who had tortured Jemma. My Jemma …

Honestly, I was sick and tired of all of them. Hellen, Father, and bloody God. It was clear to me that in order to fix this mess, once and for all, I had to man up. I had to take my birthright. On my terms. By force if necessary.

I stepped out of the portal.

“Back so soon?” Mike snarked. I blinked the temporary blindness from my eyes. How had I forgotten how sodding bright it was up here? It had been mere hours since I’d left.

“How are your bollocks?” I asked snidely.

Mike scowled. “Fully healed. I am a celestial being, after all.” His eyes flitted behind me, clearly looking for the perpetrator of the crime against his nethers, before they returned to me, and my bundle, warily.

Gabe and Raphe flanked him, and they didn’t even bother to hide their surprise. Their mouths gaped wider when they noticed the frail man in my arms—corporeal again now he was in a realm for souls.

“Who the bugger is that?” Raphe demanded, while Gabe swallowed audibly and muttered, “How the blast did you portal into Heaven?”

I smirked, hoping my expression was cocky and not nervous. “According to you fellows, the rule is merely that … She … is the only one who can create portals to leave Heaven. No one said a word about entering.”

The three archangels exchanged a loaded glance as I took in my surroundings. Just as I had calculated, the portal had set us down in the foyer … and at the end, by his pearly reception desk, Pete watched with beady eyes.

I strode past the gawping trio, my long legs eating up the space. Mr Bliss stirred in my arms, moaning hoarsely.

“It’s alright, sir,” I muttered. “I’ll see you safe.”

“W-what in Heaven’s name have you b-brought with you this time?” Pete demanded crisply. He folded his spindly arms over his puny chest. “A bundle of r-rags?”

“A soul in dire need of divine intervention,” I said solemnly. “This man should never have ended up in Hell, and I would?—”

“Good grief!” Pete scoffed. “You’ve b-brought a soul from the underworld, here to H-heaven? What the blazes were y-you thinking?”

I inhaled for calm, drawing myself up to my full height. “I was thinking that if any of you care a jot about restoring a balance between Heaven and Hell, you’ll start by fixing the wrong my father did this man. His wife died on the same day as him. I believe she will be here.” I cleared my suddenly lumpy throat. “I would like you to reunite them.”

Pete stared at me over his spectacles. Eventually he gave a curt nod, hopping around his desk and placing his hands on Mr Bliss’s temples. The air around us hummed. Pete’s eyes widened, his brows lifting high on his weathered forehead.

He pulled back, his lips in a tight line. Turning to the trio of arch-morons, he snapped, without the slightest hint of a stutter, “Mike, take him to level twelve. Make sure the lower angels take good care of him. And tell them to have space prepared in Elsie Bliss’s abode.”

Mike blanched. “But?—”

Pete’s expression turned from grumpy old man to terrifying eternal being so fast, I was surprised Mike didn’t soil himself. “You will do this thing!” he snarled.

Mike, who did look a little like he might need a change of underwear, glanced warily at me. “Do you think that it’s … time?” he whispered.

“Time?” I raised an eyebrow, stepping back when Mike made to take Mr Bliss from my arms. “Time for what?”

“Time for change around here,” Pete answered matter of factly. “I’ll admit, when you first showed up earlier today, I was … less than impressed. But this,” he gestured to Mr Bliss, still cradled in my arms, “is proof that you have what it takes.”

“To what?” I breathed, my chest squeezing.

Pete leaned closer, gesturing me to do the same. “To end Her tyranny,” he whispered. Clearing his throat, he straightened. “Mike, take Robert here to level twelve. Gabe, gather all the off-duty angels and cherubs. She won’t go down without a fight.”

“Wait. A fight?” I stepped backwards, still clutching Mr Bliss to my chest. “I did not come here to fight.”

Take what is yours. By force, if necessary , a small but vehement voice in the back of my mind insisted.

Pete narrowed his eyes. “I think you did. And I think you’re ready for it.” He flicked his gaze to the waiting archangels. “Raphe, you can escort Simeon up to Her.”

Shocked by the speed at which things were moving, I numbly relinquished Mr Bliss to the unexpectedly gentle arms of Mike. “Take care of him. He’s very important to my …” I cleared my throat again. “To the person who is most important to me.”

Mike nodded curtly. The respect in his eyes was disconcerting, to say the least, and he launched himself into the air, his wings beating as he ascended.

“And now it’s your turn,” Pete remarked, shoving me in the direction of the same elevator I’d taken just hours before.

“Wait, I … I don’t understand. You … you want me to take over?”

Pete rolled his eyes. “We want someone who cares about the souls. Not about their religious celebrity.”

I opened my mouth to say that I didn’t care all that greatly about the souls, either, but I was being shoved into the elevator, and Raphe, and his scowl, and his large, feathery wings, crowded me.

“You better get rid of Her,” he mumbled darkly as my testicles dropped out of my body at the speed of the elevator.

“Or what?” My voice came out reedy, and I winced.

“Or you’ll get punished along with the rest of us.” His expression told me all I needed to know about Her brand of punishment. “Do you even have a plan?” He eyed me with distaste. “You don’t look like a man with a plan.”

“I do,” I lied.

Raphe didn’t respond, but his disbelief was written all over his face.

I wracked my brain. What could I do to depose a literal God? A God who, by all accounts, was wildly abusing Her power.

The elevator lurched to a stop. I was out of time. The doors swung open, and I had no idea how I was going to rid Heaven of its leader.

Raphe pushed me into Her domain.

* * *

She was painting Her bloody toenails!

While cherubs toiled, replacing the glass panels I’d smashed earlier, sweat dripping from their creepy little toddler faces in the blazing sunlight, She sat behind her desk, one foot propped up, a little bottle of pearly white polish in Her hand.

She looked up. Those silvery eyes flashed with surprise, but then Her lips widened into a lascivious grin.

“Crawling back already, I see? I suppose you want to apologise?” She sighed dramatically. “You can wait until my nails are dry.”

I stared at Her, disgust unfurling in my stomach. This being had been the source of nightmares for demon children for as long as I could remember. The bane of our kingdom, the reason we all struggled. I’d oftentimes thought that Father’s apathy was directly related to some deep-down fear in him that he could never best Her, could never wrest enough souls from Heaven to return Hell from famine.

And here She was, leisurely painting her toenails, overworking Her elderly cherubs, and telling me —the son She’d plotted with Father to spawn so that She could continue to live Her frivolous existence without the threat of war with Hell—that I must wait until She was ready to hear my apology?

And just like that, I knew what I needed to do to end all of it. No force required. Just quick thinking.

“Do you believe that we have souls?” I asked Her.

She glanced up from her pedicure. “What sort of question is that? Of course we have souls,” She derided, setting aside Her pot and brush and eyeing me with condescension.

“But how can you be sure?” I asked, stepping closer, preparing to give Her a little, tiny truth to keep Her unaware of my intentions. “When I was a child, I thought that perhaps I didn’t have one. Hellen used to tell me I was soulless, and … I was so different to her, to any other demon children I happened upon. I always wondered if that was because I was soulless.”

I swallowed back my emotions, waiting. A tiny part of me held a spark of hope that Her face would soften, that She would reassure me. The way a mother would reassure their child after a nightmare, or during a storm, or any time they felt that bottomless pit in their stomach that I had felt all too often as a child.

Instead, She rolled her eyes. “For My sake, Simeon! You’re the son of the most powerful deity ever to exist! A deity for whom souls are Her sole purpose.” She chuckled at Her little wordplay. “You have a soul. Your soul is stronger than almost every other one out there …” She gave a tittering giggle. “Except mine, I suppose. Perhaps your … father’s, too,” She added with a disdainful sniff.

I bit my lip before it could curl, taking another step closer. “I’ve been thinking … about what you offered earlier. And I can’t quite believe that I have the power to decide the fate of souls. It … forgive me, but everything today has happened so fast, and I honestly cannot comprehend that I can … send souls to their rightful destination.”

She sighed dramatically. “As I just said, you are My son. And your father’s—he’s not without his own … abilities, when it comes to soul judgement. You’ve already reaped one more than deserving soul to Hell. You might have disliked the … questionable ethics of doing it, but the mechanics of the reaping process itself, you didn’t struggle with.”

“So … if I were to take on this responsibility,” I mused, stepping closer again. One more step and my leg would press up against the desk. “I would simply need to … shake their hand, and send them where they belonged?”

God gave a half-shrug. “If that’s what feels right for you, I suppose. Personally, I just go with a gentle pat on the shoulder.”

“Oh?” There was the edge of the desk. She was within reach.

I really bloody hope this works.

“So … just like this?” I asked, reaching out and gripping Her by the shoulder.

“Ouch! Not so … grippy!” God quipped, and for a split second, my stomach dropped. It wasn’t going to work. But then the room went oddly, eerily silent, except for a muffled gasp from Raphe.

And I felt it. The black, selfish core of Her, like gnarled roots twisted throughout Her entire being. Her soul.

Her eyes widened, and She struggled against me, but my grip … and whatever strange power I wielded prevented Her from escaping.

“I think your rule is up, God,” I muttered, lifting my other hand. Unlike the last time I’d tried to conjure a portal in this room, the swirling lights appeared swiftly. I tugged her against my body, stepping into the maelstrom. “I think it’s high time we put your soul up for judgment.”