Page 140 of Wicked Believer

“I’m ... going to need a stronger drink,” she says, signaling the waiter.

Two Long Island ice teas and half a cosmo later, she seems a bit steadier, or just buzzed enough to finally process everything I’ve been saying.

“This is all . . . That’s . . . that’s wild, Charlotte.”

I nod weakly, stirring my piña colada. “You’re telling me.”

“No wonder you haven’t been texting.” She shakes her head, and in the next second our eyes meet, and we both burst out laughing.

We laugh until both of us have tears running down our faces, until we’re practically crying over what remains of her sushi and my soup, and then we both start crying for real, and hugging, until I feel fully whole and like myself again for the first time in what feels like forever.

“God, I missed you.” I pull her over to my side of the booth, giving her another too-tight squeeze.

Jax rests her head on my shoulder, squeezing right back. “You should’ve told me sooner.”

“I didn’t want to scare you, and then after I saw you and Evie at our apartment together, I—”

“Evie couldneverreplace you,” she whispers to me. “We’re ride or die. Remember?”

“Even if that means we’re both riding toward the apocalypse?”

“Especiallywhen it means we’re both riding toward the apocalypse. A bitch has gotta do something with her last days, you know? You only live once.” She takes another hearty sip of her drink, then she sets it back onto the table, her eyes going distant and glossy. “So, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” I admit.

“I think you should go through with it. The PR thing.”

Convincing Lucifer’s siblings to take my side, she means.

“If anyone can change their minds, motivate them to help, you can.”

I snort. “You havewaytoo much faith in me.”

She shakes her head. “No, Charlotte. I don’t. You don’t have nearly enough faith in you. You’re the woman who managed to getthe devilwrapped around her little finger. Lucifer would do anything for you. That’s its own kind of power, honey.”

I nod, considering what she’s saying.

Maybe she’s right.

Maybe Ihavebeen going about this whole thing the wrong way.

Trying to use someone else’s power instead of recognizing that my own has been sitting right in front of me this whole time. My interaction with Gluttony earlier is proof of that.

“About the last time I was at our apartment,” I say, abruptly changing the subject.

She lifts a curious brow, like of all the insane directions she expected this conversation to go, this wasn’t it.

“When you, you know, had that vision. What did you see?”

She swallows, her throat writhing. “I wasn’t exactly sure what it was I saw at first, but now that you’ve given me some context.” She nods to where my hand sits in my lap, and I extend it across the table towardher, my palm facing up. She uses her finger to trace a particularly deepXshape in one of the creases there. “This is the Mark of Lilith. A lot of women have them. It’s pretty normal, but when your hand brushed against mine the other day, I ... I saw her.”

“Lilith?”

She nods. “She’s angry, furious even, that God locked her babies away for so long. That He ... took some of her power away.”

All the breath rushes out of me. “And?”

“And she wants vengeance. Against God, I think.”