world.”
It was something that had happened before, when the Horsemen, before their curses, had started a war. Angels had stepped in and changed human history and memories with little consequence. But Reseph had been around for five thousand years and had affected countless lives and events.
Darnella smiled coldly. “Speculation. And irrelevant, since he’s not dead. Hopefully he’s suffering a million deaths right now.”
Everyone nodded in agreement, and Reaver prepared himself for a flaying that just might be physical as well as verbal.
“He’s not in Sheoul-gra,” he said abruptly. Rip the bandage off quickly and all that. “I wiped his memory and turned him over to the human realm.”
Stunned silence. And then furious roars and a few screeches of, “You did
what
?” Calls for Reaver’s wings to be severed followed next, along with too many offers to do it right now.
Reaver held up his hand, but the cacophony only died down a little. “It gets worse. Yeah, that’s right; save your insults and demands for my expulsion from Heaven for later.” He looked out over the furious crowd and wondered how long it was going to take for his Watcher duty to be taken away from him. Or worse. “Gethel knows Reseph is free, which probably means every key player in Sheoul does, too. As I said, she’s trying to bring Pestilence back,and if she finds him, she could do it if she subjects him to evil again.”
“How do you know this?” Modran asked—through clenched teeth.
“Harvester told me—”
“
Harvester
?” The jewel-robed guy practically screamed her name. “You trust the word of a fallen angel?”
“Not normally,” Reaver said. “But she has reasons to speak the truth about this. And her Watcher Council has known about Reseph’s release from Sheoul-gra for months, thanks to loose-lipped demons. Now that you know, you can confirm everything I’ve said.” He hopped down from the stage, letting it poof away. “I have an angel to hunt. I suggest you put the wheels in motion for others to be on the lookout for Gethel as well.”
“You’re going to be punished for what you’ve done,” Modran swore, as if Reaver had been at all unsure about that.
Reaver ignored Modran and strode toward the exit. He’d do everything in his power to find Gethel, but first he had to check in on the Horsemen.
And given that he’d missed a birth, a wedding, and who knew what else, he had a feeling that explaining his absence to them was going to be a lot more difficult than explaining it to angels.
Nine
Jillian woke to the smell of burned pancakes and charred bacon. She sat up, blinking, the events of last night as fuzzy as her eyes. She’d crashed, and crashed hard. She remembered waking at one point in the night, and although she couldn’t recall why she’d woken, she did know that Reseph had been holding her, and his chest had been wet with her tears.
He hadn’t said a word. He’d just handed her tissues and kept her close, his strong arms banded around her. And now, it seemed, he was trying to burn down her house.
She made a quick trip to the bathroom and donned her robe before hurrying to the kitchen, where Reseph, wearing only jeans, was dousing a fire.
Smoke drifted out of the sink, billowing up around a stream of rushing water. “Oh, uh… hi.” Reseph shot her a sheepish grin over his shoulder. “I tried to make you breakfast.”
“I can see that.” She peered into the sink, where the remains of paper towels and pancakes were an ashy mush. “I think, in the future, you should leave the cooking to me.”
He frowned down at the mess. “It’s like I’ve never cooked in my life. How could I not have cooked?”
“Maybe you only ate out?”
“Maybe I’m rich and have servants,” he suggested. “That would be cool.”
She turned off the gas burner that was heating the empty cast iron frying pan. “I don’t think I’d like being that rich.”
He pivoted around and propped his hip
It was something that had happened before, when the Horsemen, before their curses, had started a war. Angels had stepped in and changed human history and memories with little consequence. But Reseph had been around for five thousand years and had affected countless lives and events.
Darnella smiled coldly. “Speculation. And irrelevant, since he’s not dead. Hopefully he’s suffering a million deaths right now.”
Everyone nodded in agreement, and Reaver prepared himself for a flaying that just might be physical as well as verbal.
“He’s not in Sheoul-gra,” he said abruptly. Rip the bandage off quickly and all that. “I wiped his memory and turned him over to the human realm.”
Stunned silence. And then furious roars and a few screeches of, “You did
what
?” Calls for Reaver’s wings to be severed followed next, along with too many offers to do it right now.
Reaver held up his hand, but the cacophony only died down a little. “It gets worse. Yeah, that’s right; save your insults and demands for my expulsion from Heaven for later.” He looked out over the furious crowd and wondered how long it was going to take for his Watcher duty to be taken away from him. Or worse. “Gethel knows Reseph is free, which probably means every key player in Sheoul does, too. As I said, she’s trying to bring Pestilence back,and if she finds him, she could do it if she subjects him to evil again.”
“How do you know this?” Modran asked—through clenched teeth.
“Harvester told me—”
“
Harvester
?” The jewel-robed guy practically screamed her name. “You trust the word of a fallen angel?”
“Not normally,” Reaver said. “But she has reasons to speak the truth about this. And her Watcher Council has known about Reseph’s release from Sheoul-gra for months, thanks to loose-lipped demons. Now that you know, you can confirm everything I’ve said.” He hopped down from the stage, letting it poof away. “I have an angel to hunt. I suggest you put the wheels in motion for others to be on the lookout for Gethel as well.”
“You’re going to be punished for what you’ve done,” Modran swore, as if Reaver had been at all unsure about that.
Reaver ignored Modran and strode toward the exit. He’d do everything in his power to find Gethel, but first he had to check in on the Horsemen.
And given that he’d missed a birth, a wedding, and who knew what else, he had a feeling that explaining his absence to them was going to be a lot more difficult than explaining it to angels.
Nine
Jillian woke to the smell of burned pancakes and charred bacon. She sat up, blinking, the events of last night as fuzzy as her eyes. She’d crashed, and crashed hard. She remembered waking at one point in the night, and although she couldn’t recall why she’d woken, she did know that Reseph had been holding her, and his chest had been wet with her tears.
He hadn’t said a word. He’d just handed her tissues and kept her close, his strong arms banded around her. And now, it seemed, he was trying to burn down her house.
She made a quick trip to the bathroom and donned her robe before hurrying to the kitchen, where Reseph, wearing only jeans, was dousing a fire.
Smoke drifted out of the sink, billowing up around a stream of rushing water. “Oh, uh… hi.” Reseph shot her a sheepish grin over his shoulder. “I tried to make you breakfast.”
“I can see that.” She peered into the sink, where the remains of paper towels and pancakes were an ashy mush. “I think, in the future, you should leave the cooking to me.”
He frowned down at the mess. “It’s like I’ve never cooked in my life. How could I not have cooked?”
“Maybe you only ate out?”
“Maybe I’m rich and have servants,” he suggested. “That would be cool.”
She turned off the gas burner that was heating the empty cast iron frying pan. “I don’t think I’d like being that rich.”
He pivoted around and propped his hip
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