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Suddenly, he found himself running, his feet moving before he could focus on a single one of his suddenly frenetic thoughts. For once in his existence he didn’t stop to knock, didn’t wait for an answer as decorum dictated, instead he forced himself past the heavy door and into the room unannounced, only to stop dead at the sight before him . . .
Luc was dancing with a phantom woman. The General of Hell softly sang the words to the tune Roth’s own mystery woman had put in his head years ago in that dark alley. A wistful dreamy look upon his usually harsh features. His voice, husky and filled with so much emotion. Seemingly oblivious to all else. Roth’s entrance caused not even a flicker of an eyelash. Luc’s entire being was lost in some invisible woman’s arms as the flickering candlelight flung his puppet-like silhouette against the parchment painted walls.
Soft whimpers and whines came from the two domesticated and non-shifting hellhounds who lay on either side of the fireplace. Among the first of their breed Luc had created them to be utterly fearsome and completely loyal. Now they looked up at Roth with big, sad eyes before they returned their massive black and midnight-blue heads to their paws as they watched the King of Hell losing his ever-loving mind, and all they could do was cry.
Roth backed up, closing the door quietly. He didn’t think Luc had even noticed him enter; despite how he’d been the complete opposite of stealthy. Nope. Not even going to try to process that mindfuck right now. Best to leave whatever it was for another day.
They had a meeting, sans Luc, in less than two hours to brainstorm ideas about how to help him. Just the Devil's 13. An hour after that was their regular daily briefing, which Luc would oversee. Thankfully, when it came to these, Luc was still on point. The conference call with Gabe and his tighty-whitey little top knots seemed to bring out the old Luc. The bringer of hellfire and ash, vengeance and wrath to all sinners. Possibly why he hated Gabe so much; they all did. Not that they could put a finger on why, but the asshat set their inner radar off, and there was just something about him that didn’t add up. Why the Almighty entrusted him with the Blessed Reapers, the so-called Angels of Light, and such a sacred duty was beyond them. It was also beyond their pay grade, to be honest. Not that they really got paid, not in the human sense of the word anyway.
Shaking his head Roth continued through the surprisingly well lit and cobweb free hidden passage to the private elevator that would take him to the gym below. Ready to work his body to the point where the past few hours disappeared into a welcome haze of exhaustion.
Chapter 4
Striding into the conference room which overlooked the dense woodlands of the valley their fortress was nestled in, Roth took a deep breath and assessed who was already present. Dammit, every last one of them was already in the room. All but one of them was lounging back on their padded leather seats, ankles crossed on the table made of polished onyx and solidified storm clouds, half empty scotch glasses held out in mock salute. Even Perri and Lily, almost like they’d planned it. The fuckers.
He was never late. He hated being the last to enter a room, as if by not being ready before everyone else meant he’d be ambushed by something, or someone. The fact they’d all noticed, and made a point of acknowledging his tardy entrance, rankled his forced calm. It made his skin crawl and his temper flared. Stopping for breakfast had been a mistake. A big one. No matter how much he loved old Mrs Briars’s sweet fae dumplings with rose and honey caramel sauce, they weren’t worth this level of anxiety and paranoia.
Locking down his internal demons, Roth cocked his brow at his friends, gave Lily a wink, and headed straight to the bar off to the side of the double doors to grab a glass of Cardhu. He kept his eyes on all of them in the mirrored glass behind the polished black, fully stocked bar. Three fingers worth should take the edge off; he had a feeling he’d need it. Especially because they only had fifty-five minutes left to get down to the business of discussing their esteemed leader’s increasing disconnection from reality.
Looking around at their amused faces, he acknowledged that while they found it amusing, he could truly trust each and every one of them to have his back. They were his family, his lifeline. They’d pulled him back from the brink more times than he cared to admit.
Caine assessed him from a deceptively casual position up against the far wall, his body never fully relaxed, with his blond, shaggy hair he was more reminiscent of a 1990s surfer than an angel created near to the dawn of time. Caine’s green gaze bore into Roth, probing. He took note of Roth’s reactions, his barely leashed tension and unease. He’d met him in the gym earlier, hell, it was pretty much a part of their daily routine at this point. Both of them pushed their bodies to the limits, punishingly, trying to outrun the demons that plagued them. And they both had more than one. But never in his immortal life would he wish to bear the burden that weighed down on Caine. There was a reason the man was built like a mountain with muscles which rival those of pro wrestlers-turned movie stars, Roth was never good with names like that. Caine castigated himself every day for a past he could not, and would not, have changed, and a future he knew was as unavoidable as the knowledge the Almighty had chosen this fate for him. His ‘gift’ was his unending punishment and torture.
Looking away from his best friend, his gaze skittered over Athon, Marco, Deus, Malphas, Lily, Perri, Andy, Ares, Fynn, and Malech, before coming to rest on Dante. The class clown. Not one to miss an opportunity to be a smart ass, the cocky little shit began to open his mouth . . . Malphas cleared his throat . . . What do you know, Dante’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click. Interesting . . .
“We don’t have much time before the others arrive, so we’d best get to it,” Malphas stated, drawing everyone’s attention back to the reason for their covert meeting. They were becoming increasingly regular the more Luc faded away. If angels suffered from human ailments, one would think Luc was slowly succumbing to Alzheimer’s disease. It would be the easy answer, clear-cut and definite. That was not the case. Mortal diseases, neurological and genetic conditions, simply couldn’t survive in the body of one of them. However, they could still get sick. An angel with a cold was one hundred times worse to deal with than a human. Not him, of course, he was as stoic as ever.
“Status report on Luc’s current mood and behavior since we last did this shit?” Fynn hated these meetings. He more than most felt that while necessary, they were a betrayal of his brother’s trust and position. An angel with a blood sibling was a rare thing in the angel realms, and while Luc already had Michael, he’d also created his own family of brothers and sisters well before the time of the Choosing. In honor of their familial bond the Almighty had chosen them all to house the shadows, and fulfill a destiny their mighty creator refused to share with anyone, not even the most trusted collector of prophecies and fates, the most loyal of the Almighty’s counsel, Leraie, knew the exact reason for the bonding of angel to shadow. At least, she hadn’t deigned to share if she did, anyway.
“Well, I'm pretty sure he’s doing the same as he was last time: sporadic loss of focus when not performing official duties,” Perri voiced, hope heavily laced through her words. Her voice was so naturally sultry that if you didn’t know any better you’d think she was part siren . . . or a phone sex operator. Thank God she couldn’t read minds though, because if she could, that thought in anyone’s head could lead to their immediate castration or disembowelment, if they were lucky. Growing back a nut was worse than growing back both legs and a spine, all at once, something he knew from experience. At the memory his balls drew up tight, as if trying to find refuge and protection within his body.
Roth felt like shit as he placed his glass on the table, rolling his shoulders in an effort to loosen the tightly bunched muscles in his neck, the cracks resounding in his ears as he took a seat. He rarely sat, so when he did, they usually knew something bad or mood wrecking was coming. This time it was no different. This time he knew he couldn’t bite his tongue.
Athon made it easy for him, as always, paving the way and starting him off. “What’s new, Roth? Luc done something strange, my man?” His tanned arms came to rest on the table in front of him, his attention focussed solely on Roth. Voice soft and husky, with an edge to it only Roth ever seemed to notice. Like the sharp edge of a blade, softened by the satin touch of desire as it stroked him like a lover. It turned the words “my man” into the soft caress of a lover’s hand, as if meant for his ears alone. He knew how to help him, he’d always had the knack, that affinity, for pulling Roth out of his thoughts and into confiding almost anything. Almost.
It was probably why the two of them had been so much more, once upon a time. But that was before. Before the Big Bad Bitch had screwed Roth over, and he’d sworn off anything that lasted more than a night or two. She’d screwed over Athon too, to a lesser degree. And yet, he knew he could count on him for anything he needed, to keep any confidence and offer sound advice. Athon was the wise one of their lot, the most empathic, the most understanding and pragmatic.
Then she had sashayed her way into his brain, that damn redhead. She became his second greatest secret, and it was starting to scare him even more than opening up to the trusted few in this room. They knew him, what he was at his worst, at his weakest, and also his greatest strengths. Yet, this, he’d kept from them, and he didn’t even have a decent excuse for it, not one which held up under any kind of scrutiny.
Athon deserved better than that. He sometimes found himself wishing he could be better for him. The only good thing to come of this situation with the mystery woman was that his shadows and brain were so tied up in knots that random erections when in close proximity to the male across from him became a thing of the past. Focus, Roth. Share and care time was in session.
“Yeah, actually there is. I was heading to the gym via the painting tunnel this morning when I heard something odd coming from Luc’s room . . . So I rushed in to check on him. More like I barreled in with the grace of a panicked rhino, but whatever, ” he added, aiming for a little levity as he paused to gather his thoughts, but hurried on when he saw the worried gazes of his comrades.
“Luc was listening to an old song and singing as he danced around the room, as if with a woman in his arms, when there was only air. He didn’t even seem to know I’d entered, and my entrance was anything but stealthy. I thought for sure he’d blast my ass back out into the hallway and ream me a new one. But he just continued to dance and sing. It was damned unnerving. So, I backed the fuck up and hightailed it out of there.”
Shocked faces stared at him with varying degrees of disbelief, horror, and worry. Imagining the King of Hell doing any of that was almost too much for anyone’s brain to compute. This was the man they’d served with for millennia upon millennia. To see him so locked inside his own little bubble like this was heartbreaking.
“There has to be something we can do!” lamented Lily, her love for Lucifer as a father figure plain to see. The circles under her lavender eyes attested to her worry. This was hardest on her. Lucifer had picked up the pieces of her shattered soul when her biological parents—tighty whitey assholes of the highest order those two were—had abandoned her after she was chosen to follow Luc and her wings had changed from their original fluffy white cloud color to the pitch black of night, more so when they saw the tips of her feathers had remained pure white. So unlike any of the rest of them. She was special, they just hadn’t figured out what it meant yet.
“I have an idea. I’m not sure it’ll work though,” Roth interjected, his voice unnaturally soft, especially coming from him. “Luc needs something to focus on. A mystery, something he can sink his teeth into, focus all of his efforts on. To break him out of his own head, right?” Heads bobbed in agreement, as they wondered where Roth was going with this, their curiosity clear to see.
“But what mystery do we have that can gain his attention like that? Michael’s disappearance hasn’t done jack to keep him with us and normal since the goddamn 1940s, and all of our other tasks are fleeting. We collect souls for eternal damnation and police the illegal activities of the darker elements of the supernatural realms before delivering them to the Praesidium for assessment and the Almighty's sentencing. Luc doesn’t even directly oversee that part anymore. What the fuck happened back then? He up and disappeared for six months, leaving Caine in charge so he could have a break. Fine, everyone needs one sometimes and he’d been living his work since the creation of time. But then he comes back only to lock himself in his room, ripped the place to shreds and attacked everyone who so much as moved in his presence, before he subsided into whatever the fuck this is.” Ares’ frustration and fear was clear as his rant came to an end. Lucifer was the glue that held them together as a team. He was, no, is their General. They were doing their best, but they needed him back.
“Well, I have something I think might work. On the other hand, it might just piss him off more. I omitted a few things from an official report regarding a soul collection, oh, about . . . eight years ago,” Roth hedged, glancing up somewhat sheepishly.
Heads snapped up, eyes widened, and jaws dropped open. You’d swear they were pelicans catching fish. Or those weird clowns at carnivals that you had to throw balls at. At that thought Roth couldn’t contain a chuckle. The image of balls, the reproductive type, not the hard plastic or bouncy kind, in all of their mouths flashed through his brain. And that was it, he lost it. Between gasping, wheezing breaths, and uncontrollable mirth, he managed to convey the imagery to them as they looked at him aghast.
Athon chuckled, Dante lost it too, Lily burst into tears of laughter, and everyone else rolled their eyes and shook their heads as if he’d lost his damn marbles too. And maybe he had, but suddenly he felt lighter than he had in years, and if sharing helped Luc? Well, that was a damn sight more important than his ego and pride.
