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“It's complicated,” Carlisle said. “They’re close friends, and lovers sometimes, and I think Cole would like more, but Alastor… I don’t know. I don’t know if he’s just keeping Cole at arm’s reach because of what happened to him.”
I frowned. “Because of the wheelchair?” I asked. I didn’t think that would have mattered to Alastor.
“Oh, hell no,” said Carlisle. “No, I meant… he nearly lost Cole that night on the street and thankfully, I was able to put him back together again, more or less.” he looked at me and shrugged. “Angel blade wounds won’t heal, but I guess you know that. It burned away his nerves, and although I could patch him up, I couldn’t fix that, and neither could his demonic healing.He’ll be in that chair for the rest of his life, no matter how long it is.”
I nodded. Even angelic healing wouldn't be able to fix what had been done to Cole, or I’d have offered in a heartbeat.
“No, Alastor didn’t give a shit about the chair. He went and trained to do physio just so he could help Cole. No, it was what came afterwards.” Carlisle sighed. “It might have been a reaction to not walking again, it might have been… some people who escape death struggle to live again. Whatever it was, Cole went downhill fast. He became a different person. He became the incubus demon those angels feared. Maybe it was intentional, to spite them, maybe not. But we lost him for a while. Constant partying, booze, drugs, and sex. Nothing meaningful, just full-on orgies. You know he needs sex to live, right?” Carlisle said, casting a sideways glance at me.
I nodded.
“I don’t know, but I think that hurt Alastor the most. He was trying to help, and Cole just wouldn’t let him. It nearly destroyed them both.”
"Then what changed?" I asked.
Carlisle smiled. “Me,” he said. “One night, I was sat at a bar, drinking myself into oblivion, and Alastor walked in. He recognised me from that night and came to drink with me. We got very drunk, and I blurted out my sad story, and he told me Cole’s. He begged me to come back with him, to try and help Cole.” Carlisle smiled at the memory. “He told me I’d saved Cole once; I could do it again.”
“And you did?”
Carlisle nodded. “It wasn’t easy. We broke into his penthouse and broke up the party that was going on. Cole was not impressed. He was drunk and high, and Alastor was not gentle. But with two of us, it seemed to give Alastor more hope. We got Cole off the hard stuff and then I sat with him, and we talked. Ittook months, but eventually he came back. Different, damaged, but he wanted to live again.”
Carlisle sighed. “Alastor was with him through it all, never asking for anything back. Cole might want more from Alastor, but I think Alastor needs time, or something. I think he gave everything he had back then.”
I didn’t know what to say. My heart ached for all of them, and especially Alastor.
“So that’s how I came to work for the Concordia,” Carlisle said, his tone lightening. “Alastor asked me to join his team as soon as Cole agreed to come back to work. I reckon he thought it would be easier to keep Cole on the straight and narrow with two of us, though to be fair, Cole hasn’t faltered since.”
“You don’t regret giving up the ER?” I asked.
Carlisle hesitated and I got the impression there was something he wasn’t telling me. He shrugged. “Realised my place wasn't just in an ER. Out here, I can make a difference where it counts.”
“You were already making a difference,” I pointed out. “You were saving lives.”
“Yeah, I was. Saving lives in the ER... it was everything to me. But after I lost… after the Opening, what I saw… it changed things. It didn't feel like enough anymore."
I glanced at him, noting the shadow that passed over his features. There was pain there, a hurt that had reshaped his entire existence.
"And now?" I prodded gently, knowing full well the toll the fight against darkness often took on the soul.
"Every demon I patch up, every life I help save here—it's like...I can affect the world on a larger scale. These teams, the Concordia, it does real good in the world, Sariel. And it does it without agenda. I like to think I play a small role in that.”
"You do more than your share of good," Theo said from behind. "More than you know."
Carlisle smiled but didn’t reply and we lapsed into silence.
The weight of my bag seemed to grow heavier with each step I took. It wasn't just the physical burden that pressed down on me; my thoughts were a churning mess. Alastor's revelation hung in the air between us.
Why would he confide such a damning secret? He knew I was under Gabriel's command—knew that the information he'd just shared could lead to his execution. Knew where my loyalty lay. Understanding warred with duty. Yes, I understood why he did it, but Gabriel wouldn't see it that way. To him, self-defence or no, killing an angel was unforgivable. Although my training revolted at the idea, I knew deep down that I wouldn’t report him. I couldn’t. I couldn’t condemn that man to death for simply saving his friend.
Something sparked inside me. Had Alastor known that? Had he sensed that I wouldn’t give him away? Had he… trusted me? A glimmer of hope flickered within me. Despite the harsh words and the tension that had hung heavy between us since the serpent attack, maybe Alastor didn't completely despise me after all…
I collided with a hard warm mountain of muscle and grabbed onto it to steady myself.
"Watch out," Alastor snapped. I pulled my hands hastily from where they’d settled on his waist and stepped sideways to see why he’d stopped.
“Alastor," I began, but my words were cut short.
"We have a problem," he stated, his voice low and steady as the others caught up.
