Dusk sits across the table from me, and the distance feels too great. I could use more of a buffer between Abaddon and me. We haveunresolved business between us from the last time we were alone together.
Thankfully, though, I have Raphael on my other side, who I greet with a polite nod and a “good evening,” which he kindly returns. I couldn’t have asked for a better alternative to Dusk. If he won’t tell me how to stop the apocalypse, I can still pepper him with all of my obnoxiously detailed medical questions.
Some chatter reignites in the room, and I begin to fill my plate with appetizers from the platters in the center of the table. As I do, I’m keenly aware that Abaddon’s gaze has dropped lower, staying firmly fixed on my chest—on my brand.
After devouring a jalapeño popper, I finally deign to address him. “Care to fill in some more details about the events of the past month?”
“You’ve been marked,” he utters, seemingly genuinely stupefied, which is surprising in itself. I would have thought the King knew about it by now, but I guess Raphael takes his patients’ PHI very seriously.
“Obviously,” I bite back. Maybe he can’t tell I’m bristling with impatience, so to make it extra clear, I raise one annoyed eyebrow at him. “Will you answer my question?”
He blinks. “We made amends with the Profuga.”
I can feel a vein on my forehead twitch in annoyance. Or maybe with the pulsing of my ceaseless headache. Either way, he’s going to need to do better than that. “Oh, thanks, Abaddon. Thatreallyanswers all my questions.”
His voice grows colder in response to my sarcasm. “Semyaza had to explain himself to me. Not just for arriving, but for his… previous actions, long ago. Once he did, I found no malicious intent, so I forgave him for his shortcomings. He and his followers are now going to stay in the Abyss. It is a better option for them than Earth or Elohim.”
Now both my eyebrows are raised. “And the Council is okay with that?”
“No. They’d much prefer to add five archangels to their army, under their rule. But they forget that the Abyss canbe an alternative residence to Elohim, if I feel inclined to allow it,” he says with a smirk.
I do a double-take.
But, yes, there is a faint upturn to his lips, and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an emotion on him. Did I ever actually wake up from my coma, or am I still dreaming? Since when did the morose Principality of the Abysssmirk?
“Well, they seem pretty friendly to each other now,” I mutter, stealing his glass of red wine and taking a long sip. It’s hardly even bitter. Enjoyable, even. Either they switched wine dealers, or my poor tongue must be truly deprived of flavor.
“To say it took a lot of discussion would be an understatement.” He looks past me, towards the end of the table, as he speaks in a hushed voice. “I haven’t seen Gabriel immaterialize his sword since they got here. ”
“Gabriel? What’s his deal?” I frown into my glass before giving Abaddon a side eye.
However, he only shakes his head, refusing to answer my question. “We’ve since learned that the Watchers acted out of love for humans, not in rebellion against God. The Nephilim they raised were an unfortunate lapse in judgment for them, and they have vowed to never make the same mistake again.”
“Which we can understand,” Raphael chimes in, making me flinch. I didn’t realize he’d been listening to our conversation. “Archangels are not all-knowing, after all.”
“Right…” Abaddon trails off, suddenly very interested in his food again. He probably can’t speak too freely in our current company. I guess I can understand that.
Trying to shake off the unusualness of everything, I look around the table, taking in the crowd. There’s quite a lot of diversity here now, and some of the angels are very fascinating. One of them appears to be eighty years old, while another, gruff and rotund as he is, looks like a less jolly Santa Claus. There are women, too, but also an angel who appears to be neither male nor female—yet every bit as captivating as a high-caliber catwalk model.
Every single one of them is magnificently beautiful in their ownunique way.
“Abaddon,” I wonder out loud, turning my head back towards him. “Is it possible that the more time an angel spends around humans, the more they become like us?”
He stares at the morsel of meat on his fork for a moment, dead still, before replying, “No, that’s impossible. Angels are angels, not humans.”
Dusk cackles from across the table, seeming absolutely giddy. “Oh, my emo friend, how you aresovery wrong and misguided.”
“What does that mean?” Abaddon replies, looking genuinely confused, however subtle it appears on him. ‘‘Emo?’ It doesn’t translate.”
Please don’t tell me we’re about to have another choker/collar debacle?—
“That’s because it’s slang. Slang doesn’t always pull through.” Dusk leans back in his chair, grinning, and I can tell he takes great pleasure in how Abaddon’s confusion further proves his point. “It’s technically a subculture, but that doesn’t matter. My point is that you’re scared. We all know you have plenty of big emotions, but you’re too cowardly to show them. All this time spent in the Abyss hardening your heart, just to unfold at the presence of our beautiful Dawn here.”
I briefly choke on my food.
In hindsight, their previous niceties must have been a well-trained passive aggressiveness in disguise, maybe for my benefit. Because now, they’re not trying to cover up their feud at all. Quite the opposite. I’m convinced Dusk wants to cause a scene right now.
Hey, God? It’s me, Kae. Your Key to the Abyss, faithfully doing my part here. In return, could you please keep this angel of yours from getting me killed with his big mouth? I’d really appreciate it, thanks.
