My wrath was rising. “Why not?”
“Your very being betrays you. The devil can see into your mind, and the world watches your every move. Too many people are looking in. Once you find that quill, you will have minutes to use it before the powers that be will try to converge on you.”
I rubbed my forehead at his cryptic words, some of my anger ebbing. I still wasn’t over the fact that he’d moved the quill behind my back. “Couldn’t all those people figure out that I’m looking for the quill from this conversation?” If people were watching me and my future, then they’d see this.
At least I assumed so, until Jericho spoke.
“I’d imagine not,” he said. “The seer’s shroud still runs through your friends’ veins, and as for me … I can block prying eyes from foreseeing my future when I want. No one save for perhaps the devil will know of this conversation.”
So Jericho had taken precautions I hadn’t even considered.
“You’ll have one chance.” Jericho lifted his head to the sky. The wind was picking up, and I could faintly hear the violent crash of the surf in the distance.
“Your presence affects not just the people, but the very nature of this realm,” Jericho said. “The skies and sea rebel. Fires blaze, the earth quakes. If you don’t take it when the time comes, then this all ends.
“Heaven and hell are moving in. Beings that have no business traversing this plane are now entering it.” He picked up my wrist. “Some through your blood rites, some through the celestial gates.
“You are the cause hell fights for. The cause heaven fights against. But—” Jericho’s eyes got devious, “the quill will allow you to right these wrongs and return the world to the way it once was.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. What was so damned special about this pen? “Can’t I just tell a few angels that I’m on their side?”
“And why would they believe you? You are the devil’s wife—the Deceiver’s wife—and the queen of the damned. No one will believe you.”
“Do you?”
“It is not in my place to judge.”
“And a glorified pen is?”
“It can only scribe true intentions. You use the quill, you bind your entire essence with it.”
Alright, it was a pen with a built-in lie detector.
“You only get a single chance to use this quill,” he said. “One. So whatever you write, you must think long and hard about it.” His eyes went to the sky again. “And you must wait until the time is right before you use it.”
Apprehension tightened my stomach. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Last time we talked, I told you that you wouldn’t be able to use it until you died. Now I am telling you that you will not be able to use it until you feel compelled to.”
Was he serious? I spent half of my day in hell. “But I already feel compelled to use it.”
“No, you don’t. At some point, you will though. And that, my dear, is when you must scribe your plea.”
“But I don’t know where it is.”
“That too will be apparent in time.” He closed his eyes and breathed in the air. “Hell rises, heaven falls, and earth rebels. I must go.”
Jericho stepped away from me. “Remember my words, Gabrielle. A war emerges that will rip worlds apart, and only you can stop it.”
Chapter 21
Gabrielle
“No pressure or anything,” Oliver said, sauntering back with Leanne’s hand tucked in the crook of his arm.
“You heard that?” I picked my way around the ancient stone structures. The moment Jericho left, the violence riding me receded. I could finally relax my muscles now that I didn’t fear I’d jump someone in a fit of rage.
“I’m a fairy. What did you expect?”
Good point.
Next to him, Leanne stared out, her eyes unfocused. She murmured under her breath. The words that I caught—such as bloodbath, death, and damnation—I chose to ignore.
“How long has she been like that?” I jerked my chin towards her.
“The real question, sweets, is when is she not like this?”
Another decent point.
My poor friend. It was largely my fault that she had one foot in the present and one in the future.
I rubbed my forehead absently. “I don’t even know where the quill is. And here I thought my biggest problem would be figuring out how to word my request.”
“Pssh,” Oliver said. “That one’s easy. Just write, ‘Yo God, hook a bitch up.’”
I gave him a look.
“What?”
The beat of wings interrupted us.
Oliver and I glanced to the heavens. Thick, ominous clouds hid the source of the noise.
“What’re the odds that those are just birds?” Oliver asked.
“Zero,” Leanne replied, her eyes still unfocused.
“And what are the odds that whatever’s up there means us no harm?” he asked.
“Zero,” she said again.
Figures emerged from the clouds, and iridescent feathers glittered above us.
“Fuck,” I swore as my rage welled up once more.
“You can say that again,” Oliver stated.