“I’m not, Camilla.”
“But the things they’ll do to you. You can’t go.” Her face hardens. “I never agreed to this. I won’t allow it. They can kill me instead.”
Her words hit me like so many stones. When mortals go to Hell, demons consume their souls. But Archangels heal from any injury. If Xavier goes to Hell, it’s for one reason only: an eternity of pain. I shiver. The things they’ll do to him, indeed.
Xavier wags his head from side to side. “It’s all done and irreversible. I made the bargain with Armageddon the day he invaded Purgatory. A ghoul will act as your guardian when I’ve gone. His name is WKR-7. You can trust him, he’s part archangel.”
Mom grips her hands at her waist. “There must be something we can do.”
“No, I made my choice and I’m at peace with it.” He looks at her, his blue eyes filled with love and longing. “Let me go, Camilla.”
Mom scans his face. Her breathing slows. “Not a chance.” Stepping closer, she rests her hands on his shoulders. He doesn’t move nearer, so she arches her bare feet to stand on tiptoe. Their mouths are an inch apart. “I love you too, Xavier.” Little by little, she sets her lips on his. He doesn’t respond to the kiss.
Mom pulls back. “What is it?”
“This will only make things harder for you.”
“Nonsense.” She slowly runs her tongue along his bottom lip. “Be with me.”
My eyebrows rise. Damn, Mom. That’s quite the move. Who knew she had a little lust demon in her after all?
The archangel returns her kisses slowly, tentatively. Mom’s fingers slide to Xavier’s shoulders, wind around his lapels, and push his suit-coat to the floor. He groans, grips her waist, and pulls her against him, hard. Their kiss turns hungry and wild. Xavier unties the belt of her robe.
Mom takes his hand, pulls him into her bedroom and closes the door.
I nod once to myself. I am so having a ‘who’s my daddy’ discussion with Mom in the morning. This is ridiculous.
The image of Mom and Xavier disappears into the sand. Another scene rises in its place: our front doorstep at night.
Mom opens the front door, her robe wrapped tightly around her. “Hello? Anyone out there?” She scans the yard, her face pale with worry.
I grit my teeth. I know who’s she’s waiting for: Armageddon. I glance through the opened door to our living room’s wall clock. 5 AM. The King of Hell was due at midnight.
Mom watches the empty yard for a time, the muscles along her jawline taut. Insects chirp in the darkness. A soft breeze rustles the browning leaves on our front-lawn trees. After a few minutes, Mom lets out a long sigh, the edges of her mouth softening.
My body relaxes as well. It’s almost morning. Maybe Armageddon isn’t coming after all.
Cracking her neck from side to side, Mom turns back to the house. She takes a step toward the door and freezes, every muscle in her body turning rigid.
I gasp, knowing that particular movement all too well. Mom was hit with greater demon aura, and that means one thing. Armageddon is here.
The King of Hell steps out of the line of trees. “Good morning, Camilla. I’ve come for Xavier.” I fight the urge to jump into the dreamscape and kick the crap out of him, or at least try to. Get off my lawn, asshole.
Mom spins about slowly, her face still as stone. She meets Armageddon’s gaze head-on. “You can’t have him.”
The King of Hell strolls up the walk to our house, pausing at the foot of the steps. His wide mouth twists with a sneer as he eyes her from head to toe. He says one word in a rumbling voice: “Xavier.”
The archangel steps out the front door and stands beside Mom.
She grips his hand. “Don’t do it, Xavier. Just get out of here.” The archangel shoots her a sad smile. After that, he slowly walks to Armageddon’s side.
My body stiffens with shock and rage. This can’t be happening.
The King of Hell sets his three-knuckled hand on Xavier’s shoulder. “Let’s see those wings you hid from everyone for so long.”
Xavier stands stoic and still.
Armageddon’s long red tongue flickers over his smooth black lips. “Perhaps if you were in a little more pain, it would break up your concentration.” He grips Xavier’s arm and snaps it with a loud CRACK. The archangel’s face writhes with pain; his golden wings appear.
My anger hits the breaking point. Verus and her dreamscapes can kiss my ass; I’m not standing by. My tail arcs over my shoulder; my body snaps into battle stance. I race toward dreamscape, the warm sand sliding beneath my bare feet, my gaze locked on Armageddon. You are so going down, buddy.