Raphael graced her with a patronizing smile. “You’ll get over that eventually.
“Sheoul has not positively influenced your personality,” Raphael said, but she didn’t agree. Well, mostly she didn’t agree. But he was still an ass. “Would you like to be the Horsemen’s Watcher again?”
Her heart skipped a beat. Was he serious? He gazed at her with narrowed eyes, clearly waiting for a reaction that he would, no doubt, use to his advantage.
So she didn’t give him one.
With a casual shrug, she tasted the wine. Instant arousal rushed through her veins and concentrated in her breasts and pelvis. Wow. She eyed the glass. Raphael was a sneaky bastard, wasn’t he? No more of that for her.
“I don’t think the Horsemen would appreciate it.”
“They might not like it, but their opinions don’t matter, and you know them better than anyone.”
“I suppose.”
Raphael took another drink from his glass, and his gaze darkened. He probably shouldn’t have any more of the wine, either.
“We’re going to assign you as Watcher.”
“But you were helping them.”
“I doubt they’ll see it that way, and even if they do, it’ll take them a while to get over it. Thanatos especially.”
He gestured to her glass. “Have more.”
“I’ve never been much of a drinker.” Very deliberately, she put the glass on the counter. “Are we done here?”
“Don’t you want to know what will make the Horsemen welcome you back with open arms?”
She resisted rolling her eyes. “I give. What will make them suddenly forgive me for everything I’ve done?”
“A baby.” Raphael’s voice was low, seductive in a nonsexual way. Seductive in that way that promised you everything you ever wanted. She was drawn in, no doubt exactly the way he’d planned, and it occurred to her that she’d never had the upper hand in this negotiation. He’d only let her think she had.
“What baby?”
“Limos’s. You didn’t know she lost it?” He smiled, a real I-have-you-now smirk she wanted to slap off his face. “You can give Limos her dream back. You’ll be a hero.” He picked up her glass and held it out. “Drink up, and I’ll tell you how.”
Reaver jolted into consciousness, head pounding, eyes filled with sand. Or glass. He dragged them open and peered through slits at Eidolon’s concerned face hovering over him.
“How are you feeling?”
He cleared his raw throat, wondering why it was so sore. “Like I went through an industrial meat grinder.” He frowned. “Where am I? Why are you here? Why do I keep waking up with you in my face?”
“We’re in Israel. I’m here because Harvester sent word. And you keep waking up with me in your face because you keep getting into trouble.”
Harvester. Right. She’d gotten her wings back.
He tried to sit up, but when his skull threatened to implode, he decided that lying on the ground for a few more minutes couldn’t hurt. Then he remembered, with sickening clarity, being nailed to the ground, and suddenly he didn’t want to be on it anymore.
He struggled to sit up, this time making it past the skull-shattering stage. “My wings are gone, aren’t they?” He knew the answer, but he needed to hear it.
Eidolon’s eyes were sad. “I’m sorry, Reaver.”
He was a fallen angel.
Again.
Didn’t matter that he’d expected it. Hell, he expected to be destroyed. Still, pain that extended well beyond the physical wrapped around him, squeezing like a vise. He let himself mourn for a moment, and then he allowed Eidolon to help him to his feet, ignoring the aches that permeated every cell in his body. He couldn’t—wouldn’t— dwell on this or regret that it happened. The goal had always been to save Harvester from an eternity of torture. He’d have done it even if he’d known with certainty that he’d lose his life or his wings.
What was done was done.
“Thank you, Eidolon.” Reaver clasped the doctor’s hand in his. “I know you don’t normally make house calls.”
“Are you kidding? I’m always making damned house calls.” Eidolon reached into his medical bag and handed him yet another pair of scrubs to replace the ones currently Swiss cheesed and drenched in rain, mud, and blood. “I’ll admit I have an ulterior motive.”
“Are you offering me my job back?” Reaver asked as he stripped out of the destroyed clothes.
Eidolon gave him a sheepish shrug. “I’m desperate.”
“Wow.” Reaver paused to yank on the scrub pants. “You really know how to sweet talk a guy.”
Eidolon laughed. “So? Is that a yes?”
“Yeah.” Reaver flexed his shoulder blades under the scrub top, feeling the loss of his wings as a distinct, too- light sensation of phantom limbs. “I need a little time first.”
He was back in the human realm, but now there was fallout to deal with. He hadn’t had a chance to spend time with the Horsemen, and right now Limos, especially, was a priority. And Harvester… he had no way to contact her, but he had to try. His feelings had shifted the moment he learned the truth about her, and then they’d grown during their time in Sheoul. Now, being away from her left a hole in his chest where a ghost organ beat, much like the wings missing from his shoulders.
Then there was the issue of the brewing war between realms. A war that, if it boiled over, would be his fault.
Eidolon walked toward the Harrowgate that sat on the southern edge of the Megiddo plateau, and Reaver joined him. “Come back when you’re ready.”
They stepped into the gate, and Eidolon selected the caduceus symbol that would open into Underworld General. When the emergency room appeared, E stepped out. “Be safe. There’s trouble brewing in Sheoul, but I’m guessing you know that.”
“Little bit.” Reaver waited for the gate to close. When it was dark inside, with only the glow of Sheoulic symbols and map lines on the wall, he tapped until he found the Harrowgate that was closest to Limos’s Hawaiian house.
Losing the ability to flash himself anywhere in the world was one of the worst things about being booted out of Heaven, and Reaver cursed as he walked the sandy path from the gate to Limos’s house. When he arrived, it was Arik who met him at the door and surprised him with an enthusiastic embrace.
“Reaver, man, it’s good to see you.” Arik stepped back. “I heard you spent some time in Sheoul. Is it true that you rescued Harvester? And that she was a spy for our side?”
Reaver followed Arik into the beach themed living room. Limos was conspicuously absent. “Yeah. She’s been reinstated as an angel.”
“Cool, I guess.” Arik gestured beyond the canoe-shaped bookcase to the kitchen. “Offer you a beer?”
“Thanks, no.”
Socially required niceties over now, Arik sank onto the wicker couch as if his legs had given out. “Shit.” He braced his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. “I’m so glad you’re here. Limos is… I don’t know. I
