I’m not sure how, but I know this is Flint’s room. It feels like him, which is an odd thing to say since I just met him.
Alder moves to a seatin’ area that consists of a cream-colored couch and two matchin’ chairs with a metal and glass coffee table separatin’ them. Flint stands up from the bed, and I squeal and grab for his neck at the unexpected rise and subsequent hold that he now has on me as he carries me over to the couch and sits down.
He doesn’t move me from his lap, and I’m not sure if I should get up or just sit here. I’m surrounded by awkward silence as I try to figure out what to do. I’m drawn to them, no doubt about it. And somethin’ inherently drives me to trust them, or I wouldn’t have chosen to come with them instead of the angels in the first place. But I don’t know whether I should keep my distance from them...or just follow my attraction. I’m stuck, not knowin’ how I should act or what I should be feelin’.
Still unsure, I decide to play it safe, and I push out of Flint’s hold. He lets me go without complaint, though a flash of disappointment crosses his eyes. Pullin’ down my tight skirt that had ridden up, I move to the other side of the couch and sit down on the buttery soft material. Damn, what is this made out of? Baby unicorns?
I shove that thought aside and look over at Alder and Flint. They’re both starin’ at me like they’re waitin’ for me to start off our talk and set the pace. Nervousness bubbles up in my stomach, but I realize I’m not shaky or muddled anymore.
Looks like The Tears of My Enemies worked, and it worked damn fast.
“So...what happened?” I finally ask as I settle in for what I’m sure will be a long conversation.
“You met the Legion tonight, and as we suspected might happen, a demon tried to attack you,” Alder provides.
“I would like more detail about the Legion, followed up by why the hell anythin’ would want to attack me,” I say, and a smile ticks at the corner of Alder’s pillowy lips. You’d think a lavender man covered in blossom tattoos wouldn’t be masculine and sexy, but you’d be dead wrong.
“The Legion is Heaven’s army of angels. Hell has an army too, but we don’t have a fancy little nickname,” he says, clear derision in his tone that lets me know exactly what he thinks about angels. “Both armies do the same thing more or less: guard their realm, maintain the balance, and hunt those that break the Accords.”
“So those angels were lookin’ for that Morax guy?” I ask, and Alder nods.
“Seems like it,” Flint confirms.
“Why?”
Alder and Flint both shrug.
“He must have broken an Accord of some sort. We usually police our own, but if the Legion is involved, then he must’ve done something big,” Flint supplies.
“What are the Accords?” I ask.
“We’d be here all night if you want me to list them line by line, but more or less, anything that affects the careful balance between Heaven and Hell, or messes with a soul’s free will, is against our laws,” Alder explains.
“We all got our part to play, but if we don’t follow the agreements made between Heaven and Hell about the mortal souls we’ve all sworn to watch over, then there are serious consequences,” Flint adds, and there’s a sadness to his voice as he explains this, as though he knows firsthand what those consequences are.
“Wait,” I interrupt. “Hell is supposed to watch over souls too? I thought the Devil wanted to burn everythin’ to the ground because he’s all jealous and mad because God liked us better?”
Flint and Alder both just blink at me for a second before they snort out some laughs.
“My grandfather was guarding Avarice back when those rumors first started,” Flint declares, lookin’ at Alder. “He said they laughed and thought for sure no soul would believe such a ridiculous story about our origins. Then, next thing you know, the mortals are writing books about it like it’s fact. He said the Morning Star couldn’t decide if he was annoyed or impressed at how well Heaven’s propaganda worked. They’ve been winning misguided souls ever since.”
Alder laughs. “I believe it. My ancestors were always impressed with the way Heaven sowed mistrust so that their job was easier. They clearly didn’t know that Hell is always up for a good challenge. How else did we end up on different sides of this issue?”
“True story, brother. True story,” Flint agrees on a chuckle.
“Yeah, you lost me,” I insert as I watch their exchange of amusement.
“You take this one; I haven’t had to explain it in a while, and I’m rusty,” Flint tells Alder, who just rolls his eyes.
He fixes his stunnin’ butterscotch colored irises on me and studies my face for a beat before divin’ in. “God was given this world and all the souls in it to watch over. The Morning Star and God did have different ideas about how to nurture the souls and help them progress, but it didn’t divide Heaven, because both ideas worked. Demons weren’t cast out like naughty children there was no hope for, we volunteered for our role.”
“You did?” I ask, surprised. No gospel teacher I’ve ever heard said anythin’ like this.
Alder dips his chin down. “We knew sacrifices needed to be made in order to sow souls worthy of Godhood themselves, and so we agreed to take up the mantle, and Hell was born,” he explains.
I blink at him, tryin’ to
