Katia reached out hesitantly, drawn by some unseen force, and placed the tips of her fingers over his heart. Tilting her head to the side as she examined the markings, she began to lightly trace the outline of the sigil and then, one-by-one, the tracks leading away from it. Luc held himself very still. As her finger traced each line a warm electrified current seemed to flow through her into him. Slowly, Katia raised her eyes to meet his. Her hand stilled, but remained resting against his Sigil.
“You’re more than that.” Katia said softly.
“I want to be,” Luc replied in a desperate whisper. Their eyes remained locked as though they were under some kind of spell. It was as though an invisible band was tightening, drawing them together, they leaned slowly into one another. As they drew closer, Katia’s eyes flicked down to his lips and back up again. She could feel Luc’s heart beating as though it were about to jump out of his chest. Hers matched his beat for beat. The shrill ring of Luc’s phone had them jerking away from each other like startled rabbits. The spell was broken.
Shaking his head, Luc got up to answer his phone. Katia slid under the blankets and turned to face the opposite wall. Listening to Luc’s one-sided conversation, Katia closed her eyes. Her heart was still pounding. Maybe if she lay here and pretended to sleep it would actually happen. A while later Katia heard the television and the overhead light click off. The bed dipped with Luc’s weight as he got in. Knowing the room was now dark, Katia opened her eyes and stared into the blackness. Eventually she heard Luc’s breathing deepen and even out as he dropped into sleep. A short time later her eyes slid closed as sleep claimed her too.
Chapter Sixteen
One of the First Hierarchy of Angels, Lucifer Morningstar was created as a symbol of all that was good, and pure and perfect. The night sky was deep, pure navy blue with millions of stars glittering like the finest diamonds as Lucifer Morningstar, Son of the Dawn, made his way through the shinning marble hallway toward the throne room. His snow white robe floated around him as he strode purposefully through Heofon. The Sigil of the Morningstar shone on his chest as though it had been cast from solid gold.
For the first time since his creation, Lucifer was entering Heofon for a reason other than to receive praise. His wings flicked out in annoyance. In the name of free will and self-determination, he and six others had rebelled and had planned a revolution. As many as two hundred other angels had listened to their rallying cries, joining the cause which evolved into all-out war.
As he reached the enormous gilded doors to the inner chamber they swung open. Lucifer entered as he had many times before, taking in the wispy white clouds that hovered near the domed ceiling, the silky golden materials adorning the walls, and the pure white marble. At the center of the dome was an opening that allowed the light of the stars to shine in and bounce off the gleaming floor. A golden throne sat empty on a dais in the centre of the chamber. Metatron, the most senior and respected angel stood to the side of the throne, a pained expression on his face. Before Lucifer had time to react, two of the angelicguard grabbed him by the arms, dragging him to the centre of the room and forcing him to his knees. Stepping forward, Metatron removed a rolled parchment from the belt of his robe. Unrolling it slowly, never removing his eyes from Lucifer he began to read: “Upon this day Lucifer Morningstar is to be stripped of his position. He will be cast out to serve the dark as punishment for his transgressions. Such is the ruling of the council of Heofon.”
In shock, Lucifer looked up at Metatron, shaking his head. “Can I not be forgiven? Can I not be given a second chance?”
Sighing, Metatron approached Lucifer and reached out to cup his cheek. “That is just the problem Lucifer, you think only of yourself. I am truly sorry, but this is a final judgement and it will be carried out.”
Motioning to the angelic guard, Metatron stepped away, allowing the guards to do their work. The flowing white robes were torn off Lucifer's body, leaving him naked and shivering on his knees. Coldness, something he had never felt, washed over him. The robes vanished in a flash of white light as they flowed down and met the marble floor. Like all warrior angels, Lucifer had the symbol of Heofon emblazoned on his inner wrist. He could touch the mark and summon his weapon from the ether to dispatch enemies of Heofon. The guards forced his arm out and turned his hand palm up. Metatron stepped forward and produced a small vial of clear liquid that twinkled in the light — angel tears — the one substance that would strip him of his power. Upending the bottle over the Lucifer’s outstretched wrist, Metatron poured out several drops. As the liquid hit his skin, it began to burn, steam rising, Lucifer screamed in pain, trying to jerk his arm free of the guards' grip.
“I
