“What?” My hands shook, but I took the damn knife. Mainly because I feared the alternative.
Michael pocketed the spear tip and stepped over Mr. Habib’s body. He grabbed the black duffel. “Coffee?”
I stood there in shock “You killed a man.” I pointed at the body with the knife in my hand. “For no reason. Just…” I swiped my finger over my throat. “Sliced his throat.”
At the door, as if annoyed, Michael sighed. He moved a stray hair away from my face. Electric sparks ignited wherever he touched me. His body, near mine, warmed me, but I stepped away.
Cold eyes regarded me, showing no remorse. “I’ve killed many men and will kill many more. And so will you.”
I shook my head. “But why?”
“You mentioned a Lebanese place. There is no Lebanon, just like there’s no Los Angeles. It is all from Before, and we don’t know or speak of Before.”
“You asked me to sentence this man to die.”
“If it was not his time, he would not have remembered.”
“Perhaps you could’ve given me a better briefing, or like a map of the world, or maybe you could cut my tongue out—” I gasped. The girl. Eve. Eve was mute. Did she remember? God, I would never forget the eyes of that man in the house. They pierced right into my soul. I had to find that girl. My parents. Anyone but this lunatic angel.
Michael smiled and threw a hand over my shoulder. “A lesson well taught lasts a lifetime. Showing you maps or providing an extensive briefing is less effective. As for your tongue, you will need it.”
He tapped the bloody knife I still held in my hand. “Tuck it into your back pocket. From what I remember, that’s where you prefer to carry your weapons.” Amused, he winked and stepped outside. “See? I don’t control where you wear your weapons. You have a choice.”
“Wow, thank you, psycho,” I mumbled and joined him outside. Knife in hand, I stared at it.
“Put it away,” he said. “Civilians are sensitive creatures.”
I looked up. People watched, scooting away from us, gazes on the knife in my hand. I grabbed a piece of his kilt and wiped the blood off the blade, then put the knife in my pocket.
Michael raised an eyebrow but smirked, looking amused that I’d used his pristine white kilt to wipe off the blood. He said nothing, and neither did I. People started pointing, whispering, a small crowd gathering across the street.
“I realize this was a rather rude awakening,” Michael said as he gently nudged the small of my back. “But I believe in such awakenings. You needed it. Let’s keep moving.”
The town buzzed with activity, and all the shops were opened. This early, in LA, the general shops stayed closed. Only coffee shops were open, and many of them didn’t fill until nine.
But this wasn’t my world anymore.
It was Michael’s world, and if he said three in the morning was the waking hour for me, then that was when I awoke. If he said I needed a reality slap, then he’d make it so. If he said I needed to keep moving as if nothing had happened, I would, despite the fact I wanted to run. I bet these people abided by the schedule he designed. They looked at him in both fear and reverence. I didn’t know if they believed him to be their savior or their doom. Perhaps he was both.
Michael whistled, and a pair of angels descended. He spoke to them in a language I’d never heard before. Masculine voices produced from deep in the chest with high-pitched notes and low guttural sounds. The angels accepted the bag from Michael, and I slid out of their way as they entered Mr. Habib’s shop. They closed the door, and the heavy metal shutters slid down. Shop closed.
“Moving on.” Michael walked away.
I followed.
Chapter Ten
Mr. Habib sold Lucifer the spear I’d commissioned for myself. In turn, the man hurried to replace it. Judging by the unfinished tip in my pocket, Lucifer had visited only yesterday or perhaps even last night, giving Mr. Habib no time to replace the spear and pretend as if he hadn’t sold it to someone else.
Even with limited powers, Lucifer still preserved some strength and had found a way to escape the Veil that shields my mortals from him and the creatures he associates with. In a matter of weeks, he’d grown more powerful. Soon he’d have the ability to take up any form or shape he desired and corrupt every mind in my new world. It would be the end of the mortal realm.
I couldn’t allow him free rein, or I’d have to create another global shift. The human’s minds wouldn’t survive another alter-reality. Besides, the Sword of Creation wouldn’t work so soon either. Neutralizing Lucifer’s powers was a necessity.
As we continued down to the coffee shop that bordered the docking stations of the various ships in my navy, people followed us, murmuring their speculations on why Mr. Habib had suffered such a terrible fate. I didn’t mind the gathering mob, but Julia did. Though previously comfortable with the attention she’d received when we first got into town, now she appeared scared. Her fear ruffled my feathers. In my presence, even a mob of a million mortals couldn’t harm her.
“Are we there yet?” she asked, picking up her pace and glancing over her shoulder.
She might start running soon. I guessed the exercise wasn’t enough. She could run longer, harder. I was proud of her. I pointed toward the dock. “Right around the corner.”
“Did it really have to be the coffee place at the bottom of the mountain, Commander?”
“There are others, but I like this one best.”
“Why?”
I glanced at her while at the same time, from the corner of my eye, counting the mortals following us. Twenty-one. “Because they make their own whipped cream.”
Julia chuckled. “You know what I’m wondering? Does tequila exist?”
My turn to laugh. “Of course. We use it in the camps to numb
