He struck the fork from my hand. It flew down to the other end of the table, bounced off the edge, and landed on the floor.
In the noisy room, nobody noticed besides Michael and Raphael, who both raised their heads. I tried to make myself as small as possible. I was pretty sure Michael didn’t want me here. I succeeded at hiding behind many heads until he rose to standing. Once he saw me, I waved quickly, hoping he’d let me be.
Michael made a move toward me, but Raphael grabbed his wrist and tugged. Michael sat and leaned in so Raphael could whisper at his ear. He clearly didn’t like whatever Raphael had said to him, but picked up his fork and continued eating. Relieved, I sighed.
“He’s not allowed to eat,” a man next to me said.
“Why not?”
“Because of you,” Broken Nose said.
“You know what your fucking problem is?” I said. “You need to start owning your own decisions, so when you sit there not allowed to eat because you beat up a girl and called her a whore, it’s not her fault. You couldn’t control yourself. Grow up.”
“I’ll get you back,” he said under his breath. “The commander won’t always be around, and he’s never on the streets with us. Next time we all go down, I’ll fucking kill you myself.”
He could. I had to learn self-defense and, frankly, offense. “What did I ever do to you?”
“The squads are as strong as their weakest link. You’re the weakest link,” the man next to me said. “Weakness gets us killed. The Death Diggers say you didn’t hold the right wing, let all the Marked through, and almost half the squad died because of it.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Sorry won’t bring them back,” Broken Nose said. I should’ve eaten in my room. Standing, I took my plate. Just as I was about make a move toward the trash bin, the entire hall went silent. Everyone’s head turned toward the entrance. Mine followed.
An angel stood there. Breathtaking. Beautiful, with obsidian wings and one brown eye. The other was green. I dropped my plate.
Chapter Nineteen
The plate I dropped never hit the ground. Just before it crashed, it lifted onto the table gently, making no noise even in this quiet place. Nobody was speaking. People didn’t dare move. The air in the room changed, and the small hairs on my arm spiked. A shiver ran down my body, the malice coming off what could only be Lucifer coating my senses. I wondered if other people sensed his presence like this or if it was just me, the one who remembered everything.
Briefly, the angel glanced at me and answered in my head, the same voice, the same tone, the one I’d heard in my head since I met him. “Everyone senses me. As they should.”
Dear Lord, I was one of the Marked.
At the back of my throat, I produced this strange keening noise and looked to Michael. He might slay me right then and there. All who remember must die. He’d find another soul mate, and if Michael didn’t strike me, one of my peers surely would. Frozen in place, I stood at the end of the table as the angel made his way down the aisle toward Michael’s table.
“Hello, boys,” he said. He tilted his head back and flared his nostrils. “Mm, lamb is on the menu.”
Raphael stood, hands fisted. “Lucifer.”
“You say that with such menace, I feel like you want to crush my bones. But of course, that is what you do nowadays, isn’t it, oh Lord of the Court of Sunder. Do we all know what Sunder is?” Lucifer turned to the soldiers, smiling, showing perfect teeth and dimples. “I didn’t know what Sunder stood for, so I looked it up in a dictionary.” He paused and let that sink in. “You all remember dictionaries, books, written words, the Bible, maybe?”
Nobody answered.
Michael’s eyes found me.
My hands shook.
“Sunder,” Lucifer continued, “means violent rendering and wrenching apart. I lu-ve it. I covet it. I want it. Why couldn’t I have a Court of Sunder? Or any fucking Court, for that matter.” He licked his lips. “Mickey, you’ve excluded me from your world. Why is that, Mickey? You know how much I hate being ignored.”
The tables lifted as if they were weapons ready to strike. Michael remained quiet and didn’t stand. In fact, he appeared bored as he leaned back and pursed his lips. The feathers of his wings stood on end, though, and his eyes took on a dark amber glow. Soldiers started filing out of the hall.
Lucifer paused by our table. The nearness of him made me nauseous, and I swallowed bile.
“You stole something from me, Mickey. I want it back.”
Michael narrowed his eyes. Overhead, something screeched. I looked up and saw the roof was peeling away like the petals of a flower, opening slowly to reveal the dark sky. Cold air entered the chow hall. Snowflakes fell inside.
Those hauntingly beautiful mismatched eyes found me. “There you are.”
My breath ceased.
“Can I call you July?” he asked.
“No,” Michael answered for me.
“On the eve of Fourth of July, angels rained down from the sky.”
“Stop it.” Raphael said.
“Mighty, powerful, merciless. You are merciless, aren’t you, Mickey?”
“Only when you tempt me,” Michael said.
“That’s my purpose in life. To tempt you.” Lucifer climbed onto the levitating metal table. He danced, crouched, black wings erect above him. My belly rose, and I slapped a hand over my mouth as my meal reached my throat. “You remember, don’t you? You remember everything. Let’s help them remember too. Sing with me. ‘On the eve of Fourth of July…’”
Breath whooshed out of me, and if I opened my mouth, I’d vomit. His words bubbled in my throat, threatening to choke me. I pinched my lips, sweat breaking out on my palms.
Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “I said sing with me. Angels rained down from the sky. Mighty, beautiful, flawless, powerful.” I fought the onslaught in my head,
