Over three nights and three days, Julia healed herself on my landing post.
On day one, the Marked’s bodies floated on the water over my city.
On day two, I willed the waters to recede.
On day three, a young immortal soul brushed against mine.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I rarely visited the kitchen. That territory belonged to Jasmine, a mortal cook Uriel had handpicked and plucked straight out of New Orleans from the Before. Former mother of none because of multiple surgeries, she was a restaurant owner who struggled to make ends meet. Now, in my world, a mother of seven, she struggled with her recently acquired staff. Okay, so I sent most of Raphael’s fleet home. The ones who’d slayed several of my males stayed and worked in my kitchens.
Quietly, I leaned against the door.
With her back to me, Jasmine examined a pan. She got a fork and tasted the dish, then spat in the garbage. “Who made this omelet?”
An angel, one formerly in command of Raphael’s fleet, turned around. He wore his Court’s colors, a purple apron. I did have a sense of humor after all.
“What now?” he asked, eyes darting to me.
“Scrambling happens before you pour the eggs in the pan,” she said.
He shrugged.
“What kind of peppers did you put in here?” she asked.
“The smallest ones.”
Jasmine lifted her fork. “That’s not what I said to do. Sweet pepper, not jalapeño. How you even made it past your toddler years, boy, I’ll never know.”
He was about a thousand years old to her late fifties.
“I’ll take it to Raphael,” I said and extended my hand.
“Excuse me, Commander,” Jasmine said, “I didn’t see you there.”
“At ease, soldier.” Everyone was a soldier in my Court, especially the cook, who handled more weapons than most of us.
She put the eggs on a plate, and I took it, then turned away.
“Commander,” she said.
I turned back.
“Julia ordered pickles, tomato, and whatever else sour I could summon for breakfast.” Jasmine stood there, eyes wide, lips stretched into a smile, leaning forward as if expecting something from me.
I leaned in. “Thank you for informing me,” I said as I walked off, but I heard her mutter, “A man is a man is a man. Gotta hit ’em over the head with it. Shiiit.”
I kept walking toward the keep, our prison housing. A pair of angels greeted me, not bothering to unlock the keep’s doors. I willed them open. It reeked of the wounded and desperate creatures I’d left here to torture for information. At the end of the maze made of spiraling hallways that wound like snakes under the House grounds, I found Raphael slumped in the corner of his tiny cell. He looked up.
I paused to admire his wings, which I nailed on the wall across from him.
He didn’t greet me, so maybe couldn’t speak anymore as he channeled his power into growing new wings. Trouble was, new wings needed room to grow, and he was not going to have that privilege until he told me everything about Lucifer, namely what kind of deal Lucifer had tried to make.
“I brought you an omelet,” I said.
Raphael wiped drool from his chin. It was his first meal in forty days. During that time, I mourned my soldiers, and now that I finished mourning, Raphael could eat.
Crouching, I slid the plate inside the cell.
He didn’t attack the food, but didn’t refuse either.
“How is my Court?” he asked.
“Not good. You left a vacuum. Someone will fill it.”
He chuckled. “You?”
“If I wished to have your Court, I would simply take it.”
Violet eyes brightened. “You can’t rule us all, Michael. If you try…”
I rolled my eyes. “All I want is Lucifer.”
“So go get him.”
I tsked. “What kind of deal did you make with him?”
“None of your business.”
“Did you make a deal?”
Raphael picked the plate, sniffed, sneezed. “There’s enough pepper in here to kill me.”
“Courtesy of your lieutenants.”
“My males are working in your kitchens?”
I smiled.
“You bastard,” he tried shouting, but choked on his weakness. “You must let them return.”
“Most of them returned. Some I kept. Like you.”
“Don’t kill them, Michael.” A plea.
“Tell me what I want to know, and I won’t.”
Raphael flung the plate.
I stopped the pieces from reaching me, kept them floating in the air. “I’ll return next month. Perhaps you’ll be more agreeable then.”
“You betrayed me,” he said. “You traded me for the life of a mortal girl.”
“Immortal. And I would do it all over again.” I left the keep and climbed the steps, then ascended to my floor. Inside my chambers, I found Julia huffing out a breath.
She looked at me with tears in her eyes. “They won’t button.” She pulled on her uniform pants, tugging, wiggling, trying to button them. The button popped and landed on the floor. She threw up her hands, then sat on the bed, head down, shoulders slumped.
I sat next to her and stretched out my wing, brushing her arm. She leaned on my shoulder. “I can’t drink coffee. I only want to eat and sleep. I think I’m coming down with something.”
“Immortals don’t get sick.”
“But humans do.”
“Hm… You will heal your body.” I cleared my throat. “How is your mind?” We’d developed mental exercises, rigorous ones just like the physical training. I started with Julia, and once she got a handle on them, we formed a small squad for her to teach. While soldiers didn’t remember the Before, mental exercises would make them stronger.
“I’m fine. My shields are holding.”
“Has he tried to make contact?”
She shook her head, pressing a hand on her cheek. “I’m having hot flashes.”
Unsure what those entailed, I said, “We will replace the early morning endurance exercises with more sleep, then, until you feel better.”
“Michael, I don’t think I’m gonna feel better. At least not for
