Grace and Glory (The Harbinger #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,116

dead.

“That’s really odd,” I said.

“What in the Hell?” Zayne murmured.

The radio stopped spinning channels, and the sound...the sound of a guitar riff drifted out from inside the Impala. It was a song. A vaguely familiar one. A scratchy male voice sang, “‘I’m on my way to the promised land...’”

My brows knitted as I started mouthing the words. The chorus picked up in a very recognizable lyric. “Is that...?”

“‘Highway to Hell’?” Zayne finished for me as he looked over his shoulder. “Please tell me he doesn’t have his own entrance song?”

Before Zayne’s question could be answered, the ground by the burning tree erupted. A geyser of dirt and flames spewed hundreds of feet into the air.

I turned slowly, head tilting to the side as I stared into the mass of churning flames and dirt. There were shadows in there, a darkness that took shape, and even with my poor vision I could make out massive wings and horns—wings the length of two Impalas and horns the size of a person.

“He’s heeeeeerrrre,” Cayman’s voice echoed eerily through the phone Zayne held as AC/DC sang “Highway to Hell.”

My mouth dried.

The thing inside the fire stretched toward us. It was a monster made of rippling flames—a type of demon I’d never seen before. Its mouth gaped open in a deafening roar, spitting fire into the sky and across the ground. The heat blew back our clothing and hair.

Dear God, was Lucifer a giant?

Probably shouldn’t be asking God that question, but how in the Hell were we supposed to work with and hide something like that?

Man, this was a bad idea.

The fire monster stretched its arms as it tossed its head back in a fiery laugh.

A very bad idea.

The flames flared brightly and then evaporated. A small breath parted my lips as the fire monster thing shrank down until it was just under seven feet tall.

Definitely a more manageable fire monster size, but still, fire monster.

The grass sparked and then smoldered with each step the creature took as it stalked forward.

“Um,” I repeated, forcing myself to stand still and keep my grace locked down.

“It’s okay,” Roth assured us. “He just likes to make an entrance.”

“Understatement of the year,” Zayne murmured.

Just when I was about to ask if the fire thing was permanent, the flames faded, revealing skin—skin that surprisingly carried the same kind of glow Zayne’s did, but brighter. It did the same thing my father’s did, an ever-changing kaleidoscope of pinks and browns before settling on a tawny hue that seemed neither white nor brown. As the glow receded, the first thing I noticed was that his features were clear to me—well, as clear as they could be in the moonlight, but definitely more visible than Roth’s or Layla’s. The second thing I noticed was how much he looked like my father, even his eyes. They were a vibrant, unnatural shade of blue, and the wings were the same—something else that surprised me even though I knew that Lucifer had retained his wings after his Fall and his grace. I just hadn’t expected them to be so white and pristine, because he was, after all, freaking Lucifer. They were as large as my father’s, stretching at least ten feet. The sculpted jaw and cheekbones were the same. The prominent brow and straight nose nearly identical. The fair, shoulder-length hair also similar. They could be brothers, and it struck me then that Michael and Lucifer were brothers, as were Raphael, Gabriel and all the rest.

Oh, man, wasn’t that a dysfunctional as Hell family.

That I was a part of.

Wait. Did that mean Lucifer was...was my uncle? My nose wrinkled. We had to have some really messed up DNA relatives on 23andMe.

But family genealogy was so not important right now, because finally, the third thing I noticed, unfortunately, was that he was naked.

Why were they always naked?

Keeping my eyes northward wasn’t a problem, though. I didn’t want to see any of what he did or did not have going on down below.

He came to a stop a few feet from Roth and Layla, his wings moving soundlessly behind him. A coldness drenched my skin and my bones as those ultrabright eyes drifted over us, and when he spoke, ice encased my soul. His voice...it was like a melody—a hymn. The kind of voice that could convince you to take part in any unimaginable sin.

“Bow,” Lucifer ordered. “Bow before your true Lord and Savior.”

None of us moved.

Or bowed.

We all stared at him, which probably meant we were seconds