dumping it into her vegetable soup, stabbing irritably at yolk with a fork.
“Why him?” I asked. Why not me?
“God created my kind before your kind, remember?” she said, arching an eyebrow. “Succubi were intended to feed on angels. They don’t feel it and we thrive on it. But...well, that situation got complicated and God scrapped us.”
I didn’t like Deyva’s interpretation of God, of a divine ruler simply experimenting by trial and error. It felt too much like my worst doubts, my ugliest thoughts. Had he given up on us too? Was that why he let Hell rise up and overtake us?
“That’s not what Az said last night,” Stavros said.
Deyva looked as though Stavros had just electrocuted her, her body pin straight and eyes the same shade of yellow as caution tape, a suitable warning.
Luckily for Stavros’ balls, one of our men from the security depot stepped up to the table at that moment.
“Fathers. We’ve got a situation coming toward the gate. Just some Hell wraiths but there’s a big group of them. Zach’s already heading for the gate. I think the angel’s with him,” Nick said, bouncing all the balls of his feet.
“Grab your shit,” I said to Stavros, sliding the remainder of my plate in Deyva’s direction before blinking at her, an idea striking me. “Hey. You down to send some wraiths back to Hell?”
Deyva was still stiff, eyes still yellow, and one of her hands wrapped tightly around the butter knife on the table. “I’m not going outside the gate,” she said, voice tight and thread thin, eyes flicking between Stavros and I.
I looked at him and saw that same ache on his features that I felt in my chest.
“That’s fine, Deyva,” he said softly.
I don’t know if he was even fully aware of what he did next, at least in terms of the fact that the town was around us, watching. His hand cupped her shoulder and he leaned in, and pressed a brief kiss to her temple. Deyva’s spiky tension bled away. She leaned into him for a moment and then they both pulled away, Deyva nodding and sagging in her seat.
“Go to the chapel when you’re done eating,” I said. “You’ll be safe there.”
At least, I hoped she would be.
Which was a whole other shit storm I could worry about later.
Stavros and I headed for the armory, which was little more than a storage shed we set up at a convenient crossroad—not too close to the gate, but on the way there. It was loaded with gallons of holy water and water guns filled and ready to grab at a moment’s notice. A few canisters of holy oil crowded the shelves too, and I grabbed one just in case while Stavros loaded himself up.
We were past the point of feeling like water guns were ridiculous. Humanity learned too late that our weapons meant to kill each other were useless on hellions. Guns, bombs, tanks—the demons just laughed at all of it. All the major militaries of the world emptied their armories, spent billions of their currency, and sent millions of citizens to slaughter, all because they didn’t know how else to fight.
It was somewhat of a learning curve for us too. Zach came up with the idea of blessing weapons with holy water first. First we blessed the water, then sprinkled it over bullets and grenades. That worked better than anything had before, but we soon ran out of ammo. And Hell never stopped coming. Turned out, using the water as a weapon itself was much more effective.
If only I had known back then, my unit would still be alive. They were good guys, they might have even been part of the Bethel community, still fighting alongside me. I probably wouldn’t need a succubus feasting on my carnal fantasies to get a decent night’s sleep. I definitely wouldn’t be haunted by their screams, their charred up bodies, and the abject terror in their eyes at the knowledge of where they were going after death. All to the eerie sound of demon laughter.
If only, if only.
“You think Deyva’s going to be okay?” Stav’s worried muttering as he strapped on weapons pulled me out of my dark thoughts.
Fuck, I hope so. “As long as nothing gets in the gate and she doesn’t get out.”
I took down my spare crossbow from the mount above the shed door. It wasn’t my favorite that I usually carried, but Teresa was back in the cottage and I didn’t have time to