were here to perform powerful magic, using a light powered by a big battery.
Lucifer chuckled as we entered. I gave him a sharp look. "I half expected to be turned to dust," he whispered. "Feels like I should be reverent in here."
I giggled at his facial expression. Lucifer never acted nervous, but this was the closest he ever came to it. Even though I was elated to finally be out and doing something toward finding Ariel, I made myself stop smiling. "I think it's all the magic coming from the Scythe," I said. "I feel it."
Michael gave me an incredulous look. "You do?"
Walking forward, my gaze was pulled straight to the cross. A wooden shelf from the wall had been ripped down, just as Michael had described. A basic cross, carved from a single piece of wood, rested in the middle of the shelf.
The altar, larger than the shelf on it, stopped me from moving forward anymore. I pressed against it and peered at the cross, enchanted. "It wants me to pick it up," I whispered. "It calls to me."
I hadn't had much to do with Cain and Abel. I knew them, watched them grow up, but at that point, we were barely getting Abaddon off the ground. The population of the Earth realm was in the single digits for so long that we'd had plenty of time to prepare. God had warned us how populated the Earth realm would become, and it was just us Fallen to prepare.
When God allowed Lucifer to tempt Eve, and she chose free will, we knew that meant that people would make bad choices and we'd have our jobs cut out for us.
I wasn't paying attention the day Cain killed Abel. They'd both made offerings to God, and he preferred Abel's.
And Cain lost his ever-loving shit. Killed his brother with a farming scythe, causing God to curse him to wander forever. He wandered, all right. Enough to help populate the Earth realm. Pretty much everyone is a descendant of Cain, now.
The artifact of the first murder. In my opinion, the actual original sin. Lucifer and I had always disagreed with the edicts of heaven that Eve's free will—eating the apple—was a sin. But, that's why we were the rulers of Abaddon. Because we were rebels. Freethinkers.
And we did have a penchant for loving sin.
"It sings," I said. The call of the Scythe made me sway in place. "I understand why Raphael hid it."
Lucifer pulled me away from the altar. "Why are you so bothered by it and none of us are?"
I shrugged him off and returned to my spot pressed against the wood of the altar. "I don't know." Chills danced down my spine. "Let me try to touch it."
Icy chills darted down my right hand as I moved it closer and closer to the cross. As soon as I touched it, it should've turned to the Scythe, but I couldn't get my hand close enough to it. A freezing feeling spread through my body, focusing on my chest. But more than that, the ice wanted to wrap around my soul, my aura.
"It's too cold," I whispered, drawing my hand back. As desperately as I wanted to wrap my fingers around it, as desperately as it wanted me to, I couldn't bear the cold. "I've never felt anything like that." I tried to describe the sensation. "It hit my soul as my hand got closer," I said. "I know that makes no sense, but that's how it felt. Like my heart of hearts was freezing inside me."
Michael, Gabriel, and Lucifer looked at me aghast. "Is it still pulling you?" Michael asked.
"It is. But the feeling of cold is still in my chest. I can bear to resist it now." The song of the Scythe, still eerily lilting in my head, threatened to sway me, but I focused on the feeling of cold to dissuade it.
Michael stepped forward and held his hand out, moving slowly toward the cross, but when he got within inches of it—closer than I was able to–his hand simply deflected to the side.
"What the hell?" I whispered. "Any cold?"
He shook his head. Gabe nudged between us and tried to the same effect. His hand went glancing off in the other direction.
They stepped to the side so Lucifer could move forward and try.
He reached forward, and when he was still a couple of feet away, he grimaced. Pausing for a second, he breathed out and pushed forward, as if forcing his hand