learn how to properly use your Annulus powers, including wielding the scythe. We’ll prepare for Morax in case he tries to create another realm and build another army.”
I shake my head, partly in denial at this huge burden she’s putting on me. “How does all of this affect the Hell portal here? I’ve already been inducted to be a Gate Guardian. I can’t just walk away from that,” I tell her. “I have a responsibility to this portal, and it’s clearly fucking broken, since my induction didn’t seem to do a damn thing against letting Morax’s army through.”
Nefta cocks her head. “You can’t be a Gate Guardian. Your blood wouldn’t allow it. You’re not meant to be tied to a single portal, or that could compromise your nature of neutrality.”
Well...fuck.
“So the induction didn’t work?” I confirm. I feel like shit now. I thought my presence helped, but I left the Gate and the guys even more vulnerable. On the other hand, I feel some level of relief too, because at least the Gate isn’t actually worse off than we suspected. It just never got stabilized like we thought it did.
I look over at the guys, feeling like I just failed them. “I’m so sorry. I thought I would’ve been able to help.”
“Nothing to apologize for,” Echo tells me, as I feel a shadow brush against my shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “We’ll figure it out.”
“How?” I ask incredulously, feeling more and more shit piling onto my shoulders. I’m a possible world-ruiner, and their Gate is still fucked. We’re just throwing good news around like glitter today.
“I said you can’t be a Gate Guardian,” Nefta interrupts. “I didn’t say you couldn’t help fix the Hellgate.”
Her words pull me up short. “What?”
“Go down to Hell’s Embrace. You’ll need to go to the literal Hellgate to do this. Demonic Gatekeepers created the Hellgate, but it was demonic Annuli who made it work. You can go down and help to reset it to its former glory, like the way it was when it was first made. It’s one of your true duties, after all.”
I sit up straighter, finally glad to hear some good fucking news. “I can? How do I do that?”
She opens her mouth to explain, but Tazreel groans just then and sits up, scratching away the unconsciousness from his eyes as he looks around. “What happened?” he asks, his voice scratchy from sleep.
Nefta takes this opportunity to get up, abandoning her teacup as she walks over to me, so I rise to my feet too. “I need to go now. I’ll be back, but there’s something I must check on before I can return to the Legion and report everything that happened. If you need me, call,” she says in a hurry.
“But—”
“Your scythe is the key, Delta,” Nefta says with one arched eyebrow, indicating a heavy double meaning.
She sends a look over her shoulder at Taz. “Good to see you aren’t completely useless on the battlefield, Pride,” she says, turning and sweeping out of the room before he can say a word back to her.
Taz scowls at the empty space she just was occupying. “That angel is a pain in my ass.” He looks over at me, like he’s just now noticing I’m here. “Ah, Delta. Glad to see you didn’t die. Must be my Abdicated blood that kept you quick on your feet.”
“Must be,” I say dryly.
His wings poof up behind him. “Did you see I had the Ophidian in my grasp? Even held a knife to his throat.”
“Fuck, we’re never going to hear the end of his bragging about that,” I mumble under my breath. Crux snorts.
“I believe I killed the most on the battlefield, too. Certainly more than your mother. One hundred sixty-seven demons, I culled,” he adds proudly as he rocks back on his heels. “I counted.”
“Of course you did,” I reply, barely suppressing the urge to roll my eyes. But then I remember Lucifer, and a grin spreads across my face.
The sight of it makes Taz stop preening long enough to narrow his eyes on me. “What?” he asks warily.
“Lucifer wants to talk to you. Immediately,” I say, adding some flair to my tone as I wag my brows.
That takes the wind out of his wings. “Why?”
I lift a shoulder. “Don’t know. He said it while he was wearing your body like a coat. It was pretty fucking creepy, actually.”
Taz sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “Fuck, I hate when he does that.”