“An angel’s flight relies on their faith and love for their maker,” Deyva said to Zach, ducking her head to meet his stare. “If Azariah’s anger fractured his trust, his belief in the righteousness—”
“That isn’t right,” Zach bit out.
“My love for human beings compromised my love for God,” Azariah said. “My fall was my own doing, my inability to hold faith.”
Deyva looked between all of us, worry creasing her brow. I’d thought this woman was evil when she arrived. She’d told us of Heaven’s faults and we’d thrown her nature back in her face, and now here she was, worried over our feelings at Azariah’s revelation.
“I’m sorry. That is only the beginning of the story. What you really need to know begins with my time spent in Hell,” Azariah murmured. “An angel’s fall is cause for celebration in Hell. If we can be converted, we make powerful warriors. If we cannot…”
“Angels are endless sources of powerful feeding and the enjoyment of harming someone for the sake of it,” Deyva finished for him. Her eyes narrowed up at him. “They wouldn’t have let you walk out. Not unless there was a reason.”
“Wait, you’re saying Hell sent Azariah here?” Stavros asked. “Why? Because of us?”
Azariah’s lips pressed into a flat line and his gaze never left Deyva’s face. The color she’d been sporting in her cheeks, the smile in her eyes, all of it faded.
“Whose domain did you land in? What demon broke your wings?” Deyva breathed, eyes going yellow and pale.
“Kimaris.”
Deyva hissed and launched herself off Stavros’ lap, jostling the table, coffee splashing out of our mugs as she edged away from Azariah, toward me and the windows.
“First Daughter,” Azariah said, his hands raised as he moved to round the table.
All three of us stood up out of our chairs, Zach and Stavros flanking me on either side. Out of the corner of my eye Deyva was visibly trembling, body hunching in on itself.
“Don’t fucking call me that,” she hissed. “Kimaris sent you after me.”
I stiffened, the answer written plainly in Azariah’s wince. The bruises and cuts on Deyva’s body, the old scars around her ankles.
“I’m sorry. I was promised freedom. I was only there for months and the agony was unimaginable. He must’ve had you for—”
“Shut up,” Deyva snapped, cutting Az off, jumping forward between Stavros and I. Over her shoulder I glared at the angel, my arms crossing over my chest. At my side Stavros scanned the room for a weapon.
“It seemed such an easy exchange, returning a succubus to her domain and then taking an opportunity to find my way back to mine. I never expected you to be here. I never expected you to be…” Azariah trailed off, glancing at us, the humans who stood tense and ready to protect the woman who had escaped Hell to reach our gates. “You are doing an angel’s work in a demon’s body.”
“I am not a demon!” Deyva shouted. “I fell too! I fell first, and I fell hard, but I have not been and I never will be a demon.”
Stav’s hand reached up and clasped Deyva’s shoulder. I expected her to tear him a new one but instead she just leaned into the touch, her feet stumbling back. My hand raised and rested against her spine, feeling the swell and release of her sigh.
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Azariah said, the picture of repentance with his shimmering locks curtaining around his diamond-edged cheekbones. But he looked tainted in my eyes now.
“You lied to us. You tried to use me,” Zach said.
“I—no. I thought I was helping you all at first. I never imagined she would be—be—”
“She’s a good fucking person and you’re an asshole, is what I think you’re trying to say,” Stavros growled.
Azariah’s good wing drooped, his grip rigid on the back of the chair as his gaze nearly bore a hole in the tabletop.
“For what it’s worth,” he ground out. “Seeing what you’ve done here has been remarkable. I’ve always admired human resilience, their will to take care of each other. Even if my faith is not completely restored, seeing Bethel come together and refuse to give up has given me hope. I’m not postulating, Fathers. You have truly done God’s work here.” His eyes lifted to the succubus across the room. “And I’m glad Deyva has been here to help.”
“So are we.” Stavros growled, pulling her back to his chest as his fingers kneaded into the flesh of her shoulder. “At least I am.”