The Trouble with Twelfth Grave (Charley Davidson #12)(24)

I hung up, then rolled down my window. “I gave at the office.”

“Rey’azikeen has been awakened.”

An electrical current rushed over my skin. No matter how many times I saw one, being so close to an angel, especially an archangel, was a surreal experience.

“Yeah. I know. I woke him. Accidentally. But I’m working on it. I have a plan. Will you go away now?”

“For the third time, a volatile god is loose on this plane.”

“And that’s my fault?”

I rolled up my window and opened the door, encouraging him to move aside. He stepped away so I could get out.

“Look, I get it,” I said, slamming the door. “But this god just happens to be your Boss’s little brother. Isn’t there some kind of concession? Some kind of special dispensation for family members?”

“Yes. Three days.”

“I can work with that. Three days. We can get the supplies we need, meet back at—”

“The three days that have already passed.”

I blinked in surprise, then slowly glared up at him. “Are you messing with me?” I’d wondered that about this particular angel more than once. Did supreme beings have a sense of humor? I’d always doubted it, but who knows?

“I am not.”

“You know what? You have your rules and your laws and your decrees, and I’ve been pretty good about following them.”

“It.”

“What?”

“You’ve been good about following it. We gave you only one rule—a life may be restored only if the soul has not already been freed. Only if it has not left the vessel and entered our Father’s kingdom.”

“Dude, I know the rule,” I said, trying not to let the resentment I felt filter into my voice. I could’ve brought three people back the other day. Instead, I had to follow the rule. My rule. Created, I was certain, for me and me alone.

Two women came out of the restaurant and walked past us. Their expressions made me remember that the average joe couldn’t see Michael unless he wanted them to.

“Come here,” I said, leading him to an alcove that only I fit into. His wings were too tall, even folded as they were. “Okay, yes, you expressly gave me only one rule, but I assumed I had to follow the other ten as well. Amirite?”

He inclined his head, just barely, in acknowledgment.

“And I follow them without question.” When he arched a skeptical brow, I added, “Most of the time. My point is that I’ve been a pretty good grim reaper. I’ve done my job without complaint and … wait.” My brows inched together. “So the three days started the moment Rey’azikeen was awakened on this plane?”

Incline.

“In other words, they’re coming to an end.”

Incline.

“Okay, tall, dark, and silent, what exactly happens when the end comes? Will he be cast off this plane like I will if I break my one and only rule?”

He tilted his head to the side as though studying me. “No.”

“Then what?” I did actually have a point with the line of questioning I’d chosen. I was gathering intel. What options, when it came to Reyes, were there? Would Michael trap him? If so, how? “What will you do when the countdown—thanks for the heads-up, by the way—comes to an end?”

He stood a moment, contemplating how much to tell me. At least that was the only reason I could think of for drawing out his answer. When he finally spoke, it was with a sadness I had yet to receive from him. But his words, as tenderly spoken as they were, siphoned the breath from my lungs.

“We will send an army. We will slay him if we can.”

The world slowed around us, and I didn’t know which one of us was doing it. Everything stilled. The cars driving on the side street slowed, then came to a complete stop. A couple of college kids out for a jog froze in midair. A bird coming in for a landing on a Dumpster hung suspended in flight, a beautiful testament to its ability. And sound ceased to exist.

“Michael,” I began, but my voice failed me. I had to swallow and then try again. “Michael, there were two malevolent gods on this plane, and you did nothing about it. You never intervened. Why now? Why with Reyes?”

“They did not threaten the very existence of every sentient being on this planet.”

“They were malevolent,” I argued. “Of course they did.”

“They were amateurs. Schoolchildren. Bullies playing pranks.”

“They killed people,” I said, astonished we were even having this conversation. “They killed people I loved. People Reyes loved.”

“And you stopped them. Both. Which proves my point.”

I scoffed breathily and turned my back to him, placing a hand on the cool brick wall to steady my shaking legs. “And Reyes? What is he? A malevolent god like the others?”

“Rey’azikeen is a general. Trained in combat. Able to kill both physically and mentally, he is a master soldier and manipulator. He has proven what he is capable of countless times. It must end, Elle-Ryn-Ahleethia.”

An army. Of angels. Cutting into him. Stabbing him. Bringing my husband to his knees. Stealing his last breath.

“Is this your Boss talking?”

“It is my Father’s will, yes.”

I leaned my head against a brick. Either Reyes learned to behave and play nice with the other kids on the playground or his Brother would send an army to strike him down. And I thought my family was dysfunctional.