The Trouble with Twelfth Grave (Charley Davidson #12)(75)

Jehovah drew in a deep breath. “I’d hoped through these trials you would learn all life is precious.”

“You think I don’t know?” He glanced at me, his anger palpable.

Then I remembered what he told me in the Jeep on the way to El Paso. Would I trust him when the time came? When he found the object he’d been searching for?

Beep’s fascination sank in. She wasn’t scared in the least. In fact, she was the only one in the room perfectly content.

She squeaked again, and I began to relax, realizing if he were to trust me, I had to trust him, just as our daughter obviously did.

I stepped closer and called his bluff. “I have loved you since the first time I saw you.”

He cast a suspicious scowl. “You’ve loved Reyes. Rey’aziel even. Not me.”

“You’re wrong,” easing even closer. “Why do you think I begged Jehovah not to send you into that prison?”

“The same prison you sent me into?”

I grinned. “You did insist.”

He ground his teeth, his long lashes trapping the glistening wetness between them.

“You stole Lucifer’s fire to release me from the hell you created for me. You. Not Reyes. Not Rey’aziel.”

He closed his eyes and bent his head, relief flooding every cell in his body as a slow, gratified smile widened his mouth.

“You knew I’d call Him,” I said, surprised. “Your Brother.”

One corner of his exquisite mouth rose to transform his smile into a lopsided grin.

He’d wanted his Brother here to witness. He’d brought all this on to confront Him, to prove to Him what he’d become.

But his Brother wasn’t finished with him yet. “This is how you control your temper? Your actions?” God asked him. “By ravaging? By pillaging?”

I offered Rey’azikeen a conspiratorial smirk, encouraged him to reveal the real reason we were all there.

“No, Brother. By this.”

He took his right hand and sliced his palm open on Michael’s sword. Rich, dark blood rushed out, and he placed his palm on Beep’s forehead, then lowered his own and whispered a protection prayer in an ancient celestial language. A spell. An incantation.

When he was finished, he lifted his palm. Beep’s skin absorbed the blood in a shimmer of light. It faded into her, and her only acknowledgment that her father had just cast a powerful protection spell over her was another soft squeak and a loveable wiggle, as though nestling against him.

His face brightened and he beamed down at her.

“What did you do?” I asked him, fascinated myself.

“I have made her invisible to all who would cause her harm. Our enemies will not be able to find her until she wants to be found.” He looked at his Brother. “I will protect her with my life. And with that, I will prove who I am. I will prove that I’m worthy of—”

“Forgiveness,” Jehovah said, His expression a mixture of surprise and knowing. “It was always there, Rey’azikeen, waiting. I knew you’d take it when you were ready.”

He glanced back at me, the grin on his face turning playful. “Call me Reyes.”

Jehovah nodded and disappeared without another word.

I just wanted to be closer to my husband and daughter, so I picked my way through angel wings and hellhounds and swords, scooting the latter to the side as I walked through the statues, still at the ready.

“Careful,” Reyes said. “An angel’s sword is very powerful.”

I grinned. “So is my husband.”

Humor shone brightly in his dark irises. “Perhaps you could call them off?”

With hardly a thought, they vanished. A split second before they disappeared, Michael turned to me and nodded, confirming that we were good. Then he was gone. They were all gone, except Mr. Wong.

I turned to him. “Thank you.”

He performed a deep, reverent bow, then disappeared into a sea of shimmering light. Dude was so cool.

I turned back and wrapped my arms around my husband and daughter.

“I needed you to trust me,” Reyes said. “In all my incarnations. And I needed her safe.”

I looked down at the bundle in his hands. At her rosy cheeks and pink mouth.

“For what is to come,” he added.

“And what is that?”

“A demon horde.”

I lifted a brow. “Yours?”

He lowered his head in shame. “Yes. When I created the god glass and the hell within, I created hundreds of thousands of guards. Wraith demons. Depraved. Bloodthirsty.”

“Because what’s a hell without a few thousand goblins?” I asked, teasing him.

“They felt me awaken. I had to find her to keep her safe, but a part of me couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let me find her, just in case.”

“Reyes.”

He nodded. “It’s an odd feeling, not trusting oneself.”

“I’m certain it is. The way I see it, if we can get through the last few days as unscathed as we have, we can get through anything as long as we’re together.”

“I apologize for the deception.”

I looked at our beautiful daughter. “You could have told me earlier.”

“I had to prove this to you. To prove I could be trusted.”