Reaver’s head spun, which didn’t help the throbbing. “Why would she do that?”
“Because she was a spy.”
“A… spy?” Reaver asked, incredulous. “For how long?”
“Since the beginning.” Raphael said it so easily, as if everyone should have been aware of this information. “We fabricated a story about how she’d begun to kill humans for fun, leading to her fall, but in truth, she fell in order to infiltrate the highest orders in Sheoul and earn her way to become Watcher.”
“But why? Why would she give up so much to become a fallen angel?”
Raphael’s shake of his head and rolling eyes told Reaver what the archangel thought of Harvester’s reasons. “She’d been watching over your children since before they were Horsemen. She even saved Reseph from a fire that would have killed him. She loved them.”
This kept getting more and more unbelievable. “Where was I?” Reaver demanded. “Why wasn’t I watching over my children?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Raphael said, his tone making it clear that Reaver wasn’t going to get any answers about his past. “What matters is that Harvester was a spy, and she’s done the world a great service.”
Reaver threw his hand out to catch himself on a pillar before he fell over. “Why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t someone tell me about her?”
“We couldn’t risk anyone knowing. Any slip could have been dangerous.” Raphael’s expression became clouded with anger, and a menacing growl rose up in his chest. “Look what happened with Gethel.”
The time he’d caught Gethel working Harvester over with treclan spikes came back to him, and his breath hitched. “Gethel tortured Harvester. She suspected, didn’t she?”
“Most likely,” Raphael said. “I’m almost certain it was Gethel who ratted Harvester out to the forces of Sheoul.”
Ah, damn. Harvester had tried to warn Reaver, had said that Gethel wasn’t right. She didn’t mean that Gethel was wrong. She’d meant that Gethel was mental, and maybe playing for the wrong side, if she was torturing Harvester for proof that Harvester was a good guy.
But had Gethel spoken the truth about anything?
“Gethel told me Harvester was Satan’s consort and she fell from Heaven to be with him. How does that play into any of this?”
Raphael’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s what she told you? Gethel loved messing with your head, didn’t she?”
“She wouldn’t need to mess with my head if I had my memories,” Reaver growled. “So Harvester wasn’t secretly sleeping around with Satan?”
Raphael laughed. Actually laughed. “I should hope not. He’s her father.”
Father? Holy… shit. Reaver’s voice was slightly strangled when he spoke. “So what do we do now?”
“We hunt Gethel down and destroy her.”
Gladly. “And Harvester?”
“She is lost to us.”
An unexpected stab of guilt lanced Reaver in the chest. “She’s dead?”
Raphael shrugged. “We lost contact with her when she was dragged to Sheoul. No doubt she’ll be tortured for some time.”
“Won’t Satan protect her?”
Another burst of laughter from Raphael set Reaver’s nerves on edge. “The only thing Satan hates more than a traitor is a traitor in his family. You should have seen what was left of one of his sons after he sided with another fallen angel in an argument between the angel and Satan.” Raphael shook his head. “No, Harvester will suffer like no one ever has for this.”
“Then we need to rescue her.”
Raphael waved his hand in dismissal. “She knew the risks when she volunteered for the assignment. She understood that it was a one-way trip and that if she was caught, we would disavow all knowledge of her actions.”
Reaver’s jaw nearly hit the ground. “Are you kidding me? We can’t leave her there!”
“Any attempt at rescue would be an admission of our involvement. They can’t know that we arranged for two agents of good to be assigned to the Horsemen. It could start another war between Heaven and Hell. Even if it were possible to get her out, she won’t be the same innocent young angel who fell. To survive Sheoul and earn a place as Watcher, she had to do things that hardened her heart and blackened her soul. Her sacrifice is one of the greatest in angelic history, but she is lost to us.”
“There has to be a way.”
“Let it go, Yenrieth.” Raphael’s voice deepened, became a booming thunder. “Hear me now. You will not make any attempt to rescue her. If you do, I’ll tear off your wings myself and toss you into the darkest pit in Sheoul. Do you understand?”
Reaver understood, all right. He understood that Raphael was a massive douchebag.
“I’m also taking you off Watcher duty.”
A bone-deep fury welled up in Reaver, scouring his veins as if they ran with steam instead of blood. “You can’t do that.”
Raphael’s calm was maddening. “I can do anything I please. You are the Horsemen’s father, and that knowledge means you can no longer be a neutral party.”
“Neutral? Harvester wasn’t neutral, either, if she was a spy, you piece of—”
“I wouldn’t finish that sentence,” Raphael warned. “You’re getting off lightly, given all the rules you’ve broken recently. Releasing Reseph from Sheoul-gra? Keeping Wormwood from Thanatos? Giving Heofon to Pestilence? Shall I go on?”
“The rules are bullshit. You broke the biggest of all by sending Harvester to infiltrate hell. How dare you accuse me of breaking rules, you overgrown vulture.”
“One more word,” Raphael said slowly, “and you will lose what little memory you have, and I’ll wipe you from your children’s minds as well.”
Trembling with the kind of rage Reaver rarely experienced, he spun and headed toward the exit. As he reached it, he flared his wings high and violently, a big, fat, f**k you to the angel watching him leave.
It was about time for a vacation, and Reaver had heard that Sheoul was nice this time of year.
Forty-four
Reseph finished scooping grain into a bucket and popped the lid onto the bin. Impatient snorts told him he was moving too slow as he hauled the feed to the stalls at the end of the barn, where Sammy and Conquest waited. The two horses had struck a friendship that, to be honest, baffled Reseph. Conquest wasn’t the nicest of stallions, but he’d taken to the gelding and liked to hang out in the barn with him.
“You two are goofballs,” Reseph muttered as he poured grain into their troughs.
He headed back to the house, casting a quick look toward the clearing where, just beyond, they were building a cabin for Tracker. The warg refused to live any farther away, and despite Jillian’s desire to have him stay in the guest bedroom while the cabin was being constructed, he preferred to sleep in the barn.
Reseph stomped the snow off his boots on the porch and went inside the house, where Jillian was waiting, curled up on the couch under a blanket, two steaming cups of hot cocoa on the table in front of her.
“Critters are all fed and happy.” He glanced over at Fang-Doodle, who was dozing in his usual spot in front of the fire. “Some of them are a little fatter and happier than others.”
Jillian narrowed her eyes at him. “I hope you aren’t talking about me.”
Grinning, Reseph sank down on the couch, straddling her on all fours. “What, you aren’t happy?”
“Jerk.” She gave him a playful swat on the shoulder, but a frown followed on its heels. “Are you sure you’ll be happy here? It’s in the middle of nowhere, not much to keep you busy, and we get tons of snow—”
“Shh.” He brushed his lips over hers. Emotion welled up in him, filling him so completely that he could barely breathe, let alone speak. “I’m sure. I spent so much time keeping busy and being empty. But out here, with you, I don’t need to be busy. I feel like I’m finally whole. I’m five thousand years old,” he rasped. “But the day you found me in the woods, that’s when my life started.”
Jillian gripped his collar and tugged him down on top of her. “I spent so much time worrying that no man would ever be what he appeared to be that I didn’t realize being more isn’t always bad.”
“So you’re glad I’m not the man you found in the snowbank?”
“Oh, you are that man. But you’re so much more, too.” She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth and gave him a hesitant glance. “I feel terrible though… I haven’t had time to get you anything for Christmas.”
“Are you kidding me? You’ve given me everything. I even have my family back because of you.”
Now that everyone was sure Reseph could control Pestilence, he and Jillian were welcome at his siblings’ houses, and they’d all popped over here as well. Thanatos had even allowed Reseph to hold Logan. They still had to work on getting the hellhounds to come around, but Reseph figured there was plenty of time for that.
“Speaking of which,” she said, “we’re invited to Than’s place for Christmas dinner tomorrow. They said if Tracker is back from his pack by then to bring him, too.” She sighed. “I’ll bet he’s never celebrated Christmas.”
Seriously doubtful. Few human holidays were celebrated in Sheoul. “Let’s pick up something for him tomorrow. I know a great electronics store in Tokyo.”
“See?” Her hands traveled slowly down his back, massaging as they went. “That’s what I mean about being so much more than the man I found in a snowbank. Who else can take me shopping in another country in a matter of seconds?”
He nuzzled her neck. “Wanna know what else I can do in a matter of seconds?”
Shifting so he settled between her thighs, she arched under him, and her voice went deep and husky. “Oh, I’m very well aware of that.”