He groans again, covering his eyes with his arm, even as his other tightens around my waist.

“We could do that. Embrace in a fiery, touching kiss that makes hearts swell with envy and tears leak. Let’s do it. Right now.”

“Your fire will burn the whole fucking room down,” Gage points out.

“We should go to the Black Heart for at least a few more hours and try to test out our Unity Strike. See how many times we can summon it in a row before the battle tomorrow,” Jude states with a false calmness.

He doesn’t want to disrupt the calm before the storm, because we all had an agreement to simply live it up these last few days. Let come what may.

“It couldn’t hurt,” Gage says on a long, tired sigh, kissing my shoulder as he pushes up from the bed.

“I’ll just lie here and eat all this fruit. I’m strong enough to handle that mindless killing machine all on my own,” I chirp, sitting up as I wrap the sheet around my bare body, allowing Kai room to move out from under me.

They all go to pull on some clothes, as the servants leave.

“I’ll keep the bath hot,” I call to them as they finish dressing and leave without saying anything else.

My smile falls, as the blood starts leaking from my nose, and I rewind the end to watch it again. Ignoring the black, acidic drip that won’t stop now that I’m hidden from prying eyes, I watch every single second, deciphering the old me’s code.

“From death comes life upon a grave misdeed. Only then can one sow a truly destructive seed,” I whisper to myself. Then I recite the following phrase that also popped into my head…that I’ve kept to myself. “No mercy for those bathed in sin. Wrath finds a way to tip back the balance once again.”

Wrath finds a way to tip back the balance once again. Just like Liz and Hellboy. Just like how I reacted the day Ezekiel was thought to be killed, instead of knowing it was an illusion. Just like how they were when Hera’s freaks were attacking me without mercy.

Wrath exists in them just as much as it exists in me, because they’re my horsemen.

“This is what it has to mean,” I whisper to myself.

Going phantom, I settle on an appropriate outfit to pay a visit to an archangel, and I turn whole to grab the graphic novel from the nightstand.

Lamar is in the hallway, startling when he sees me.

“Give me a lift to purgatory and ring an angel for me, will ya?”

He blinks a few times. “What?”

I grab his hand, dragging him with me. “I can’t explain. I just need to talk to Rafael. Make it happen.”

Without another word, he whisks us to Purgatory, and I stand in the middle of a familiar platform divided by a line of salt.

“He’ll sense you here and come soon,” Lamar assures me. “I don’t have the power to summon an archangel at will,” he adds.

“Thanks. You can go now,” I tell him dismissively.

He frowns, but he doesn’t argue or come up with a smartass retort as he siphons away.

The second he’s gone, a breeze wafts over me, and I glance over to a still-bruised Rafael.

“I suppose angels don’t heal as efficiently as hell-spawn,” I state with a wicked, proud smile.

He merely takes a seat in a white chair that appears behind him.

I glance behind me to see a chair has also appeared for me. A black one, unsurprisingly.

Today, instead of looking haggard, Rafael freshly shaven, bald, and is wearing white robes.

“I’ve been stuck in the healing room for a while now, and I need to return. However, since the battle takes place tomorrow, I presume you have more important matters to discuss and didn’t simply call me down here to gloat,” he states in a flat tone.

He certainly seems calmer than I’ve ever seen him.

I toss the book over the salt line, and he catches it with one hand, quirking an eyebrow when he sees the cover.

“Why are you handing me this rubbish?” he asks with a sneer.

“It’s not rubbish. It’s a touching love story full of acceptance, heartwarming moments, and—”

“You surely didn’t call me down here for a book club meeting,” he states in clear horror.

“I think reading would help give you a more open mind, personally,” I point out, as I cross my arms over my chest and cross my legs as well.

Clearing my throat, I pick at the hem of my slinky angel costume, and adjust my wire halo on my head next. “I cheated and watched the movie. Hopefully, it’s not too far away from the original storyline. I’m assuming the old me knew I was a movie buff, knew the guys were crazy suspicious, and knew I’d cheat.”

He gives me a dry look, showing more patience than ever before as he tosses the book back to me. I catch it, fumbling it with a lot less grace than he caught it.

“Why are we truly discussing Hellboy: Seed of Destruction?” he asks on a weary sigh.

My smile falls. “Because it’s Plan B.”

“I’m sorry, what?” he asks as I play with the faux fur that covers just some of my exposed cleavage.

“Plan B,” I say again. “Plan A is to throw everything we’ve got at Jahl, only holding back my trigger and their secondary trigger.”

His eyes widen when I confess they have the secondary trigger, but he merely bristles and doesn’t act any more surprised than that. He also doesn’t bother arguing about its location.

“I highly doubt they can use the secondary trigger. It’s a stupid thing Lucifer allowed you to even have as a way of cheating death. It’s possible it wouldn’t even function at all,” he says in an almost conspiratorial whisper, because he knows Lucifer would send the Horsemen in alone if he knew that little morsel of change. “What’s Plan B?” he asks too calmly.

I suppose, since he’s not the one facing this thing, it’s a little easier to be calm.

My stare bounces up to meet his, and I lean forward. “I’m about to ask you to do something crazy. If you deny me, I’ll find a way to come back from another death and kill you without mercy.”

Blood drips from my nose and sizzles in front of the salt.

His gaze dips to the blood, staring at it for a second, before slowly lifting back up to mine.

“What do you need from me, hell-spawn?”

My lips etch up in a smirk, even as my heart squeezes tighter in my chest. “I’ll make this quick, since Hell goes on lockdown with no siphons in or out very shortly. To break it down, I need an archangel to trust The Apocalypse, who got an idea from Lucifer, a boy band, and that book.”

He exhales harshly, as though I’m asking for a lot.

“How much trust?” he asks tightly.

More blood drips from my nose as I answer, “More than you’re going to want to give.”

“What’s this about, Apocalypse?” he asks with that thinning patience.

Sitting back, I answer him. “A weapon can be used more than once, and never fully ceases to exist. The ammunition is the loss that comes at a cost you will find the hardest.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I finally think I understand how to use the main and secondary triggers, and understand the cost that ensures the balance isn’t broken,” I tell him, wiping my nose.

He leans forward. “If you use your trigger, you’ll die for certain. If you use your trigger in the Pure Branch, they’ll die along with you. The secondary trigger will be a moot—”

“The old me left me some very important messages in secret,” I interrupt. “And now I think I understand what I’m supposed to do as a last resort, ensuring Jahl dies and this isn’t all for nothing.”

He’s quiet for a moment, until he finally asks, “Care to share?”

Sticking out my hand, my gaze stays locked on his, as I respond. “Only if you’re willing to make a deal with the Devil’s daughter.”

Chapter 26

PACA

Pulling on my crown, ensuring it’s securely on my head, I stare into the mirror. My breaths are shaky, even as I shove a handful of popcorn into my mouth and chase it with some chocolate liquor, guzzling until the entire jar is gone.

When I return my attention to the mirror, I find all four my boys in the reflection. Our war paint is on—skeletal paint marking our faces. I can’t believe they didn’t even put up a fight when I requested it, simply to distract them from the intensity of the moment.

Then again, they haven’t denied me much of anything these last few days. They would wait until the possible end to finally give me everything I want without a fuss.

“At least you look badass,” I point out, smiling…but only getting stern looks in return.

“It’s time,” Lamar says in a quiet voice from the doorway.

A few days of debauchery isn’t enough. A few days to relish this moment in time where they’d give me anything…isn’t enough. I need a lifetime. Plan A has to work.

My confidence rattled and my knees trying to give, I turn like I’m one thousand percent positive we’re going to all make it out of this alive.

They easily fall in line behind me, serious and stoic, as we follow Lamar out the door.

My siblings are lounging casually against the walls, all eyes on us as we silently move down the hallway that slowly morphs into the Hall of Sick Fame.