Days of New: The Complete Collection (Serials 1-5) (35 page)

“Why are you going to hurt him?”

“Hurt him?” Michaela sputtered. Her narrowed, stormy eyes met Lucifer’s over Maya’s shoulder. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Good luck trying,” Lucifer spat.

Maya stepped back, her small back meeting his chest. Lucifer put his hand on her waist and tried to maneuver her gently out of the way. She wouldn’t budge, even when his grip tightened enough to leave bruises on her perfect milky skin. “No, you’re not,” Maya growled.

Michaela sighed. “Nephil, move. Now.”

“Maya, go inside. It’s okay,” he said, trying to wrench her toward the stairs. He really didn’t want her to watch him fight Michaela. Or kill her, if it came to that.

She whirled around and faced him. Surprising him to the core, she punched his chest, glaring up at him. “You lied to me,” she hissed.

“I’m sorry about that too. I wanted to tell you the truth when I came here, but I didn’t want you to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“How can you not?” Lucifer asked, shocked now that she knew the truth about him.

“I still don’t think you’re a bad guy,” Maya said with a shrug. “And I’m a good judge of character.”

Over her shoulder, Lucifer saw Michaela coming closer. He wouldn’t put it past the angel to kill Maya just to take him down. He couldn’t risk it. He picked up Maya and set her to the side, his fingers skimming over her mouth. But her words had bolstered him, giving him more than just a flicker of hope—it was a burning fire.

“I hope you’re right,” he whispered so only Maya could hear before he flew away.

* * *

“Are you serious?” Clark shouted. “Are you freaking serious?”

“How was I supposed to know?” Maya shouted back.

Clark, Maya, Zarachiel, and Michaela all stood around the dining room table. Later that evening, Clark had returned to the cabin to find Maya and Michaela in a screaming match. Michaela had her sword out, and Maya held a gigantic rock in her hand. Apparently—and this was the main cause of the argument—Maya had lobbed a particularly large rock at Michaela when the angel had tried to pursue Lucifer. Her aim had been good, her throw strong. Apparently—and this was another cause for shock—Maya had been on her convent’s softball team since middle school.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe not trusting strangers who could be the devil!”

“He’s not the devil!”

Clark reached across the table and slapped his palm to Maya’s forehead, feeling for a temperature. “Dude, what Kool-Aid have you been drinking?”

“Get off me,” Maya said, swatting his hand away.

“This is ridiculous,” Michaela said for the thousandth time. “Do you know how close I was to killing him before this little brat hit me with a rock?”

“You shouldn’t have tried to go after him!” Maya shouted.

“Of course I should have. He needs to die!”

“Why?” Maya spit, her anger causing little dots of pink to rise high on her cheeks. Her lightly colored eyes flared with fury.

Michaela turned to Clark. “Is she serious?”

“Look,” Maya said. “If he’s so bad, then why didn’t he kill me the two chances he’s had? Likely, he’s had more. Yet I’m here.”

“He’s using you! Obviously, he’s already brainwashed you.” Michaela turned to Clark. “She was letting him paw her like she was a dog in heat! He was halfway down her throat when I interrupted!”

“Just shut up!” Maya shouted. Her hand closed around a can of beans that had been left out this morning.

Michaela growled. “Don’t you dare throw that at me!”

Zarachiel reached over and eased the can away from Maya. She didn’t notice. “He isn’t bad now! I know it! If I could just talk to him—” she said to Clark.

“He’s Lucifer,” Michaela interrupted. “All he is is bad.”

“What are you saying? That he’s inherently evil because of a name? A title? What is it then? What makes him the definition of evil?”

“Look at all he’s done! He’s—”

“Look at all you’ve done!” Maya shouted back. “Look at how many Nephilim you’ve killed. Look at this earth after your stupid war. Look at all the death and destruction around us caused by holy angels. And you tell me that he’s the evil one? There’s no such thing as pure evil.”

“Wait,” Clark said. He remembered something. “Is this because you’re an atheist?”

Michaela’s brows rose. Zarachiel went on and took a seat at the dining room table, keeping the can of beans tightly in his grip.

“Maybe,” Maya shrugged. “I believe no one can be perfectly good. And I believe no one can be perfectly evil. There’s no such thing as a devil. He’s just an angel.”

“A bad, fallen angel who has tried to ruin Heaven for nearly an eternity,” Michaela said.

Maya ignored her. “What if I could talk to him? Get him to release Camille? He would listen to me,” she said to Clark.

“She could have a point,” Zarachiel finally said, his voice calm and even. “He hasn’t killed her, and it’s obvious he likes her if he lied to her about who he is.”

“Oh, yeah.” Michaela snorted. “He likes her alright.”

“It’s not safe,” Clark said, ignoring Michaela’s comment.

“No, but you’ve said that Camille looked ready to die in your dream. This could be the only way to save her.” Maya put her hands on her hips. Her hair was disarrayed and her lips looked bruised, but there was a bright fire in her eyes that reminded him of Sophia so much that he had to look away. “I can try, Clark. I know he’ll listen to me.”

Michaela shook her head. “That’s too dangerous. You can’t risk getting her killed.”

“You looked ready to kill me when I stood in your way earlier.”

“Look,” Clark interrupted. “Let’s just get some sleep. It’s been a long day. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

“I have to check on something, but I’ll be back in the morning,” Michaela said, shaking her head. She didn’t say goodbye before she just disappeared. Clark glared at where she’d stood a second ago. He understood why she was mad. She’d always wanted nothing more than to see Lucifer’s demise, but that wasn’t any reason to get all pissy with him. Not to mention they still hadn’t talked about their fight earlier this morning. He scrubbed his hands through his hair in frustration.

Maya slumped in her chair now that her new nemesis, the Angel of Death, was gone.

“Do you think he would listen to you?” Zarachiel asked her. “Really?”

“I know it probably sounds crazy to you two,” she said, round eyes roving between their faces. “But he’s sweet with me. Gentle.” Maya’s brows furrowed at this and she blushed a little, but she hurried on before Clark could ask about it. “I don’t see this bad guy you keep talking about. I get that I don’t know him as well as you, or know all the things he’s done, but I still don’t think he’s completely bad. Don’t you believe that good part of Lucifer is still in there somewhere if I see that side of him?”

Clark sighed heavily, sinking into another chair. “I don’t know…maybe…”

“Wouldn’t it be so much easier if I could get back Camille without starting a whole new war?”

“But it’s not just Camille we have to get back,” Zarachiel said. “He’s after Clark’s powers too. He took Camille as bait.”

“Do you think he likes you enough to give up the one thing that brought him back from death?” Clark asked, watching Maya closely. She met his gaze head-on, unwavering in her belief.

“Maybe,” she whispered.

Clark shook his head at her. She was blinded. And by what, he really didn’t know. He had no clue how Lucifer could be so convincing that he made her believe in him. Maya was a smart girl. She shouldn’t be fooled so easily.

They had a quiet dinner before heading off in their separate directions. Maya took the bedroom, but from where Clark slept on a pallet in the kitchen, he could hear her pacing behind the bedroom door. Zarachiel took the first watch; his quiet presence hovered just outside the front door. None of them were going to get any sleep tonight.

Clark kept thinking about what Maya had said. He wondered if she really could convince Lucifer to let Camille go. He’d thought the fallen angel was unredeemable, but if anyone could do something so impossible, Maya could. She talked about Lucifer in such a determined way, like she really did understand who he was. And believed him to still be good. If she was that convinced, maybe she was right. Maybe this whole thing could be ended with a little love.

Or maybe not. What if Clark was playing right into Lucifer’s hands by handing over Maya? What if Lucifer snapped one day and killed her? Could Clark really put Sophia’s sister in that situation? He couldn’t trust Lucifer these days. Maybe Maya saw a flicker of good in Lucifer and had let it consume her, or maybe Lucifer had just played her really well. But Clark couldn’t risk her life. Even if it meant he had to get Camille back the hard way. No matter what, he had to keep them both safe.

And if he had to kill Lucifer and break Maya’s heart, he would do it to save them all.

Chapter Six

T
rue to her word, Michaela was back the next day. She was actually back before daybreak, and when Clark looked up from his pallet on the kitchen floor, she was boiling coffee over the wood-burning stove. She cocked a brow at his sleep-muddled stare.

“Morning, sunshine,” she said.

“Humph.” He flopped back onto the pallet and prayed for more sleep. All was quiet for a moment, and then Michaela started banging about dishes, announcing it was time to wake up. He’d taken the late watch, which meant he’d only had a few hours of sleep. But the scent of coffee filled the air, and the promise of caffeine was enough to lure him from beneath the covers.

The cabin was toasty warm from the stove as Michaela set about getting a quick breakfast ready. Clark poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the table. Zarachiel came inside, his shoulders hunched against the chill. Meeting Clark’s eyes, he shook his head, indicating that nothing had happened during his watch.

“So, I went to Lucifer’s home in Alabama right after I left here,” Michaela said, breaking the tense silence.

Clark looked up from his coffee. “He has a house in Alabama?”

“Gabriel knew of it. He told me. Anyway,” Michaela said as she brought over a skillet full of scrambled eggs, “Lucifer had moved on by the time I got there.”

“And?” Clark asked, letting his coffee grow cold.

“And Camille had been there.”

Clark jerked to his feet, rattling the dishes on the table. Michaela looked up from where she was doling out eggs, the task much too domestic for an Angel of Death. “Do you know where she is now?” Clark demanded.

Michaela crossed to the kitchen and set the hot skillet aside. She was slow to turn back around, and when her eyes met his, Clark knew something was wrong.

“Shit, Michaela. What is it? Just tell me.”

Maya slipped out of the bedroom then, her socked feet quiet on the creaky plank floors. Clark didn’t look toward her, only saw her slight movements out of the corner of his eye. She sat next to Zarachiel, who handed her his own untouched cup of coffee. She took a sip.

“Michaela—” Clark warned.

“There was a lot of blood,” Michaela interrupted. “A lot. Clark, it looked like she must have been tortured badly. I could smell bone in the blood. He must have used a bone sword on her. I can’t know if she’s alive or not since an angel’s soul goes with them when they die. I’m sorry.”

Clark breathed through his nose, hearing the words but fighting like hell to keep them at arm’s distance. “When you say a lot of blood…”

“It covered the floor and walls. There was even some on the ceiling.”

Clark swallowed, his empty stomach filling with lead. “Do you think they went straight for the cave after they left?”

Michaela shook her head. “Clark, there was something else.”

“What?” he asked numbly, wondering how it could get any worse.

“Her clothes had been cut off.”

Alarm cut up through the icy river curling through his body. “Did that bastard touch her?”

“I don’t know. There were too many scents to make out.”

No one spoke, but Clark knew what they were thinking: Camille was already dead—or worse. But even though the situation looked bad with the blood and torn clothes, he didn’t think that. She was tough, tougher than all of them combined. She wouldn’t let some asshole like Lucifer take her out. And she certainly wouldn’t let anyone touch her if she didn’t want them to. She was a Throne angel for goodness sake. On top of that, he had his dream, and it couldn’t be wrong.

So instead of freaking out, Clark got angry. He turned to Maya. “Is this the ‘good man’ you believe in? Does your ‘good man’ torture holy angels?”

“Clark, I didn’t know,” she whispered.

He opened his mouth to press the point further, but Zarachiel shook his head slightly. His eyes were distant and careful, and they told Clark to do the same.

“Maybe—” Maya started.

“Just stop, Maya. Okay?” Clark started toward the front door, needing some fresh air, when he saw Michaela stiffen beside the kitchen counter. Glancing over at her, he noticed her distant eyes, the way her body seemed suspended in a captured moment. He stopped completely. “Michaela?”