Page 30 of Absolved In Death

A little chill ran down my spine. My conscious had been locked in a little box deep, deep down in my black heart thousands of years ago. But desperate times call for desperate measures, so I let it out to guide me. Gross, but necessary.

When the bag was drained, I immediately noticed a difference. I felt like I woke up from a good night’s sleep. Michael had been worried about me, so I decided to visit him before I started packing. A quick fade brought me to his living room. The lights were on, and a vase of white lilies sat on his kitchenette table. I sat in a chair, leaning in to smell them.

“Michael?” Usually he came out to meet me when I dropped in unannounced, but there was no flurry of activity in the quiet barrack. “Michael…”

My magic weaved through the space, and I felt him here. Maybe he wanted me to seek him out…like a game? We hadn’t played games like this in a while, and a small barrack wasn’t the ideal place to play them, but I could make this work.

“Michael, are you hiding from me?” I called out and I crept through the hallway to his room. “You know I’ll find you in here…and then I’ll show you why you never hide from the Prince of Darkness.”

No response. I went into his bedroom, and froze. He was passed out on the floor, his hand clutching his heart.

I knelt next to him, checking his entire body for injuries. Other than a profuse nosebleed, he was unharmed. I gently shook him, and he barely opened his eyes. They were glassy, unfocused. The irises were such a light shade of blue they almost seemed clear.

“Luci,” he wheezed. Something was wrong. He had no major injuries, but his entire body was freezing cold. His heart was barely beating.

“What’s wrong, are you okay?” I couldn’t fix him if I didn’t know what was wrong.

“Lucifer…help me into bed,” he requested.

“We need to get you to a healer,” I insisted. Every second I spent with him made it more evident that something was seriously wrong.

“No,” he said again. “I’m fine. Get me in bed.”

I pulled back the covers of his immaculately made bed, helping him into the right side. I layed on the left, and pulled him into me, using my fire magic to warm his skin. He started shaking, and I called it. We had to get medical help here, stat. I wouldn’t risk his life because of his stupid pride.

Michael needs medical attention, NOW! His barrack,I mindlinked Azazel.

Within a minute, he barged into the room. He was in his pajamas, fresh sleep lines on his face. I could smell Diana’s scent on him. Not that I cared if I pulled him from a comfortable sleep. Michael was more important.

“What’s going on?” Azazel asked me, sitting on Michael’s side of the bed.

I got up, maneuvering Michael in the center of the bed so he had room to work. “I walked in on him passed out on the floor, his hand over his heart. What’s going on?”

Azazel ran his hands a couple inches over Michael, scanning him from head-to-toe multiple times. His magic swirled around Michael’s head, but the perplexed look on his face told me he found nothing concrete.

“Something is wrong, but I’m not sure… Can I touch his hand? Maybe I can get a flashback or a vision.”

“Do whatever you have to do,” I said.

Azazel closed his eyes before grabbing Michael’s hand in both of his and taking deep, calming breaths. Several seconds later, his eyes opened. They were milky white, no pupils or irises. He stared off into the distance with an expressionless face for almost two minutes. His entire body was stone still. I stared at his eyes, wondering what he saw.

He gasped, letting go of Michael’s hand. His eyes were still white, but they were coming back to normal now.

“I think we need to call Ares in so he can broadcast what I saw. I have a theory, but I want you to see it. Something isn’t adding up,” he said.

Ares, report to Michael’s barrack, now,I linked him. I assumed he was still awake, helping the troops gather their things before our move tomorrow.

He faded within seconds, with Diana in tow. They were both in pajamas, too.

“Michael!” she shouted. “Dad, what’s going on?” She sat next to Azazel on the bed, taking the hand he previously held. “He’s so cold…”

“Diana, Michael is alive, but something isn’t right. Ares, I need you to broadcast what I saw, okay?” Azazel calmly asked him.

We sat awkwardly on the bed, holding hands. Ares’ tapped into Azazel’s mind, and what he saw flashed before us, like movie clips.

Michael and I in our apartment in Manhattan, shouting at each other. His face is red with anger and he’s worked up. I remember this exact argument. He had caught me spying on Diana and Marilyn at the park. I couldn’t stay away from them, and even watching them from afar broke my heart.

The clip changes to another argument. A similar reason.

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