Page 117 of Lourdes & the Mafia
He sits on the floor with his back to me, his wings hanging low and dragging in the dirt. Blood spurts from the fresh-looking wounds at the stumpy curves of his wings. Feathers matted with blood are discarded throughout the room, like a trail plucked to pieces.
The glow around his body is dimming, like the light from a candle snuffing out.
“I know you’re there,” he says. His voice is cutting, cruel. From his position, he turns, a cruel chilling smile twisting his mouth. “Seer,” he greets.
Fuck this scary movie shit.
I try to be brave, as brave as the white girls going to investigate down in their basements in nothing but their nighties. Fuck, I could use whatever it is they’re smoking because my hands are trembling right now.
I try to find comfort in the fact that this is a vision. I can pull myself out at any time. From experience, Ramiel can touch me in these, so it’s safe to say that Thuriel can too. So I’m not safe, but I can pull myself from this should I need it.
“Thuriel.” My voice doesn’t shake and for that I’m grateful. “Nice digs.”
Actually, it’s shit, and my wrinkled nose conveys just that. I don’t want to be a condescending asshole, but I can’t help it. He’s been making my life fucking hell. He deserves a jab or ten at his roach-infested castle.
“You found me.” His wings twitch, and it sounds like branches breaking.
“Well, you’ve been fucking with me everywhere I go, so I thought I’d stop by and say hi and ask what the fuck you actually want from me.”
He giggles and it’s a terrifying sound. Then he stands, and I have to force myself to square my shoulders and not flinch back as he steps closer.
One step.
Two.
Three.
He stops, smiling like he knows he’s unnerved me by doing nothing more than walking. There’s the illusion of space between us, and I make sure I hover near my consciousness, ready to yank myself out of this if need be.
“I want what anyone wants from a seer.” He cocks his head to the side. “My fortune told.”
I snort to hide my nerves. “You fell all the way from the sky to ask me to read your palm? No tarot readers in heaven?”
His face morphs within an instant, and I know I’ve fucked up. I barely get a chance to move, let alone breathe, before he’s in front of me. His bright teeth flash in my face and a bloody palm presses to my throat, squeezing, tightening.
“How about you try a little fucking respect, seer?” he snarls near my skin. “I could kill you for your insolence now.” He cuts off my airway and I gasp for a breath.
Daringly, I look into his eyes, and for some reason, my fear goes away. Because in him, I see little more than a scared little man and I call his bluff, rasping out, “You… won’t…”
He snarls again and pulls away from me, putting space between us once again.
I suck in gulps of air, coughing, palm flying to my throat.
“You’re lucky you’re too valuable to destroy,” he snaps, seating himself back on the floor with his long legs crossed, one over the other. “Ramiel, however, is not.”
The mention of Ramiel brings me to a stand. “You won’t touch him.”
“No?” He hums, smiling. “I could… I will. If you don’t cooperate.”
My heart begins beating faster and faster. “You’re not a match for the King of the Underworld.”
“My spear begs to differ.”
That makes me pause. Fuck.
He smirks wider. “Ramiel and I are equally matched. You know who is not? Kane. Lorenzo.” His wings flare wide, spraying blood across the ground. “Your family. Naomi. The Krakens.”
I want to fall to my knees right then. Fear, gripping and crippling, pulses through me. How does he know so much about me? About my family, my friends?
