Page 119 of Lourdes & the Mafia
“If I hadn’t, it’d be the two of you turned to dust.” He nods at my hands. “That hurt, did it not?”
I curl my nails into my palms, hiding them in the pockets of my jacket.
That single action says everything I don’t.
It was excruciating.
It was the pain I’ve inflicted on thousands of souls in a single press of skin. It ricocheted down to my very being, scorching through my flesh and soul. That spear of angelic power burned itself onto me, refusing to let go as I tried to toss it. It wasn’t until the flesh slipped from my hands, until the darkness of my magic pried it off, that I was even able to let go.
Any longer, I surely would not have survived.
And demons, when they die, don’t become souls. We don’t go to The Pit or to the Land of Lament. We aren’t taken to Mount Vita to undergo the ritual of passing.
When we die, we become dust.
Ashes and dust.
Nothing but a distant memory.
Knowing I could have been close to death rocked me for a single second before I was forced to push it away. It wasn’t about me.
Ramiel almost died. And his life—and death—are far more important than mine will ever be.
“That’s not the point and you know it, Rami,” Lorenzo interjects. His voice has softened considerably with affection. “We are a team. We tell each other everything. Especially when it comes to something like this that puts us in jeopardy. Something that puts Lourdes in jeopardy.”
“I can protect us.”
I growl. “Now is not the time for your fucking pride to take precedence, brother.”
Again, he rolls his eyes. “Like yours?”
My lip pulls up. “I’ve set my pride aside.” Long ago, it seems. Ever since Lourdes landed on the floor of our club.
I’ve been made a fool of, I’ve let go of my own inhibitions. I’ve let her in, as much as I’m able. I can’t touch her, but a part of me hopes that soon I will be able to.
My heart beats faster in my chest at the thought of getting closer. Something visceral grips me and refuses to let go.
I wonder if this is what souls strung up feel right before they see me unfurl my whip. A sense of dreadful anticipation. Hatred. Acceptance, as something they do not want stares them in the eye.
Like doom is imminent.
“We cannot risk leaving the Underworld,” Lorenzo goes on. It pulls me out of my own dreadful thoughts. “We have to stay here. If he’s powerful enough to take you down, there is a chance he could steal Lourdes right from under us.”
“Why does he even want her?” My fists tighten within my pockets. “What use could he have of her magic?”
“The fall tempts madness,” Ramiel whispers. He looks up, crossing his arms against his chest. “Madness has no rhyme or reason, and a fallen angel has nothing to lose when he has already lost everything.”
The words are like a very own spear to my chest. “Is that how you feel, then?” I growl, my anger rising. “Like you lost everything?” He looks shocked by my outburst. “So we are nothing to you? Nothing compared to the heavens and those precious angels?”
“That’s not—” Lorenzo begins, casting a panicked glance between the both of us.
“Kane,” Ramiel snaps.
But I don’t want to hear it.
“You fucking martyr,” I snap. “You went up after catching a fingerprint in the hopes to catch a fucking glimpse of what once was. Of your fucking glory days before you were saddled with the burden of the Underworld.”
It does not matter how much he professes to love us and his position as the High King of the Underworld, we all know the truth. If he could go back and do it again, he would.
