Page 141 of Lourdes & the Mafia
And he will rue the day he fucked with us.
“Kane.” I grab my brother’s shoulder in my grip. La vidente told me to talk to him, but there isn’t time. In fact, there’s not even the time for me to be stopping him like this, but I cannot let him go into battle with an angel, knowing how much of a martyr he is, and that there’s a very real possibility that we won’t make it out alive, without telling him the truth.
“You are my brother,” I tell him. “Not him.”
His lip twists up, letting me know he still hasn’t forgiven me. “Your blood—”
“It does not matter what blood flows through our veins,” I interrupt. “He’s not my brother. He watched me fucking fall and did nothing. Yes, I went to see him, not because I did not trust you enough to tell you the truth, nor because I wanted a glimpse at my glory days. I went because I wanted to laugh in his face and finally rid myself of that part of my past. But you and Lorenzo are mine. My family. My brothers. You must believe me.”
Kane has always worn an armor so fierce, it’s been hard to penetrate his forces. Hiding behind angry, bridle words, I ignored his moods most of the time, knowing it all came from a place of pain. What people don’t realize or recognize is that sometimes, anger like that can also come from a place of love. One that burns so fucking hot, it cannot be contained to a single flicker of warmth, but must blaze out and scream and pillage andburn.
And Kane burns hotter than most.
“You put her in danger,” he growls.
I grit my teeth, feeling that familiar shame like when I recently fell filling my belly. “I know.”
“I will forgive you, Ramiel,” he says. “I will forgive you only when we bring her back safe. Only then.”
I take a breath, calming the heartbreak and nerves that fill me. “That is fair,” I conceded.
“But I want you to know that I am with you, brother.” He steps out of my touch. “I am with you. I am always with you until the fucking end.”
I release a breath of relief I hadn’t realized was trapped inside. “Until the fucking end,” I echo, just as darkness gathers around us.
“Rami?”
“Yes?”
“Kill that motherfucker.”
I smile, just before we’re swallowed by the darkness.
“I will try.”
Lourdes
Thuriel’smagicisnothinglike Ramiel’s, Lorenzo’s, or Kane’s.
It’s blinding.
Hot.
Suffocating.
Everything about it makes the skin on my arms prickle with discomfort. The moment it swallows me up, I hate it. Everything about it. I struggle to breathe as it touches me with ethereal limbs. Even when his hands aren’t physically on me, I’m still in pain.
I breathe a grateful breath when the magic ceases and we arrive in whatever hellish abode my current host lives in. Seriously, ever heard of an interior fucking decorator?
The walls are clammy and bleeding moisture, and the air smells like ropa guardada, nasty shit. Like, it wouldn’t kill him to take a fucking scrub brush to the walls, but I guess with his broken chicken wings he can’t reach the high places and all.
Tufts of feathers litter the floor and he walks over them with angry strides.
We’re in the room from my vision. Though it looks… different. It’s inside of a castle, yes, but the walls on one side have completely crumbled, making way for a long expanse of land where moonlight shines through. The silver beams glow down against a stone slab erect in the middle of the room.
It’s strategic. Like an altar of sacrifice.
Suddenly, a chill slides through my body.
