Page 77 of Cursed
I rolled my eyes and pushed my mouth close to the pink-haired girl in front of me.
“Where’s your God now?” I whispered, inhaling her lovely scent and trying not to shiver from the pleasure.
At my question, she jumped but kept her head bowed. Like me, Phoebe also sat in an empty pew at the back of the church.
“Thought I smelled brimstone.” She kept her words low and quiet. “Get out of here before the roof collapses, Cain.”
“Hmm.” I twirled my finger in a lock of her hair and tugged. “Not a bad idea,” I teased.
“Don’t youdare.” She lifted her head and leaned back, not fighting the gentle pull of my hand.
Invisible fingers scraped my spine, as if unseen eyes watched me.
I scoped the area. No one looked my way. The stained-glass windows on each side of the wide room let in weak, colored light. Echoing in the airy chamber, the reverend’s voice alternated between soothing to pleading. An older man across the aisle shifted in his seat, the ancient wood creaking under his weight.
The preacher droned on about how one should be accountable for what they did in life, or they’d suffer the consequences at death. His congregation continued to bow, murmuring an occasional‘Amen’.
“If Heaven’s so wonderful and perfect,” I drawled, pushing my lips into her hair, next to her ear, settling my chin on her shoulder, fighting an urge to press a kiss to her smooth neck, “then why do angels migrate to Earth?”
She kept her eyes closed, but her fists clenched the cotton-candy pink skirt covering her thighs. “To eradicate people like you,” she whispered.
“No. Because angels also enjoy the depravity, the lies, thesinsof mortals.”
“They want to help us, unlike you and your psychotic family.”
“Oh, please. They revel in man’s evil but think they’re keeping their wings pure and white by separating themselves from humanity.”
“You’re wrong. They—”
“But if being brainwashed by a do-goody-good God makes you happy, be my guest, Precious.” For the first time since Malachi’s visit last night, I relaxed. Something about her presence soothed the inner beast living inside my heart for all these eons.
Phoebe released her now wrinkled skirt and twisted toward me. “And you call bending and bowing to Lucifer true happiness?” She sneered. “It’s the same thing, just under a different name.”
Anger heated my blood, dissolving the inner calm. “Lucian is a brother to me. I don’t—”
“Keep deluding yourself, but there’s no difference, not where it matters, except in how one attains their rewards. At least I can live with myself when I do God’s will. Can you say the same?”
I gritted my teeth and mentally reined an urge to pull shadows across her lovely lips to keep her silent “You know nothing about—”
“You’re Lucifer’s pawn, not his brother. He’ll continue to string you along with promises of wings and becoming an angel, but in the end, you’ll still crumple to your knees at his feet. You’ll just have wings to cushion the fall.”
“Better to kneel in freedom than remain a slave to the light.”
“Doesn’t sound much different, does it? At least serving the light doesn’t make me send people to their deaths or feel like tearing off my skin.”
“You knownothingof what I’ve had to do to survive.” Every muscle in my body tightened, and the ether pulsed through my blood, demanding release, swirling below the surface of my flesh, eager for release.
The prayer ended, and people raised their heads.
“And I don’t care to know, either.” Phoebe stood as if to leave.
“You ungrateful, pig-headed, irritating woman.” Before she could so much as take a step away, I grabbed her upper arm and blinked to the small graveyard next to the country road leading to the church.
She gasped and stumbled, squeezing her eyelids shut and clutching her middle.
Some of my anger dissipated at seeing how my thoughtless fury made her suffer. I sent out a soothing wave to lessen the effects on her body. I was no healer, but for her, I tried.
Straightening, she jerked backward and narrowed her gaze. “You son of a—”
