Page 182 of Fires of the Forsaken
I turned my face into my elbow when the stale bread I’d had for dinnersquish-squashedaround my stomach.
“Adelaide,” the male Celestial tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks, “you’re more magnificent than I dreamed you would be.”
“Oh, fuck off,” I slurred. A nasty, metallic taste seeped across my tongue and wouldn’t go away, no matter how many times I swallowed.
“Do you know what you did?” The man had a thousand-watt smile as he hiked up the legs of his pants and knelt, looking me in the eye.
“Yeah. I 86’d your girlfriend.” I rubbed my hands together, watching as a cloud of ash plumed into the air. It was meant to be a threatening gesture. Like:‘see, this is what awaits you if you don’t buzz off.’But it made my hands shake harder.
“You took her Essence. And then youdestroyedit,”he said. “I admit, I didn’t think you’d be capable of it, but you far surpassed my expectations.”
I frowned. “You stood by andwatchedme kill your girlfriend? Didn’t even try to save her?”
His smile soured. “Seruf has been unreliable of late. The, well, thesmallpleasures she indulged in—”
“Oh,gag me!” I groaned as images of those scared, crying kids flashed before my eyes.
“—began to interfere with her work. This was her last chance for redemption. If you hadn’t destroyed her, I would have taken her Essence myself.”
His handsome face swam in and out of focus as the vise around my skull tightened. And Irecognizedhim—he’d appeared at the tail end of Seruf’s trippy glowing boob tunnel. “Who are you?” I asked.
His wings twitched, feathers gleaming, even in the smoky haze. “Ramiel,” he said.
“Oh, fuck my fucking luck.”
“Come now,” Ramiel said lightly as he stood. “I’m not as terrible as the humans have made me seem.”He turned, his eyes catching on Abby Normal. A drawling smile stretched over his face.
She made a nervous sound, her tail flicking, before she turned and bolted.
With a snobbish laugh, Ramiel moved to Cheriour’s prone form.
“Don’t!” I tried to stand, but my body said,ehh, not a chance,and I sat back down with a huff.
Ramiel bent, tapping Cheriour’s shoulder. “Cheriour and I never saw eye to eye,” Ramiel murmured. “He was Raphael’s understudy, so I’m not surprised he still holds a disdain for me, but it is rather disappointing.” He stood. “Let me guess: he painted a portrait of me as a mad king and told you to hone your powers so you could‘free the people from my oppressive grasp?’”
“Er…kinda?” That conversation with Cheriour had been, what, a month ago? He’d said something about a feud between Ramiel and his brother, but I honestly couldn’t remember the details. “But…Cheriour didn’t even know I had powers until a few days ago.”
Ramiel scoffed, putting his hands back in his pockets. “He knew. At the very least, he suspected.”
My stomach squirmed. I couldn’t think straight, not when it felt like my brain was being squeezed through my eyeballs. “You made the Wraiths,” I blurted the first piece of information I could remember.
“I did. And you know what Wraiths are.”
“People without souls?”
Ramiel made a face. Almost as though he was disappointed. “Wraiths are soulless humans, yes. They are humans who were dying, grieving, or in distress and had no wish to continue living. So I took their souls, had my healers mend their bodies, and—”
“And what did you do with those souls?” I couldn’t see straight anymore. Two Ramiels floated in front of me, both smiling thinly.
“They’re not in pain,” he said.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“They’re with me. Safe.”
“With you? Hmm, I’m sure you’re not carrying them around in your pocket.”
“That would be impossible.”
