Page 83 of Not Today, Satan
“Only recently.”
She stares at me, and I shift in my seat.
I hope her other angel gift isn’t reading minds.
Her nails tap against her mug, the smile still perched on her lips. “Who is he?”
“Who is who?”
“Sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t assume these things. Is it she? Or maybe they?”
My knife squeaks against the plate as I scrape at a patch of hardened yolk with furrowed brows. “What are you talking about?”
The sun glints off my knife, lighting my mother’s eyes. Her golden irises shimmer with amusement. “Angel abilities—like the one to see the good in people for judgment—aren’t things you’re born with. You have to earn them.”
My brows scrunch further. “How?”
“One can only access their full angel capabilities when they’ve experienced the purest form of love. Of course, love is abundant in Paradise, so we find it early on in each other up there. But I suppose it’s a little less prevalent where you’re from. Your father, while I’m sure he loved me, isn’t the most affectionate being.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ve never been in love.”
She tilts her head and stares at me, unblinking.
I drop my knife with a clatter. “I mean, there was the shadeling who broke out of Hell with me, Nate. He didn’t annoy me as much as I thought he would, but that’s not love. That’s…tolerance. I tolerated him, nothing more.”
A sly grin breaks across her face. “Uh-huh.”
I roll my eyes, my insides curling. “I didn’t love Nate. Sure, he was funny and brave and handsome and kind and a really good kisser, but he was also a pain in my ass.”
“They usually are, dear. It’s when you want them around despite that that you know you’re in love.”
I press my palms to my cheeks, remembering our time in the castle.
How he made me laugh, how kissing him felt like I’d found home for the first time. The pain when he walked away. The knowledge that it was for his own good because I’d never forgive myself if something happened to him.
“Oh no,” I whisper, covering my face. “I’m in love with that pain in my ass.”
“Told you.” Mom takes a satisfied gulp of coffee, then freezes. She leans forward, setting her mug down on the table with a clatter. “Wait. Did you say you broke him out of Hell? You didn’t bring him to Earth with you, did you?”
“Yes,” I say. “But he didn’t belong down there. He’s innocent.”
“That’s not the issue. For crying out loud, didn’t your father teach you anything? Nothing about what happens to souls when they try to leave?”
“He taught me humans suck.” I eye her over my now empty mug. “Almost as much as angels.”
She threads her fingers through her hair. “I’m going to ignore that last bit for now because we have something more urgent at hand, but we’ll address it in due time. Devica, you can’t just pull someone out of the afterlife. There are rules.”
I shrug. “Any rule that punishes Nate for a crime he didn’t commit is wrong.”
“I agree, but that doesn’t change that you’ve upset the balance by bringing him back to Earth.” She grabs our plates and takes them to the kitchen. “Where is he now?”
I fiddle with the hem of my—her—lemon-patterned dress. The urgency in her voice spreads goose bumps over my skin. “I don’t know. We split up at the park. I thought that’d be best, in case Father found us. I didn’t want Nate punished for my crimes. He’s been through enough. Why? What’s going to happen?”
“If you pull someone out of the afterlife, it will find a way to take them back.” She sets the plates in the sink with a clatter and faces me, her eyebrows furrowed. “Devica, the boy you love is going to die all over again.”
XL.
Her voice fades, and the room swirls into a kaleidoscope of blues and whites. I reach for my mug blindly, knocking it over with a trembling hand.
