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  Unfathomable.

  "So?" Abaddon asked. "Did someone actually tame the Beast?"

  Luce laughed bitterly, turning away from the nosey angel to look back out at the water. "Why does it matter?"

  "Because it's you." Abaddon was at his side in the blink of an eye, staring at him. "You're the warrior, the rebel, the one who's brave enough to fight this archaic system without regret. We still believe in you. We're—"

  "Cowards," Luce said, cutting him off. "You're fucking cowards. That's all you are."

  Long ago, before he'd been cast into the pit, before he lost everything that meant something to him, Luce had built quite the following, an alliance of rebel angels who believed in his cause. His army had been strong, formidable, so much so that he believed he was guaranteed success.

  That was, until push came to shove, and half of those on his side withdrew from battle. They surrendered, pleading for mercy, and were granted forgiveness. Abaddon had not only been Luce's second in command, but he'd been his closest friend, and his deflection was something Luce never really came to terms with.

  He'd abandoned him when things got tough.

  If Luce had to rank the worst moments of his existence, Abaddon's betrayal would be up there with the day he was cast into the pit by his own brother.

  Neither came close to the sting of losing Serah, though.

  "The time wasn't right," Abaddon said, trying to defend himself. "We were destined to lose."

  "What makes it so different now?"

  "You have incentive."

  "And I didn't then?"

  "You wanted it then, but you need it now. Before it was about fighting for what we thought was fair… now it's about getting revenge for how you were wronged."

  Anger rose inside of Luce, simmering in his gut. He turned to Abaddon, expression darkening. "You know nothing about how I've been wronged."

  Abaddon took a step back, raising his hands defensively. "You're right. I can only imagine, and I'm sure my greatest nightmare isn't even a fraction of the reality. Which is why we thought for sure you were going to win. Even they thought you were going to win. But then you just backed down, you retreated… why?"

  Closing his eyes, the moment played out before him—the moment Serah lost her Grace. "I had what I wanted."

  "Her?" Abaddon asked. "The Power? Serah? Pardon me if I'm wrong, but you don't really have her now, do you? Yet another thing they've taken from you."

  His voice had a note of incredulity to it that only made Luce's anger simmer more. He hadn't meant her at all. He meant he'd gotten his revenge, had gotten his taste of freedom, but hearing her name from Abaddon's lips stirred up his resentment. "I gave her up. There's a difference."

  Abaddon slapped him on the back as he shook his head. "You keep telling yourself that, pal."

  Luce said nothing in response, staring out at the colorful water again, trying to harness some of the tranquility to soothe him, but it was pointless. He couldn't absorb any light when so much of him was still consumed by the darkness.

  Abaddon must've taken his silence to mean the end of the conversation, because he let out an exaggerated sigh and turned around, starting to walk away. After a few steps, he stalled. "We still believe, Lucifer. This world should be ours, not theirs. If you decide to fight for what has been stolen from you… if you decide to take a stand… I'm sure you'll figure out where to find me."

  With a pop, he was gone, disappearing into the atmosphere, leaving Luce once more to his silence… once more to his loneliness.

  "Name?"

  "Sarah... I think."

  "Last name?"

  Serah shrugged. Did she even have one of those?

  "Date of birth?"

  "I'm not sure."

  The man looked up from his decrepit computer and peered at her through a pair of thick, steel-rimmed glasses perched low on his nose. Skepticism marked his pudgy face. "You look like you're in your early 20's. What's your education? High school? College?"

  "I have no idea."

  He sighed exaggeratedly as he leaned back in his creaky, swiveling office chair. The small cubicle, hardly the size of a walk-in closet, was filled with stacks upon stacks of paperwork. "Let me see if I got this straight: you have no birth certificate, no social security number, no identification at all; you aren't even entirely sure of your name; you have no previous address, no current address, and no means to procure an address; you have zero education, zero references, and zero experience. Yet, you expect me to find you a job today?"

  Serah nodded. "Yes."

  It sounded about right to her.

  He stared at her with disbelief for a moment before sitting back up, his gaze returning to his computer screen. "I'll see what I can do."

  Serah shifted around on the uncomfortable little gray chair as she watched him type away at his keyboard. Something about the short balding man with the high-waist brown trousers charmed her the moment she'd stepped inside the Chorizon Employment Commission, so much so that she'd sat around all afternoon, refusing to be seen by anybody else, as she waited for him to be available to help her. A strange sense of intuition, deep inside of her, told her he was the one to speak to about a job.

  "Do you have any special skills?"

  "Not that I know about."

  "Can you type?"

  "I suppose I could try."

  "Have you ever driven a car?"

  A light laugh tickled her chest, unexpected and inexplicable. "Yes, although I don't remember when, or where, or how, but I'm certain I have driven before."

  He typed away for a moment longer as Serah studied his small wooden desk, cluttered with office supplies, his faded nameplate bearing the name Douglas Barnhart. Frustrated groans echoed from him after a while as he gave up on the computer and turned his attention back to her. He stared her down, eyes narrowed as if he were reading her.

  "Look, miss, this office can't help you."

  "But?" She knew there had to be a 'but'. She could hear it in his voice.

  "But I might be able to do something."

  Serah smiled radiantly as she jumped up from the chair and leaned across the desk, startling the man as she squeezed him in a hug. "Thank you so much, Mr. Barnhart."

  "Whoa, wait, don't you want to hear what it is before you celebrate?"

  "Oh." She sat back down. "Yes, of course."

  "My mother owns this little place across town, the Barnhart Motel. She mentioned hiring some extra help. It's not glamorous, you know... will mainly be cleaning rooms and stuff like that. And while it won't pay much, I think I can get you somewhere to stay out of the deal."

  "That sounds wonderful!"

  "Yeah?"

  "Absolutely."

  He nodded as he grabbed his phone. "I'll set it up right now."

  She watched him, satisfaction settling through her. She knew he would help her. Somehow, she knew.

  Seven of clubs.

  Ten of hearts.

  Two of spades.

  King of clubs.

  Six of hearts.

  Six of diamonds.

  Six of spades.

  Luce laughed bitterly to himself, staring at the dingy cards spread out on the asphalt beside him. He sat around the side of Chorizon Elementary School, leaning back against the brick wall facing the vacant playground.

  Six. Six. Six. What a fucking joke.

  He tossed down the rest of the deck, discarding the cards. It was useless. There was no point to the game with no one to play it with him.

  But what else was there to do?

  He had wandered for weeks, alone and utterly bored, somehow ending up right back here where it all had started. It was not far from the gates... so close, in fact, that Luce could feel the powerful energy emanating from them. It was a pulse in the air that reached out to him, tempting him back to familiar territory.

  He'd be lying if he said he hadn't considered it. He was ten times stronger now that he was no longer marked, no longer cursed and confined by the magi
c. He could voluntarily waltz right back through the gates, back into the darkened pit, and pick up where he'd left off, making life Hell for everyone around him.

  Literally.

  But something stopped him. Something stalled him, keeping him up top and lingering around this little town.

  As soon as the thought passed through his mind, he caught a subtle whiff of a familiar scent and felt a spark of energy in the air around him. His eyes studiously scanned the playground and the surrounding streets until he spotted her.

  Serah.

  She was different now, with her flushed cheeks and heartbeat so strong he could hear it where he sat, but remnants of the angel still lingered in her body. Her essence was intact, calling out to him, somehow connecting with a part of his soul so strongly that he could almost feel her heart beating within his own chest.

  Probably because you hijacked her Grace, asshole.

  Remaining still, sitting on the filthy ground, Luce watched her in silence. She was casually strolling down the street, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. Happiness surrounded her like a warm glow, a fact that made Luce both smile and viciously ache.

  Guess ignorance really is bliss.

  She paused near the community center, her brow slightly furrowing as she glanced around. She was looking for something, but what, Luce didn't know.

  He couldn't hear her thoughts.

  He sensed the connection with her, though. The residual angel in her recognized something in the air. Luce could tell from the way the glow surrounding her flared, like a spark igniting.

  As he stared at Serah, desperately trying to get a read on her blank mind, a pop of static electricity echoed through the playground. He forced his gaze that direction, caught off guard by the sudden presence of another angel, seeing a female in a red dress with curly blonde hair. A Virtue, one of the nature dwellers. She stood a mere few feet from him, her gaze focused across the street at Serah.

  The angel shielded her mind, her thoughts purposely blocked from Luce. He prodded, his protectiveness urging him to try to get some idea of her task, to figure out what the hell she wanted from Serah, to no avail.

  The angel's attention shifted to him when she felt him prying into her mind, her eyes narrowed. "You can't steal my thoughts, Satan."

  Satan. Man, he still hated that fucking name. "Nice to see you, too."

  "Nice?" she sneered, hostility in her voice he was unaware her kind was capable of possessing. "There is nothing nice about your existence. Your presence poisons the air, tainting everything I vow to protect."

  He stared at her. Dramatic much?

  "You, snake, are Earth's greatest enemy," she continued. "You're an abomination. A mistake."

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Thought Daddy didn't make mistakes."

  She stepped toward him, glaring. Man, she was pissed. "You lack compassion, lack remorse. You may be free at the moment, but it won't last forever, because I'll make sure you pay for what you've done."

  Through her anger, her guard slipped, letting Luce glimpse into her unbridled thoughts. Hannah was her name. Serah had been by her side since the beginning of time, and she harbored deep resentment over losing her best friend.

  "Careful, Hannah," Luce said quietly, looking away from her. "Your wrath is showing."

  Without responding, Hannah evaporated, the pop of static loud. Luce glanced back at the street then, finding Serah long gone. Sighing, he gathered his cards and slipped them in his pocket for safekeeping before standing up and walking away from the school, determined to find her.

  Serah had turned her attention away from the area and strolled down the street. Luce followed behind, hands needlessly shoved in the pockets of his black pants, bare feet dragging against the concrete.

  He had no purpose for following her, other than driving himself crazy. Maybe he still got his rocks off on suffering, because seeing her and not being able to talk to her, or be with her, was undoubtedly torture of the worst kind. A few times he thought about touching her. She wouldn't feel it, or really know what it was she felt, the touch of an angel little more than a tickle, resonating deep inside of them, but he'd feel it.

  And if he touched her, he suspected he wouldn't be able to let her go. He hadn't been brave enough to even get close enough to make that happen.

  Maybe he was the coward now.

  He followed her all day as she walked to and fro. He could hear some of the thoughts of those she encountered, hear their assessment of the young woman who always smiled and never seemed to be in a hurry to get anywhere.

  They thought it was weird, how she stopped to smell the flowers when she encountered some.

  Luce thought there was nothing more beautiful.

  Serah tugged at the stiff black dress as she gazed in the mirror, casually fixing the white apron tied around her waist. It was a stark contrast, the black and the white, the light and the dark against her pale skin.

  It's not all black and white.

  The peculiar words echoed through her mind, whispered in a voice that wasn't hers. She wasn't sure where they came from, or what they meant, but the words washed through her like they were gospel.

  The room was cramped, barely large enough to contain the old double bed. It had a bathroom, though, and a small television, and even had a mini-fridge wedged into the corner. It was air conditioned and heated, and wired with electricity, giving Serah nearly everything she needed.

  It wasn't perfect, but she wouldn't dare complain. She had a job and a place to stay, two things she had woken up without. The time following her injury, the mysterious incident that caused her memory to be wiped, had been filled with doctors and sterile hospital rooms, flimsy backless gowns and rehabilitation centers. They poked and prodded, interrogated and investigated, before merely shoving her out into the streets and wishing her the best of luck.

  Compared to that? This was practically Heaven.

  "Knock, knock."

  Serah glanced toward the open doorway as Gilda Barnhart stepped into the room. She seemed a lot like her son, round and kind, with hair bordering between blonde and white.

  "Hello," Serah greeted her, smiling warmly.

  "I see the uniform fits."

  Smoothing the material, Serah glanced down at herself. "It certainly does."

  "So I brought your cart up and left it out on the walkway," Gilda said. "There are only two rooms occupied today, 7A and 21B. You'll want to talk to the front desk in the mornings for a list of our occupancies, just so you're aware, but your key is universal."

  Serah pulled the key she'd been given when hired from her dress pocket. It was a card that when swiped would open every door in the motel. She gazed at it, running her fingertips along the magnetic strip. "Thank you."

  "Of course," she replied. "It's great to have you on board."

  "It's great to be here," Serah said, meaning that as she said it.

  Gilda gave her a quick rundown of what to do, which added up to basic maid services, nothing Serah couldn't handle. The woman departed with a whispered good luck, leaving Serah to her duties.

  Neither rented room was actually occupied when Serah made it to them. She swiftly cleaned both, in and out and finished within an hour. She returned to the lobby of the motel and stepped inside, approaching Gilda as the woman sat behind the front desk.

  "Now what?" she asked.

  "Nothing," Gilda said. "That's it."

  That was it? Didn't seem like much of a job to Serah. People worked from nine to five, didn't they? It was barely ten o'clock in the morning. "Are you sure?"

  "Positive," Gilda said. "Enjoy the rest of your day."

  Shrugging, Serah stepped back out of the lobby, on her way back to her room, when something across the street caught her eye. Her footsteps briefly faltered. It was a man, wearing all black, with dark hair, shorter on the sides and dramatic. He was handsome in a harsh way, his features sharp, his expression stoic like a hardened warrior, but that wasn't what stalled her.

  What
stalled her was the spark of recognition.

  She'd seen him before.

  And he was watching her.

  There was something strange about him, the way he stood so still it was like he wasn't breathing, a fixture along the street, alive like the trees, but not swaying in the breeze. She recalled his face, a face she'd seen before, staring down at her when she awoke in the street, her mind a blank slate. No name, no identity, no sense of direction, but his eyes were as familiar as looking at her own reflection.

  Her lips parted as she tried to think of his name. She knew it… she could feel it… but she couldn't think of it, no matter how hard she tried. She blinked rapidly, trying to force it forward by sheer will, but it evaded her.

  As did he.

  Another glance across the street and the man was gone, like he'd vanished into thin air.

  Sin.

  It was everywhere.

  Greed. Wrath. Sloth. Pride. Envy. Gluttony. Lust.

  Luce could feel it permeating the air like a fog, growing denser as he approached the bar on the outskirts of the city. The place appeared rundown, like the remnants of a long ago abandoned saloon, the old porch falling apart, the windows broken, but people still frequented it.

  Sinners.

  It wasn't a place anyone with a stitch of self-respect would step foot into, so it didn't surprise Luce a bit that Abaddon's essence was all over it. While angels couldn't technically feel, the emotions of uninhibited humans tended to have an affect on the guardians. The sins were raw, pure power in the air, which called to them like an emergency beacon, feeding their energy.

  The more depravity, the stronger the Guardians.

  Luce could feel the humans because he'd been damned, fallen from Heaven, tapped into the sensations, but Abaddon was the closest to mortal as angels got. Humans often depicted Guardian Angels as lifesavers, guides that existed to keep them safe, but more often than not, Guardians were dicks, spending their days mingling with humans and mocking their mistakes. And they certainly weren't the beautiful beings all the paintings portrayed them as.