“I did hear that he said something about wanting to ‘make it happen tonight’ and ‘making it special.’ I’m assuming you have no clue what he was talking about.”

  She feigned exasperation. “Yeah, he’s pissed at me. I turned down his proposal, and now he thinks he can find something for sale here that might change my mind. It won’t.”

  “That’s good news. You deserve better.”

  “Thank you for saying that.”

  The concierge nodded curtly before turning their attention to an incoming patron. Tlalli turned her eyes back on Anthony. He was still pacing, but his eyes were on his phone. He wasn’t calming down, it seemed. Instead, he was getting anxious, and usually when he got anxious, he would come looking for an outlet. He would come looking for Tlalli.

  She closed off the connection on her end, at once cleansing herself of Anthony’s rotting energy and exhaling in relieved comfort. Rolling her shoulders, she watched as Anthony tapped the screen of his phone and then put it to his ear. His back was to her now, and she moved closer, then came to a standstill near one of the plants flanking the exit. It was easier to evade Anthony sensing her magic if she was standing still.

  “Michael, we gotta talk,” Anthony growled into the phone.

  Michael. He really was taking this above Elias’s head. The bastard. And not only that, he was breaking the fucking truce to do it. He really was looking for a war.

  She was about to confront him, stop him any way she could, but then he spoke again, and she realized that . . . Michael wasn’t on the other line.

  “Call me back,” Anthony snapped. “ASAP. I’m serious. If I have to make a move myself, I will, but it’s not safe. For all we know, they have it already.”

  He seemed to hang up, shoving his phone in his pocket, but Tlalli hardly felt any relief. What happened if he did get in touch with Michael? Or worse, what if this wasn’t the first call and he’d been in touch already? And . . . what if Michael had agreed with Anthony’s plan all along?

  She had doubted the Dominion plenty of times over the past couple of years, but this . . . This was the first time she realized she no longer trusted Michael at all.

  11

  ELIAS

  Elias loved a hot shower. It was one of the select human comforts he had found himself especially attached to, alongside hamburgers and comic books and vaping. No one knew about any of these interests, but he cradled them in his hands nonetheless, a small respite from the endless white noise of his existence. And one of his favorite things about a shower was his ability to let his mind wander in it.

  Could he gather almost any and every type of information with a snap of his fingers? Perhaps, but it was such an overlooked luxury to just be able to wonder, to think of the world as it might be, as it could be, rather than simply as it was. Elias did not care to be all-knowing. He wanted to be able to wonder whenever he pleased.

  He wondered what the first shower, both natural and mechanical, had felt like to humans. He wondered how many different kinds of showerheads there were in the world, and he wondered about the various bathing rituals each culture had. Then he wondered how mortals had continued to evolve these shower designs into works of art in many places. High-end hotels had been rather impressive to him each time he’d had a chance to visit them.

  He also wondered how mortals had decided that fucking in a shower was a good idea. Though that thought may have had something to do with the sounds coming from the other side of the wall currently.

  He tried to tune it out, more for their privacy than his own annoyance, but that proved quite a task. Soon, his mind had simply threaded the sounds along the path it was currently following, and his thoughts descended into more . . . dangerous areas.

  Like Tlalli and Cahuani.

  It turned out Anthony had been right about them. Elias knew because he’d seen them fucking. He hadn’t meant to, really. He’d heard Tlalli’s phone go off that morning, and he’d dashed into the bathroom to grab it before it woke Anthony. He’d swiped up to quiet it, and before he could process what was happening, the video was playing, and he’d been unable to look away. Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  And the longer he stood there under the spray of the water, trying to block out the sound, the clearer the video played in his mind. Tlalli’s full breasts bouncing against the couch, her face screwed up in pleasure, Cahuani’s bulky figure slamming into her from behind, and her moans spilling out into the space, intoxicating him in a way mortal champagne never could.

  Then, without warning, the scene began to change, evolve, and Elias was there with them too . . .

  “Fuck . . .”

  Powerless to fight it, Elias wrapped a firm fist around his hard dick, biting down on a whimper that threatened to scrape his throat raw due to how sensitive the shaft was. He wasn’t easy to impress, to affect, to rile up. He prided himself on his ability to remain neutral and nonplussed. Yet Tlalli and Cahuani both had imprinted on his brain in a way he couldn’t quite explain, and inspecting why would take far more energy than Elias was willing to spend.

  But he was good at picking up bad habits. He enjoyed making himself more human than he had to be. And there was no sin Elias would ever be more guilty of than hedonism.

  He pumped his cock hard and fast, muttering and mumbling and cursing under his breath. His consciousness whipped out of the frame long enough to wonder if Tlalli was still sitting on the couch outside, but that consideration only made him more desperate. He pressed his forearm against the wall, then leaned forward and bit down on it to muffle his groans.

  Someone on the other side of the shower wall screamed in climax. Elias came with a sharp howl into his own skin, painting the gray shower wall in broad white strokes. His knees nearly buckled with the force of it. It had been a long time since he’d let himself indulge. He’d had a few partners in Heaven every now and again, but it took a lot to seduce him, and he preferred to entertain himself in other ways that required less effort. Still, he could admit it. He’d forgotten how good it felt to cum.

  Shame began to collect on his skin, but he quickly washed it off before climbing out of the shower. His head spun with the possibility that Tlalli was still right outside the door, and suddenly, without warning, the overwhelming urge to see her and tell her what he’d done was at his neck. It was the kind of guilt that dragged mortals to the confessional. He wanted to bathe in it.

  Though when he did finally leave the bathroom, the room was empty, and disappointment fell into his stomach like the heaviest stone. He didn’t let it fester, however. He never let it fester. It had been a mistake to picture her, to think of her like that at all. It had been a mistake to watch that video for any length of time.

  He and Tlalli weren’t anything. They weren’t even friends. The only thing they shared was this cursed existence and the bleak future the angels envisioned.

  Plus, trying anything with her, especially right now, would only bring Anthony’s wrath down on him, and nothing in this world was worth listening to that boy cry and whine about some shit that was none of his business. Again, Elias had better ways to spend his time. That was half the reason he hardly indulged in the other people in the first place. It was always too complicated and more trouble than it was worth. With Tlalli, that would prove true tenfold.

  Those thoughts alone cleansed Elias of whatever melancholy he had invoked a moment prior, and he left the room with a clear head and the desire for a new indulgence.

  12

  TLALLI

  It didn’t take long for Tlalli to find Cahuani. Dangerous as it was to seek him out in the open, she had been too impatient to try to contact him to set up a proper meeting, especially when she hadn’t bothered to retrieve her phone from under Elias’s mattress. She couldn’t really explain that particular choice, but she wasn’t about to try either. There were more pressing matters to tend to.

  Cahuani stood at the very back of the large conservatory that branched off the main house staring out the window, his hat concealing half his face and his hands in his pockets. He wore a glen plaid suit stitched with lines of black, blue, and white. A blue tie tucked between a white dress shirt and a black vest completed the outfit, which was perfectly fitted to his form.

  It was unfair how fucking good he looked at any given moment, how smooth he was without saying a word, how warm even from a distance. She watched with unwavering attention as his hands came out of his pockets, admired the stretch and curl of his thick fingers, the umber skin that encased them. How was it possible to make the simplest of movements so erotic?

  He turned when he heard her shoes on the marble, raising his head and giving her a smile that made her belly twist into knots. She only realized that he could see her, that she had let him see her when still no one else could, in the moment before he brushed his thumb over her lip. The movement was so sly that she doubted anyone who might have entered would have caught it.

  She wondered what else they could get away with.

  Though before she could give in to her own recklessness and find out, his expression changed into one of concern. Always the responsible one.

  “What are you doing here? Were you followed?”

  He didn’t say it aloud, instead allowing her access to the words inside his mind. Oh, he really was trusting her now. She offered the same in return, letting him read her mind.

  “Nope, the only one that can see me right now is you,” she returned, her lips pursed.

  “Oh, really?”

  “Mm-hmm. Don’t worry, Papa Bear. I know what I’m doin’.”

  Although she wasn’t entirely sure she did.

  He scanned her blatantly from head to toe, licking his lips before looking away. Yet somehow, she was the one left breathless.

  “Did you speak to Elias?”

  “I did. He’s prepared to make a move sooner if he has to, meaning he likely doesn’t know about the cloak on the chalice.”

  He ran his fingers through his beard, his teeth sinking into his lip, and a chill ran down Tlalli’s spine. She had to fight to keep her head on her shoulders and out of the gutter. “And . . . Anthony?”

  She ignored the pause in his words, instead trying to figure out how best to explain that particular situation to him. She had to tell him about Anthony’s call to Michael. Cahuani might not immediately report it to the Puri, given the danger that would put her in, though if that was the case, what was the point of telling him?

  He was trusting her though, and omitting information was not a good way to honor that. She had to let him decide what he did with it.

  “The tantrum didn’t last as long as it could’ve, but . . .” She sighed. “Look, I don’t know if it’s something to worry about or not, but Anthony was trying to call Michael just now in the lobby.”

  At once, Cahuani straightened, narrowing his gaze, which pinned her in place.

  “And I don’t know if it’s the first time,” she added softly.

  “You think he wants to start something,” he said.

  “Oh, I know he does, Papa Bear.” She didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched at the name she had been screaming only hours before, but she kept her focus this time. “And I can’t say there is anything he won’t do to get it.”

  “And you’re sure Michael was in agreement with Elias’s plan?”

  “I mean, that’s the plan he pitched to Elias and me when we went in.”

  “And Anthony wasn’t there?”

  She huffed. “Naw, but he rarely is. He’s like the younger sibling we’re forced to take everywhere even though he always swears he’s running the show.”

  His lips twitched. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or concerned by that, so she sidestepped the thought altogether. She was just happy to see him amused.

  “So it’s possible then that Michael had his own agenda all along.” He seemed to be speaking to himself more than her, so she said nothing. “I knew something wasn’t right. I knew it in my spirit.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did Michael tell you why he wanted you to retrieve this item? Or even the amulet you took from my home?”

  She opened her mouth but promptly paused mid-breath, realizing that . . . No. No, Michael hadn’t explained. He rarely explained anything anymore. They were at his disposal, puppets hanging from his strings, and Tlalli had stopped fighting that fact. What difference would the reason have made anyway? The job was the same, and that was all she cared about.

  “Michael had to have known he didn’t have a chance of retrieving the chalice,” Cahuani said, taking her silence as confirmation. “Even if the other angels don’t know about the demons’ ability to locate items they share a creator with, Michael and the Dominion would at least have a hunch by now. How many times have they tried and failed to get to one of those items? It’s why you had to rob me in my home, because they tried to get the amulet before and failed.”

  She tried not to wince at that, but she wasn’t sure if she was successful. He didn’t seem to notice either way. Cahuani had begun to pace a few steps in either direction, his fingers alternating between combing through his beard and fiddling with the buttons of his waistcoat. Then he began to crack his knuckles, and the familiar muttering under his breath followed soon after.

  “Why did they leave you with the amulet?” she blurted out loud before she could stop herself, overwhelmed by the influx of questions flooding her mind and feeling guilty for his overstimulation. She gave him an apologetic look the moment she heard herself aloud, but he merely smiled.

  “It turned out that—I had been set up on both sides.”

  “Wait, what?” She gaped at him. “What do you . . . Do you mean the Puri set you up?”

  “Well, not entirely on purpose, but . . . they had a hunch that the Dominion was attempting to recover artifacts made in Hell. They weren’t sure why, as the objects’ powers cannot be wielded by the angels, not even the Dominion, but they had to know for certain. I learned after that they’d started entrusting the items to witches throughout this realm to learn not only if the angels were looking for them but if they could actually find them.”

  “And we did.”

  He nodded. “But they didn’t expect—” He paused a moment, seeming to change his mind about what he wanted to say. “Well, a heist. Nor did they expect Anthony to betray us, which was really the main factor, no offense.”

  “None taken, trust me.”

  “But that was why it was so easy to make amends with them. I still . . . have my guilt over losing the amulet, but I know they still trust me, and that’s been enough.”

  “So why would the Dominion be going after these artifacts if they can’t use them?”

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. “No idea. We have gone over every possibility, but we’ve come up short.”

  “You think Michael would let Anthony start a war here? In a mortal’s mansion?”

  He barked a laugh, and the sound was both damning and distracting. “If you’re asking me, we might be in bigger trouble than I thought, princess.”

  She pouted at him. “Well, it isn’t like they tell me much anyway. Anthony is definitely farther up Michael’s ass than I’ve ever been, though, so if you think he’s here on a completely separate mission, I’m not gonna be the one to tell you otherwise.”

  Panic scraped along the inner lining of her belly, but she stifled it the moment she recognized it. She was not about to lose her head. This had always been inevitable. The Dominion had been yearning for a war, and they were stooping to the lowest-possible level to get it. Maybe that had been Anthony’s purpose all along: to be the trap they would set for Cahuani, making Cahuani either have to kill his son or sacrifice himself to Anthony’s cause. She could not bring herself to ask Cahuani which he would choose.

  “So what’s the plan?” she asked silently, stilling herself.

  “I’ll talk to Acheron and Xaphan as soon as I leave here,” he replied. “We’ll grab the chalice just before the viewing. We have a replica that will pass well enough until it gets back Upstairs.”

  “I doubt Anthony will care if he’s here to start a fight.”

  “We have to anticipate that, but we cannot act on that hunch. We cannot be the ones to start a conflict. We have to treat this as a routine recovery mission.”

  “. . . So you’re not gonna tell the Puri about Anthony calling Michael?” She had to ask.

  “And have Michael and the Dominion figure out you’ve turned on them before I can get you out of here? Not a chance, princess. I made a promise, and I’m going to keep it.”

  “Even if it starts a war?”

  “If it isn’t this, it’ll be something else. You and I both know that.”

  Indeed, they did.

  “Look, we just do what we came here to do, all right?” he said aloud and yet just above a whisper, his hand taking hers gently and pulling her closer to him. “My priority is to get you out of here.”

  “And the cup or whatever?”

  “That’ll be Acheron’s priority.”

  She smiled up at him, although his eyes remained on their conjoined hands, his thumb running across her knuckles repeatedly. All he’d been through, and he was still soft. Even to her. Even to someone who didn’t deserve it.

  “I suppose you should get back,” he said. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he sounded just as disappointed as she felt at the idea. “Make sure Anthony stays out of trouble for a bit longer.”

  “What’s the rush?” She moved to stand in front of him. They could afford a few more minutes. If they were right, this was all going to end the same way whether they spent a little more time together or not. “We still have a few hours to kill before things get tricky.”

  “Yeah, but I have to find Acheron and let him know the move. Then I got⁠—”

  “Just give me like ten minutes, hmm?” She ran a hand down his torso to his belt.

 

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