Once he avenged his slain brothers and sisters, he could plead his case to his father and beg for redemption. Why wouldn’t he be forgiven?
A snicker from Olivier fired up Lucifer’s urge to punch him in the face except a black blur zipped past him to do the job. The archangel fell to the ground with a loud thud, followed by the sickening sound of breaking bones and crushing cartilage as the indescribable mass continued its assault on Olivier. The soldiers initially stepped back in shock but extracted their swords. Still, no one made to intervene. A glance at Diana showed she wore a smug, pleased smile.
Since no one else was going to help the fallen archangel, Lucifer decided he’d need to be the one to rescue him, even if he didn’t deserve it. He moved forward, but froze when Diana grabbed his arm and yanked him back.
Her voice boomed, “That’s enough!”
The whirlwind of violence ceased, morphing from a blur of black matter into a full-sized man. A smile that matched his beady, glowing red eyes spread up his face. Blood dripped from his knuckles. The attacker—so fast that he had not been perceived as having a shape or body—was none other than Diana’s creepy companion, Puck. He sauntered over to his mistress without so much as acknowledging Lucifer’s presence.
The soldiers surrounded the fallen Olivier. All except Aquifas, who shakily held out his sword in front of him, pointed at Puck, and Balfour, who stared in awe. The latter cut his eyes back to the injured angel, shook his head, and his lips ticked up the barest of degrees, so slight that Lucifer questioned his own vision.
Already healing, Olivier struggled to a sitting position and shoved those trying to tend to him away. “What sort of devil are you?”
He charged Puck, but this time Lucifer held him back.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Puck spit blood out the corner of his mouth. “Do not... I repeat... do not ever malign my goddess outright or with innuendo, or I will slice and dice you into a spicy ambrosia.”
Lucifer wanted to be appalled but found himself choking down a laugh instead.
“Besides”—Puck grinned while sauntering over to a cluster of boulders to extract something metallic and cylindrical—“why don’t you explain this?” His eyes cut to Lucifer. “I found an entire cache of these stored just on the other side of that ravine.” He cocked his head in the direction he meant. A drop of blood dribbled off his chin. “Along with a decent-sized squadron of mortals and one oversized winged creature who claimed to be from his”—he pointed at Olivier—“legion.”
Lucifer swung around to stare at his brother. “What is the meaning of this? Choose your words carefully.”
Wounds already healing, Olivier pushed forward. The only sign there’d been a skirmish was the dried blood staining his flesh and armor. “Well...”
“The truth, Olivier!” Although Lucifer detested lies, he knew too well that Olivier was more than comfortable with the practice. He’d been reprimanded many times for it.
Puck snickered. “Yes, the truth, since I already ripped it from your friends.”
The hatred seething out from Olivier sent a shiver of warning through Lucifer’s veins. The other archangel was not known for being talked down to, or threatened, especially by those he considered to be lesser. To avoid a counterattack, Lucifer stepped in front of the man... or whatever Puck was.
“I called for reinforcements while you were otherwise occupied. That’s all. I swear.”
“Gotta do better than that,” Puck taunted. “Since when do angels carry around these?” He hefted up the object he’d retrieved from behind the rocks. “Last time I checked, it was something quite similar to this that crashed into us when we entered the upper atmosphere. The very thing that could have killed us all.”
“That’s... that’s not how it went. Lucifer, you must believe me.” Olivier’s face blanched with fear. He knew all too well how Lucifer took care of traitors. He had every right to be afraid.
A soft harrumph from Diana had Olivier’s glowing green eyes sparking with undisguised contempt. He recovered and pasted on a more repentant expression.
“Who are you going to believe? Your brother in arms for millennia or that vapid creature who attacked me?”
The soldiers standing behind him nodded.
If Lucifer handled this the wrong way, he could have an outright mutiny on his hands. Then how would justice ever be served? Still, the truth had to come out in order for him to make any determination. If he punished Olivier for whatever it was he did, the angels would desert him. If he punished Puck for his unfounded attack—if that turned out to be the case—then Diana would leave.
Wouldn’t that be the best scenario anyway?
“Why don’t you explain yourself first, before I rule whose head shall be sliced off?” Lucifer nodded to Olivier to continue.
“Once I lost sight of you in the fall, I flew off in the direction of the thing that had crashed into us. I found mortals living deep in the forest, armored for an assault on the capital city. They had grievances against their government.” His slight shrug was enough to convey how little he cared about the wrongs of mortals. “They were responsible for what happened to us, and I intended to wreak justice from them for the trouble they caused. Until...” He trailed off and his eyes ticked up and to the left.
Anger rose in Lucifer’s chest. “Until what?”
“Until I realized they just might have useful information about what has been going on here. They are a simple people, but they pay attention to everything. They have to, in order to survive this deep in the woods.”
Behind Olivier, there were a couple of approving nods, but of note was Balfour’s scrunched up nose like he’d smelled something foul.
“Continue.” Lucifer held out hope the story got better... fast. Otherwise, he cringed at what he’d have to do.
