CHAPTER ELEVENKISSERA SLIPPED OUT of the apartment, down the stairs to the showroom. What fresh hell was this? She grabbed a shotgun propped up against the wall, c****d it, then opened the door.
“Stay where you are and I won't kill you.”
“That won't be necessary.”
Her muscles relaxed and she set the shotgun down. It wouldn't do any good against him, anyway.
“Lucifer, what are you doing here?” She didn't mean to bark at him. Kissera shoved the remnants of Varro's visit to the back of her mind and plastered a smile on her face. Perhaps he had good news. “How'd recruitment go?”
Her smiled faded. Lucifer was sick. His wings were ragged, like how a mad scientist's hair would look after a week without sleep.
She never paid much attention to angels before. After Azazel and Charouth fough
